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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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Something to Fight For (Series) Part 19 [JoelMillerxf!reader]

Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warning: Descriptions of violence, girlie hitting her boiling point

A/N: WE’RE SO CLOSE YA'LL.

MASTERLIST HERE

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When you wake up the next morning you expect Joel to be gone. You think it’s because you can’t understand why he would stay. Why stay with you when you’ve told him all your awful secrets?

But Joel is still there beside you overtop the sheets, his clothes rumpled from sleeping in them, his breathing even. He’s curled around you, his large frame warm and comforting. You can’t help but stare at him in sleep, marveling at how his face is slack, the lines lessened, more youthful looking. His lips are pouty in sleep, parted slightly.

Kissing him when he’s asleep would be wrong, despite how much you want to press your mouth to his, so you settle for the tip of his nose. It’s a soft thing, a gentle thing. It stirs him into wakefulness, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“Hey honey.”

Honey.

He’s not thinking clearly, his mind still addled with sleep. He smiles at you from the pillow, eyes still lazy lidded, licking his dried lips.

You're warm, sweaty from his arms around you during the night and the still blazing electric fireplace. It sticks tendrils of hair to your damp temples but you still don't pull back from him.

You stay nestled there, your hand slipping down Joel's forearm, marveling at the strength in those muscles under your fingers. Your hands go to Joel's wrist, raising it and the watch encircled there to your face so you can read the time.

He's smirking at you as he watches this from half-opened eyes, puffy from lack of sleep.

"Weddings in a couple of hours," you mutter softly as you lower his wrist back to its original place draped over your waist. Your hands clasp under your chin as you go back to snuggle against his chest.

"Yeah. Got lots to do," Joel murmurs his voice thick and growly with sleep. His hand strokes your hair softly, reassuringly. The vibration of his deep baritone rumbles through his chest and subsequently through your arms.

Against all odds it makes your thighs tighten. It makes your eyes shutter at his nearness. You swallow lightly, willing yourself not to do it. Not to take this sacred moment between you and Joel and spoil it.

You wonder if you should tell him about Paul or save it for another time. Right now feels rushed, your days so long and stretching ahead of you with the wedding. Mentioning Paul doesn’t seem smart, especially when you haven’t officially broken up with him yet. And even if you do, does that really change everything? Will you not go to Chicago? Will you really turn your back on your family?

And the larger part is that you don’t want Paul’s name in this moment, you don’t want the outside world to break into this bubble of comfort the two of you share.

There is a strange moment where you see yourself outside your body, almost able to envision how you look curled up together. This man that you thought you hated. You pull back to look at his face, at the eyes you can’t stop falling into.

You think back to the day you met. The anger you’d felt at his loud music and it makes you smile, huffing a small laugh. Joel observes this, his own smile curling at the corners.

“What?”

"What were you thinking of that first day?"

"Huh?"

"When you were in your truck," you say, relaxing against him. "The day we met. I remember you looked so lost in thought.”

Joel thinks back to that evening and smiles.

"I was thinkin' it was gonna be a long fucking night." You both laugh. "Tommy was never good at set ups. I was worried about Sarah back at the neighbors. I was exhausted because it had been such a long day at work."

Jesus, you never realized how much went on behind those big brown eyes. You move your gaze to his shoulder, overcome.

"I had my music loud, just trying to clear my head and then over it I hear someone call 'hey'."

You smile, wanting to say 'that was me!' like a child hearing their name in a story.

"And you saw the most annoying woman in the world in the car next to you," you finish for him with a giggle. "And she tells you turn down the music and calls you an asshole and-"

"I look over," Joel interrupts to correct you with a smirk, voice still scratchy. "And I see this woman, so fucking beautiful I forget how to speak."

Your body feels warm and now your eyes drag from his shoulder back to his dark eyes. How is that possible? You think back to that day so many months ago, the look on Joel's face in the truck.? You'd always assumed he'd just been taken aback by your temper.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "And I'm thinking how can someone that fucking gorgeous be single. . . and then she starts screaming at me and calling me an asshole and it all makes sense."

The sharp laughter escapes you, sounding out into the quiet of your home. Joel grins widely at your reaction, chuckling and glancing down at your head when you bury your face in his chest, still laughing. Joel considers not continuing, but he's emboldened by your delighted reaction .

"And then it turns out she's my date and that whole night I'm trying not to look at her,” Joel’s voice is soft and dreamy. "Trying not to stare because she's made it very clear how she feels about me back in the parking lot. And I'm rude, trying to cover up for the fact that I can't stop staring at her. That when she talks about what she's does for work she's even more fucking beautiful and I'm getting outta sorts."

Your pulse is ticking the more he speaks, memories flooding you.

"And then I get that call from Sarah's babysitter and I think then Christ, I gotta get away from this woman and now I have a reason. Then a couple weeks go by and I’m tryin’ to forget about her but it’s hard because my brother and her best friend have gone and fallen in love,” Joel smiles. “So I keep running into her at the house and I see her trying to avoid me the best she can. And then I have to go to her fucking office and see her.”

You’re smiling gently, listening intently. Hearing your story from Joel’s perspective is so different from your own, so much more nuanced than you ever could have imagined. There are parts skipped over, details you want to press him on. But you just lay there, eyes darting to his face as he looks dreamily into middle distance.

“And when I see Sarah drawn to her, just like I was I realize I’m fucking powerless. This woman’s got a hold on both of us and I can’t shake her loose, even though she’s told me she wants nothing to do with me.”

You know what he’s referencing. That first day in your office when you had forced yourself to speak to him.

"So I propose that we act like we don't despise one another when we're in their company. Other than that, I see no need for us to act like friends. You don't have to pretend to be interested in my life and I don't have to pretend to be interested in yours."

"So we'll just dislike each other in secret.”

"Exactly.”

You think of the awkward way he walked around your office, the quiet way he observed you and the space you work. His attempt at small talk. All of these things had compiled in your mind as evidence of his distaste for you. But now as he explains it, you can see these moments like snapshots, moments in time where he was trying to reach out to you.

“Then Tommy and Maria mention they wanna go away, but I have a bid meeting. Tommy suggests you, he knows it’s a long shot. And he’s shocked when I agree so readily, and I’m tryin’ to not be obvious but he knew back then. He knew all along I think.”

“I think everyone knew but us,” you muse, thinking of Maria.

“Everyone but you.”

You give a good-natured push of his shoulder before nestling in there again. You want to hear more. You give a little nod of your head, prompting him to keep going. He strokes the hair that’s fallen across your cheek and continues.

“And then one night Tommy mentions this bar and trivia with his girlfriend and her best friend. The one I can’t stop thinking about, the one that I just know despises me. And I ask him if your team could use another player.”

“What?” you prop yourself up on your elbows, your mouth dropping. “Tommy said he dragged you to trivia with us.”

Joel’s ears have gone pink.

“You didn’t notice me tryin’ to flirt with you the whole night? For fucks sake I sat right next to you in the booth. I tried everything to get you to stop hating me. Do you know how good I felt when I got that space question right?”

“Olympus Mons,” you whisper in a giggle. “Mars. I remember.”

“You know how bad I wanted to kiss you?” Joel murmurs, his glittering eyes on your mouth now. “You were there next to me smiling and flushed and you looked so fucking good. It took everything in me not to do it. Can you imagine if I had? You’d have run off screaming.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I wouldn’t have.”

You remember that night, the start of the turn from Joel the annoyance to Joel the handsome brother of Tommy. The night you’d found yourself enjoying his company, the night you’d decided that maybe he wasn’t all bad. You have a feeling if Joel Miller had kissed you in that moment you would have kissed him right back.

“But I told myself that it was just because you were attractive and you were so great with Sarah. Told myself that it was just because you were easy to talk to. Then we went to that sanctuary thing and. . . I felt so nervous, like when you’re a kid with a crush and I just. . . Something changed.”

“It was the first time we felt like a family,” you supply breathlessly. Because that’s how you felt. Walking with Joel and Sarah that day, laughing, the trio of you moving from exhibit to exhibit. That was the first day you’d felt it – that feeling of family, but a family of safety and love.

Joel’s stopped talking, stopped sharing. His eyes are still on your mouth and your head is tilting back to better look at him and it feels so inevitable to collide, to succumb. His hand is on the side of your neck and he's tilting your mouth to his and all you want is him and this moment. All you want is to be in Joel Miller's arms, your mouth on his.

Chicago.

Breaking the engagement.

Selfish.

His mouth hovers near yours, lips straining and almost connecting before you tilt away from him. The moment slips away, like a stone skimming over water before it's submerged. Joel isn't upset, nor angry, but the open need is there. You can see your own reflected in the shining, dark canvas of his eyes.

"I need time Joel" you tell him in a voice you force out of your lungs. "Give me time."

///

It hadn’t even been a question.

Of course he’d give you time, as much of it as you needed. He’s seeing you in a few hours for the wedding, perhaps you’ll have time to talk then? Maybe what happened with you last night will make a difference?

Maybe you’ll end things with Paul.

Maybe.

You sitting on the edge of the bed as Joel pulls on his jacket. Your legs are pulled to your chest, your cheek resting on your knees. Your eyes are troubled, unfocussed. You look as if you’re about to cry.

There’s that tug at his heart. The one he tries to ignore but he he’s already crossing the room, dropping to one knee beside the bed. A hand on your knee, big brown eyes in open understanding and concern.

“Honey?”

You turn and immediately your face relaxes into a smile. You like it when he calls you honey. You like it when he’s near you. Is it really so foolish of him to hope that one day you might love him the way he loves you?

Not if she goes to Chicago.

He can’t follow you there, not permanently. He can’t uproot Sarah from the life and home and family she’s known her entire life. He can’t disrupt her life because he’s so deeply in love with you. His happiness means less than hers. Her comfort means more than his.

“I’m gonna take off,” Joel tells you. “Gotta get ready and bring some stuff to the ranch. I’ll meet you there? Or do you need a ride?”

“I’ve got a ride,” you tell him after a pause, a strange smile on your lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you there.”

You stand, taking Joel’s hand in yours as he joins you in walking to the door. He watches the way your eyes go unfocussed again, agitation clear in your features. He’s about to say something when his eyes catch something on your kitchen table.

The engagement ring box.

A thunder in Joel’s chest begins. His eyes dart to your bare left finger and for a moment he feels breathless. Please please please. You open the door and he walks in a daze through the doorframe, pausing when he hears you say his name.

“Thank you for last night,” you say with a sweet look on your face. One that shows how much his presence meant to you. “I don’t. . . I’m so grateful for you. I, I just . . .”

He sees you searching for the words and feels his heart ache for you. There’s so much vulnerability in you right now. It feels wrong to leave you right now. He considers telling you to come with him and get ready at his place.

And then the phone rings. Your cell is buzzing on the table and you go to retrieve it quickly flipping it open. Joel sees your brows saddle as you read the name flashing up at you.

“It’s my Mom,” you say, your eyes wide and fixed on the phone.

Joel says nothing, pausing at the door, waiting. His dark eyes go from your face down to the buzzing phone. You’re just staring at it, unblinking. He wants to force himself back into the suite, hold you while you talk to your Mom. She’s going to ask about Chicago, she’s going guilt you into going.

“You want me to-“

“I gotta take this,” you tell him, your face pinched before you force a terse smile in his direction. “I’ll see you at the wedding. Make sure you trim that beard, Miller. Gotta look respectable.”

He hears you trying to inject levity into your words, but it falls so flat when juxtaposed by the seriousness in your face.

Joel is terrified about what’s going to happen, terrified about what you’re going to say to her. There’s a heaviness in his heart that just knows you’re going to go. That you’re going to be ripped from him and his life so abruptly it could leave a real wound dripping onto the ground below his feet.

And yet he nods. But before you can shut the door on him his face darts back and he presses a kiss to your forehead. A tender, soft thing that has your eyes watering as you watch him leave, his legs scissoring across the lawn to his truck.

///

“Hi Mom.”

“It’s me, sunshine.”

Your father.

Your stomach instantly clenches and you wish you had Joel here. You wish you’d let him stay. You want him holding your hand, soothing you.

“Hi Dad.”

Your eyes clench shut, the hand holding the phone to your ear is trembling.

“You getting ready for the wedding?”

“Uh huh.”

You can hear the sound of a lawn being mowed outside their window. You can picture it now, the narrow little house at the end of the suburban street. Picture perfect from the outside, never suggesting the hint of sinister that lies beyond its doors.

“I bet you look beautiful,” your dad enthuses warmly. “I hope you take lots of pictures.”

And this is what makes it hard, these moments of kindness, of paternal love. These times when you think that perhaps he’s not as awful as you remember. These times when you think that moving to Chicago won’t be so bad.

Except you don’t want to go.

You want to stay here with your job you love, with the people you love.

With Joel.

It’s the memory of his eyes last night, his arms around you that steadies your breath. It gives you a center, a balance as you grip the chair next to you. You’re not going. You’re going to tell him right now.

“I . . . I wanted,” you begin, your voice shaky. “Dad I wanted. . . to uh. . . “

The words won’t come. They’re lodged there in your chest.

“I saw that there’s a sale on flights if we book today,” your dad says, coughing a bit before you can hear the gentle tap of computer keys. “Figured you should get that locked in before it gets pricey. You were planning on next week, right?”

I don’t want to go.

“And I was thinking,” your dad continues. “I know a guy who owns a pet shop out here. Not the same kinda job as where you’re working now, but if you’re living here with your mom and me you only have to chip in a bit for rent. Not even that much.”

I don’t want to go.

“Your mom and I are so glad you’re coming back. Gonna make a big difference having you here. We’re really gonna have a chance.”

“Dad. . . I uh. . . “

He hears the hesitancy in your voice. You can almost hear how his tone shifts, moving from sweet and clear to syrupy, almost saccharine.

“I just don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

It’s over before it’s begun. Images of Joel and Sarah and you in Rancher Lane disappear before your eyes. You know you will relent; you will back down and you feel the tears sliding down your face at the realization.

“Okay dad. I’ll get the ticket.”

You hear the faint sound of your mother calling his name in the background of the phone’s static.

“Oop, your Mom’s calling me for breakfast,” your father says, sounding chipper. “Better go. Tell Maria and Tommy we’re so happy for them. I think your Mom mailed out a card yesterday so it should be arriving soon.”

“Thanks. I will.”

///

Sarah is excited for the wedding. Mostly because she gets to see you and Daddy walking down the aisle again. But Uncle Tommy is here, pouring Alphabits cereal and not the pancakes she was promised by Daddy yesterday.

“Where is Daddy?”

“He had to run an errand,” Uncle Tommy promises with a strained smile. He’s drinking coffee, looking at his watch.

Sarah twists the hem of her polar bear pajamas feeling unsettled. Uncle Tommy looks concerned. And if he’s concerned-

“Sorry!”

She hears her father’s voice as the door unlocks and turns in her chair to see him breathlessly making his way into the kitchen. He looks sleepy, his clothes wrinkled. He moves to Sarah, hand on the back of her chair.

“Mornin’ babygirl,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head before looking to his brother.

“Took you long enough,” Tommy chides but in a way that feels playful. Daddy is smiling at the two of them, a sweet little smile that makes him look bashful.

“I’m so sorry Tom.”

“Everything okay?”

Joel is still sorta smiling when he shrugs. “Dunno.”

“But she knows.”

“Yeah.”

Tommy is smiling broadly and Sarah is confused at what they’re talking about. She goes back to her cereal, trying to see if she can make any words with the floating letters swimming in the milk.

///

Maria is your closest friend so you’ll never tell her how ugly the bridesmaid dress is that she picked for the bridal party. A sea foam green chiffon and tulle number that makes you look like a sad bit of lettuce left out on the counter. And why are there so many fucking bows?

You shake your head, thankful that at least your hair seems to behaving, and the makeup you’ve put on to cover your swollen eyes and blotchy face seems to be covering well. As you put on a second coat of mascara you wish your eyes didn’t look so sad.

There’s a knock at your door and you open it to a freshly shaved Paul. He’s wearing his dark charcoal suit looking very handsome. He gives you a broad smile, about to make his way inside and for some reason it reminds you of your father. Forced cheer to overcompensate for their terrible fucking treatment of you.

“You look gorgeous. Hey I need advice on what tie to wear today,” he says pulling out two ties from his jacket pockets. “Whadda ya think black or cream?”

He makes a motion to step into the suite but you don’t move from the front door. You hold your hand up, stopping him from entering into the space.

You’re so tired of being a fucking pushover.

You’re so tired of being forced into what you don’t want.

You march to the table; grabbing the velvet box and moving swiftly back to the front door before Paul can enter. He looks at you confused, taking the box from you as you shove it into his hands.

"Paul, I'm sorry but I can't do this."

Paul looks at the velvet box and the bare ring finger and realizes right away. He's always had an ability to play to your emotions, to twist his gaze in a way that makes you feel incredibly guilty. He's doing it right now.

"Baby, no."

He tries again to come inside, but stops when your hand again raises outstretched, palm in his direction.

"I'm so sorry," you say with authenticity. "I can't be with you."

"It's this because of the rehearsal?" Paul scoffs. "Just gimme a-"

“No Paul,” you say firmly. “This is because I need this to be done. To be over.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not in love with you. I’m so sorry to say it, but it’s true. And I don’t think you’re in love with me either.” You give him a sad sigh, feeling so awful. “I think we both just ran back to something familiar and safe. But that’s not a valid reason to be together.”

“This is cold feet,” Paul insists, not wanting to hear the alternative.

“Paul I didn’t even want people knowing we were engaged,” you say beseechingly. “Doesn’t that just say it all?”

Paul’s handsome face is twisting. Moving from an indulgent smile as the mask slips and he glares at you. One of his hands goes to brace itself on the doorframe, his neck tilting forward.

“This is because of him, isn’t it?”

You’re quiet. You both know the him he’s referring to.

“You're gonna go play house with that fucking animal? Is that it?"

You don't reply. You don't know that it is Joel. You don't know if your life will take you to Chicago and away from him. All you do know is that your future isn't Paul.

"We can't give each other what we need." You kneel, grabbing the cardboard box beside the door with the rest of his things. "Here. I can come grab my stuff from your place tomorrow."

Paul looks down at the box in your hand, sees how easily his life is to pack up and dispose of for you.

"You just wanna fuck him," Paul insists, cheeks reddening. "It's the truth isn't it? It's why you're there all the time trying to bond with his kid?"

For a really awful moment you wonder if that's how outside people see it. If everyone sees you babysitting and spending time with Sarah as a means to getting her father into bed. This hurts worse than most anything Paul has said because for a horrible self conscious moment you genuinely wonder if that's the truth.

"So go on. Do it," Paul insists. "Get it out if your system and then we can leave this fucking city and start over."

You stare at your ex fiancé for a long moment, trying to understand why you thought him worth pursuing. Why you put all your faith in this man who you realize now is so much like your fucking father. Manipulative, cruel.

"If I can't make it with you, what else is there?" Paul blinks. "You're all I have left."

You wonder if Paul thinks this is a romantic notion. That it will speak to your heart instead of sickening you.

"If it weren't for Joel-"

"Stop trying to blame everything on Joel," you defend, feeling your hackles raise. "We were smart to break up before. The relationship had reached its natural conclusion. We aren't well matched."

"Relationships take work," Paul defends, looking at you beseechingly. "You've said that!"

"Only if both people want it," you tell him. "And I don't. I don’t want this life."

Paul looks desperate then. The sign of a caged animal who has just realized there is no escape. There is no way for him to talk himself out of this. He can see it in your eyes, the lack of emotion, the way you just know what he’s trying to do.

You follow him as he moves back from your door, his hand on the cardboard box of his belongings. You stand on your doorstep, closing the door tightly behind you. You have no wish for Paul to try and rush in there, to try and force you to get back with him. You’re over all of it.

He’s down one step when something in him bristles and he drops the box. He turns, looking at you with such disgust and anger that you actually recoil.

"You're so worried you're selfish like you're dad?” Paul sneers. “Well congrats, you are him. Fucking up a good thing because of what just you want."

There it is.

That secret sentence to unlock all your fears and insecurities. That observation of your worst self brought to light. And Paul knows it- he sees it in the way you blink and step back. In the blanching of your face and widening eyes.

"You know I'm right," Paul hisses "Even if you and Joel get together it's just a matter of if time before you fuck it up. He'll want one thing, you'll want the other and it'll be us all over again. Except Joel doesn't love you like I do. Because when you leave he won't come back."

There is serenity in your smile, a quiet power that shocks Paul when he sees it.

"I'd never leave Joel."

You're not expecting the shove because Paul has never been violent before. So when jerks forward to grip you by the front of your dress and shove you back against the door you're shocked into silence.

"That's how you like it right?" Paul sneers, Slamming your spine against the wood. "You must like it rough with that fucking caveman. Don't think he's capable of anything else."

His hand is at your windpipe, pressing you against your front door.

"Must be getting real wet now," Paul sneers. "Bet you love it when Joel manhandles you."

No, you think. Joel would never hurt you. Joel would never lay an unkind finger on your body.

"Stop," you cry out, trying your best to push him from you. But Paul has always been stronger than you and he holds you by the throat, pulling you forward and slamming you backwards.

Your vision blurs at the impact and if you weren't pinned to the door you'd double over. As it is you can only moan and lower your head, defeated.

"You ruined everything you selfish fucking cunt," Paul shouts in your face and all you can hear is the words of so many raining down on you.

Least selfish person I know.

That's what you do when you love someone

You can’t sacrifice everything

Run

I'm a horrible selfish person.

That's what you do when you love someone

Run

Let me take care of you.

Is that being selfish? I think you might be fucking insane.

That's what you do when you love someone

Something inside you snaps.

You bring your face up sharply, catching his jaw with the back of your skull and sending him reeling back. He trips over the step, sending him flying onto his back.

You don't even think. Even as your head pounds you just pounce on top of him, your hands curled into fists as you begin to pummel him.

He's shouting, but all you can see is the blood from his broken nose, the fury in his eyes. And you stop when you hear a high pitched wailing and realize that it’s you.

But Paul has you by the throat again, shaking you, and you think back to all those nights with you crying over your dad to stop drinking and wishing for escape you want to cry at how some things never fucking change because here you are years later crying and wishing for escape.

And then a voice booms, truly booms from your right.

"Enough!"

Your attention is on the broad man behind Paul. The man wearing a black suit and tie. The man who is marching over the grass looking angrier than you've ever seen him.

Paul drops your throat and you fall to your knees in the grass catching your breath. He turns to face the wall of a man streaking towards him.

"Bill?"

Frank wanders out onto the porch, oblivious as he straightens his bowtie. He hears your voice and looks over just in time to see Bill rear back before dealing a devastating blow to Paul's face.

Paul drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. You realize now that Joel had been holding back in that McDonald's but Bill isn't today.

"Laying hands on a woman?" Bill growls, spittle wetting his lips. Another blow to Paul's jaw. "You worthless fucking -"

Frank is there, shouting at his husband to stop while he brings you shaking into his arms.

"Stop," you insist, pulling at Bill's shoulder. You don't want him to kill Paul (well, maybe you do) but this isn't his fight to win.

"Get off me!" Paul gurgles a hateful slur through a mouthful of blood.

You look at him with horror, the hideousness of his words and when Frank is the one who jolts forward to punch Paul with a snapping crack you simply watch in approving silence. The two men in suits step back, breathing heavily.

Paul is scrambling to a stand, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hands. Your entire body is thrumming with adrenaline and terror at the sight.

"I'm gonna go to the cops," Paul shouts. You can see from here that one of his teeth at the front is chipped. Bye bye perfect smile.

"I'll tell them it was all me," you say with a grim look. "And I'll tell them it was because you attacked me. You fucking attacked me, Paul. That’s the truth."

Paul gapes at you. You think it’s just hit him that he actually assaulted you.

"Fucking-"

"Save it," you reply wheezing. The box of his belongings is still there in the grass. You heft it before slamming it into his chest. "Don't ever come back here again. If I see a fucking hint that you’ve been around I will call the cops and tell them everything you did to me."

Paul stares at you for a moment, taking in the sight. You realize it’s because he’s never seen this version of you, the real you. He’s about to turn, about to when your hand jerks out to grip his arm, stopping him.

“And give me back my fucking car keys. Now.”

Paul looks like he’s about to decline when you see Bill step forward in your peripheral. Frank murmurs something, trying to hold him back. Then Paul is muttering every name in the book as he digs into his pocket. He throws the keys at you, spitting globs of pink saliva in your direction as he marches away down the street.

“Are you okay to drive?” Frank asks looking at your wild grass-filled hair as you bend to pick up the keys. You give a crooked smile, nodding. You look down, thankful that a few grass stains are on the dress, nothing a tide stick can’t fix.

“I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Bill and Frank watch as you march down to the car parked in your driveway. Your car. You throw yourself into the vehicle, your feet still bare. You turn over the engine, thankful that Paul at least had it a quarter tank.

But you need to do one more thing. Because its all so fucking obvious. All so fucking easy. A million decisions that seemed so impossible have suddenly become crystal clear in clarity.

You rush back into the house, past Frank who is trying to smooth Bill’s hair and Bill who is trying to fix Frank’s bow tie. You slip into your heels, grab your purse and dial the number on your cell phone.

The cell is anchored between your ear and shoulder as it rings and you walk out into the sunshine. Frank and Bill have disappeared, likely to go and change into suits that don’t have bloodstains.

