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thewulf · 11 months

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Good News || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: So i saw somewhere where a woman got into trouble for "destruction of government property" but it's just her giving her military husband hickies, and i think this would be so hilarious with Jake Seresin.

A/N: This one came so quickly to me. It's just pure fluff. All the Jake