“Hello?”

A pit in your stomach forms

“Dad?”

“Hey sunshine, you got the tick-“

“No,” you say, your heart jumping as you spin the wheel, twisting out of the driveway.

“Oh, it didn’t go through?”

“No, I’m not buying the ticket,” you say clearly, no hesitation to be found. “And I’m not coming home. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. I dunno, I’ll have to see how I feel.”

Your dad is confused, his breathing unsteady. But you know this is part of it, part of the garner of sympathy. But you’re not falling for it.

“But su-“

“No dad,” you snap. "I'm not coming home."

"This doesn't sound like you," your father offers after a beat. You can hear the tension creeping into his voice. "Maybe if you spoke to your Mother-"

"I need a break actually, from both of you," you say, and now a bit of guilt forms. "When I feel ready, I'll reach out to mom. But I need to see if I want a relationship with you, Dad.”

You’re voice is so strong, so steady. It belies the rapidly beating heart in your chest. You hear the turn as if you’re seeing it. The downward slash of your father’s thin lips.

“That’s such a selfish attitude and I-“

“No dad,” you interrupt, almost laughing because you’ve been holding this forever. Holding onto a life that doesn’t exist and a father that died when you were fifteen on the way to the hospital. You think of Joel and how he looks at Sarah, how he loves her and takes care of her and cherishes her. Because there are dad's like that exist in the world. Good fathers who would sacrifice everything for their children. It gives you the strength to say the things you've been holding back.

“I’m not being selfish. Selfish is choosing drugs over your family. Selfish is guilting your daughter into giving up her dreams and her life so you can fuck up yours. For once in your life you stop being a selfish.”

And then the phone is turned off. It’s shoved into your purse as you make your way across the lawn to your car.

And for the first time in your life, you're not running away from something.

You're running towards it.

#fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #dad joel miller

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jimblejamblewritings · 9 months

Text

luck be a (leading) lady | part 14.

[Posted 2023.08.12]

Summary: Y/N has always been a background character. That’s just life for some folks isn’t it? But what if she’s determined to not just be another member in the ensemble? What if someone helps her step into the spotlight in her own special way?

Warnings for the Series: a teeny bit of angst but mainly fluff

Pairing: ricky bowen x black!reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Despite the documentary trailer coming out, the general public didn’t believe you and Ricky were together. According to everyone, the whole show was an act. A very entertaining act but an act nonetheless. Not that you or Ricky minded. With the increase in auditions and booking small roles, you wanted your personal life to stay personal for just a little longer. You told Gina that much as you helped her finish packing.

Her mom was back into so your roommate turned sister was officially leaving your house. Gina dragged her entire closet into your room so you two could pack up and watch a movie on the projector screen in your room.

“I can’t believe your moving. Seriously,” you said as you shoved her jackets into a box.

“You act like I’m leaving the state, I’m literally across the street.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe that old couple finally chose to live in a nursing home.”

You and Gina paused before you bursted out in laughter. It was really nice to have her stay near by. While you were friends with the rest of the drama club, Gina and Ricky were still your only close friends at East High.

“You know what I can’t believe,” Gina started. “That two of my best friends are leaving me next year.”

“Senior year. I still haven’t processed it yet,” you admitted.

A knock on the door caught your attention. Your dad was standing in the doorway with a plate of fruit. “My lovely senior and junior…”

You and Gina rolled your eyes.

“Gina, your mother wants me to remind you that she’d like you home by ten thirty and that you two can talk tomorrow at school.”

“Got it.”

“Thank you, here you guys go. Let’s try to finish packing before the night is over.”

“If you really want us to finish. Dad, you could he—”

The sound of your window opening made you all turn. You laughed as Ricky practically fell into your room. He jumped up with a quickness.

“Hi, Mr. L/N. Y/N, Gina.”

“Hello, Richard. You do know we have a front door, right?” you father pointed to downstairs.

“Yeah but since you guys said I’m allowed over any time, it’s not as much fun unless I’m going through the window.”

Your dad looked up at the ceiling. “I have clearly overstayed my welcome talking to a bunch of teenagers. Okay, Gina, home by ten thirty. Richard no sleeping in Y/N’s room but you are welcome to take any other room upstairs. Bed time is eleven, no negotiations. School’s tomorrow… I can’t believe my baby is a senior.”

“Dad, Dad, there’s plenty of time before I graduate. We don’t need to start crying now.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You chuckled as your dad left the room before focusing on Ricky again. He had no problem showing affection towards you with Gina in the room because she was the only person that knew you and Ricky were a real couple. She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about being sworn to secrecy no matter the reason but she was still just happy to be let in.

Your boyfriend sat on the bed, actually helping you pack up Gina’s closet. “I wanted to give you something but I couldn’t really wait until tomorrow. Well, both of you, kind of.”

“What is it?”

“So, I’ve had this melody stuck in my head all day and it reminded me of Y/N.”

“Sap,” Gina muttered.

“I think it’s sweet.” You leaned over to give him a peck.

“Anyway, I know you don’t really write songs but you have an ear for music Y/N and Gina does write lyrics so I thought maybe we could work on this together?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” Ricky stood up to leave. “I actually do have to get home. One of Dad’s only rules is bed by ten on the first day of school.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yep, it’s been a tradition since I started… and it is nine thirty so I do need to go.”

You gave him another kiss. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow… Oh! Did Lucille send you the filming schedule?”

“Yeah, I’m just glad the filming is here. Senior year away from East High would’ve been such a bummer.”

“I know right. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You leaned against Ashylnn’s locker, chuckling as you watched Kourtney and Carlos take pictures with fans. It was weird to say you guys had fans.

“So what do you think, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You focused back on Gina and Ashlynn.

“About Ash and Maddie giving each other relationship advice.”

You and Gina shared a look before you stood up straight. “I think that’s for Ashlynn to figure out but we need to figure out how to get to the drama club before we’re late for Ms. Jenn’s big announcement.”

Ashlynn’s eyebrows furrowed. “For me to figure out what?”

“Nothing,” you said with a laugh before grabbing her and Gina’s hands and leading them to the drama club.

You guys weren’t sure why Ms. Jenn called everyone in for a “surprise.” It was pretty obvious that the next play was going to be High School Musical 3. Without stupid Zacky Roy around to throw the Drama Club off their game, you guys were going right back to doing Disney TV shows for musicals. You just hoped that next semester you guys did Teen Beach Movie before you graduated.

You felt Ricky squeeze your hand once before you guys broke apart and left the drama room with everyone else to go to the Pep Rally. Staying lowkey was going to be so hard. You let Ashlynn and Gina walk in between the two of you on your way to the field.

“Can you believe auditions are this Friday? I need to pick a song,” Ashlynn said as she started searching through a list written down on her phone.

“What part are you going for Ash?”

“I’m thinking Kelsey or Sharpay. You?”

You shrugged. “Whatever doesn’t interfere with filming and my calculus homework. You know I’ve been demoted at Saltwater.”

“What?!”

You chuckled at your friends’ expressions. “Not like that. Bennet agreed that Principal dancer is too much to handle with school and filming so I’m only principal for the fall ballet since we’ve been rehearsing it before filming next month and then I’m just a first soloist for the rest of the time. It’s better this way anyway. This is the exact arrangement I’m going to having at Berklee. I’m thankful to get but my academic advisor sends me an email like every other day with updates. My inbox is dying.”

You guys sat down in your seats, finally moving to be next to Ricky.

“That still means we get to come watch you perform at Saltwater, right?”

“Yeah, you are looking at Coraline Jones in our fall production.”

Before your friends could celebrate you, the pep rally started much to your relief. You were still getting used to being the center of attention without losing the ability to breathe. Part of the reason you weren’t so prepared to be the lead in a feature film. A small film but still… The first Twilight movie was an indie film.

At least you didn’t have time to overanalyze that because the dude who played Coach Bolton was at the pep rally? You and Ricky rolled your eyes and sighed at the same time with the announcement of High School Musical 4 being filmed at your school. Just why?

Of course all the students were cheering no matter what, hoping that filming would mess with classes a little. You had a little fangirl moment when they announced one of the new stars of High School Musical 4. Mack and Dani.

Kourtney played Dani’s TikToks over and over again when you guys were at camp. Hopefully she could act because her TikToks seemed so nice. And Mack? Well you couldn’t help but squeal a little when they announced him.

Your friends looked at you causing you to laugh. “You don’t understand, I had one of the biggest crushes on him when I was little.”

“Me too!” Gina said with excitement. “Mark and Spark was my comfort show.”

“You know, he was supposed to be the first male lead in the movie I’m filming and my heart stopped until he cancelled of course.”

“Well now we know why,” Ashlynn said before focusing back on the stage.

You leaned your head on Ricky’s shoulder, having felt him tense up behind you. He relaxed when you grabbed his hand for a brief moment.

“You know I don’t mean anything by it. It was just a stupid celebrity crush,” you whispered.

“Celebrity crushes are still crushes.”

“Well then it was a stupid little crush. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” Ricky said with a squeeze of your hand.

You made a note to stay at Ricky's for a late dinner later after ballet rehearsal just to make sure he wasn’t still jealous. This relationship really was new territory for the both of you. But that would have to wait because now it was time for a second surprise in the drama room. You were getting real sick of surprises. And super sick of the security guard trying to block access to the drama room because of “filming”.

“Ahh!”

You all turned at Kourtney’s scream.

“Corbin Bleu?”

“Oh great,” Ricky muttered.

“Okay, okay. I deserve that a bit. But I am here to make amends. I know that documentary wasn’t what any of us expected.”

“Seb isn’t talking to me.” Carlos pointed out.

Ashlynn nodded along with him. “Yeah and Big Red is in Cairo for six months.”

“I hear you but we’ve found a way to make it up to you.”

“Uh, who’s we?” you asked with a raised hand.

You heard footsteps before you saw the people attached to the noise. You couldn’t believe it. Standing right in front of you was the original cast of High School Musical. Honestly, Corbin might have actually gotten you guys the best apology gift ever.

Featured extras in High School Musical 4? That was sick! So was everyone character development. You had to admit that you didn’t see Troy and Gabriella being in couples’ therapy… because you thought they would’ve broken up freshman year of college since they were such an on and off again relationship. The entire class was giggling uncontrollably at the prospects of being together on set.

Kourtney raised her hand. “Well, if the movie is going for authenticity casting a drama class to play Ms. Darbus’ drama class then Mack and Dani should consult us. The real life kids of East High.”

“This is why she’s the smart one,” someone said as you all high-fived.

Apparently, the OG cast thought she was brilliant as well because it didn’t take them any convincing. She was immediately assigned to Dani. You playfully shook her shoulders to let her know you were proud of her.

“Do we have any volunteers for Mack?” Lucas asked.

“Right like someone who grew up loving his tv show. Or two someones?”

You tried to back out of being Mack’s guide but it was too late. You were stuck co-guiding with Gina. All you wanted to do was focus on movie rehearsals, ballet rehearsals, your relationship, school, and drama club. That was a lot of things. Guiding Mack was not on your list of things.

You acted like that wasn’t the case when you went to go see the superstar, putting on your best smile. Your eyes went wide at an almost naked man getting his calf measured.

“Oh my,” you and Gina said at the same time.

Mack looked over. “Can I help you?”

You let Gina take over as you tried to look everywhere but at Mack, feeling embarrassed and more awkward than usual.

“We are so sorry. We are real students here, only one credit on IMDb so far but anyway, we were assigned to give you a hand.”

“Yeah, I’d love to know who assigned you to interrupt my costume fitting.”

“No. That was our bad.”

“Yeah,” you offered up. “If we had known you weren’t dressed we would’ve come way sooner before school ended… Soo-sooner because you’d have clothes on. Not whatever you l-look like you, like you’re thinking of. Oh my goodness.”

“Would you mind turning around?”

You and Gina looked at each other before doing just that. “That was probably the first thing we should have done.”

“Okay. So, I do have to ask,” Gina started. “Do you still keep in touch with the dog from the show?”

“There were seven of them and they all retired to a farm upstate.”

“Oh that’s so swee—”

“Uh, G,” you cut her off. “That means they aren’t, um, currently pr—”

“It means they’re dead.” Mack had put on a shirt so you guys could turn around. “The farm is heaven.”

“Well that ruined everything,” your friend muttered. “Okay, we’re going to leave now and we can all pretend we never met.”

“Oh, I’m way ahead of you.”

“Good luck on the movie, Mack. Hope you break a leg, literally.”

“Good luck with your lives, superfans.”

You felt your face get hot as you marched up to him. “Her name is Gina Porter and can I just say, I’m so glad High School Musical 4 took you in. Acting alongside you in Sweet Pea Americano would have literally killed me… G-Gina, why did I just say that?”

“I’m proud of you.” She swung her arm over your shoulder so you guys could leave. “Even with anxiety, you always stick up for your friends.”

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Come on, let’s go see if Ricky got a smoothie for us at the food truck.”

While you were mortified at your actions, Gina proudly recanted the entire story to Ricky who echoed her sentiments. You guys went you separate ways. There was no carpool with Gina today. Carlos called her over for an emergency meeting of the Finer Things Club at Kourtney’s house, leaving Ricky to drop you off at Saltwater. You guys stopped at a salad bar first so you could get some real food into your system.

“Oh, Gina finished the lyrics to the song.”

“Already?”

“You know her. Once she gets started on a mission, she can’t stop until it’s complete. Do you want to hear it?”

“Of course, do you have the lyrics on you?”

You handed Ricky your phone to look at the screenshots of Gina’s song journal. Your harmonies were rough and sometimes the melody fell off but the two of you had fun singing all the way back to the car.

“Are you sure you don’t mind picking me up?” you asked him as you leaned into the driver’s side window after getting your bags from the back of the car once you guys reached your destination. “Because we don’t get out till eleven and Mrs. Porter said it was fine for her to pick me up since Saltwater is between Kourtney’s house and ours.”

“It’s fine, baby, I like picking you up.”

“Okay. Oh, don’t forget. Gina’s driving tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t believe she got a car.”

“I can’t believe she got a license.”

You said bye one last time and headed inside for you ballet rehearsals. While you were dancing, Ricky was doing homework, and Gina was laughing as she got into Kourtney’s room. Ashlynn and Carlos were already there and Kourtney… well, she was meditating at the edge of her bed. While, Ashlynn had nearly forty missed texts from Maddox. Gina so had to tell you about that when you and Ricky came over for breakfast tomorrow morning.

Her smile faded at the announcement that Kourtney wasn’t sure about doing the school musical or not. She wasn’t sure if Dani was the best thing for Kourtney. She especially wasn’t sure when her friend suddenly became supper eager and chipper to answer her phone call. Kourtney put Dani on speaker after the others swore to be quiet.

“Hi, so I was studying you. Not in a creepy way but I’m really trying to get into character as a real East High drama student.”

Gina made a face when Dani suddenly stopped the speak pretty harshly to the driver taking her to the airport.

“Anyway, you’ve got that X factor, Kourt, and I want to help you grow your footprint. But I’ve been looking through your post and to be honest I’ve noticed something.”

“It’s the honesty for me,” Kourtney said with a nervous lilt to her voice.

“If I’m going to show you exactly what it’s like to grow an audience and you’re going to do the same for me as an East High student, I want you to tell me everything you know about Ricky Bowen.”

Gina bit her tongue as her other three friends stared at each other with suspicious looks on their faces. She got strange vibes for some reason but didn’t want to act on what could be nothing. Besides, she promised you two that she wouldn’t say anything to anyone. And how could she tell Kourtney not to mention Ricky to Dani if she didn’t ended up revealing something?

You looked down at your phone to see a text from Ricky.

I’m still on my way, baby. Don’t worry, I’m stopped at a red light. I’ll be there in like 10 minutes. I wish your rehearsal didn’t end so late so we could’ve stayed up cuddling.

You smiled at the text before sending a little heart emoji, nothing that would require Ricky to look down at his phone after the light turned green. You ruffled around your bag to get your water bottle, reaching for your phone again when you felt the familiar vibration of a text. Another one from Ricky.

This red light is long. Do you want to get McDonalds after this?

You shook your head, deciding it was better to just answer him in person. A groan left you mouth when you felt the vibration again. That light wasn’t going to be red forever, if he was texting while driving then you were going to scold him because that could seriously inju—

Why was Mack now following your Instagram?

(part 15)

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@mishtay @ifilwtmfc @moonysgal

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @bubybubsters

#ricky bowen x reader #hsmtmts fic #hsmtmts

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just-wrting · 1 year

Text

Game Night

Title: Game Night

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You invite the team over for a game night, but a wonderful little accident leads to your boss, and crush, confessing to you.

Word Count: 1938

Master List

A/N: This is mainly self-indulgent. There are many little details about me here that I figured would appeal to a kid so I wrote them in. I really just want soft stuff right now. Also yes, this was a little rushed but I was in the zone so.

You knock on Hotch’s office door. “Hey, you got a sec?”

He looks up from his paperwork and sets his pen down. “Sure. Was there something you needed?”

Glancing at the floor, you start to lose your nerve to ask. “Sort of. I was thinking the team could get together for a game night at my place. I’ve got pizza coupons, too many board games, and a large selection of music. Everyone else besides J.J. will be there.”

For a moment, you think he gets nervous. The blank look he gives you when you ask, makes you think he might be a little nervous, but you know better. He’s just not used to getting asked to do things that aren’t work or taking care of his son.

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he responds almost mumbling the first word. “That sounds like fun. What time should I be there?”

You look at your watch. “Does six thirty work? That’ll let me tidy up and order the pizza after I’m done here.”

“Six thirty is perfect. I’ll see you then.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face before you turn and go back to your desk. Emily leans against it as she waits for you to come back. Everyone else is already looking forward to it and you are ecstatic.

“So is the man of your dreams coming to this little party?” Her voice is teasing.

You sit down and nod. “Oh yes, he is. I expect you all to get there by six thirty as well you know.”

Derek leans back in his chair. “Oh well, I can’t make it. I’m actually going to this concert. Super famous singer and super expensive tickets.”

“Oh really? Such a famous person that you forgot that you got tickets for? Well, it can’t be helped since it was so expensive. You plan on sending me pictures though right? Just to prove that this isn’t you trying to set me up?”

Derek feigns hurt. His hand rests on his chest, he closes his eyes, and he looks away from you. His very obvious attempt to get you alone with Hotch has been spotted and he knows it. That’s not going to stop him from pulling out the theatrics.

“Since you have caught my very well-hidden lie, I suppose six-thirty at your house it is. You sure have your way of making sure people don’t back down.”

Emily laughs as she gets off your desk. “I think (Y/N) just wouldn’t stand for being tricked into such a position.”

“You’ve got that right, Emily. I will also be ruling my apartment with the same iron fist.”

—

The time officially hits six-thirty, and you start to get nervous. Hotch is the last person to come. He’s usually the first person in meetings. Even Derek, who joked about not coming, was early at a crisp six o’five to help you set the food up in the kitchen.

Suddenly there’s a knock on your door. You stride over as quick as you can to swing it open. There stands a frazzled Hotch and a nervous-looking Jack.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find someone to watch him on such short notice. I should’ve called.”

You step back to allow them in. “It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t keep much alcohol and have plenty of music and games he can pick from. And if he doesn’t want to play a game, I do in fact own a TV.”

He looks so relieved and for a moment you let yourself think about handsome he is with a smile. A shake of your head clears those thoughts out and you close the door behind them. Now is not the time to be thinking like that. You have company besides him.

“So Jack, do you want to come pick out a game?” You lean your head to the side. “I’ve got plenty of games for you to choose from.”

Within seconds, Jack seems to light up. He looks up at his dad before responding to you. You know how much Jack likes to be around his dad and how much he admires him.

“I’d really like that, agent (Y/N). Where are they?”

The way he looks at you makes your heart melt. Both of the Hotchner boys are absolutely adorable and you worry that having both of them here will lead to you admitting how you feel.

“I keep them stored in my closet since there's not enough space in the cabinet I have in the living room. As long as you don’t touch anything else in the room you can just follow me.”

Hotch looks like he wants to follow along, but he opts to start putting together plates for himself and Jack. Jack seems content to just follow you down the short hallway towards the bedroom.

Your cat, Pancake, glances up as you swing the bedroom door open. Jack walks closer to the cream-colored cat, before turning to look at you. You know what he wants to ask before he even opens his mouth.

“Pancake is friendly. He won’t bite unless you try to go for his tail. He’s probably just tired since I took him for a walk after I got home.”

You give Jack a moment to pet the feline. You know he doesn’t have pets and you don’t know what you would do if you didn’t have any either. Kids usually like having a pet and you know you certainly did at his age.

“Well, the games are right here in this bin. The bigger one I mean. The smaller one just has the Pokemon cards I’ve collected. You and your dad can come over again if you ever want to look at them.”

Jack looks like he might burst from excitement at the thought of looking through them. In fact, he’s so excited he can barely pick a singular game, leading you to bring four of them with you to the living room.

“Dad! (Y/N) is so cool! And they have a cat named Pancake and he let me pet him,” Jack yells in enthusiasm while he runs up to Hotch. “And they said I can come and look at their Pokemon cards whenever I want!”

You feel your face heat up and start to fumble with your words. “It’s not that big of a deal. He just wanted to pet the cat and look through the cards. I figured it would be better to save that for another time.”

Rossi gives you a wink. “I’m sure Aaron would love to bring Jack over again sometime, right Aaron?”

Hotch gives a soft smile towards Jack. “Whatever he wants. As long as that’s okay with you, (Y/N). You don’t have to do what he wants just cause he’s a kid. Or just because he’s my kid.”

Everyone is looking at the two of you, and you can’t help but get even more flustered. If only you don’t think Jack is a super cute kid. You wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Like I said it’s not a big deal. You’re welcome to come by whenever you, I mean he, wants to.”

—

It’s already been three hours since game night started. The pizza boxes are empty, save for the grease that coats the cardboards, and there are half-full glasses of soda on every surface. Reid and Rossi are playing some limited edition chess set in the corner, and Derek is in a deep discussion with Hotch.

You feel Jack’s head land on your arm as he falls asleep. No one else seems to notice and for a minute you wonder if you should cut this Friday night short so Jack can get some rest. None of the team seems like they’ll be wrapping up soon though so you devise another plan.

You gently scoop the boy up and make your way to the bedroom. If he wants to sleep, then sleep he shall. You know Pancake will love the cuddle buddy, and you figure that it will let Hotch have some free time to relax.

“I can take him home if this is an issue.”

You shake your head. By now, you’ve got Jack all situated on the bed. All you have to do is convince the cat to get off the spare blanket so you can cover him.

“It’s not an issue. If it was I would’ve told you already.” You give Hotch a soft smile in the dim light. “No sense in having just the two of you leave.”

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “I’m sorry. I should’ve realized it was his bedtime.”

You step closer to him and put your hand on his arm. “No really. I mean it. You and Jack will never be an issue to me. He’s important to me. And probably the whole team too.”

For a moment, you and Hotch stand in silence. You can’t bring yourself to say anything. Either you’ll say something silly, or you’ll ruin whatever peace has settled between the two of you. So you choose to listen to the soft laughter of everyone out there.

“(Y/N)?” The way Hotch says your voice is gentle.

You don’t respond only properly looking up at him. Even in the dim glow of the lamp, he looks handsome. There’s a sort of shyness about him in this moment, and you feel your heart skip a beat when he looks at you.

“Can I tell you something? Something important?” he asks softly.

You nod. “Yeah. You can tell me anything. Is something wrong?”

“No. No nothing’s wrong. I just,” he takes a deep breath while explaining, “have this feeling. And right now I think I know what this feeling has been all along.”

There’s a pause while he searches for the right words. His hand makes its way to brush a stray strand from your forehead, and you can feel his handshake. He’s nervous about something and you can’t take the suspense anymore.

“What sort of feeling, Aaron?”

With that question, you watch his resolve crumble. “(Y/N), I like you. I know it's awkward, and even a little weird, but I really do like you. And not just as a person. Seeing the way you were with Jack just, it just made me realize how badly I do.”

You reach out and cup the side of his face. You run your thumb across his cheek and lean in towards him. His breath is warm on your skin, and you get goosebumps across your arms.

Within seconds, you feel his lips on yours. It’s nothing more than a peck, but you still feel him linger. Lingering like if you let him, he’d kiss you breathless. You know you would let him. He most likely doesn’t know that.

“Aaron, can I tell you something then?”

His response is nothing more than a whisper of a yes that ghosts across your face. His breath is slow and deep like he’s doing his best to not hold it in.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for months. I think you were the last person in the team to realize that.” You giggle. “Don’t feel too bad about that though cause I think I was second to last at knowing that I liked you.”

You press your lips to his once more, and you can feel him smile as you kiss. For a moment, nothing else exists in the world but the two of you, and you want nothing more than to keep it that way. Just you and Aaron stuck in a kiss.

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotch #criminal minds Jack

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sixofpomegranates · 2 years

Text

☠︎ Tutor ☠︎

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Carver!Fem!Reader

Word count: 13K (it's a long one | That's what she said.)

Summary: Trading tutoring for guitar lessons, Reader’s hopeless crush on the towns freak doesn't seem so hopeless after all.

☞ Picture does not describe the looks of the reader!

A/N: !Body & Skin color Neutral! Reader! IMPORTANT: Jason is also still alive. Reader is Jason's cousin and grew up with Robin as her best friend. They worked together with Steve at Scoops Ahoy.

CW: Smut, Fluff, Angst 18+| Eddie (Bullying/Self-Deprecation/Feeling of not being good enough) It is implied that Eddie has ADHD or is at least in the spectrum, [y/n] (Rich Parents not supporting your dreams/Shady family wealth-white supremacists) Mentions of Vecna/Chrissy/S4/Near-death experience/Scars/Nightmares, Pining, Drugs & use of (Weed), Making-out, Fingering, Penetrative Sex (Virginity/Loss of virginity, Unprotected, Creampie)

Pinning my tutoring flyer on the board in school, I sigh. Another year of tutoring to have more than this couple of peanuts my parents consider my pocket money, I guess.

Fun fact, it's called pocket money because it's little enough to fit in your pockets, even if Dad gives it to you in pennies.

But okay, I want something, I'm eighteen, and I am able to earn the money for it. Sure, my uncle and aunt just bought Jason a new car because our family name's soaked in wealth, and apparently, we think that the price of a dead girlfriend is exactly the same as for an Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro; but okay...

If anyone in my family would know that the disaster that was March and the giant earthquake were actually a real-life boogie man coming to collect teens; and that there was something the kids I tutored over the last years called 'The Upside Down', I'd get my guitar lessons paid within the blink of an eye...

But Robin, Steve, and Nancy were very clear about why I've got to keep it to myself.

So no hero status or guitar lessons for me, only tutoring either a child that Steve will adopt the second it comes into his five-mile radius or a stupid jock that will try flirting with me every session and stare at my cleavage instead of his books.

Simply not fair.

As somebody reaches past me to grab my flyer, I jump so severely that my headphones fall off my ears, and the smell of marihuana fills my nose.

"Jesus," I mutter, turning to the person behind me and meeting the face of Hawkins's most hated man. Eddie Munson.

March has fucked up everyone; me being particularly jumpy and having my walkman on all the time is actually one of the better outcomes.

Eddie is now hated by most. They couldn't link him to a satanic cult (Just officially named him a freak and loser that likes dungeons and dragons, which seems to be a gateway drug to demon worshipping now...) and with the government and Chief Hopper's help, they also stopped trying to convict him of Chrissy's murder, but the town hates him.

They still believe he has something to do with it, whether proven innocent or not.

How he still makes it through the day, a big smile on his lips, truly baffles me.

"So, you're tutoring?" he asks, not looking up from my flyer. I nod. "Yeah, need the money."

"You only tutor the freshmen or..." "Everyone's welcome," I smile, turning off my music. "Even the full-on, nonconformist metalheads."

Cocking his head, he raises his eyebrows. "You really think you could help me pass chemistry with Kaminsky?"

"Depends." "On what?" I grin. "If you pay for your lessons."

Faking a heartbroken reaction, he giggles. "And that after I saved you from being demobat food. I'm a hero, y'know?"

Shrugging, I pin another flyer on the board. "Well, Munson, what can I say? We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

Eddie pulls a face as though he is about to vomit. "Gross, don't Madonna me."

"I Madonna as much as I like to," I laugh, punching his chest gently. "So, chemistry, anything else you'd need help with?"

That is when the bell announces lunch. I watch the metalhead tense up before me but still trying to play it cool.

"Uhm, we can talk about it while having lunch," I offer, but he shakes his head. "Nah, I- They throw stuff at me when I enter the cafeteria, so I'll just relax outside a little," he tells me, still smiling, but his eyes can't hide anything.

He's afraid.

"Yeah, sure," I smile back. "After school?"

The hallway starts to fill with students, and Eddie becomes visibly uneasy. He already begins removing himself from the conversation, turning around only to lift his flyer. "After school," he calls over to me and vanishes in the crowd.

*****

After school, I wait outside for Eddie, having him see me and smile from afar, ditching Dusting and Mike while they're still talking to him and running up to me.

"Hey, Carver," he says teasingly, making me smile. "Hey, Edward."

He nods, knowing he deserves the comeback. "You shall be forgiven."

"Okay, business talk. What classes do you need help with?" I ask, looking around. My parents insist on my cousin driving me home for safety, and I really want to avoid Jason seeing me with Eddie.

"Well, chemistry is currently the biggest problem. Have you heard of Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test?" I nod. "That's the one you have to take if you screwed up every other test-" Realization washes over me. "Oh, Eddie."

He smiles at me apologetically, cheeks turning a little pink.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I- We could've studied together."

He shrugs. "To be fair, I know we were in the Upside Down together and stuff, but I didn't think we'd know each other enough to ask."

True, we don't. I'd only ever seen Eddie from afar in school or at the mall. And before all hell broke loose with Chrissy's death and those bat-things nearly killing him, I'd actually been massively intimidated by him.

He is loud, handsome, and definitely a little crazy; that had been enough to keep me away.

But since the Upside Down... That place and all that comes with it – let's just say it helps you forget your social status and makes you become allies even with the handsomely crazy ones.

"I- I still would've helped you if you'd asked. You have to graduate this year, or else-" He interrupts me. "I know. I just didn't want to be a burden. Like, 'Oh, you killed a bat for me, now I have to study with you.'"

"You're not a burden, Munson," I tell him, looking into his warm, brown eyes.

"Heard different things before, and you only say that because you haven't tried studying with me yet," he grins. "So, how much per lesson?"

"How bout a deal?" I ask him back before all bravery can leave me. Eddie's lips split into a gorgeous but mischievous smile. "Oh, I'm good at dealing."

"I swear if you pull out your lunch-" Before I can end my sentence, he's already pulled out the black metal box containing his drugs.

"Eddie, you're not paying me with drugs," I tell him sternly, forcing him to put the lunchbox back into his backpack.

"It's good stuff," he tries to assure me, but I shake my head, hardly able to bite back a grin. "And I still don't want it."

After a final try at handing me the metal box, he shrugs, putting it away.

"You play guitar, right?" I ask him as if I haven't been part of the most metal concert the Upside Down has ever experienced. "How bought instead of paying me, you teach me? I wanted to take classes with that money anyway."

He blinks at me a couple of times before letting out a loud, excited laugh. "Y-Yeah. Totally. I- I taught it myself, so if I can learn it, you can learn it."

"Cool," I answer. He scratches the back of his head, echoing me, "Cool."

We stare at each other for a moment, somehow not knowing what to say. God, this is awkward, isn't it? Am I making it awkward?

Quickly clearing my throat, I announce, "I'm babysitting Mike and Holly tonight, and the Wheelers always allow me to bring company. So, bring your books, and we'll see how bad the situation actually is."

Eddie smiles, as he almost always does. It is actually quite distracting. "Okay. Uhm, then I meet you there at...?"

"Six," I blurt out, then giggle a little anxious. "Six. Great," he chuckles in reply.

Before either of us can say another word, our attention is drawn to a small group of jocks, Jason being their leader, on their way to us and their cars.

"I'm gonna drive the kids home," Eddie tells me, still smiling as if he could hide the real reason he wants to leave. I grant him the illusion of having fooled me, smiling, "Okay. See you tonight."

I watch him hurry away, get Mike, Lucas, and Dustin – including their bikes – into his van, and drive off. Jason rushes now closer, having seen us from afar. He lays his arm around my shoulder, pulling me uncomfortably close.

Maybe I'd felt safe being protected by him when I was five, but now I only see the always returning, dangerous paranoia in him. The way he brutally beat Lucas, saying he protected Max but left them both behind as the Upside Down ripped through the old Creel house... He isn't the same person he was before Chrissy died anymore.

"Hey, was the freak bothering you?" I struggle out of Jason's hold, walking to his car. "No, he wasn't, and don't call him that."

He opens the car, throwing his backpack into the backseat. "Come one, [y/n]. You know this guy's a satanic cult leader and murderer. Think of what he did to Chrissy."

It always spins back to this. It always becomes religious. Religion, whichever you pick, can be beautiful, but unstable people will always find a way to turn it into a weapon for their insane reasoning.

"He didn't do a thing to Chrissy, and you know it," I tell Jason, hating that I can't just explain everything to him. I honestly don't even think he would believe me. He's too far gone.

"I know what I saw," he insists as we sit in the car, harshly gripping my wrist. "Around him, things happen. Strange things, evil things."

His fixation on Eddie never eased, even after he was proven innocent. Jason believes in everything being the fault of the sweet metalhead, simply because he was in the wrong place, with the wrong person, at the wrong time.

"You need some serious therapy before this whole town joins your bullshit again, and we have a second Salem witch trial on our hands," I snarl at my cousin, ripping my wrist from his grasp.

The more delusional he becomes, the more violent even his slightest actions become.

"I'm just watching out for you," Jason tries to explain, driving out of the school's parking lot. "Do me a favor and don't," I ask of him, looking out of the window.

My conversation-ending tone, however, isn't enough for him. As if he could frighten me with his tough-guy act, he threatens, "Stay away from Munson, or I'm telling your parents."

I nod. "Well, in that case, I'm telling Aunt Iris and Uncle Frank of how you faked a house break-in to hide the aftermath of your School's Out Party '84."

The discussion finally dies. Jason turns on the radio, listening to the religious station he's recently so obsessed with, and I continue staring out the window, watching cars pass us by.

*****

After getting Holly to say goodbye to her parents, I tuck her in and walk into Nancy's bedroom. I sit beside Robin on the bed while Nancy does her makeup at her vanity.

"Hey, Nance? You think you could borrow me your notes for Kaminsky's class?" I ask as she is done putting on mascara.

"Yeah, here," she smiles, handing me her pink folder. "So you're really tutoring tonight instead of going out with us?"

I roll my eyes, laughing. "And I am babysitting, so you can go out."

"And we're very thankful for that," Robin snickers, styling the mane of the little plush zebra on Nancy's bed. "So, who's the poor soul fucking up chemistry?"

"Eddie," I answer, looking at the folder to avoid meeting their eyes.

"Oh, so it's that kind of a study date," Nancy says, and I meet her grin through the mirror.

"What? No. He needs help with Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test, and in exchange, he'll teach me how to play guitar," I begin explaining myself, but Robin nudges my arm, rolling on her back.

"Funny, 'cause when Steve needed tutoring, you were very clear about not being into trades, even when he offered you free ice cream."

"She's right," Nancy giggles, agreeing with Robin.

"No, she's not. I worked at Scoops myself, so I didn't need free ice cream. Eddie plays guitar exceptionally well, and I wanted to pay for classes with the money I would've earned. Two birds with one stone."

"And it has nothing to do with you having the hots for Munson?" Robin asks me deadpanned, and I fall silent. I feel my face heat up and shake my head.

Rolling back onto her stomach, Robin smacks my arm. "Oh, come on. [y/n], we grew up together. Journey, Led Zepplin, Dio, Black Sabbath... The phase when we were thirteen, and you were dead set on marrying Eddie Van Halen? How you drooled every time Munson passed Scoops when we were working?"

Nancy laughs loudly, and I shrug, regretting always telling Robin everything, although I know she can't keep secrets for longer than thirty minutes.

"So... I may have a type. That doesn't mean I have the hots for Eddie," I blatantly lie, Robin raising her eyebrows and grinning at me. "Which Eddie? Ours or Van Halen?"

"Fuck you," I cuss, making her only hug me and laugh at the fact that I never really curse.

Knocking on the door, Steve comes in, scanning Nancy up and down. "Hey, are you ready to leave? Mike is talking to El on the phone, and I'm getting really bored alone downstairs."

She nods, and so we all make our way downstairs. I send Mike to his room, telling him to call Eleven from the phone upstairs and walk to the front door with my friends.

Steve opens the door, almost bumping into Eddie, who was about to knock. "Munson," Steve says, surprised. "Harrington," Eddie replies, also greeting the other two. "Robin, Nancy."

His eyes fall on me, and I smile, "Hey. You got your books?" He nods, lifting his black backpack. I step aside, letting him in, "The living room's to the left. I'll be there in a second."

As Eddie can't hear us anymore, Robin grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

I ignore her. "Bye, guys. Have fun." "You too. Do nothing I wouldn't do," she cackles. I raise a brow as she hugs me. "Do I need to remind you that you're gay?"

Sticking her tongue out at me, she drags Steve to the car, Nancy already warming it up.

"Isn't Eddie coming with us?" he asks, confused, Robin wiggling her eyebrows again. "He and [y/n] are having a study date."

Steve's mom-mode kicks in the second he hears that. "Should we stay and help them study?" "Go to the movies," I insist. "Please, I can't work with you eyeing us down."

"You're staying in the living room and do nothing any of us would do. Except for Nancy. You can do what Nancy does," Steve tells me sternly.

I raise my eyebrows. "So, I'm allowed to have a shotgun and shoot Vecna?"

"No?" he asked me as though I'm completely nuts. "You can study. Nothing else."

"Yeah, no dirty couch sex," Robing calls over, making Nancy look mortified. "Robin," she exclaims, then looks at me with a pleading gaze, "Please don't have sex on my couch."

"I hate all three of you," I tell them, closing the front door just in time to hear Robin call after me, "Nah, you love us."

Shaking my head, I return to the living room, where Eddie is busy walking and looking around.

As he notices me, he grins. "I like this place." I smile back. "Yeah, the Wheelers have good taste."

Stretching his arms out, he spins slowly in the living room. "It's so big. I mean, look at this. All of this is the living room, and nobody sleeps here."

"Your uncle sleeps on the couch?" I ask without thinking, quickly regretting my question.

Eddie's cheeks become red, and he stops what he's doing. "Folding bed, but it's a good one..." he tries assuring me, voice falling flat with embarrassment.

I smile at him, sitting down on the carpet and unpacking my study materials on the coffee table. Grabbing his hand, I make Eddie sit beside me and hand him Nancy's pink folder.

"Y-You have a pretty handwriting," he compliments me while flipping through it. "Oh, those are Nancy's notes. She's so anal about them," I tell him, handing him some of my notes for comparison. "That's mine. Not that clean."

After staring at them for a few seconds, he looks at me. "Huh. Like yours better."

"Charmer," I say, my face becoming hot again. To distract, I hand Eddie my chemistry book. "Here."

"What are we doing?" Eddie asks as I hand him a bunch of sticky notes.

"We're transferring my notes into your book. I like to use those to write down simplifications, extra notes, and explanations, and then I stick them on my pages. I also color-coordinate the highlighter I use with the color of my sticky notes. I believe it's more comfortable to learn if it's easier on the eyes..."

Feeling Eddie stare at me, I stop talking, look back at him, and ask, "What?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Nothing, just... thanks."

*****

"Wrong again. Maybe we should focus on-" After hours, I finally feel my patience running thin. "Eddie?"

"Huh?" He asks as though he hasn't been staring at me for the last five minutes.

Fuck, am I so boring that he starts zoning out?

"I was talking to you. I- Can you please try to concentrate?" I ask him, smiling, trying not to sound offended.

He nods, stretching a little before leaning over our books again. "Totally. Yeah. Sure. Sorry."

As he answers the question wrong again, a deep frown appears on his face. I sigh, putting my pen down. "Okay. How bout a break? I'll need to get Mike to go to bed anyway."

He nods, almost relieved, and I make my way upstairs. After some debating and a non-verbal threat, I take the phone out of Mike's room, and it's lights out as his parents requested. I know he'll still stay up some hours reading his comics, but I'm willing to let that slip.

When I come back into the living room, Eddie's gone. Instead, he sits outside on the porch, smoking.

"Hey, is that marihuana?" Of course, it is. He smiles at me charmingly. "It's just a little pot to help me concentrate," he says as if I wasn't about to jump his throat.

A wave of anger rushes over me. "Are you even taking the whole thing seriously? I mean, I've been sitting in there for three and a half hours, trying to teach you something, and the first chance you get, you run outside to get high."

I walk back inside, starting to pack my stuff. I apparently thought too highly of Eddie due to my years of crushing on him. I should've known he wasn't taking it seriously, but I just made a fool out of myself.

I hear fast footsteps behind me. "Hey, hey, [y/n]. Look, I'm sorry. I really just smoked some to concentrate." I turn around, and Eddie steps closer, pleading, "[y/n], please. I have no reason to lie to you. I promise I want to learn."

"Didn't seem like it," I murmur, and he nods.

"I- I know. It's- I struggle to focus, always have. If something isn't interesting enough, my brain just shuts off and then does silly little things it finds more interesting – like counting the little daisies on your top."

We both look down on my shirt and then at each other.

"Please, let's try it again. I swear, no more drugs, and you get me on my best behavior," he asks of me, giving me this distracting big smile again while he cups my cheeks.

"Okay," I nod, without even thinking twice. "Okay?" I nod again. "Okay, Munson. Sit down."

We sit back down, and for the next minutes, I could swear he tries really hard. But as we start working on a practicing sheet with many questions on it, his concentration seems to crumble again.

"I- I'm sorry. I think I mixed the questions up," Eddie mumbles, angry at himself.

"You always keep looking down on the next question while solving the one above," I observe, and he nods. I hand him an empty piece of paper. "Here, try that."

He holds it up, confused. "A piece of paper?" I take it, laying it over his worksheet. "As a divider. We cover the next questions, so you can't look at them."

From here on out, it actually seems to work. Yet, I yawn, exhausted from the hours of work before.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?" Eddie asks, grinning at me. "No. I'm just tired," I answer. "You're actually doing well."

His grin becomes wider. "I so do not believe you." He gives me a gentle shove, making me giggle, "I'm serious. Especially now that we stopped you from mixing up the questions."

"Do you think I'll pass the test?" This time Eddie seems more serious; there is no smile on his face that would indicate that he has any hopes for it. "If you study enough... I mean, Kaminsky's tests are super hard, but like, I'll help you as much as you need me to."

"Nice way to say that I'm fucked, Sweetheart," he coos, hand moving up to my face again. His cold rings burn on my hot cheeks. "You have to study for your own finals. I can't have you hold my hand through my own mess."

"Eddie, I have my studies down and don't mind helping you," I tell him, although I'd rather whine as he removes his hand. I wish he would've left it there.

"Hey, you know what my mom made me do whenever I wanted to achieve something?" I ask him, taking one of Holly's green sheets of crafting paper and folding it in half. "Goal cards. Write down the reason you want to graduate."

"The reason? I'd say because I'm twenty and can't repeat class again?" He deadpans, making me shake my head.

"Not like that. I meant the hopes you have." Licking my lips, I admit, "Like, when I was thirteen, I made one, saying I wanted to learn how to play guitar. Inside I wrote that I was doing it to become a famous musician and marry Eddie Van Halen. Even glued a picture of him in it."

Eddie is quiet for a moment, then bursts into laughter. I shove him. "Stop laughing. I'm trying to help you here."

He nods, whipping away some tears, "Uh-huh." "Fuck you," I tell him in fake appall.

Eddie collects himself, shoving me back and mocking me, "Oh, such big words from such a proper little lady."

As calmness returns to the room, he grabs his pen and the card, opening it. He stares at it for a while, pen ever so often pushing onto the paper, but no words come out.

"Do I have to write it down?" he asks me, a little defeated, this time without a smile. "If you want, you can tell me, and I'll write it down for you," I offer, and he hands it over to me.

Eddie is silent for a while, caught in deep thoughts. Suddenly he says, "I- I want to graduate, so I'm not ending up like my dad."

I look up at him, not yet writing. He continues to explain himself, "He dropped out, married his high school sweetheart, and just barely got by with petty crimes or – you know – selling drugs and stealing cars. Then mom died, and he just spiraled, became violent..."

As his voice loses its strength, I ask, "Where's he now?"

Eddie shrugs. "Does it matter? Prison? Maybe dead?" he says. "Uncle Wayne took me in after CPS contacted him about my dad breaking my arm when he was high... He told his younger brother to fuck off, and we haven't heard from him since."

We're quiet. I don't know what to say. I can't even remember his parents. I only know the version of Eddie that he is now.

"I changed my mind," he then says, tapping on his goal card. "Write that I wanna be a better nephew to Wayne... Don't wanna be a burden anymore, a fuck-up."

I shake my head. "Eddie, you're not a burden. Your uncle loves you."

He nods. "And I only disappoint him. I can't even fucking finish high school. I sit in my room all day, preparing for my D&D campaigns or playing guitar. I sell drugs to assholes that love beating the crap out of me for being a freak, and now I am also a satanic cult leader with demonic powers that murdered Chrissy and two other guys I didn't even know... Yeah, [y/n]. I totally don't sound like a burden."

I'm shocked at how low Eddie seems to actually think of himself. Behind this always smiling and joking façade, there seem to hide years of self-hatred and a, probably trained by his father and the school system, thought of being a worthless burden.

"You took in freshmen, nerdy little kids that don't fit in. You let them be part of your club so they wouldn't have to be alone or get bullied," I argue, having him shrug. "Somebody had to. People can be real assholes."

"You saved Hawkins." "Not like I can tell anyone about it."

I smile a little, "Well, you also saved me from those bats, almost getting killed while trying." "Matter, of course. Everyone would've done that."

I shake my head, "No, they wouldn't, and you know it. Jason didn't care for Lucas or Max, even though he claimed to have beaten Lucas to protect her. He just pissed himself, ran away, and saved his own ass."

Eddie gives me a half-hearted smile and lays his hand on mine, patting it several times. I close the cart and hand it to him. "How about you keep your goal card and write something inside it once it feels right, okay?"

He nods, putting it between the pages of his book where I think it will get forgotten. Then he opens the book on one of the other chapters, pointing at something.

"Can we go over that E cell stuff again?" He asks, clearly wanting to change the subject. I nod. He's been open enough for one evening. "Sure."

After learning for another hour, I fall asleep, face on the coffee table. When I wake up, Eddie is gone, only his leather jacket draped over me like a blanket. In my book, I find a small note asking me to study with him at his place on Friday.

*****

"You call me, and I'll pick you up; my number's on the back," Jason lectures me as he holds his car in front of the Munson trailer, handing me one of the phones from his duffle bag. "I'm meeting with friends, but should you need anything-"

"Don't sell your soul to the devil, and please call me. Yeah, I know," I interrupt him, eying the mobile phone in my hand. "Those things are starting to become really small, or am I crazy?"

He sighs, hating that I am going to spend the day in the trailer his girlfriend died in, with the guy who was the last to have seen her alive.

"Seriously, [y/n]. The minute he tries something, or you realize you're in a circle of blood with strange symbols drawn around it-" "Yeah, because that happens so casually often," I interrupt my cousin again.

"This is about your safety," he tells me as though I am unreasonable. "No, this is about you being paranoid and needing therapy," I answer, grabbing my bag and getting out of the car. "Thanks for driving me. See ya later."

I walk over to the trailer, knocking a couple of times. After a few seconds, Wayne Munson, Eddie's uncle, opens the door.

"Yeah?" he asks, holding a baseball bat behind his back. A safety precaution, I understand but disklike that he has to have.

"Hi, Mr. Munson. I'm here to see Eddie." He eyes me up and down, and I add, "I'm his friend. I help him study."

He looks over my shoulder, nodding to Jason's car with his chin. "And your friend in the car? That's Jason Carver, that little bastard," he says, highly suspicious of me.

"He's my cousin. My parents want him to drive me around since the earthquake," I explain, and his face becomes softer. "I'm sorry, Kid. I-"

I interrupt him with a smile. I understand why he has to be protective of Eddie after all that happened. "No, don't worry. I'm not crazy about that mental case either," I say. "Uhm, can I come in? I'm afraid he might get out of the car if we stay out here for too long."

Wayne lets me in, closing and locking the door behind me. From Eddie's room comes the sound of an acoustic guitar playing 'Sweet Leaf', one of my favorite songs.

"Eddie, your friend is here," he calls down the small hallway. I join him, calling, "Hi, Eddie."

We hear some rummaging and cussing, then Eddie practically rushes out of his room, only wearing his boxers.

"Hey, [y/n]," he greets me as I instantly look the other way, feeling my face burn like fire.

"Son, put some damn close on. You're in the presents of a lady, for God's sake," his uncle scolds him, and after a millisecond, Eddie cusses like a sailor.

"Shit, fuck. Sorry, I just woke up. I- It'll only be a second," he tells me, and from the bumping sound, I figure he almost ran into his bedroom door.

"Uh-huh. Take your time," I tell him, finally looking in his direction again as the door closes.

"Now, [y/n], can I offer you something to drink?" Wayne asks me, and I shake my head. "No, thanks. I'm good," I tell him, looking around the living area I know pretty well in both this dimension and whatever the Upside Down is.

It is scary to think that the portal simply closed, not leaving an ounce of trace that it ever even existed.

My eyes fall to the folding bed, open in the middle of the room. Eddie's uncle rushes over, taking the blanket and pillow and putting them inside the couch's storage department.

"Sorry, he didn't tell me he'd expected someone," he explains, embarrassed, folding away his bed. I smile at him, shaking my head. "Don't worry. Really."

The awkward silence is broken by Eddie coming out dressed in black, ripped jeans and a washed-out band shirt.

"Hey, hi," he greets me again. "Hi," I answer.

"I- I made the study cards you told me to," he explains proudly, and I grin. "Do they work?" "I think so. C'mon."

With his hand on my back, he escorts me to his room, signaling me to sit down on his bed. I, instead, only put my bag there and look around his room. In bright daylight and without the risk of dying or Robin screaming that we need music to save Nancy, it's actually nice in here.

It helps that it's also cleaner than last time and smells like air freshener and fresh linen.

"Edward, the door stays open," Wayne calls into the room, just as I pass a pile of clothes next to his closet, to look at the small, hand-painted figures that I think belong to his dungeons and dragons game.

I turn around, looking at Eddie. "So, the door stays open," I tease him jokingly, and he nods, becoming red while scratching the back of his curly head.

"Yeah. When something happens again, Wayne can give me an alibi saying he saw you the whole time during your visit and that you were okay."

My smile instantly vanishes, and I begin to apologize, "Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't think of that. I thought it was because-" "Because I'm having a pretty girl in my room?" he asks, tilting his head and stepping closer.

My breath hitches as he backs me up closer to the wall; I bump into the dresser behind me. "Naughty girl," he whispers with a mischievous grin as he cages me between his arms and his dresser.

I shake my head, becoming dizzy, "I- I- I didn't-" He chuckles, "I'm just teasing you, Carver. Calm down."

I am almost disappointed as he steps away, truly having only teased me. I turn my back to him before he can see the look on my face, but my gaze meets a mirror, showing me my pout.

Silly. It's silly that I'm sad he wasn't actually flirting with me. I focus on the guitar hanging in front of the mirror. Sweetheart, that's what Eddie calls the guitar. I begin chewing on my bottom lip, telling myself that I don't need this metalhead to like me back.

It would be too difficult anyway. Especially in fucked up times like these, where we don't know when Vecna returns.

Doesn't make me want Eddie any less, though...

"You like her?" Eddie asks behind me. I nod, suddenly feeling his hand on my shoulder, moving me back to the bed. "Well, not gonna let you touch her just yet. You need to learn acoustic first."

As I sit down on his bed, Eddie takes the black acoustic guitar full of band stickers that was leaning next to it and kneels down in front of me, showing it to me.

"This is Honey. She was my first guitar, first love, if you will," he chuckles. "She's pretty," I whisper. Eddie nods, "Glad you think so, 'cause she's yours now."

"What?" I exclaim, making him laugh. "Don't look so shocked," he says. "You need a guitar to practice on."

"But she's yours." He nods again, laying the guitar on my lap. "And she's been painfully neglected for years now, especially since I bought Sweetheart. Now take her and be good to her."

"Thank you," I whisper, following the outline of an old Metallica sticker.

As I look up, mine and Eddie's eyes meet. He'd been watching me closely. We grin at each other a little stupidly, and I feel my heart race like it's trying to win a marathon.

"I made you something," he says suddenly, jumping up and grabbing a bunch of small cards from one of his drawers. "Those are the different chords and where you have to put your fingers."

On the cards are drawn guitars necks, dots on the exact spots where my fingers need to be. "These are awesome, Eddie. And you really made those cards for me?"

He nods, cheeks turning pink, "We have a deal, after all. And if I teach you how to play guitar, I damn well will make sure you're becoming a real star at it."

I put the guitar aside and take his jacket out of my backpack, awkwardly and completely flustered, handing it to him. "You forgot your jacket at the Wheelers' home a couple of days ago."

"I didn't want you to freeze," he says, throwing it aside. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I know the reaction people have when they see me. I didn't want Mike's parents to think I was there to sacrifice their kids or have them be mad at you for letting me in."

I bite my lips again. "I wish you would've stayed. We could've gone home together." "I could've driven you home..." he smiles for a second before it vanishes again. "But people know my van, can't have you be seen with me."

Before I can stop myself, I say, "I don't mind being seen with you, Eddie."

He stares at me, touched, chocolate brown eyes becoming glassy, "T-That's a C. You think you can play it?" he quickly asks, swallowing hard and handing me one of the cards as a distraction.

I take the guitar but struggle with my finger placement. Eddie notices it and crawls behind me on the neatly made bed.

Hands on my waist, he makes me sit between his legs and helps me hold the guitar correctly. "Is that okay?" he asks, looking at me over my shoulder.

I nod, and he takes my fingers, placing them on the strings. As they are placed, he hands me a pick and helps me play that note. It sounds correct, and I smile at him. Eddie smiles back at me as though I just performed a concert for him.

"There you go, rockstar," he chuckles, placing my fingers differently again.

For a while, we play the chords, and I become more and more comfortable with his arms around me. It feels nice. Safe and calm.

We're both ripped from the moment as Wayne knocks on the open bedroom door. "Hey, you two. I'm going to work. Can I leave you both alone?"

Eddie nods, barely acknowledging his uncle. "Uh-huh."

"Eddie, are you sure-"

This time he looks up, interrupting his uncle, "Yes, Wayne. We're just playing guitar and studying a little. I promise nothing shady will happen." Eddie looks at me, "Right?"

I nod, assuring his uncle, "Oh, yeah. Absolutely not. I'm also getting picked up later."

The man nods, hand running over his head. "Okay. I- I'm just worried."

"I know," Eddie tells him, this time seeming to accept and understand his uncle's worries. They share a serious look that shows concern and affection.

Then Eddie smiles again, pointing at the polaroid camera on his dresser, "Hey, can you take a picture of us?" He asks, having his uncle nod. "Sure, son."

"That's okay for you, is it?" Eddie whispers into my ear, making goosebumps appear on my skin. I grin, nodding lovesick.

After taking a picture of us, me seated between Eddie's legs, the guitar in our hands, Wayne hands the picture to his nephew, wishing us goodbye, "It was nice to meet you, [y/n]. See you in the morning, kid."

"Oh, I'm gonna keep that one," Eddie whispers delightedly, looking at the picture.

I put the guitar aside, trying to look at the polaroid. "Why?"

"No reason," he tells me, standing up. I follow him, "Why, Eddie?"

"Because you look cute in it," he says, but this isn't enough for me.

I try to grab the picture, but he holds it up. Therefore, I stand as close to him as possible, standing on the tip of my toes to reach it.

Eddie wraps an arm around my waist, starting to spin us around. "Care for a dance, milady?

"You're so weird," I giggle, unable to reach the picture, but holding on to his wrist.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm completely insane," he tells me, stopping our spinning. "Now sit down and tutor me."

He softly pushes me back on the bed, and I make myself comfortable, looking at my own study cards while Eddie sits down next to me, going through his own. I have no idea where the polaroid picture went, but I sure hope I don't look ridiculous in it.

After two hours of learning together, Eddie lies back, staring at the ceiling. "I need a break."

I put the guitar aside and join him. "Same. My fingers are killing me."

"Yeah... Takes some time till you build up calluses," he chuckles, taking my hand into his, gently kissing my sore fingertips and stealing my breath. "Pretty soon, your pretty lil fingers will look like mine."

I don't know how he does it, but Eddie makes my heart beat so fast I feel like becoming dizzy; he always had me wrapped around his finger in that way, even as I only knew him from afar.

He's everything that my parents taught me to avoid, but I want to admire him forever.

"So you think I'll pass the test?" He asks me with a crooked smile, luring me back into reality. "Hm... I'd say I'm 99.9% sure," I smile, making him nod bothered as he lets go of my hand.

"Yeah, still room for me to fail." I prob myself up on my elbows, assuring him, "Well, I believe you'll make it."

A grin creeps over his features, making me certain that mischief is brewing together a plan under his curly mop of hair. "Would you be mad at me if I'd smoke one as a reward?"

I shake my head, and he sits up, grabbing a pre-rolled joint from his cluttered nightstand. "Do you want to...?" He offers, lighting it and taking a hit.

I shrug, uncertain since I've never done something like it before. "Uh... I- I don't know."

He looks at me with a serious face. "Hey, I'm not somebody that's pressuring others into things. I just thought... Would you want to try it? Now would be your chance, and it's safest to get high for the first time when there's somebody with you who has experience and watches over you."

I sit up as well, nodding. It isn't like I never wanted to try it.

"You sure?" He asks sternly, trying to avoid a reaction of mine that is solely based on the need to impress him.

I nod again. "Yes. Please."

Eddie leans over, holding the joint's butt to me. I lean forward, lips on the joint, taking my first pull; his eyes are on me, face as close as possible to inspect me.

"There you go. Small hits, baby," he coos his instructions. "Hold it, and now let go," I do as he says, coughing a little due to the smoke in my lungs. "Burns a little, I know."

It is hard not to stare as we lock eyes, his chocolate brown ones metaphorically bringing me to my knees. He has me smoke half of the joint, and as stupid as I feel for thinking like that, it feels intimate.

The way his big hands bring the joint back and forth between us, the gentle way he coos and praises me, and his eyes, his eyes are on me, so fascinated and intrigued as though I am one of the dirty magazines he unsuccessfully tried to hide under the bed.

I love that gaze of his and want to find a way to make it stay, although I probably just over-romanticize it because of the pot and my crush on Eddie.

As he puts the joint's end into the ashtray on his nightstands, I let myself fall back onto his mattress. "This feels nice," I say, feeling wholly carefree and peaceful for the first time since Vecna.

Eddie lies down beside me, explaining, "Yeah, it's the good stuff. Knocks us out for a while, perfect for relaxing."

We lay on our sides, facing each other. As he reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek, I notice some ink on the back of his hand. I take it and read, 'Clean bedroom. [y/n].' on it.

I like my name on his skin; a weird thing to feel, but it fills me with a bit of pride.

"You forgot that," I tease him, pointing at the to-do list on the back of his hands. He chuckles, "Baby, I wasn't in school so that I could clean up."

I sit up, looking around. Then I giggle. "Okay..." "Hey," Eddie warns me in fake appall. "I even changed the sheets today."

I'd noticed the sweet, floral smell of the linen under me earlier, so I nod. "I appreciate the effort," I tell him, laying back down and kicking off my shoes.

"Where will life take you after graduation, Carver?" He asked as I make myself comfortable on his mismatched set of pillows.

"Where will it take you?" I ask back, but he quickly dismisses my question. "We both know I'll stay trailer trash, now answer me."

I sigh, saying my secret plan out loud for the first time, "I'll take the trust fund I'll gain access to once I have my diploma and run."

He furrows his brows. "So you'll leave us?"

"I meant that metaphorically," I say, making him look confused. "My family had different funds set up for me when I was born. One for high school graduation, one for college, one for marrying, and one for when I have children – a son, to be specific..." I explain.

"That sounds like a very thought-through version of manipulation," Eddie concludes, angered, seeming disgusted by my family's forced conforming.

"It is. I grew up thinking that I have to achieve all these set goals, but now..." Another sigh escapes me. "We don't know when Vecna will return, and every fight becomes more dangerous. I don't want to go to college and become a rich, famous, whatever. I don't want to play happy housewife for an upper-class jock my parents pick for me.

"If I die, I want to be able to look back and know I chose my happiness instead of social obligation."

My whole life, I'd been the perfect, preppy, old-money daughter my family had wanted. I exceeded in school, never went to parties, and stayed away from 'bad apples'. But I'd almost died, and as the weeks had passed, I came to realize that I would've left a life of unfulfilled dreams behind. One I'd only lived to make my parents proud.

"You thought about that a lot, huh?" I nod. "Ever since the bats attacked us."

My hand wanders over Eddie's stomach, resting on a spot I know is now holding a serious scar. He'd gotten it while protecting me from the bats as I'd tried to lure them from the trailer.

"Does it still hurt?" "Only sometimes. At least I have some very metal scars now," he jokes, hand coming up to my thigh.

Under my clothes, I hide some scars as well. It's not like I am ashamed of them. Why should I be? But they need to heal and fade enough to stop looking like bites first – as my family believes they come from an accident caused by the earthquake.

"What about yours?" Eddie asks, and I nod. "Same here. Do you sometimes dream of the Upside Down?"

"Aren't we all?" he chuckles, pushing down the trauma we all experienced. "It took me a while to even realize that all that actually happened, and when the wounds stopped hurting..."

"It'll get easier," I assure him as his arm moves up to my waist—another spot where a scar rests. I'm surprised he still remembers all of the spots.

"Right, wasn't your first rodeo," he remembers. "So, what are you doing with the money? Your trust fund, I mean."

I grin, biting my bottom lip, "You know the retail park between Hawkins and Derry?" "Who doesn't?" he laughs. "I wanna rent a space there and have my own music store. Sell instruments, cassette tapes, records... All of it."

Eddie's eyes become wide, sparkly. I seem to have piqued his interest. "Sounds amazing." "You think?" I ask, and he nods. "Totally. We'll always have music, so you'll always have a job there."

Either his reaction, his touch, or the pot – maybe all three of the things combined – have me smile. I prop myself on my elbow, hand dancing over the letters of his old Black Sabbath shirt.

"If you're not too set on becoming trailer trash..." I start, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers. "I could always use a good business partner who loves music."

"Be careful with those words, Sweetheart," Eddie warns me, propping himself up as well. "'Cause if you mean them, you'll never, never, ever get rid of me."

As he begins towering over me, I whisper, "Sounds good to me."

And just like that, his lips collide with mine. I feel like bursting into flames, like I am losing my mind, and as though I only imagine this moment. I let myself fall back into the pillows, taking Eddie with me as he crawls on top of me.

The kiss is heated and longing. Eddie's hand cradles my face, wanders upwards, and his fingers tangle themselves into my hair. I gasp into the kiss as he tugs on my hair, my hips jolting up due to the literal electricity he created within me.

Suddenly the kiss stops. Eddie sits back up on his heels and looks as though he just violated me. "I- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. That wasn't okay. You're high, you're-"

I sit up as well, embarrassment almost making me dizzy as I admit, "That had nothing to do with me being high. Did- Did you just do it because...?"

He shakes his head so harshly that I fear he'd give himself whiplash. "Was looking for a chance to do that for a while now."

I can't believe his words, asking, "Really?"

Eddie nods, looking me up and down as he licks his lips, "Jesus, you're so fucking pretty. Makes me dizzy."

We giggle and smile at each other childishly. I'd never thought he'd be interested in someone like me. I'm not an innocent, happy-go-lucky, preppy cheerleader like Chrissy was. I'm not a cool, not caring what people think of me – metalhead like him.

I am basic, normal. I go to school and do my homework, I listen to all types of music, mostly not even caring for genres since I mix through them all the time anyway, and I dress uncoordinated, solely based on what makes me happy that morning.

I've always thought I was invisible, one of the nice girls you see for five minutes in a movie and have totally forgotten about by the time the credits come on. This had given me some advantages as we saved Hawkins but socially made me feel out of place...

Eddie leans closer again, making me back onto the pillows, his knee between my legs. "That okay?" he asks softly, and I nod.

He towers over me, making my heart beat irrationally. He's so beautiful, and the fact that he wants me has me forget everything, even my name. I push myself up, cupping his cheeks; our eyes lock as he looks just as surprised and overwhelmed about all this as I am.

This time, I kiss him. His lips are soft and gentle as he kisses me back, hands carefully roaming my body as though I'm made of glass. I kissed a few guys before, but none of them had ever made me feel like this.

It feels so right. Like I was made to be in Eddie's arms, being accepted although coming with nothing else to offer than myself.

As our kiss becomes messy, something I've never experienced before, our hands become greedy and inquisitive. As my nails dig into his upper arms, Eddie's hand cups my clothed breast, groping it harshly.

As I moan into the kiss, he chuckles, kissing down my neck and plastering its skin with hickeys and soft love bites.

I moan again, hips jolting up and causing me to whimper as I accidentally rub my most sensitive area against his thigh. "Fuck," I softly cry, repeating the motion once more.

Pecking my lips softly, Eddie places himself now entirely between my legs. I can feel his erection through our clothes, right where I want him most.

"Nice, huh?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips against me and enjoying how my eyes roll back.

Our lips find each other again, and while we sloppily begin making out again, our bodies move in unison, friction having us moan and gasp into our kisses.

As his hand sneaks under my shirt, cool rings kissing the warmth of my body, I stop Eddie. Propping myself up a little, I stammer, embarrassed, "Can we just- I don't- I never..."

I've never done anything like this before. Before today, I never kissed somebody with this much passion, never let one touch me like this. I've never felt this need, lighting my body on fire, before... And it scares me. I am not sure if I want to go any further than this.

Eddie smiles and softly chuckles. He leans down, kissing my cheek. "No worries. Rule one of being high is not to make big decisions when high. Have two tattoos proofing that point."

Somehow, I expected him to be mad at me.

"So you're okay with just kissing?" I ask, concerned, but he drops onto his elbows, forehead against mine. "I could do that for a lifetime."

Turning on some music, which plays softly in the background, we fall into another kiss, and another, and another. At one point, Eddie even has me sitting in his lap, hands groping my ass as he bucks his hips against me.

Only as our lips are sore, we cuddle on his bed, lips still coming together for little kisses from time to time.

I fall asleep in his arms, feeling safe and happy; I dream of this moment lasting forever.

*****

The next time I open my eyes, it is dark around me. I hate being in the dark, I become nervous and scared. Time has shown me over and over again why I should stay away from the darkness, but Eddie's chest, slowly rising underneath me and his arm around me, have me calm.

Closing my eyes again, I try to go back to sleep.

"She was supposed to be home hours ago, old man!" An angry voice yells outside the trailer.

"Listen, I am sure there is an explanation-" an older voice tries to communicate calmly but is interrupted.

"I don't give a shit about your excuses. You and that satanic scumbag-"

The older raises his voice warningly, "Hey, be careful what you're saying."

Eddie moves underneath me, laying on his side and pulling me into a hug. Suddenly he jumps up, turning on the lights. "Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"What is it?" I ask sleep-drunkenly. "We fell asleep, Sweetheart. It's 5 a.m.," he explains loud but softly.

I jump out of bed the second my brain processes his words. "No!" I exclaim, looking at the radio alarm on Eddie's nightstand. I pull on my shoes, Eddie throwing over his jacket.

"[y/n]! [y/n], are you in there?" The angry voice from before yells, and I have a realization. "Fuck, that's Jason," I tell Eddie, who nods, handing me my backpack.

We rush outside and see Jason and his friends in front of the trailer. Wayne stands there on the steps, a baseball bat in his hand. They're all looking at Eddie and me.

I look back and forth between Wayne and Jason. "I- I'm so sorry. We fell asleep, I-" "I called you a hundred times," Jason interrupts.

I push past Wayne, walking down the steps. Eddie's uncle keeps him in the trailer, not letting him out.

"I just told you I fell asleep," I answer my cousin as he walks closer, looking at my disheveled appearance, then at Eddie's.

"What have you done to her, Munson?" Jason growls, and I step between him and the stairs. "He did nothing. What's wrong with you?"

He's clearly drunk and out for confrontation with his favorite victim.

"Fuck, you smell like a distillery," I mutter, having to look away to catch a huff of fresh air.

"We're leaving. Wait till Aunt-" my cousin tries to threaten me, grabbing my arm and walking us to the car. I shake my head, interrupting him. "You're drunk. I'm not letting you drive me."

As I try to pull my arm from his grasp, he hardens his grip. "[y/n]," he warns, trying to drag me to the car. "No," I exclaim, trying to stop walking, but Jason becomes rougher. "Ow."

"Hey, don't grab her like that," Eddie calls over, forcing himself past his uncle.

"Or what, Freak? What satanic monster from hell do you want to summon here in front of everyone?" Jason asks, irritated, fumbling his keys out of his pocket, a little cross keychain on it.

By now, half of the trailer park residents have noticed what is happening. All looking, nobody intervening.

"Man, just- just let go of her arm," Eddie tries to reason with Jason. "Please, you're hurting her."

As he takes a couple of steps closer, my cousin raises his keychain. "Don't come near us."

"Eddie, it's okay," I tell the sweet metalhead, then look to his uncle, who has his baseball bat equipped. "It's okay."

"Are you sure, girl?" Wayne asks me, concerned, but I nod.

"Yeah. I..." I finally can escape Jason's grasp and look at him and his friends. "Is anyone of you guys sober?" None are, so I sigh, "Kay. Give me your keys and get into the car."

Jason obliges since me driving the car means he gets what he wants, and I leave with him. I have the drunken jocks get back into the car, noticing that one had held a wheel-wrench the entire time.

I buckle Jason in the passenger's seat, make sure his friends buckle in as well and grab the wrench. Shaking my head, I look over at Eddie and his uncle, waving at them and trying to force a smile on my lips as I got into the driver's seat.

Leaving the trailer park, the drunks in the back fall promptly asleep, while Jason seems to calm down, experiencing an adrenaline crash. He tells me the addresses of his friends, and I drive everyone home.

"I was worried," he explains, head heavily resting on the headrest of his seat.

"I know," I sigh, having just dropped off the last one of his friends.

"I miss Chrissy," he mumbles, and I watch him take out the little velvet box he carries around everywhere. "I thought we would be together forever."

Jason had planned on proposing to his high school sweetheart after graduation. Chrissy was dead for months now, but he still carried the ring around.

I look at the broken shell of a man beside me. Jason had lost his mind when he'd lost his girlfriend. Our family believes he just needs time, but he desperately needs therapy.

He wasn't always like this; he was a good guy; we grew up like siblings – Yeah, sure, he was a little douchey sometimes, but he was the guy nice to mostly everyone—a preppy, old-money boy.

His moral compass hadn't been broken before he came into contact with Vecna's darkness.

"Eddie didn't hurt Chrissy," I tell him, but he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "I know what I saw."

I can't tell him about the Upside Down, which makes me helpless. I have to sit between the chairs, see Eddie being hated, and watch my cousin lose his sanity, and there is nothing I can do about it.

"Look," I start, carefully thinking of how to phrase my sentences, "I know what you saw. I know how it looked like and how much it scared you, but Eddie was solely at the wrong time in the wrong place when... when Chrissy and Patrick were attacked."

Jason looks at me in disbelief, his eyes wandering down to my neck, where he notices the marks left by Eddie.

"So that's how it is," he says disgustedly, sitting back in his seat and refusing to look at me again. "You let the freak fuck you, and now you're excusing him and his actions. You're choosing him instead of your own family and friends and completely disregard his victims."

"That's not what I'm doing, Jason," I say. "If- If you really think there is something evil and satanic going on... Maybe the monster hunted Chrissy and Patrick, and when it attacked, Eddie just happened to be there."

He shakes his head. "Munson is a vessel. I don't know when he became one, but I know what got him there... This satanic game and the music he listens to."

"Jason, Dungeons & Dragons is a fantasy game. It's like being the main character in The Hobbit. You know we loved that book when we were younger. It's harmless, and Eddie is basically a sweet nerd with rough edges. And his taste in music...

"It's just metal. You know it doesn't make you a murderer. You secretly bought me my first Black Sabbath cassette tape when Mom and Dad forbid me to have it."

He ignores me, angry tears in his eyes while he continues to fidget with the velvet box in his hand. I start the car and drive us to my place. I am too tired and frustrated to drive any more than that.

*****

"[y/n], do you have any idea how worried we were?" my father yells angrily, Mom agreeing. "You stay out all night, and your cousin has to pick you up from a trailer park."

I sigh, pressing my palms onto the cold kitchen table. "Come on. He was drunk as hell. I had to drive him and his friends home. You can barely say he picked me up."

Jason had used the hurt he felt from losing Chrissy and our talk in the car to unload all his paranoia of the night on my parents, then went to bed in our guest bedroom, leaving me to pick up the mess.

"Still, your behavior-" I interrupt my Dad, "I know. I made a mistake, and I am sorry. Can I now please go to my room?"

"No. I don't want you to see that boy anymore." "What?" I ask loudly.

"This Munson kid has caused enough harm. I will be damned if I let you end up like Chrissy Cunningham," Dad yells determent, making me shake my head.

"Eddie had nothing to do with Chrissy's death."

"We don't know that for sure," Mom says, trying to be the calm voice of reason as my father becomes angrier by the second.

"Yes, we do," I argue. "Jason has been spinning out of control for months now. Why isn't anybody in this fucking town questioning his bullshit accusations?"

Mom hands my father his coffee, and he takes it to the living room. Simply leaving the discussion like he always does. Then she sits down beside me, trying to hold my hand.

"People wouldn't find it so easy to believe if the Munson boy hadn't given them so many reasons to."

I let out a sarcastic laugh, then scoff, "Funny, 'cause when people tried to – very rightfully so – suspect that our family's wealth comes from decades of slavery and human trafficking, you both told me that foolish people are willing to believe everything just to run their mouths."

"[y/n]..."

I shake my head, so angry at my family's hypocrisy, "You're not treating Eddie fair. You're judging him and his character through his upbringing, social status, and nonsensical rumors from an unstable family member."

"Hun, I know you like that boy, and dating a bad boy sounds exciting for girls your age – I know, I've been there – But boys like that have the power of ruining your life."

"You don't know him, Mom," I tell her, tears in my eyes. The Upside Down had thoroughly messed up my relationship with my family. "When the earthquake hit Hawkins, I was with Eddie and our friends. If he hadn't been there, I would be dead now. He saved me."

Mom looks at me, shocked. I've refused to talk about the accident until now since I still haven't thought out a perfect lie. I see the pain in my mother's eyes, I know she loves me, and after so many died due to the earthquake, it terrifies her that I could've been one of them.

"Mom, Eddie's a little weird, sometimes completely bonkers, loud, and obnoxious, but he is neither dangerous nor bad for me."

She presses her lips together, trying not to mess up her perfectly applied lipstick. Then she nods. "Go to bed. We'll talk once you have had some sleep."

I go to my room, locking the door behind me. Dressing in some fresh underwear and an oversized band t-shirt my mother hates, I lay down on my bed.

It's already light outside, soon, my dad will go to work, and my mom will pop some uppers and drive around town, spending some money on things we don't need and thinking about what to serve for dinner.

I wonder if I would've ever noticed how dysfunctional our family is, even with all our money, wouldn't I've gotten involved with Will's vanishing?

Would I've ever known how much more important my happiness is than following my family's plans and traditions?

Knocking on my bedroom window pulls me from my thoughts. On the tree branch in front of my window stands Eddie.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as I open it, letting him in.

"I wanted to see if you're okay... And I brought your guitar," he smiles, turning the strep across his chest and putting Honey into my view. I'd forgotten the guitar in my hurry.

"I'm sorry, [y/n]. He grabbed you really hard. I- I should've defended you," Eddie says, hands running up and down my arm, causing goosebumps to appear.

"Jason was drunk and with his friends. They were only looking for a reason to hurt you," I tell him as he hands me the guitar, and I place it on the floor next to my vanity.

I turn on some music, not too loud to annoy anybody, but loud enough to hide that I wasn't alone. Eddie, meanwhile, starts snooping around, almost reminding me of a puppy being in its new home for the first time.

"Now that's a preppy room. I've never seen a preppy room, but this one..." he chuckles, his big button eyes filled with amusement. "I know. Mom decorated it."

He looks further around while I sit down on my bed. As he opens my closet door, a poster of Eddie Van Halen has him crack up before he goes on a deep dive to see all the things I hide in there from my parents.

"Now, that's more like you," Eddie exclaims, pulling out my old working uniform. "You know, I always walked by Scoops Ahoy when I was at the mall... Always hoped to see you."

With butterflies in my stomach, I watch him hang the uniform back into the closet. "I saw you walking by a couple of times. Why didn't you talk to me?"

He shrugs, walking to the end of my bed. "I chickened out. I mean, would you've actually talked to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, or would you've called for Harrington to protect you?"

"I would've loved having you talk to me," I assure him, and he begins to grin. "Careful; I might start believing you had a crush on me, Sweetheart."

I crawl to the end of my bed, pulling Eddie down by his jacket. His grin becomes bigger before his lips press down on mine. I shuffle back to my pillows, pushing his jacket over his shoulder and throwing it aside. We kiss again as he makes himself comfortable between my legs.

Eddie breaks the kiss, whispering, "I need to leave before your parents come in and find us like that."

His knuckles brush over my cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, and I realize that I don't want him to leave—the quite opposite, actually. I want him to be even closer to me.

"My door's locked," I tell him with a cheeky grin. "They think I'm sleeping."

His softness quickly begins harboring an aura of mischief. "Naughty little thing," he whispers, pressing his lips against mine.

The kiss becomes rough and demanding as Eddie growls into it, starting to explore my mouth with his tongue. After hours of doing nothing else last night, his hands on my body and lips on my own feel natural. My fingers glide into his curly mane while I start rocking my hips against him, searching for friction.

An excited whimper leaves me, and I reach for his belt. "N-No, Sweetheart," Eddie stops me gently. "We have no condoms."

"Pill," I exclaim, needier than planned. "I'm on the pill." He raises his brows for a second, and I add, "I started taking it as part of a feminism phase Robin and I had."

Eddie props himself up, looking at me, insecure. "And you're sure you actually want that? I'm not really the upper-class jock your parents want for you."

I'm looking up at this intimidatingly looking metalhead, smiling. Looks can be so deceiving. "I know, and I like you better that way," I tell him, watching his self-doubt melt away and replace with a contented smile.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he tosses it somewhere in my room. I goggle at his naked chest, the tattoos, the scars, the happy trail. I'm close to tears, and I don't know why; my body feels like I'm being lit on fire; all I can think of is how badly I want him.

"I want you," I whine, hips moving up against nothing. "Please..."

Eddie leans down, pecking my lips for a moment, "I know, baby. I want you too." As he moves back up, he grabs the hem of my shirt, waiting. I lift my back enough so he can take it off me. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes locking with my breasts.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, eyes wandering across the room for a moment. As he looks at me again, he licks his lips. "You're so beautiful."

He drops onto his elbows, kissing me again. Eddie's hands roam my body; thighs, stomach, breasts; there is no place he doesn't explore. So at one point, his fingers glide over my clothes pussy.

I try to move into his touch. Eddie chuckles, pulling my panties aside and letting his fingers run through my folds. He grunts into the kiss, moving up a little, "Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You're so wet."

I nod, embarrassed, swallowing a loud moaning the second he touches my swollen clit. He shushes me gently, pecking my lips, then moves his fingers to his mouth. They glisten in the morning sun, and as he licks my wetness from them, I become dizzy for a second.

Eddie grins at me, fully aware of the effect he just had on me. He comes closer again, kissing me and letting me taste myself on his tongue. Then he kisses my neck, wandering down and stopping at my breast, gently sucking on my left nipple while playing with my right one.

I struggle to stay quiet, hating the thought of having to wait any longer. "Eddie, please," I whine, hips jolting up and meeting with his clothed erection.

He grabs the waistband of my panties, making me lift my hips to help him remove them. They are quickly thrown aside, my hands on his belt again. This time I'm triumphant; Eddie climbs off the bed, taking off his jeans, underwear, and shoes.

I bite into the pillowy part of my bottom lip as I'm met with the view of his hard, veiny cock, making him chuckle and kiss me playfully all over the face as he climbs back on top of me.

Guiding his cock up and down my pussy, he coats himself with my arousal, using it like a natural lubricant. "Ready?" he asks, and I nod, grinning excitedly.

Lining up with me, he pushes in slowly until he fully bottoms out inside me. My eyes press shut, and a whimper leaves my lips at the stinging. My nails dig into the skin of his upper arms. Eddie doesn't move anymore, giving me time to get used to the new, stretching sensation.

"Doing so good, baby," he whispers, kissing my cheek, the corner of my lips, and then me fully. I melt into his gentle touches, hands stroking up and down my sides.

"So beautiful," he grins. "And all mine." I nod. "All yours."

Eddie begins to move, making me feel so full, that I think I'm about to break in two, but instead, every thrust of his makes me feel alive.

I want more, figuring out how to meet his thrusts, moving against him. Our breathing becomes louder, moans and praises are spoken with hushed voices.

Eddie doesn't pick up the speed, my bed already threatening to give us away. Instead, he becomes harsher, administrating long and deep thrusts that make my eyes roll into the back of my head.

I moan loudly, arching my back. In an instant, his hand covers my mouth. "We need to be quiet, baby," he reminds me quietly but doesn't stop pounding into me for even a second.

I moan into his palm, holding onto his wrist, so his hand doesn't move from my mouth. "I know. I know, don't worry. I'll make sure they don't hear you," he promises with a low grunt as he rolls his hips into mine.

Our eyes lock, his gaze full of lust and admiration. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. His thrust become more demanding, and I hear my own wetness every time he rocks against me.

As control seems to escape us, Eddie's deep, husky moans become louder. The secrecy of having raw sex that I was taught would get me to hell before marriage feels so filthy, yet it is heaven.

My nails dig into the flesh of his back, and his lips press kisses against my shoulder and collarbone, occasionally biting into it. Tightening around Eddie, I am on the edge of my orgasm.

"Fuck," he moans. Our eyes meet again, his hand still over my mouth. I lift my hand as he curses again, clasping it over his mouth.

His hips stagger at this before a moan vibrates in my palm. I come right then. I fall apart into millions of pieces and am put back together a new person—a free one that doesn't care about any social status anymore.

If this is wrong, if this is sin, I want to be amiss for the rest of my life.

A deep growl is muffled in my palm as Eddie comes, both of us silencing the other's moans as we ride out our high.

As his hips still, our hands retreat. Stupid, exhausted grins on our lips; he kisses me and pulls out. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, having him chuckle and lie beside me.

Eddie pulls me into a tight embrace, and we just lay there, wrapped around each other for a few minutes, listening to nothing but our breathing.

My head rests on his chest, fingers circling his tattoos and dark pink scars. We're both sweaty, but neither of us cares. This moment is perfect.

"[y/n]?" Eddie whispers into the silence, hand locked around my waist to ensure I stay put.

"Hm?" I hum, looking up at him. "Your parents want you to stay away from me, right?" He asks, insecurity, sighing deeply as I nod. "Figured."

"Eddie..." I whisper as he sits up, grabbing his boxers. He shakes his head, pulling them up. "No, they're right. You'll find better, deserve better."

I stop the curly-headed metalhead before he can dress any further. Hand on his arm, I lean close. "Don't say that. I- It's only until we're graduating. Once I get my money, I'll move out, and we can be together... If you still want that."

He looks at me for a second, then whispers, "Your family will be furious with you." I nod. "Yeah, but they'll calm down once they see how happy I am... I hope."

I don't have much faith in it, but I refuse to live the miserable life my parents approve of. Eddie's tongue swipes over his lips while he is thinking; I can visibly see the cogs turn behind his chocolate eyes.

"So, that would make one month where I don't get to hold, kiss, or even talk to you," he says emotionless.

"Is that okay?" I ask, unsure. We are rushing; the decisions are way too extreme for the little time we spent like this.

But like I said, Vecna could return at any moment. We could die faster than we seem to be rushing. I have to go all in and live.

Eddie turns to me, the knuckles of his ringed fingers brushing offer my cheek. "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," he hums a familiar quote, proving him to be a soft nerd under all his leather and chains.

"I have been head over heels for you since I was seventeen, and until everyone thought I was a murderer, I never even dared to look at you for too long. I can handle loving you from afar for a month."

My heart skips a beat as I echo, "Loving me?"

Pressing a kiss on my lips, he chuckled, "Seriously, if you haven't picked up on that by now, you're the one who needs a tutor."

He pushes me back into the pillows, climbing on top of me. Insecure all my life, I absolutely don't mind being completely naked in front of Eddie. He makes me feel safe and like it doesn't matter what I look like.

"Shit," I cuss, remembering his test. "How are we going to study for your test?" Kissing the tip of my nose, he smiles, "We don't. I can handle my studying, [y/n]. I'm a big boy. You just keep practicing with Honey, so I can have a jam session with my girlfriend soon, okay?"

Girlfriend. I am Eddie 'The Freak' Munson's girlfriend.

My life has been full of titles until now, the cheerleader, teacher's pet, Jason Carver's cousin, golden child, tutor, babysitter... But this is the first one that I feel proud of, the first one that feels authentic.

➤ Here is Part 2: Girlfriend

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

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phykoha · 9 months

Note

Here to ask questions about your AUs that will be impossible to draw.

First things first, I know nothing about any of your AUs. Now with that out of the way;

Which AU would you say as your attention the most, currently?

How did all your AUs come into being?

Are all of your AUs from the same fandom? Do you like to cross fandoms to make then altered?

Which AU is the oldest and which AU is the youngest <3

Jokes on you, I could absolutely draw for this.

So, as of right now, The Time Traveled/TTT takes up most of my brain space. I do wanna get back into my other ones, since people really like TMFT and HEA hfsgds- but I really enjoy TTT, it's fun and has lots of dad Leo

How does any AU come into being? A thought pops into my head and I go "I could make an AU out of that" and then it goes crazy from there. Often the thought occurs while I'm listening to music and start to daydream about my blorbos until something interesting happens hfdusdjf

If I get into all the AUs I have in other fandoms, I'll literally be typing for hours. So I'll just stick to my Rise ones. So.. Yes, I do like to do crossovers! None of them are really that developed, but they were thoughts. And those count hfgdsjf- I also have crossed over 2012 TMNT into Mikeyverse (an unposted cluster of AUs that I mention sometimes) if that counts.

Speaking of Mikeyverse, the first AU in that series would be my oldest Rise AU. It was made in late September, and I started actively drawing for it in October. Have some of it......

My old art makes me wanna die hfgdjfjfgdjs but that's good cuz that means I'm progressing as an artist (I am gnawing my own leg off)

And my most recent AU would be TTT. I had the idea for it quite a while ago, but only recently made it an official AU :)

#phy's sketchbook #inbox answer #art #Mikeyverse #LSM AU #this fucking guy....#hes the one that started it all #I saw the movie and decided that this dummy is who I'm gonna live for forever now hgdjjfsd #all of my aus are so very mikey centric fhdfgdhfs #even if it doesnt seem like it at first

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sidecharactersdomatter · 5 days

Text

Thoughts I had during TGCF Season 2 Ep 1

I’ve finished my quarter and I am spending my spring break reacting to Season 2! Let’s make this reaction series count!

-Welcome back to Puqi Village people, at morning and known for their chestnuts! (The best nuts I’ve had outta the packet!)

-We are back at Puqi Shrine people!

-And the Altar is packed!

-Instrumental Hong Jue!!!

-Did he oversleep?

-Aww he’s so lonely! :’(

-Dang. That is a clear stream

-Eeeeyep, he is thirsty!

-And a water droplet fell past his freaking throat! They just had to animate that!

-It’s the same ring from last Ep!

-You mean, ‘Gege’ Yeah, I’ve already typed this, “I watch the English Dub religiously” Don’t judge me!

-It is the same ring people!!!

-Oooh he hid it!

-Yep like two years for us in 2023

-Oh her eye bags got deeper and darker

-Welp it just got serious

-Looks like we’re back in heaven

-They added 3D palace shots and camera panning

-Woah that was a really good transition with the bell toll

-I wonder what kept the emperor all season…

-Feng Xin!

-Mu Qing!

-It’s that female Blue robed NPC from Ep 4 on his far left!

-*Looks at how the camera pans up to the Heavenly Capital* My Oc Qing Tao is like: The Oldest Enemy I know, stairs…

-New opening people woo!!!

-New opening animation had me sold!!! They really improved 2 years later

-I love how the music switches from a majestic powerful orchestra tune to a comical xylophone like leitmotif upon introducing Xie Lian. To say, “And then there’s that guy. Then there’s that guy.”

-Social Distancing, Ancient Chinese Pantheon Style

-Man tough crowd today!

-And after every official flees the Trash god, one of my Junior Official OCs, Long He goes, “Huh, who is that dude?” And then his dad, a Civil God will say, “That dude is the Crown Prince of Xianle. His highness crown prince Xie Lian!” And then that Civil god begrudgingly brings his palm to his face.

-*Hears Mengyou calling his highness*: Ladies, Gentlemen and Enby friends, Him!

-This has the energy of giving someone a lanyard pass to visit a certain building

-“It’s not that hard!” “You ascended hundreds of years ago you know better!” “Now keep it with you!” Only like 4 minutes into the first Ep and that NPC is already getting the best lines. (More of Lang Qianqiu’s trusty assistant later this season folks!)

-He sounds just like the English actor for Elam, Justin Briner, from the Heroic Legend of Arslan (another awesome historical manga!) Coincidentally, Elam is also one of Arslan’s most trusted Allies.

-I can’t wait to write more of my ATLA x TGCF crossover, The Scrap Immortal and the Avatar, just imagine the Gaang’s reaction to learning that there’s more than one crown prince worshipped!

-Man, it’s like I always say, “The rumor mill’s always a’runnin!” Or water wheel since it’s ancient China

-Hi Ling Wen, man what kind of product did she use to hide those eye bags???

-I’ve started reading the Manhua series so, Huh? No cursed shackle?

-It’s been days and you still haven’t found the Moldy faced boy from Episode 3???

-I also can’t wait to write Aangs reaction inside that huge throne room, (“It’s bigger than the one in Ba Sing Se!”)

-Now we’re actually seeing the emperor, the first time was in the Episode 1 flashback near the end

-Now we get the first appearance of Pei Ming, who appeared in the Flashback of Ep 3

-Well that sounded patronizing coming from Pei Ming

-Now Pei Xiu has to reap what he sowed.

-Yep that’s a kill count

-I love how this next scene is basically,

Pei Ming: Your Highness, please tell everyone who accompanied you? Then Xie Lian starts to compose an alibi: Ah yes! I will do that. It was incredible! What did we get swept in a sandstorm or something? Oh yes! It was just a youth in red robes who was knowledgeable about the Ban Yue kingdom. <- This incorrect quote is inspired by Zuko and Iroh lying to Commander Zhao about the state of their ship in episode 3, The Southern Air Temple. (Does anyone else think that Xie Lian, is what would happen if you combined both Iroh and Zuko?)

-The face Xie Lian made when he’s trying to keep fibbing and brought his index finger to his cheek that was good body language

-Hi Windmaster.

-Oooh Feng Xin and Mu Qing

-Welp you tried keeping him innocent Xie Lian

-Not as complicated as your love life, maybe I should do a Pei Ming roast count?

-Hey Xie Lian is smarter than you look

-Pei Xiu still wants to protect Ban Yue even facing his impending banishment.

-Ok that line and Pei Ming’s attempt to kick Pei Xiu does seem like an abusive action in my perspective.

-Woah, and that was Jun Wu’s own gavel.

-Well that was a short trial

-Him calling Xie Lian to stay, has the exact energy of a teacher calling one student to stay after class to talk.

-Ling Wen is now talking with Jun Wu

- Now that was a really brief meet up between the Xianle trio.

-Thank you Wind Master, and they are a savage!

-Well he’s still mad

-*Sees Qianqiu still asleep standing up*: XDXDXDXDXD

-Aw he woke him up!

-Don’t worry honey, you didn’t miss much anyway

-How in the heck was he able to doze off through all that shouting. I almost fell asleep in a lecture and that’s nothing compared to TaiHua’s feat

-*Hears Jun Wu speak like*: Oh gods! Why did they have to make him sound so seductive! He’s like an East Asian Belos! (And I’m still busy working on Murder They Cast’s first phase)

-Oh Xie Lian’s expression when Jun Wu talks to him, it’s concerning!

-That soft “forgive me”

-I mean we learned about his huge failure in Season 1

-“How Disappointing!” STOP!!!

-Oooh I didn’t notice this during the rewatch but they played a stringed instrumental version of Bu San.

-Srsly HOW BIG IS HIS FREAKING PALACE?!?!?!

-A mural of heaven

-You gotta love Xie Lian’s modesty

-“Such a low opinion” yep his voice is like liquid gold and it is pure torture!

-“How’d you seduce trouble this time!” That tease in his voice why!!!!

-Aw good for you Xie Lian

-Just you wait till the second half of this season

-It’s their version of shooting a flare gun

-Oooh from left to right is Feng Xin, an unknown person behind him, next there’s Ling Wen(with what happens later in the series), Lang Qianqiu in the middle, Mu Qing is next, then there’s Pei Ming in front of him, and the last guy might be Quan’s Yizhen since he also appears in the 2nd half of the series. I hope I found every martial god

-Also the Thunder Master (my OC Leishi) tends to work part time

-There are retired officials???

-In tsiata (my TGCF x ATLA crossover, The Scrap immortal and the Avatar) Ghost City is more modernized than the Spirit World, since it’s mostly untamed wilderness

-Oh he had balls defending San Lang people

-“Your majesty makes me sound like a little princess” yeah that’s what you are honey

-That pose! I was watching this ep with my older sister and she said, “Man is draping himself!”

-He’s gonna touch the scimitar, isn’t he? (I’ve watched clips of Season 2 before doing my reaction posts)

-And Xie Lian still has the best preferences good on him!

-Xianle trio mention

- And I still think clearing the debt should’ve taken longer, but that’s just my small nitpick

-Yeah nobody round here can keep a secret

- *Sees Jun Wu walk up to Xie Lian reminding him to be careful and puts his hand on his shoulder*: That’s too much pressure!!!

- “I had it erected for you.” James Cheek totally had fun writing Season 2’s script

-I can see why he prefers his own shrine over how massive and opulent his new palace is.

-Hi Windmaster

-Ooh a pond reflection

-Yep that’s your traveling parter

-Then he just fans himself and he instantly slays

-Jacob Eisman had fun with his performance and ate up every crumb

-Windmaster is Genderfluid Bisexual culture people!

- “Thoroughly~” Yep that just slayed me I’m down

-Yeah Qingxuan’s cultivation backstory is gonna age like curdled milk in Book 4

-Man I just love all of Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan’s interactions with each other!

-Xie Lian, honey, you are way too good to be a tumor, trust me

-I love how Qingxuan also defended Ban Yue from Pei Ming

-“You were my kind of crazy” I love how Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian instantly became besties

-Dude, Qingxuan puts the “fun” in function in both forms!

-This is exactly the reason I made my Thunder master OC Leishi female too.

-Now I gotta draw Xie Lian’s female form

-Yeah I react the same when letting a small amount of alcohol in my system

-The witching hour

-To quote a well known assassin Yor Forger, “No way I’m doing this sober”

-That one wrinkled ghost did not age gracefully

-Yeah their burial grounds are in Taiwan, awesome island I definitely need to visit

- Why did they have to design every Heavenly Official to be so Attractive???

-It’s the Spirit World from Spirited Away

-Ghost City would seem like a more modern area than the Spirit World in the Last Airbender

-The heck’s this confetti

-Ooh I like the green dressed spirit with the dark bamboo hat

-Hi Jian Lan

Literally any of my young adults would react to a promiscuous person with just one word in annoyance, “Prostitutes…”

-Honey Xie Lian is already outta your league, try finding someone else that’s your type

-Yeah you didn’t have to tell everyone about your medical condition, heck I don’t even want to picture the Gaang’s reaction after hearing it

-Ghost City is the Las Vegas of Ancient China

-Bouncers

-I love the female NPC that greeted Xie Lian she has a great voice and design

-Oh I know who that is

-He clutched his heart!

-“No thanks~” *Instantly fans myself*

-The camera pan to this throne!!! He is gay and he means business!!!

-James Cheek has ate it up!!!

-The soft “San Lang”

That was an awesome start to the Second Season. Sorry if I haven’t been posting I’m four weeks into my quarter and I also got back into writing fanfic, like the first chap of The scrap immortal and the Avatar. I’ll still do every reaction to Season 2 at the start of May!

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

Note

So I was having a watching music videos but doing stuff around the house day today.. And one of my comfort/childhood Trace Adkins songs came on.. It was Swing ( I know I'm an odd one for it being a childhood song, my mom raised me on his music and just all around more adult music.. 😆 ) Anywaysssss! It made an idea pop into my head cause I subconsciously have been on the look out for ideas to send ya after you posted your last part to the wonderful Frankie story saying you were open to ideas and such. 🤗💞

Enough of my rambling, on to the actual idea.. 😆🤣🏃💨

So maybe since they are in full cuteness of being a relationship, that Frankie would want to teach reader how to do something he loves doing.. And or her doing the same with Frankie.. 🤔🤔 Since their lives are definitely officially merging together now ( in the cutest way cause they are couple goals,lol). 💞🤗

Idk why watching/listening to swing made that kind of idea pop into my head, but it did.. 🤣🤷‍♀️

You can have full ideas of all of it, whatever kinda active they wanna teach,etc.. 💞 I just had some of small baking ingredients to gift you if you wanted to make the meal.. 😆💞 idek where that analogy came from but oh well, lmao.

But I hope your day/week has been amazingggg! 💗🤗 And no worries whatsoever if this idea does not work with you, etc. Just wanted to pass an idea on if you wanted it. 💞😊

Comfort hugs and extra sending of loveeee if you are in need of them. 💞🤗😘 ( Adorable handsome Mr. Pascal and Morales to make you smile maybe too) 💞🤗

You just unlocked a bunch of foundational memories with this ask! I grew up listening to a lot of Grateful Dead and bluegrass music (thanks Dad), so I know what you mean when your childhood songs don’t line up perfectly with when you were a kid.

Hmm, Frankie or Ms J teaching each other things…

I was trying to think of what might come up here. Frankie has a lot of interesting talents (that Ms J has definitely been privy to). But then I was contemplating your musical inspiration…and I remembered Pedro is going to play Joel in The Last of Us…and I figured out where this should go. If you’ve played The Last of Us 2, you’ll recognize a bit of where I’m pulling this from.

This one got away from me a little bit, I hope you enjoy!

Takes place after Something More.

Future Days

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish" Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"

Summary: What have Frankie or Ms J taught each other?

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, past Sex Worker!Frankie, watch me make up shit about sex work, The TF boys being too fun for their own good, Santi singing needs its own warning, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, unprotected PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), some minor cum play if you squint, me only knowing the smallest amount about playing guitar.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Masterlist

It was at another one of the Miller’s barbecues, much later in the summer when the oppressive heat of the day kept everyone in lightweight clothes and the night brought out camping blankets, that Frankie found out you still had your share of surprises.

The sun had set, leaving you around “another fuckin’ great bonfire” according to Benny, when Santi disappeared into the house. When he returned with a shit-eating grin and a guitar in one hand, everyone but you groaned.

“Santi, if we have to listen to your caterwauling one more time, I’m going to put that guitar right into the fire,” Will complained, though it sounds good-natured. Santi scoffs and sits in the chair next to yours, giving you his full attention since no one else seems to want it.

“Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous I’ve got an instant in with the ladies,” he whispers, strumming a few chords and raising an eyebrow at you. You smirk and nod, feigning an impressed expression as he prepares to serenade all of the grimacing boys. Frankie is walking back to sit on your other side, placing a fresh Corona in your hand.

You push the lime through the tight neck of the bottle as Santi does a not-half-bad rendition of “Dancing in the Moonlight,” which despite their moans gets the boys’ toes tapping. Santi’s voice is clear and lifts on the breeze, a light vibrato on held notes and breathy exhales on the low dips. He’s all smiles and winking at everyone watching, just as engaging a performer as a singer. His energy is infectious; you even join in on the verses, Will adding an overly high falsetto at times that makes you all laugh. He’s warmed up to you more over time, growing from the silent brother to your favorite person to confide in when the party gets rowdy. Silent smiles and rolled eyes are your language.

Santi waves his hands for a smattering of applause, yours the loudest. He dips his head in mock modesty.

“I’m glad someone here appreciates my musical talent,” he jokes, and you try your hardest not to break into the silliest grin. “You enjoy the guitar too, Ms Jackson?” You nod, eyeing the mahogany curves and the onyx neck of his well-loved looking instrument. Santi notices with a sly smile.

“You ever play?” he asks, and he’s walked right into your not-so-subtle trap.

‘Yeah, I’ve dabbled,” you say, earning a surprised look from Santi and, you assume, Frankie behind your shoulder. Santi holds the guitar out to you.

“Care to grace us with a little tune?” Before you can answer Benny whoops and shouts, “Yeah Ms J, show him how it’s done!” You shake your head but take the guitar, scooting up to rest it on your knees. It’s a little bigger than the one you’re used to playing, but you adjust your position around it. Taking a peek over at Frankie, his eyes shining in the firelight, you catch a surprised smile gracing his face.

It’s exciting to think you can still surprise him.

“What would you like me to play?” you ask Santi sweetly, testing a few chords.

“Whatever inspires you, I’m beyond intrigued now,” he says, turning his chair to face you more fully. “Fish, you never told me Ms Jackson can jam.” Frankie huffs out a laugh and you beat him to an answer.

“Hasn’t come up before, Santi,” you reply coolly, looking back at Frankie and giving him a smile. He’s looking especially rumpled and adorable, barefooted in khaki shorts and a red jean jacket half hiding a tattered Fleetwood Mac t-shirt that definitely has a hole in the armpit.

“Anyway, here’s Wonderwall,” you joke, strumming the first few notes to a chorus of groans. “Ok jeez, tough crowd.” Instead you begin thumping your foot against the ground, plucking at the strings with the nimbleness of practice. You hear Will’s, “Oh shit!” from across the fire as you get through the intro and stop for two beats, all the boy’s faces breaking out in smiles as you jump into the first lines of “The Chain.”

Frankie’s bellowing cheer tells you this was a good pick. Benny and Santi start clapping along with the beat, Santi’s clear voice pairing with your airier one and adding strength to the melody. He even harmonizes with you, making your hair stand on end at the major chords. The chorus has all of the boys joining in, Frankie’s growly baritone speak-singing the lyrics next to you. Benny and Will air-drum through the interlude, you plucking through the bass section. The music peters off as you strum through the ending.

“Holy shit Ms Jackson! You’ve been holding out on me!” Santi cheers, taking the guitar from you and slapping you on the back.

“Anytime, as long as the boys don’t get tired of listening to me,” you reply. Santi slings the guitar strap over his shoulder and saunters to the other side of the fire, playing the beginning of another song that has Will and Benny practically running from him. You get up to toss out your bottle but Frankie snags you on the way by, pulling you down into his lap with a squeak. Warmth surrounds you, big arms wrapping you into Frankie’s body as he beams into your face.

“You trying to get me riled up?” he growls playfully, to which you tap him on his strong nose and weave your fingers into the base of his curls.

“I know your weaknesses, Frankie Morales,” you tease, scritching at the place on his scalp that makes his eyes close. He hums and squeezes your hips with his large hands.

“You’re gonna have to teach me that sometime,” he says, pressing a kiss at the hinge of your jaw. You sigh, giggling when you hear Will threaten, “If you sing that stupid hippo song one more time I’m going to shove that torture device so far up your ass.”

A few days later, Frankie surprises you right back.

“I would actually like to learn,” he brings up out of the blue. He’s got your feet in his lap, tucked at the end of his couch as you lounge across it. His thumb makes circles in the pad of your foot, gentle but also…nervous?

“Learn what?” you ask, sitting up to see him better. His smile is a little sheepish.

“How to play guitar,” he says a little quieter. He’s keeping his eyes trained on your feet, which makes your nose crinkle. Does he think you’d laugh at him for that? When it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?

“Of course, Frankie. I can dig up my old one.” The smile that creeps onto Frankie’s face settles into your heart like so many of his other emotions.

“It’s okay? I don’t want it to be a hassle,” he concedes, but you’re shaking your head and scooting closer to him.

“I would love to teach you.” Frankie scoffs for a moment, lifting his cap to comb back his hair. You grab the brim and toss it over onto his coffee table, replacing it with your fingers instead. He melts below your touch, leaning back and looking at you with that strangely sheepish expression again.

“I, um…” he starts, pausing to look in your face before continuing, “I’m not always the most…patient learner. So if it gets to be too much you just…give me a slap or something.” You hum at this admission. Frankie could be impatient in some aspects, but most times it had been to your benefit.

“We’ll have to see how good of a teacher I am,” you settle on, and Frankie’s gentle eyes couldn’t be more adoring.

Frankie was not kidding. For someone who could be so patient and take so much time in some aspects of his life, learning a new skill frustrated him to no end.

You’d started small, showing him how to hold a few major chords on the long neck of your old guitar. His hands dwarfed the wooden column, jaw clenching when his thick fingers pressed down on too many strings, dulling the note. He frequently shook his hand out, complaining of cramping. It reminded you of when you tried to learn piano, your hands too small to reach a full octave across the keys and how frustrated you were when you undershot a note that was so easy for others.

These lessons, spread out over several months and no more than a couple times a week, showed you a side of Frankie you’d never seen before. Your sweet, thoughtful boyfriend became more focused, serious as he tried to memorize progressions. His teeth clenched, mouth turned downward when he struggled, no matter how much encouragement you plied him with. Low curses lingered under his breath, and on more than one occasion you asked him if he wanted to stop.

“No,” he grunted out, dropping the guitar on the couch beside him and leaning back, hands coming up to scrub at his face. “I’m just feeling…slow. I hate feeling slow.” You took his hand in yours, massaging your thumb along the delicate muscles. It took a long time for your hand to feel comfortable on the strings too. You’re not Frankie’s therapist (his name is Ben), but when he gets quiet and tense like this you encourage him to speak those simmering feelings just to let them into the air.

“Want to tell me about it?” you ask. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t.

“Maybe I’m just an old dog who can’t learn a new trick,” he grumbled, head tilted towards the ceiling. Actively trying to relax his jaw, you continued working the tight muscles in his hand.

“If it’s not fun, you don’t have to do it,” you replied. Frankie brought his face back to yours. “It’s not a job. You’re supposed to enjoy it.” That granted you one of your favorite Frankie faces, sweet eyes and a gentle smile with a tilt of his head. It always bloomed warmth in your chest.

“How did you not give up on it?” he asked. You contemplated that, pulling your lower lip between your teeth before breaking out into a grin.

“I’ve got an idea.”

The next time Frankie sits down to practice, the defeat already in his shoulders, you place a few pieces of paper down on your coffee table. They’re chord progressions written out in your hand, no musical notes or bars. Frankie’s forehead wrinkles as he looks at them.

“You have to guess,” you say, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You know the song, but you gotta figure it out. I’ll give you a hint when you’re getting close.”

Frankie’s face smooths, a smile coming to his lips. Your excitement is thrumming in your chest. This is what he needs, a puzzle to solve, a game to play that engages both his body and his mind. He was a pilot after all, you’re surprised you didn’t think of this sooner.

He studies the chord progression, full focus on the sheet and his fingering, as he gets through your written directions slowly but accurately.

“Okay, a little faster this time,” you say, and Frankie nods with a sharpness that looks like it would be followed by a, “yes ma’am.” That flash of obedience sparks something primal and deep in you, but you push it down for another day. He stumbles, puffing little annoyed breaths out when he makes a mistake, but soon he’s getting the hand placement right, moving through the eight bars with more fluidity. His grimace starts to morph into a smile, and you look at him expectantly.

“What song is it?” you press, waiting for him to work through the chords again before he beams up at you.

“Well I guess it would be nice…” he rasps out, more speaking than singing, but you point at him and nod, “If I could touch your body, ‘cause I know not everybody has got a body like you!” You clap at his rendition of “Faith” by George Michael, strumming becoming more confident as he recognizes the rhythm and melody of the song he was unwittingly playing.

This is what finally gets Frankie excited instead of the single-minded goal to “be good” at guitar. Every little lesson is a game now, ranging from practicing the songs he enjoys playing (Faith has become a favorite) to new ones you write out for him. From “Kokomo” to “I Wanna Know What Love Is,” he’s starting to really get into the groove. You pretend not to notice that he folds up all the scraps of paper into his pocket at the end of the lesson, or the little pile on his bureau that bears your messy handwriting. Instead you start adding a little heart to every sheet.

Your favorite session by far was one where Frankie got the chords quickly, but was puzzling through what song it was. After almost ten repetitions he shakes his head with a stumped expression.

“You finally got me babe, I’ve got no idea.” You try not to break out into laughter immediately, instead nodding to play it one more time. As the cue comes, you start making a loud exaggerated saxophone noise with your mouth, air-playing it as well. Frankie’s head shoots up in surprise, then the laughter bubbles up from a chuckle to raucous hyena shrieks, your own breaking through and making you gasp for air.

“You taught me Careless Whisper?!” Frankie tries to say between frantic sips of air, putting the guitar down and flopping back on the couch. His chest shakes violently with the force of his merriment, and you crumple onto the living room floor as you try to overcome your giggle fit. As you finally get control of your diaphragm, Frankie slides off the couch and hovers over you, a halo of curls that the light seeps through.

“I love you, you know that?” he says, placing a ticklish kiss in the crook of your neck. You release another delirious giggle, your head light from lack of oxygen, as Frankie crawls over and cages you in. Your hands come up to stroke along the tight muscles on his back, his curved nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too,” you reply, lifting your chin to give him a sweet kiss that is still punctuated by a few giggles. “Love you even more if you let me get off the dirty floor.”

“It’s vacuumed, you’re fine,” Frankie mumbles into your neck, the twin brushes of his lips on your skin making you dig your fingers into his back. “Let me love on you for a little bit,” he adds, chasing the paths his lips left.

“You can love on me all you want in a more comfortable spot,” you shoot back. Frankie’s head pops up, fake contemplation on his face, before he concedes and continues his gentle worship in the softer cushions of your couch.

It was a cooler Friday afternoon, sunlight welcome on your back as you moved through your house, when Frankie surprises you yet again. He arrives at your doorstep per usual, but with two bags of groceries on a Friday afternoon. You’d both gotten out of work early, you because of a holiday, him because he asked his boss if he could leave when he was done working on his last car. Now, with a mountain of supplies you recognize but don’t understand in this context, Frankie is giving you a shy look.

“I thought I’d make you pernil for dinner,” he says, and while you’ve never heard of the dish you immediately agree to Frankie’s bashful request. He was a decent cook, whipping up quick tasty dishes when you stayed at his apartment. Your cuisines didn’t overlap at first, but you’d come to love many of the South American flavors he cooked with, and he’d treated you to many whispered, “oh shits,” at the French and Mediterranean food you were partial too.

As he chops and stirs at your kitchen island, letting you help with the prep but nothing more, he tells you this slow-roasted pork shoulder is something his mother makes only at Christmas due to the length of time it has to cook and the penchant that the young boys in the family had of barely letting it reach the table. You can understand why; the smell coming from the oven is savory, spicy, warming you all over.

“So what did you do to get the great honor of your mother’s recipe? I’m still trying to convince mine to give me a few of hers.” Frankie smirks, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He’s preparing rice and pigeon peas for a side dish, and the way his arms flex as he mixes, a tiny patch of sweat at the center of his chest, makes you want to abandon this meal for other activities.

“Came back alive,” he says simply. The words drag you into the moment. You hum in acknowledgement, your finger tracing the edge of your wine glass, rubbing away the lip print on one edge.

At first, Frankie’s matter-of-fact attitude had been a little jarring, a refusal to candy-coat his experiences or the dark moments of his life. You’ve come to understand it better as his way of removing emotion from those memories. It still makes you want to hold him when he says things like that, but Frankie carries a reserve of strength beneath his frame and you respect him too much to baby him. Instead you spread out those desires into the little moments you share every day.

The shoulder needs to roast for several hours, so you retire to the living room and move to pull up something on Netflix. Maybe you can binge a few episodes of some new show as the sun starts to inch towards the horizon.

“Uh, there’s another thing,” he says, still standing in the entryway. You put your hands on your waist and cock an eyebrow at him.

“Full of surprises today, Frankie,” you tease, getting your favorite nervous tic of his. He smiles and lifts his hat, combing the hair away from his forehead before resettling it. You teased him about wearing hats in the house but he looks so damn sexy in them it’s always half-hearted.

“I’ll just…go get it,” he says, turning to leave before spinning back. “Sit in the armchair. And…don’t look just yet, it’s kind of a surprise.” Then he’s out your door and ambling to his truck. You close your eyes, trying to fight a smile and failing. Your home smells wonderful, spiced and clean with hints of Frankie caught in the couch cushions, in your clothes.

The door creaks open and you make a show of covering your eyes with your hands, grinning at Frankie’s soft chuckle. His boots thump by the door, socked feet padding over to your couch and sitting across from you. You hear a twang, familiar but not quite identifiable when you’re in darkness. Then the strum of a guitar. Your eyes fly open.

Frankie is sitting on the edge of your couch, a new guitar more suited for his frame resting on his lap. The wood is dark walnut along the curves, lightening to amber around the strings. His head is turned down, brim of the cap hiding his eyes and nose, but his lips, those wonderful lips, are still visible as he plucks out the first few notes and chords.

“If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself. Everything I have found dear I've not found by myself. Try and sometimes you'll succeed To make this man of me. All my stolen missing parts I've no need for anymore.”

You can barely move, afraid to break the spell of Frankie’s large hands wrapped around the neck of the guitar, fingers that frustrated him before now plucking nimbly, if not a little messily, at the strings. His voice is far-off thunder, half still in his chest like he’s afraid to be louder. Your hands are clasped in your lap, eyes shining at your beautiful boyfriend showing you how hard he’s worked to play this for you.

The lyrics keep flowing, the melody pausing sometimes when a particularly tricky part comes. He pushes through it, his head still downturned. It’s probably for the best because you can feel tears starting to dampen your lashes.

“I believe And I believe 'cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me.”

You’re crying to Pearl Jam being sung by the most gorgeous man you’ve ever had the chance to love and he’s rumbling the lyrics out so softly but each digs into your chest and makes a home there.

“All the promises at sundown I've meant them like the rest. All the demons used to come 'round, I'm grateful now they've left.”

You hear Frankie’s throat bob with a swallow, taking an extra measure to get to the last verse.

“So persistent in my ways. Hey angel, I am here to stay. No resistance, no alarms. Please, this is just too good to be gone.”

You know there’s a final verse lingering behind Frankie’s lips, but you stand and wrap your hand around the neck of the guitar, pulling it from his hands as he finally turns his head to look up at you. Your hands fly with frenetic energy, placing the guitar by the end of the couch, knocking Frankie’s cap off his head, and putting both hands on his face to capture him in a kiss. He lets out a surprised grunt that you swallow, pushing him back as you straddle his lap. You card your fingers through his soft curls, stroke your thumb along his scruffy jaw, and devour his mouth. Arms wrapping around you, he pulls you tight as he returns your heated kiss, dragging his tongue against yours, licking into all the little places that make you moan. His hands fist into the fabric of your shirt as he pants below you.

“Love you,” you gasp out, letting your lips part just enough to say it. “Love you so much, Frankie.” You feel a tear slip out, curving down to the corner of your mouth where Frankie kisses it away.

“You liked it?” he whispers, making you nod furiously, your noses bumping. “I’m still a little slow but…” You silence him with another kiss, settling your body tight against Frankie’s lap as he shifts his hips up to slot between your thighs.

“It was perfect,” you say, pulling back enough to look at Frankie’s dazed face. You let your fingers dance over his lips, soft and wet from your frenzied advance. He sees the trail of the tear down your cheek and wipes it away, cupping the side of your face with his warm palm. Tracing the edge of his beard, the dark crescents of his eyebrows, the proud line of his nose, you press back against his mouth with sweeter, slower movements this time.

Frankie indulges you in languid slips against his tongue, one hand splayed on your lower back, the other cupping the back of your head. Suddenly your head is spinning, your back coming down on the couch as Frankie flips you. He sits back on his knees, fingers making quick work of the button-up you hadn’t changed out of yet. Once he’s popped every button open and bared your chest to his hungry eyes he folds over you, dragging his lips against the hardened bud of your nipple. Your back arches at the soft sensation, giving Frankie just enough leverage to drag your sleeves and straps down your arms.

“Oh, babe,” he chokes out. Those fingers that frustrated him now deftly unclasp your bra, baring you to his wandering mouth. Frankie’s hot breath fanning across your sternum is a precursor to the tip of his tongue gently tracing around your nipple. Sparks ignite where his mouth closes around your breast, his hand cupping the neglected one and stroking the rough edge of his thumb over it again and again.

“Frankie, fuck,” you gasp out as he swirls his tongue around and over, dragging his teeth softly against the flesh to make you bury your fingers in his hair. When you start keening less he lets your nipple fall from his lips, replacing it with your plush mouth. His cock is hard and straining against you, your work skirt rucked up your thighs and panties damp with your arousal.

“Wanna give you my cock, baby, wanna make you cum,” Frankie garbles into your chest as he moves his devious lips to your other breast.

“Yeah Frankie, want to cum with your mouth full?” you tease back, the groan against your skin making you lift your hips against him. The groan becomes a growl as one of Frankie’s large hands snakes between you and thumbs at your clit.

“Please can I fuck you, baby?” he all but begs and your hands join his in unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He pulls your panties to the side and swipes his thumb through your messy sex.

“Want me to…” he starts to say, but your legs wrapping behind his thighs, pulling his weeping cock flush with you, cut off his next thought.

“Now, Frankie, need you now,” you moan, rocking your hips to drag him through your folds. Frankie curses and grips the base of his cock, guiding the thick tip into your cunt and rolling his hips to fill you achingly slow. When he bottoms out with a snap you shout hoarsely, his eyes flashing concern for a moment before you follow it with a debauched groan and a thrust back.

“Fuck, baby, yeah. Your pussy is so fucking good,” he squeezes out, one hand palming your ass and the other propping himself up on his elbow. You take a hold of his face again and guide him back to your breast, your breath hitching when he teases your nipple with the same talented strokes he puts to use between your legs.

“Frankie, honey, you’re gonna make me cum on your cock,” you murmur, sneaking a hand between you to rub dizzying circles on your clit. Neither of you have the patience or the brainpower to draw this out. You just want skin and pleasure and mouths and love love love.

It’s almost too much to bear when Frankie curls down into you, gathering you in his arms and scraping his teeth and lips behind your ear as he slams into you. The couch groans comically at the debauched pounding you’re experiencing.

“Love you, sweet girl, love you so much. Love everything about you. Fuck, love this tight pussy, you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard. I’m gonna…fuck, I didn’t…baby, where…?” Frankie’s pace is quick and deep now, barely pulling out before pressing hard inside your cunt, punching his hips up to angle his cock against your g-spot. He’s moaning long and loud and you love hearing him falling apart.

“Cum on my panties,” you purr, squeezing Frankie as his hips falter.

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit yes, baby-” he tries to say, pulling his cock out and stroking himself, quick wet passes aided by your slick coating him. He pulls your panties back over your cunt, your hand still working under the cotton. “Fuck. Fuck! Yes, fuck!” Frankie grits out as he cums hard, coating the fabric in his spend as he jolts against you over and over.

“That’s it baby, look at you, so fucking sexy,” you croon as you feel the fabric dampening over you. You’re almost at the peak yourself, Frankie’s fucked-out face and rapt attention pushing you there quickly.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so fucking hot. Let me make you cum,” he pleads, but it’s less of a request than a demand when he pulls your wrist out of your panties, yanks the fabric to the side and dives down to suck your clit into his mouth. His tongue is fast and merciless against you, and being so close to the edge it barely takes a moment for you to shatter on your boyfriend’s tongue, his own cum smearing against his cheek in his eagerness.

You lay half-naked on your couch for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath. Frankie slumps against the back of the couch, shirt rumpled up, cock softening in the V of his hastily undone jeans. A silvery smear of cum on his cheek glistens until Frankie lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe it away, treating you to a gorgeous view of his stomach.

Once you have enough wherewithal to pull your panties back over you, sliding your skirt down to cover them, you hold your hands out for Frankie. He smiles, that quick, amazed one that both lights up your chest and gives you a pang of heartache. One day you think he’ll realize he deserves all of the love you give him.

Frankie crawls down your body, snuggling down beside you and resting his head on your chest. One heavy arm drapes over your stomach, fingers lacing with yours. He slots his thigh between your legs, and with your free hand you stroke at his fluffy curls. Post-orgasmic bliss was dragging your eyelids closed, and you could feel Frankie’s breathing evening out against your collarbone.

“Thank you,” you murmur into the top of his head, pressing a kiss there. He sighs, and in it is all of the comfort and satisfaction he feels in your arms.

“For the sex or the song?” he slurs against your skin. You huff out a laugh that makes him smile into your skin.

“For being everything,” you answer. His fingers tightening in yours speak louder than anything he could possibly say.

The pernil is delicious, and needed with both of your ravenous appetites. You thank Frankie, loudly and enthusiastically, as he blushes at your unabashed happiness. Conversation turns where it often does - work, plans, what you want to do this weekend - but towards the end of the meal Frankie just reaches over and takes your hand. It’s nothing new, but the way he holds it so tenderly makes your whole body feel full to bursting. You meet eyes, share smiles, and in Frankie’s brown ones you see all those future days perfectly promised.

END

The story continues in Frankie Finds Your Fanfic

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfictions #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #sw!frankie

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clusterbuck · 2 years

Note

''i'm not in love with you.'' ''good.'' pls pls emma

baby, we can make it (if we're heart to heart)

3.2k, T, ao3 link

“I lied,” he says, the words coming out ragged. “Earlier.”

Buck looks up. They’re back at the Diaz house by now, tucked into opposite corners of the couch, their feet tangling in the middle. Eddie’s nursing a beer, and Buck’s peering at him over the rim of a teacup.

“What did you lie about?” Buck asks. His tone is mild, edged with curiosity. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

For the space of a heartbeat, Eddie considers changing course. Considers backing out. Considers making up something inconsequential. But the lump in his throat has a mind of its own, and the words come out anyway.

“When I said I’m not in love with you.”

send me an intimate romance prompt

By the time they pull up to Bobby and Athena’s house on a Sunday afternoon, the party invitation has been amended so many times no one remembers what the original reason for throwing it even was. It’s a sprawling mess of a frankenparty, extra parts tacked on wherever there’s room. And it feels good, Eddie thinks, feels organic. Feels like it represents the sprawling mess of a family he’s chosen for himself.

He’s just glad he’s not the one responsible for remembering all the things they’re celebrating. He knows his return to the 118, official as of eight am tomorrow morning, is in there somewhere, as is Maddie’s return to dispatch. Hen and Karen just renewed their vows, Ravi’s about to graduate from probie to full firefighter, Maddie and Chimney are making a tentative attempt at being a family again, Bobby and Athena are finally heading off on their honeymoon. Just about everyone has something to celebrate, except—

“Hold on,” he says, turning to Buck just as he cuts the engine. “Are you the only person this party isn’t about?”

“What do you mean?” Buck asks.

Eddie starts listing all the different things being celebrated, and Buck’s eyebrows knit.

“Huh,” Buck says. “I guess so.”

“It’s not about me either,” Christopher pipes up from the backseat.

“Sure it is,” Eddie says. “School’s out, and you’re starting middle school in the fall. That counts.”

Buck gets out of the car and closes the door, then turns back, rests his forearms in the open window. “I broke up with Taylor. Does that count?”

“You—” Eddie says and gets out of the car, waiting until Buck straightens up to look at him over the roof. “When did this happen?”

“Uh,” Buck says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Last night?” He sighs, looks down, then shrugs. “Look, it was—it was a long time coming, right? It’s—I’m fine. It just—wasn’t working, you know.”

Yeah, Eddie knows that. He’s seen the way Buck dims when he mentions Taylor, heard the way he talks about her like he's trying to convince himself. Eddie knows it wasn’t working, maybe hadn’t ever worked from the start.

He just wasn’t sure if Buck knew.

“So,” Eddie says, inclining his head at the house, where the sounds of music and people laughing are already floating out their way. “Celebrating?”

“Uh,” Buck says again. “Yes, but no? Like, it’s good in the long run, I know, but it’s still—”

“Still a breakup,” Eddie fills in.

“Yeah.”

“And breakups still suck.”

Buck huffs. “Yeah, that’s a word for it.”

“You want to get wasted?” Eddie asks, quirking an eyebrow, and Buck’s huff bubbles into a full-blown laugh.

“At Cap’s house, in front of everyone we know? I think I’m good.”

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie asks, and instead of answering Buck opens the door to the backseat and hands Christopher his crutches, helping him down from the car.

So that’s a no.

“Let’s just—celebrate the good things for now, okay?” Buck says. “Here, I’ve got Chris, you get the stuff from the trunk.”

“I’ve got myself,” Christopher says and Buck grins, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“I know you do, buddy,” he says, then drops his voice into a very conspicuous stage whisper. “I just don’t want to help your dad carry the cupcakes in.”

“Please,” Eddie says. “As if I’d let you bring them in and try to claim all the credit for yourself.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Buck says, and Eddie raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t do that on purpose,” Buck amends.

“Sure you wouldn’t.”

The kitchen is bustling by the time they walk in, full of people and potluck contributions. It looks like someone—Bobby—had tried to organise the dishes according to some sort of internal logic, but the only thing left is chaos.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, scanning the counters. “Where should I—”

Athena turns around, and Eddie holds up the cupcake tray. “Anywhere you can fit it,” she says, grinning as Buck and Christopher come through the door. “Hello, Diaz boys.”

“Hey,” Buck says. “What about me?”

“You heard me,” Athena says.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Christopher says, reaching out to pat his arm. “You can be a Diaz boy today.” He turns to look at Eddie, eyes expectant. “Right, Dad?”

Eddie glances at Buck and finds him grinning, easy and open. You can be a Diaz boy, Eddie thinks, over and over, and tries very hard not to feel like a middle schooler assigning life-altering significance to entirely mundane moments. Christopher hadn’t meant anything by it, he’s sure.

Athena probably had, but Eddie’s working very hard not to look at her. Athena probably knows entirely too much, judging by her tone and the grin Eddie can see out of the corner of his eye. Eddie’s not sure how Athena knows, but that seems unimportant.

Christopher’s still looking at him, waiting for an answer, so Eddie points his finger at Buck and tries to look stern.

He thinks it probably falls somewhere around indulgent.

“Only if you behave,” he says. “Can’t have you besmirching our good name.”

“I always behave,” Buck says, and the entire kitchen erupts into laughter. He tries to glare, but he’s left his hair ungelled today, curls spilling over his forehead, and the overall effect sort of resembles an angry puppy.

Golden retriever, Hen used to call him, and Eddie can see what she was talking about.

“Fine, I’ll behave,” Buck says and winks at Christopher, who giggles.

Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice. “Then I suppose you can be a Diaz boy today,” he says.

Today and every day after, he doesn’t say.

You can be my Diaz boy, he doesn’t say.

It would be a lot, he thinks. He should work up to it. Maybe figure out where Buck’s head is at, post-Taylor, before saying anything. He’s also not at all sure where Buck is at, in general, in terms of like—the Kinsey scale, or whatever. Which seems like sort of an important detail. Something he should probably figure out.

There’s a lot he should do, but all he really wants is to tell Buck to move in with him—fuck his apartment, give it to Taylor for all he cares. Buck never really seemed at home there anyway, among the high windows and shiny appliances. Not the way he does in Eddie’s house, sprawled every which way across furniture just worn-in enough to be comfortable, flipping pancakes at the kitchen stove, settled in across the dinner table quizzing Christopher about homework Eddie doesn’t even pretend to understand.

All he really wants is to tell Buck he can be a Diaz boy for the rest of their lives, if he only wants.

But now is not the time. Now is the time to head into the backyard with Christopher and Buck and make the rounds, congratulating everyone who deserves to be congratulated and accepting congratulations and well-wishes for his return to the 118. He glances over at Buck every now and then, but Buck’s either doing better than anticipated after just ending his longest-ever relationship or he’s a better actor than Eddie’s given him credit for. Both, he supposes, are equally likely, but he resolves to keep an eye on Buck anyway.

But Buck seems fine. Eddie’s had a lot of practice reading Buck—considers himself a leading world expert at it—and he’s pretty sure if he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t be able to tell there’s anything different about him.

Buck is—he’s not the life of the party, not exactly. His smile slips every now and then, he withdraws into himself for a second or a minute or three, but that’s not new. That’s been the case for months now, and every time Eddie tries to bring it up Buck smiles all fake-bright and changes the subject.

Eddie’s not worried. Buck will crack eventually, and they’ll get to the bottom of it. And for now, Buck is—he’s okay.

Better now that Taylor is history, he thinks. He doesn’t know why now, doesn’t know what the final nail in the coffin was, but he’s been watching Taylor steadily sapping Buck’s spirit like some kind of energy vampire for a year now.

Eddie knows he’s being dramatic.

He stands by it.

Now that Taylor’s gone, he thinks Buck might start getting some of that spirit back.

He looks across the yard and finds Buck deep in conversation with Christopher, both of them focused on something on the table between them. There is a non-zero possibility that the thing they’re so engrossed in is going to end up a tower built of food—Christopher has been into architecture, recently, and Buck’s been more than willing to help him figure out the structural parts—which definitely does not fall under the definition of behaving, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to be anything but fond.

“So, Diaz,” a voice beside him says, and Eddie looks up to see Josh leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and something resembling a smirk on his face. “Ever going to tell Buck you’re in love with him?”

“I’m not in love with him,” Eddie says, immediate, automatic, and Josh raises a single eyebrow in the most disbelieving expression Eddie’s ever seen.

“Sure, and I’m the king of England,” Josh says.

Eddie sighs. “Look, it’s not—you don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Josh says. “I don’t get it? What, like I’ve never been in love with my best friend?”

Eddie frowns. “Have you?”

“Hasn’t everyone, at some point?”

“I don’t think you’d be able to know that,” Eddie says. “I don’t think there are studies.”

Josh snorts. “God, you even talk like him.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, heat creeping along his cheekbones.

“Anyway,” Josh says. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t get it. At least mine was straight, so it was never going to work out anyway. But with you—what gives?”

“Buck’s straight.” I think. Probably.

Josh bursts out laughing. Eddie glares at him.

“Eddie, I get the feeling that maybe you’re a little new to this whole queer thing, but I promise you—” Josh points at Buck “—that is not a straight man.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “How do you know?” He can’t tell if Josh is just messing with him, or if—

If. Maybe.

“Game recognise game,” Josh shrugs. “Queer recognise queer. Also, he checked me out once.”

“What?” Eddie asks. “Buck hit on you?”

“Calm down, lover boy,” Josh says. “It was years ago. And besides, he just checked me out. I guess I wasn’t his type.” Eddie feels Josh’s gaze dragging up and down his body. “Funny, though, it’s not like we’re all that different. Tall, dark, handsome…”

Well, I can bench press your body weight, for one, Eddie thinks, pressing his lips together so the words don’t spill out.

Actually, that’s not fair, he corrects himself. Could go one and a half at least.

“Why are you doing this, Josh?” Eddie asks before any of his less charitable thoughts can make it out of his mouth.

Josh sighs. “I figure I owe you one.”

“How’s that?”

“Remember Carson?”

“Guy who burned down Dispatch?” Eddie asks. “Yeah, rings a bell.”

“He didn’t—you said that wasn’t his fault!”

Eddie laughs. “Relax. What about him?”

“You told me to go talk to him,” Josh says. “And, uh…” he points over to the patio, where Carson is talking to Bobby and Athena.

“Good for you,” Eddie says, and thinks maybe he actually means it.

Carson looks up and waves at them, and Josh waves back. “Anyway,” he says. “About Buck. I just—you should think about it. Telling him, that is.”

As if thinking about it isn’t all Eddie does, these days.

“Yeah,” he says anyway. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Josh heads off to Carson and Eddie stays, leaning against the wall and thinking about that is not a straight man.

It’s not that he hasn’t wondered. It’s not that the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. But there’s not really any good way to bring it up, is there? Hey, by the way, you ever been into dudes?

Maybe if it came up in conversation anyway—but then the question would inevitably be turned back on Eddie, and he doesn’t think he knows how to tell Buck he’s into dudes without following it up with I’m also into you, specifically.

And until two hours ago Buck had a girlfriend, or so he’d thought, so the whole into you thing was kind of a nonstarter.

It’s—it’s all a big tangle of interconnected problems, and Eddie doesn’t have the first idea where to start picking it apart.

He’s still turning the tangle over in his mind when Buck materialises next to him, so close their shoulders brush.

“Hey,” Buck says. “What did Josh want? Looked pretty intense.”

“He said I should tell you I’m in love with you,” Eddie says, unthinking, then realises what he’s just let come tumbling out of his mouth. He whirls to face Buck just in time to see his face do something complicated, moving through expressions so fast Eddie can’t keep track—but none of them look exactly happy, or like anything else Eddie would associate with a positive response.

“I mean—he was just being stupid,” Eddie hurries to add. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Uh—good,” Buck says, tripping over the word a little. But when he looks at Eddie, it looks like he has his lying face on. It smooths away in moments, fading to something just a little too wooden to look natural, but even as the world’s premier Evan Buckley interpreter Eddie’s not getting anything out of him.

“Yeah, so—it was nothing,” Eddie says.

“Okay,” Buck says. “I—okay.”

The moment lingers, stretching out, settling into the spaces between them. For a split second Eddie wonders if it’s going to be like this forever, if he’s somehow managed to fuck everything up by not thinking before he speaks and then not doing a good enough job of walking it back. But then Buck bumps a shoulder against his and gestures over at Josh and Carson.

“Hey, isn’t that—” he says, frowning at Carson. “That’s the guy we pulled out of Dispatch.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mouth twisting into a smile despite himself. “He was installing the CAS before everything went to shit, I guess they had a connection.”

Buck laughs, and things slide back to normal so fast it’s like the temporary cockup never even happened.

It’s a blip on the radar, only Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about the surprise on Buck’s face, about the seconds before it settled into neutral. Can’t stop looking for Buck in the crowd, only every time his eyes land on Buck it’s to see Buck already looking at him.

And his eyes are—he looks like—it’s—

It’s a lot, is what it is. Because sometimes Buck looks at him and Eddie could swear that’s something wistful in his eyes. And what’s he supposed to do with that?

He can’t stop thinking about I’m not in love with you, and every time the words echo around his head they send acid dripping down the back of his throat. The lie weighs heavier on him with every passing moment, prickles under his skin and constricts his lungs.

He can’t stop thinking about any of it, and it builds up and bubbles until it’s a solid lump sitting in his throat, preventing him from saying anything else. Until—

“I lied,” he says, the words coming out ragged. “Earlier.”

“What did you lie about?” Buck asks. His tone is mild, edged with curiosity. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

“When I said I’m not in love with you.”

Buck’s breath catches, and his eyes lock on Eddie’s. “Eddie—”

“No, listen,” Eddie says. “I don’t—I’m not trying—” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for anything from you. You’re—you just broke up with Taylor, I wouldn’t ask you to—” He looks up, finds Buck still staring at him. “Just. I lied. I didn’t—I wanted to tell the truth.”

“Eddie—” Buck says again, and can’t seem to get further than that.

“Buck,” Eddie says. “Look, you have—you need to—I don’t know, probably cleanse your entire life with sage and holy water now that Taylor’s gone, and—well, you can’t cleanse your mind with holy water, I don’t think, but you get the point. So I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“Eddie, I—” Buck stares at him, lips parted, eyes wide. Eddie’s still not sure what to read in his expression, but he doesn’t think it’s overwhelming disgust. So that’s something.

“Take your time,” Eddie says. “Think about it. And if this is something you want, when you’re ready—if you’re ready, at some point—I’ll be here.”

Buck swallows. “And what if—”

“I’ll be here anyway,” Eddie promises. “No matter what.”

“Even if it takes—”

“No matter how long it takes.” Eddie knocks his foot against Buck’s, looks up and smiles at him. “Buck, no matter what, you’re my family. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, managing a small smile in return. “Yeah, you’re mine too.”

Eddie’s prepared to wait. He knows he’s put a lot on Buck, knows that Buck has a lot to work through. That it might be a while before Buck’s ready to start anything new, and that it’s not necessarily a given that Buck would want the something new to be with him anyway.

But he thinks—he’s pretty sure—he sees the way Buck looks at him, and he thinks it’s just a matter of time, but he’d meant what he’d said to Buck. He’s prepared to wait. As long as it takes.

Only it turns out he doesn’t have to wait very long at all, because two weeks after the frankenparty Buck shows up at his door pink-cheeked and breathless.

“Buck?”

“I’m ready,” Buck says, fighting a grin. “I mean—I’m not fixed, or whatever, I’m still seven different kinds of fucked up, probably—”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts, a laugh bubbling in his chest. “So am I.”

“Yeah, so,” Buck says. “I have—stuff, or whatever, but I’m in love with you. And you’re in love with me, so—”

“So the rest is details,” Eddie says.

“Yeah,” Buck grins. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Can we figure it out after I kiss you?” Eddie asks, and Buck bursts out laughing, bright and joyful.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #ask emma #emma writes #capseycartwright

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itwasalladreamsblog · 2 years

Text

Fight or Flight? (chapter 3)

Jake Seresin x Pilot Reader (+ Maverick's Daughter)

Note: The events of this piece very loosely follow the timeline of Top Gun Maverick, parts have been changed or altered to fit this story.

Another note: thank you all so much again for your love for this story, I'm so grateful! This chapter is a bit long so I sincerely apologise in advance.

Warnings: language and innuendos.

Despite your best efforts, sleep does not fall over you easily that night. You lay awake, counting down the hours until you have to be up, your mind tormenting you with all of the possibilities for the upcoming mission, as well as the plausible reactions to your impending familial reveal that awaits. A battle now also plays in your conscience as to the fact that you didn’t warn Rooster about your dad’s looming appearance.

You hadn’t bothered to question your dad about the entailment of the mission, knowing he’d never let you in on it anyway. The both of you were staying at the house he had bought when he was briefly an instructor here many years ago. When the both of caught up after getting home from the Hard Deck last night, it reminded you of old times growing up, just the two of you. Although this time around, you could feel the stress and nerves radiating from both of you, and that made you worry.

Finally dragging yourself out of bed at 4.30am, you’re not sure if you even managed to seek one hour of sleep. You quickly fall into your familiar routine of getting ready. You braid your hair in two and join the ends together, forming a bun at the base of your neck. Back in Top Gun, you had once been called out about your hairstyling choice on one occasion, but after you retorted to that Captain that all the code directed was that hair was neatly pulled back neatly into a low bun, no further argument could be made. You had frequented comments from authorities about your uniform in the past. You bent the rules just enough to be noticeable, but never enough to warrant an official warning, always having a counterargument up your sleeve.

You and your dad now sit in silence at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. The uneasy atmosphere in the air is tangible. Knowing your dad, he was not only worried about this mission, but worried about you, and also Rooster too. ‘You need to go and see Ice’ your dad says pulling you from your thoughts, his voice stern. ‘Not good?’ you reply, concern evident in your tone. Your dad just shakes his head. You sigh, thinking about your godfather's illness, and how difficult it must be on him and his family. You make a mental note to go and see him this week, now adding this to your growing list of concerns.

After wishing your dad good luck for the day ahead, you begin the short drive to the base. You arrive early, which is not unusual for you. Heading straight to the locker room, you begin to pull on your flight suit over your black tank top. ‘Need a hand?’ that familiar sarcastic voice fills the air. ‘Not from you’ you reply as you turn to Hangman, finding him at the entrance of the room. He stands by the door smirking, already clad in his flight suit, which manages to infuriate you more in your competitive nature. ‘Well, the offer stands. I’m happy to offer my services, at any time' he winks at you. ‘You’re a dick’ you reply as you finish zipping up your suit. You walk straight past him, refusing to look back.

You fall back into your pre-flight routine while waiting for the rest of the squadron to arrive for your briefing. This usually entails avoiding Hangman at all costs and listening to whatever music works to calm your nerves. When Phoenix arrives, you two easily slide back into old ways, catching up on the other's latest missions and life. It relaxes you, almost enough to fleetingly forget about the seriousness of the predicament you were all soon to find yourselves in.

The recruits all take their seats for the briefing when the whole of the squadron finally arrives. As you take your seat next to Rooster, your nerves have been raised to an all-time high. You are completely encompassed by the build-up of emotions surrounding this morning, all of which are soon to come to a head. You all stand and greet the admirals in your familiar formation, second nature and as easy as breathing to the lot of you. You sink back in your chair when Admiral Bates introduces your dad as the instructor to the squadron. In your peripheral, you feel Rooster tense up next to you. You refuse to look at him in your guilt, keeping your eyes fixed straight ahead of you.

You watch Hangman turn his head back, eyes locking onto your father, a wave of realisation washing over him of the identity of the man he had thrown out of the Hard Deck the previous night. Before he turns back to face the front of the room, his eyes latch onto yours. His eyes then work quickly, moving back and forth between you and your dad. Hangman chuckles on his toothpick and shakes his head, and you know immediately that he’s pieced it together. If your shared last name alone hadn't been the initial confirmation of your relation, it was clear that your similar looks certainly were. You sink a little deeper into your chair.

Phoenix looks in your direction also, the gape on her face conveying shock at the fact you had withheld this information. You barely register your father's spiel about the mission, only noting key phrases about enemy SAMs and needed miracles. The duration of the briefing feels like an eternity to you, you feel sick to your stomach about the playout of events. As soon as you are excused, you make an immediate break for your plane, attempting to avoid any and all interactions.

Just when you think you’ve made it safely, approaching the tarmac, you sigh sighting Hangman’s and your planes stationed next to each other. ‘A nepotism baby, hey?’ he whistles to you as if on cue with your realisation. You begin busy yourself with readying your plane, ignoring his comment altogether.

‘It’s a real comfort for me to discover that you only graduated first in your graduate class due to a legacy. What did it take from Maverick to get you into the Naval Academy in the first place? A call? A letter?’ he chuckles. Before you can tell him to go and fuck himself, both of your attentions are pulled to your dad and Rooster engaging in conversation a short distance away.

Although the entire context of the interaction is unclear, it isn’t difficult for anyone to guess it’s a heated conversation given their current display. ‘A family affair? It’s going to be fun watching the two of you highjack your own chances of being picked for this mission without any influence from me’ Hangman says with a ruthless grin, nodding his head in Rooster's direction. With that, he’s hopping into his plane before you even have the chance to process what he’s said to you.

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2

@clockworkballerina

@dempy

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@hoalkk1

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman #jake seresin #top gun #top gun maverick #hangman x reader

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pyxy-styx · 4 months

Note

1-100 you did this to yourslef

You're right, I did to this to myslef.

1. What's your middle name? Gonna change it to Parker eventually. Right now, it's the maiden name of a dead grandparent I never met and have no attachment to.

2. How old are you? 59 (18)

3. What is your birthday? October

4. What is your zodiac sign? Libra

5. What's your favorite color? Purple

6. What's your lucky number? Don't have one, if had to pick, probably 10

7. Do you have any pets. Three cats, a dog, and a bearded dragon.

8. Where are you from? Jupiter, I came to earth to rob people and ended up stuck here

9. How tall are you? At least 5' 5"

10. What shoe size are you? Good question

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Four I think?

12. What was your last dream about? Another good question. I have no idea, I only remember the really bizarre ones

13. What talents do you have? I'm fairly decent at piano when I'm actually able to play

14. Are you psychic in any way? We're gonna go with no

15. Favorite song? Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons

16. Favorite movie? Legally Blonde today

17. Who would be your ideal partner? Oh what a shame, someone played the Uno skip card and I can't answer this question

18. Do you want children? Yes and no

19. Do you want a church wedding? Only if I get to kiss a girl in front of my grandma and my dad officiates

20. Are you religious? Kind of??

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Unfortunately for my parents, yes. I am currently the not-so-proud owner of the Most Hospital Trips in Two Months award in my house

22. Have you ever gotten in trouble with the law? Got the cops called on us a few times because our downstairs neighbors, who knowingly moved into a place with kids btw, were pissed that we acted like kids and ran around a bunch

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? Loads, we used to go to conventions a lot. There's pictures and autographs somewhere

24. Baths or showers? Showers

25. What color socks are you wearing? None right now but usually black

26. Have you ever been famous? Nope

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? In theory yes, but unfortunately people suck, so no

28. What type of music do you like? We rotate between multiple genres, pop and goth are the top two

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? No

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? I'm not gonna go count

31. What position do you usually sleep in? On my stomach but I can't do that without dying right now and it sucks

32. How big is your house? Please don't make me do math

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Cereal or whatever leftovers sound good

34. Have you ever fired a gun? Yes, I suck at it

35. Have you ever tried archery? Yes, I suck at it

36. Favorite clean word? Dystopia, it sounds pretty

37. Favorite swear word? Damn

38. What's the longest you've ever gone without asleep? Two days

39. Do you have any scars? Yes and literally none of them have a cool story. They're all from me being clumsy

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? Nope

41. Are you a good liar? Depends on who I'm talking to

42. Are you a good judge of character? Ehhhh

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? I can do a few, they're not the best though

44. Do you have a strong accent? You can tell I'm from America

45. What is your favorite accent? Probably Scottish

46. What is your personality type? Idk

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? Probably the Technoblade merch

48. Can you curl your tongue? Yep

49. Are you an innie or an outie? What on earth does this mean

50. Left or right handed? Right

51. Are you scared of spiders? Only when they're touching me, they're okay otherwise

52. Favorite food? Pasta

53. Favorite foreign food? Thai coconut soup

54. Are you a clean or messy person? Both

55. Most used phrase? Probably "what the fuck"

56. Most used word? Funky

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? Like five minutes, thirty if I'm doing makeup or hair

58. Do you have much of an ego? Oh yeah

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Both

60. Do you talk to yourself? Yep

61. Do you sing to yourself? Yepyep

62. Are you a good singer? I like to think so but probably not

63. Biggest fear? Drowning

64. Are you a gossip? Nope

65. Best dramatic movie you've seen? Does My Girl Count??

66. Do you like long or short hair? Short hair

67. Can you name all 50 states in America? Nope

68. Favorite school subject? English

69. Extrovert or introvert? Yes

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? Nope

71. What makes you nervous? Everything

72. Are you scared of the dark? Yes

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? I try to sometimes

74. Are you ticklish? Unfortunately

75. Have you ever started a rumor? If I have I wasn't aware of it

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? Kinda

77. Have you ever drank underage? Cooking wine and shitty beer are disgusting

78. Have you ever done drugs? Yeppers

79. Who was your first real crush? I have no clue

80. How many piercings do you have? None

81. Can you roll your Rs? In my accent? No. In other accents? Yes

82. How fast can you type? Fast enough it's illegible if I'm not careful

83. How fast can you run? I have no idea

84. What color is your hair? Brown

85. What color are your eyes? Gray

86. What are you allergic to? The medicine they give you for strep throat. I'm not figuring out how to spell that shit

87. Do you keep a journal? Nope, I had to stop because my older sister kept reading my old one

88. What do your parents do? Mother dearest works at Walmart and Dad stays at home

89. Do you like your age? It's alright ig

90. What makes you angry? That is unfortunately a very long list

91. Do you like your own name? It's quite nice

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so, what are they? I have not, we'll cross that bridge if we get to it

93. Do you want a boy or girl child? I quite honestly don't care. A kid is a kid and I'm gonna love them regardless

94. What are your strengths? I'm pretty smart, I guess?? I've been told that I'm pretty good at rationalizing things

95. What are your weaknesses? I am unfortunately a very anxious person. No matter how much logic I use, I can't get over some shit

96. How did you get your name? I was named after a comic book character, my parents just gender bended the name

97. Were your ancestors royalty? I fucking hope not

98. Do you have any scars? I'd just like to point out that this is on here twice and your answer is back at 39

99. Color of your bedspread? Dark blue right now

100. Color of your room? White walls, pink carpet

#i love wasting time answering questions #it's very entertaining

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notallwonder · 1 year

Text

Okeydoke. CM 16x09 "Memento Mori". What delights and disappointments do you have in store for me...

Spoilers etc etc etc under the cut.

I've been rewatching season 3. It feels like such a different show. I think the impact of the shake up of producers and cast that happened in season 5/6 cannot be overestimated. And of course with this new season they've actively tried to make it a different iteration. But yeah...the creative vision or whatever shifted a lot over its original run.

Anyway.....back to the matter at hand...

oh no...Rossi flashback. :/ oh buddy. ngl hearing Rossi break up like that makes me very sad.

(Emily you look fabulous in your funeral dress)

I do appreciate the time they've given to Rossi & Emily's relationship

also it just makes me uncomfy that Rossi's doing his canvassing all alone. Even the Mormons don't do that.

OH SHIT is going down!

Emily is your blazer sparkly? no no it's like some kinda tufted wool pattern. (Cute)

JJ your hair looks great

Tara you must be right, "it's hard to be a new dad and a psychopath at the same time" (also you look great bb)

OH SNAP he walked right in??!! with a lil smirk??!!

Okay okay okay TARA / REBECCA FLASHBACK. Aw, Tara that look on your gorgeous face. 🥰 I am not intimately familiar with Al-Anon but I can see how Rebecca's history might influence her tendency to go scorched earth/go to extremes in her reactions.

I wish the flashbacks were in color though. The black & white photography is pretty I suppose, but I wanna see their beautiful faces in full color.

Urgency!! Rebecca coming thru!! (in her fire burgundy suit btw)

this Sacramento offer is all she's got?? I know she's under review, whatever that entails, and presumably thus no longer in line for an associate atty general job (is that actually a thing??) but she's... still actively working in the DOJ in Washington DC hence why she's even plausibly (lol) in this room. Why would this Sacramento job be the only option left to her? This does not make sense.

Tara looks so beautiful, GOD. but also too sad.

Ugh back to this bitch (Elias)

This little tete-a-tete w/ Rossi is...intruiging. Ooh twist that knife sir.

LOL the very subtle sound cue/background music they put on Rossi's grin after he says "Almost." God that was perfect. Like the cartoon sparkle on a smile. Like the Schitt's Creek chime.

Wow this guy has plans on plans on cojones. I like him. He's bad news.

Side note: it annoys me that they keep calling Sicarius the "most prolific" killer they've ever seen. Didn't they estimate Frank's body count in the 80s or 90s?

Oh....our favorite asshole Tyler Green. Oh and our other favorite ah Will - here in an official non-husband capacity. Neato.

The question remains....is Tyler Green a bad guy? He's clearly taking PG for a ride, but what that fully means I don't know.

OOooooh big drama betw Tyler & Luke. That stare down!

Does PG see it now? She might.

F U C K. Suspicions (Apparently!) confirmed ! !

Rossi you in danger girl.

this could still be a vigilante type situation...but they're leaning hard on making Green seem sus and at the very least he's an uncontrolled quantity. He's gonna get in the way.

ok another flashback. this one im categorizing as dumb bc it's about Tyler. Honestly I'd rather have an Emily flashback. Even if it's just her like...loading her dishwasher. God, what I wouldn't give.

cute baby tho. Tyler has baby-related ptsd

This angst filled grocery shopping RULES!!!!! Rolling Stones babey!!!

Rossi, stalking people while they are grocery shopping is not nice. I get it, you have a job to do blah blah. But coming up on ladies in the cereal aisle is just annoying as hell.

OH MY GAWD. Rossi talking serial killer with the wife in the CEREAL AISLE?!?!?!!!!! only god above and people I'll never speak to know if this was by design but I am LOSING it over this stupid visual pun.

Sydney! You left your toilet paper! Don't you remember how hard it was to get toilet paper just a few short years ago?!

LMAO Rossi you got played buddy.

It does feel odd given recent episodes that Bailey isn't in the middle of this fray, but I'm so not mad he's not there.

Emily's "yes ma'am" reminds me of her very flat "ma'am" to Strauss in "100". Very different (this one contains no venom), but I just have not been able to get Strauss out of my head while watching Prentiss this season.

ZOMG LUKE & PENELOPE. Pen, why are you oversharing with him???!!!! Oh honey. You really think he's just your friend. Can't talk to Prentiss bc you already fucked that up, can't talk to JJ bc JJ will call you out on your shit, can't talk to Tara bc she's in her own world of hurt... you friend zoned Luke and are about to find Out!

Oh GOd PG! Like... I know you sometimes lack a filter but c'mon. 😬

FUCK Rossi WHAT are you DOING. This man who has been marinating in grief for years is about to lose it all

The only one who we know knows where he is is Tyler Green (awful sentence so sorry)

I'm getting tense

The Two Devolvers

AAAGH I just LOVE when an intense moment goes straight to psoriasis drug commercials!!! Fuck!

Is the Dan & Sheila thing a reference to a real podcast of some sort? Who are Dan and Sheila.

I do like when the show seems to acknowledge the shortcomings of profiling as an endeavor

Rossi rounding out the Brown Jacket Brigade

Oh. Emily.

Oh. GARCIA. Chickens....roosting....etc

i am just dying, Dying for Emily to completely Lose Her Shit. i doubt she will get the opportunity. But I want it.

JJ getting the lay of the land watching Emily's reaction. Tara getting the lay of the land watching Penelope.

I want Rossi to pee in the car, and then say "it's just a rental".

A favor from DC Metro? For when they are in the field in SEATTLE? I know this is just to get Will into the mix but it's annoying.

Garcia! Um, the implication that you think avoidant-attachment style folks are like...better at or predisposed to lying? Fucked up. I think you have not been getting an A+ in therapy (thing that's normal to want, etc...). All this "Penelope has thrived during the pando / been getting so great at self care etc" seems to be revealing itself as a front of sorts. Kinda feels like a third, smaller, devolution.

The Will stans of the world will rejoice - he's on the jet

For the record, I think Emily made a calculated risk/decision to send PG into the field with the rest. Perhaps thinking she would be uniquely situated to convince/keep Tyler out of the way. Meta-wise, it was necessary to then place JJ/Will and Luke/Garcia in the same frame on the jet. I'm sure that was no accident.

Ugh. Do we think Rossi's out? Is he gonna be dead when this is all said and done? I hope not. He's still got lots of grandparenting to do. But he really should fucken retire.

OOOOHHHHH. THE GARVEZ DATE. Again...I wish they gave us these flashbacks in color.

Oh, handholding!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 it's not the specific handholding I wished for, but it's the handholding I absolutely needed!!!!!!

Luke, my man. I love ya. I feel for ya. God. I'm sorry things went this way. Honestly, PG, if you have trouble conversing in a non-dunking way with someone you consider a friend...like maybe I'm being judgmental here but that sounds like a you problem that you might want to figure out babe.

Thinking about Luke compared with Derek. Derek would have pushed back on a statement like that from PG. Luke, bless him, does not push back because he's got more at stake emotionally / is wounded by it. But a statement like that from PG needs pushback, especially if you're trying to redefine the relationship.

I feel so bad for Emily. She has to keep it together but you know she's furious and deeply worried about her kidnapped work wife

Now we've come back around to Rossi's flashback pain. He didn't want to watch his wife be closed up underground. I see.

Zomg. I wonder if they are gonna cliffhanger the season with Rossi still trapped underground.

AAAAAAAAAAAH

I quite enjoyed this episode. I liked the directing, though I would have preferred the flashbacks in color. There were some really nice shots in there. A lot of backstory snippets. I wanna know more about Tara. What prompted her to go to Al-Anon, years after her marriage broke up? Does that have anything to do with the toning down/disappearance of her swagger? As for Garvez - I don't feel the same level of upset over how this has played out, but I think we're headed toward a reveal of Luke's deeper feelings and some kind of reckoning. And while it's not necessarily *fun* to watch Garcia make these choices, I am not convinced this was a completely bad decision storytelling-wise. I know, I'm in the minority there. Let her fuck up! Let her be unlikable, selfish, blind. I guess what would disappoint me the most is if there's no turn in this story, no real consequences or accountability. We'll see.

Favorite scene hands down was the angsty grocery shopping. What can I say, it gave me life.

#cm spoilers #cme spoilers #criminal minds spoilers #criminal minds evolution spoilers #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution

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sleepysandy · 2 years

Text

fmab rewatch ep 16

is no one else seeing these two people on top of the train

vry funny how theyre bonding with barry

damn cant believe visas exist here

omg they just passed by the phone booth

i just saw that

sheska got a shorter skirt

is that allowed are there no dress codes

SHESKA STFUU

sheska couldve been freaked out more

like having a doppelgänger is freaky

mustang eye bags <3

theyll find out like tonight

woahh totally forgot ross tells them

well being in the military, he knows the risks

especially when he continued to research when bradley told them to stop

altho its extra sus that bradley told them to stop

gracia slay

cant believe they did this ross

shes literally just minding her business

so when lust is in disguise she gotta cover up her cleavage lmao

ep 17

huh was there only one shot

i thought there were two

how the hell did they fake it

is the investigator in on it

i mean they are refusing other evidence

cold flame wow amazing

if ross went to her parents then im pretty sure other people saw her there

well the homunculi are keeping tabs so they probs chose someone who wasnt in central

where are lan fan and fu

when i first watched this i honestly thought mustang did kill her

now i know if they dont show on screen death somethings up

armstrong got balls to say that to mustang

eds too teen angsty to have critical thinking

falman babysitting

everyone pissed off at mustang lmao

lmao he called them hindrances

ep 18

arrogant palm of a small human

who would even combine those words

amazing 10/10

surprised that theres still water there

who the hell is mr han

where the hell did fu come from

not the jesus imagery

ohh they right tho

police and military will never tell the press abt an internal issue

he had to bring a backup :(((

phone booth trauma

ooh his silhouette against the sunset

show those drawings to jean

cant believe theyre taking ed seriously

if i were there id just laugh at this kid giving a speech like that

wtf fu has to cross the desert twice

hes so old how does he do it

jean kinda

forgot jean is higher than falman lmao

the grey hair threw me off i thought he was older

riza my queen

the handling of the ishbalans is kinda weird tho

gluttony count ur days

i will not tolerate any riza harm

ep 19

ure blowing ur cover mustang

omg he loses his cool when its riza hihi

death of the undying???

amazing once again

.good doggy

thank god they did not kill black hayate

i would never rewatch this if they did that

rizas little smile

jean squeezing in next to al

why were her tits bouncing

that was kinda hot mustang

lmao their faces

NAURRR

i hate this

its rlly cool how the show has high stakes from the start

like its kinda an early ep

but theres been a few serious injuries and a death

the only reason why most of them aint dead is plot armor

oooh riza thinking mustangs dead

when they go crazy bcs they think ure dead >>>

they rlly had to have an ab ahot

this was such a slay

like the visuals of the fire

hmmm

so bradley wouldve killed them all if they hadnt killed lust first?

and just tell officials that he was too late to save them?

kinda a sad death for barry

i liked lust but she envy wrath and pride were more interesting ig

still wouldve been nice

this was such a plot twist

i was still in denial that the dad is alive

ep 20

that rlly what he says when he sees his kid after years

of i were ed i wouldve just said that aint ur home

u didnt even live there

the titles are so straightforward but it goes so hard

kinda creepy just watching him sleep

theyre trying winry chill

anime clothes just never ride up

the dads the only one who calls him edward irl

im happy that they have lots of pics when they were young

the dad was acting so sus

cant believe ed rlly asked this old woman to do this

pinako just staring at ed lmao

hmmm

wonder if its an actual person they made

so if they had the stone would they have made a homunculus

trisha too nice

i wouldve never wanted to see that man again

curtis fam just adopt

music so dramatic for what

still a banger line

has he always had a large back

amazing wonderful

#fma #fmab

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honey-baby-blossom · 2 years

Text

Whispering a Secret - matt murdock

summary | Matt is late to dinner (again), but apparently, he has a good reason this time

warnings | angst, descriptions of injuries, fem reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, matt being a whore, aftercare, existing relationship, happy ending

word count | 3.k words

notes | it's been forever and this has been sitting in my drafts and I totally forgot so here you go, this is my first brush with more smutty content but I'm very proud of it, enjoy !

You struggled to fit the hot plastic bag of food in your arms next to your purse and work bag all while carrying the two drinks in the carrier before you even got to your apartment door. A sigh huffed past your lips as you twisted to reach the keys in your purse before giving up and setting everything messily on the concrete floor to safely unlock the door.

Despite the dumb annoyance at your lack of strength and hands to complete the simple task of just opening a door, you still felt the excitement flutter in the pit of your stomach. You set the food down on your kitchen counter, checking the time flashing from your oven. He would be here soon, he promised he wouldn’t be late. He was always late, which is why you told him a time thirty minutes earlier than the planned time.

Matt Murdock was so many things. Late, flustered, cocky, handsome, charming, etcetera, etcetera. From the moment you met him, you found him simply fascinating. You loved watching him move despite his lack of vision. He tried to teach you his cane technique, but you just settled on holding onto him as he took the lead. You tried not to ask too many questions even though sometimes it seemed like he had way more secrets than he tried to let on. Like his dad and his sight (or lack thereof) and the purplish bruises that popped up on his cheeks from time to time. He always tried to smile his way out of answering and eventually you took the hint that Matt Murdock was a disco ball full of questions and survived by spinning too fast to let anyone focus on just one spot.

You felt smug when he was officially late to your apartment. That man had the internal clock of the sun in Alaska, you thought with a smile. You continued fluttering around your home, setting the mood with lights and music and candles.

Ten minutes. No worries, you planned thirty minutes for a reason.

Twenty minutes. You hope he’s alright, but of course he’s alright. He always does this.

Thirty minutes. Any minute now...

Forty-five. Maybe something really is wrong. He could be hurt. Two voicemails pass.

An hour. Maybe he just got the time wrong. He’ll be so embarrassed when he does show up.

An hour and a half. He’s not showing up. Is he?

Your whole body felt deflated on the couch as you slowly tried to eat. You wanted to be angry and fierce in your esteem, but it couldn’t erase the doomed feeling in your chest. Maybe today was the day. He disappeared into a sewer grate or got stuck on the subway tracks. Or worse, he’s fine. He knows you’re waiting. He already ate and he’s too busy to answer the phone. He doesn’t care enough. He doesn’t care about you.

Despite how much the hurt radiates through your body, you feel elated when you hear the soft tap at your door. Before you can run to let him in or face the disappointment of just a mail delivery man, you hear his voice come through the thick wood.

“I know you’re in there, Sweetheart,” he says, his voice thick with something you can’t tell. The sound takes you by surprise, freezing you to your spot on the couch. The bliss of knowing he isn’t dead and still knows that you exist wears off quickly, the cold and dank anxiety solidifying back in your chest.

“Please open the door. I’m so sorry I’m late- I... I can explain. I think...Just let me in, please,” he says, the shaky tension in his voice only rising with your silence. Your body aches as you peel yourself from your seat on the couch, your limbs stiffly drawing you closer to the door.

Your fingers hesitate at the doorknob. There’s a short beat. The hurt floods your veins and makes the motion feel impossible. How could you let him in after all this. All of the secrets and the missed calls and the lies.

“Sweetheart, I know you hear me. Open the door. I don’t...I can explain, I promise. I’m so...so sorry,” he says gently. You hear his hand on the other side of the door, slowly trying to twist it open. It would never work and he knew that, it was just so he knew he tried.

Your bottom lip puffed out slightly, tears brimming at your waterline. Even with the lies and the broken promises and the secrets, it was still him. Your Matty.

You opened the door slowly, giving him ample time to readjust his weight resting on it. You saw his knuckles first, bloody and wrapped tightly around a bouquet of flowers.

It wasn’t just his knuckles. His lip, his eyebrow, a cut on his cheekbone. Purple and red bloomed across his skin, every piece that you could see. The anxiety and guilt and pain from the past two hours erupts in your throat, closing it tight like a snake coiled around its lunch.

“Oh Matty,” you whisper, the sob shuddering through your body as you pull him into a hug. He catches you quickly, subtly adjusting you away from the new wounds. You got tears and snot all over his shirt collar, but you didn’t feel too bad. Payback for all the other stuff, you supposed.

You pulled away to get a better look at his face, searching for his eyes past the red tinted glasses. His eyes looked glassy and unfocused like always, but more tired than usual. They looked dark and heavy and pained, more pained than the cuts and bruises.

“What happened to you?” you ask, your voice breaking weakly. He licked his lips and let his hands rest on the sides of your waist. The question hung heavy in the air, his silence just as intense as yours was behind the door. His eyes fluttered closed at the same time as his mouth started to open.

“I should come inside,” he said, that heaviness dripping down his voice and into your ears. The despair and hopelessness you felt without him screamed at you from inside your chest, forcing your hands tighter around his arms.

He followed you inside, letting the flowers drop sadly onto the table next to the door. With every new sensation of the apartment, his heart broke more and more. He smelled the candles and heard the quiet buzzing of the twinkling lights and the now cold food on the kitchen counter. All of it seems sad and weak and late.

“Matty...” you whispered, your voice deathly quiet in the loud silence.

“I’m so sorry,” he says back, the breath catching in his throat, sneaking past the tightness of his jaw.

“Don’t...apologize,” you said, eyebrows pulling together in a frown. You weren’t sure how you meant it. Couldn’t tell if it was a “you don’t need to apologize, I love and forgive you” or an “apologies are useless at this point, just start explaining” type of phrase. You didn’t have time to decide fully before he was pulling his glasses off.

“I um... I’ve loved you for a really long time, you know that?” he asked softly. You nodded and slid onto the arm of the couch, waiting for the words that would make your knees give out. “And that’s why I... justified lying, I suppose. But it is why I love you that I can’t anymore.”

The tears rose from your toes and spread through your entire body before dropping out your eyes and down your cheeks.

“Matty-”

“Shh,” he murmured, stepping forward and pressing a gentle finger to your lips. “You are...smart...and kind and honest and caring...So many good things. Sometimes so many that it turns into a bad thing. You’re too good to ask about the lies and the secrets.”

You could barely see him past the swirling tears in your eyes, but what you could tell, was that he wasn’t as devasted as you preemptively were.

“I want you to know, right this moment, that I want nothing more than to stay here with you and know you and love you until the moon collides with the Earth and existence is irrelevant. Okay?”

Your lips felt magnetically shut by the quiet crying as you pulled them apart to whisper a quiet, “But?”

“No ‘but’, Sweetheart. I just need you to know that before I show you something,” he said, his finger brushing away the hot tear running down your cheek. The heaviness and the fear reappeared across his face as he reached into his jacket pocket. You swore you could see his fingers trembling as he held out a stained piece of black fabric.

The hurt and confusion battled in your mind as he tucked it into your hands. You pulled it straight from the crumpled wad you received it in. A mask. Black and deep red. One that you saw constantly on tv.

“You-” The word got stuck in your throat, your eyes shiny and wide as you stared up at him.

“I’m the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. It’s me,” he finished. The words felt like poison on his tongue, but the addictive kind. The kind that coated your cells with a mix of euphoria and slaughter that you just couldn’t let go of.

You knew what you were supposed to feel in light of the news: anger, fear, confusion, betrayal. But instead, it was just relief. At least for the first few seconds. Then the worry hit, then the questions- which Matt was ready for.

“Slowly, Sweetheart. I’ll give you everything,” he assured you, his voice gentle and sweet. That’s when all of the “normal” emotions set in. The tears burst from your eyes faster than before, obscuring your view of him. His face fell as he reached to touch you, to try and soothe the panic he caused. You forced his hands away and tossed the mask away from you as you stood up, clutching your chest to keep your heart from dropping right out.

“Honey, I...” he murmured, his frown deep and sad. You shook your head and looked back at him, lips turned down with pain.

“All this time?” you whispered. He swallowed and nodded slowly. “A-All the bruises?”

He nodded again and another round of sobs burst forth from your throat. His breathing sounded quicker, like he might join your tears as he started to speak.

“I-I’m so sorry I lied to you,” he said, his voice deathly quiet. You frowned back at him, the tears fluttering down your soft cheeks.

“Matty, I don’t care about that,” you said, stepping closer to the man, “I don’t...I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His heart broke at the crack in your voice with the words. His hands caught you a little harder than he normally would have, pulling you against his body desperately. You surrendered to him, your face pressed into his shoulder, letting his arms wrap around as much of you as he could possibly fit.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your cheeks and forehead, letting you bury his cries into his suit jacket. Your mind fought hard to melt into his touch, to let his rough hands wipe away every piece of anxiety and fear until all that remained was the euphoria he normally brought.

He tilted your chin up slightly to look up at him, your bottom lip pouting outward. He could hear the blood rushing under your skin, causing your eyes and cheeks to puff up slightly with the tears.

“I’ll be just fine. I promise, Sweetheart. I’ll always come back to you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours gently with the words. Your eyes fluttered closed as you nodded, letting your body drown in his touch. “I’ll probably show up late, but I’ll be back.”

You let out a mix of a scoff and laugh, shaking your head against the palm of his hand. He smiled down at you, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead.

“No. No more being late. O-Or at least being late without calling. Even the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen needs to answer his phone,” you said, fingers mindlessly traversing around his chest. The corner of his lips twitched upwards slightly before he nodded in agreement, pressing yet another kiss to your forehead. You shook your head slightly and stood taller on your toes, closing the distance between your lips and his quickly.

His grip on you changed with the new angle, allowing you to rest more of your weight on him and wrap your arms around his neck. You felt weightless with him, like the floor and ceiling had switched and all the gravity that held you was replaced by his hands on your hips.

“Love you, Matty,” you whimpered between kisses, your fingers tangling in his hair impatiently. He let out a quiet sigh and pulled you closer, his hand holding the back of your head in place to kiss you however he wanted.

Your hands clawed to have more of his warmth and taste which was simply unnecessary with how ready he was to give it all back to you. It became a dance, really. Your hands twisted into his jacket, so he'd pull it off. You'd kiss and gasp around the warm skin of his neck, so his head would tilt and a soft plead for more would float past his lips. Your feet stepped sloppily back towards the bedroom, so he lifted you into his arms, your thighs snug around his hips.

It always felt like such a cliche, but being with Matt gave a whole new meaning to the old idea that two souls became one when in love. Matt loved how both of your heartbeats would match, quickening and intensifying at the same moments. Every breath was shared, every touch mirrored against the opposite skin, the warmth and slick matching across both of your bodies.

Matt was easy to please, hands dragging against your hips and thighs before you'd even taken your clothes off. It lit the fire in your chest like hay in the summer sending a rush straight down to your center. Again, like a mirror, you watched Matt's eyes roll back as he sensed your excitement, his mouth pressing back against yours. Matt elegantly toed the line between dominant and submissive, always so desperate to feel good that he could either let you give him what he wanted or simply take it for himself. He didn't quite submit to you, more so the pleasure and the feelings you gave him.

He dropped you back onto the bed, but never left your touch, his chest immediately following yours as he kissed down from your lips to your jawline to your neck.

"M-Matty," you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair. He let out a low grunt with every slight tug, always so sensitive to anything you did to him.

He was careful too keep his mouth against your skin as he pulled your clothes off, unzipping your dress with shaky fingers but still as accurate as ever. You always wondered how he could appreciate a naked body over a clothed one without his sight, it wasn't like he would be able to tell from far away, right? But it was in these moments with Matt leaning over you almost drooling over your chest, his face trailing kisses down your entire body, his nose leaving a line of warmth as he moved, that you knew you were wrong before. He muttered things about your warmth and silky skin. He liked being able to taste your body wash from earlier and your perfume and your sweat and lust. It was like you were being presented for him on a platter, begging for him to taste and smell and touch everything he could until there was nothing left.

Your body felt electric with need, soft moans dripping from your mouth until Matt covered them with his own, his hands guiding you to the buttons of his shirt and pants. You struggled with the first few, your thin fingers shaking and twitching too hard for you to get a good hold on the pearly buttons. With a grunt, his hands covered yours and pulled his shirt apart roughly, ripping it open and spilling buttons onto the floor. You felt your mind turn white as you looked over his bare chest, pale pink streaks across his shoulders and chest. You'd always wondered their origins before, but now it was just a gentle reminder of what your Matty was capable of.

"Just a second, Sweetheart," he mumbled, leaning up from the kiss but still keeping his hands on yours. You felt yourself start to pout and move to bring the touch back to your lips. He smirked at your weak attempts to bring him back to you and pushed your knees up, his rough hands squeezing at the back of your thighs.

"Need you now, Matty," you sighed, shuddering at the gentle kisses he started pressing to your inner thighs as he slid down with his stomach pressed against the bed.

"I know, Honey, but I need you more," he said, his nose nudging the wet spot on your panties. A squeak escaped your throat as you anticipated his next move.

He took his time, making sure to ease both you and him into the feeling of his mouth between your thighs. You were already shaking by the time he delivered the first lick against your clit, his warm tongue soft and skilled against you.

He tried not to let your reactions dictate his motions too much. Tried staying slow and steady despite your begs for more and moans of his name. He kept his internal promise very well until your fingers twisted into his hair, sending shocks of tension into his scalp. He let out an accidental grunt against you, his lips and tongue all pressed into your slick folds, vibrating it all with the noise.

You echoed it back to him, your hips tilting up so that his mouth was dangerously close to your quivering hole. His eyes fluttered closed, tasting the sweet honey that dripped from you with his tongue. He didn't even realize he was licking and sucking for more until you were pulling at his short, dark locks of hair harder than before, chanting his name like a prayer.

"F-Fingers, Matty. Please, please," you moaned, the knot in your abdomen burning through your veins to the rest of your body. He nodded slightly against your core, his hand dragging up under his chin to slip easily inside you. This is what he did that ruined men for you.

He knew the exact right spot to touch and press inside you. Paired with the targeted licks and kisses to your clit, you wouldn't last long. Your back arched with the sensation, forcing a loud cry of his name into the air. When he was absolutely sure you were teetering on the edge of orgasm, he leaned up onto his knees, two fingers still buried knuckle deep inside you.

"There you go, Sweetheart. Cum for me, I know you want to," he murmured, pressing wet kisses up your chest. By the time he met your mouth your hand flew to his wrist, digging your fingernails into the skin as he rocked his fingers against that perfect spot.

He inhaled all of your cries as you came, wrapping his free hand around your waist to hold you up while you twitched against him. His fingers slowed against your quivering walls, gently easing you down from the pleasure.

You saw stars for a few moments (fine, way more than a few) and took in a shaky breath, re-acclimating to the room around you and the man pressed to your bare chest. Every muscle in your body started to play a symphony, everything twitching and pulsing with the beat of your heart pressed against his. You felt limp in his arms, submissive to the feeling of him kissing down your neck and shoulders lazily.

“Matty...” you murmured, your eyelids weakening further by the second.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” he replied, pressing light kisses all across your face and against your closed eyes.

“Always going to love you. So much,” you said, losing the articles and subjects of your speech to the tugging tiredness that washed over you. He seemed to understand anyways and pulled you tighter against him, still trailing soft kisses across your skin.

“Preaching to the choir, Sweetheart,” he muttered, pressing a long kiss to your lips. You moved them back against him lazily before finally falling asleep in his arms.

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #netflix daredevil #marvel #baby matty #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock x oc #daredevil netflix

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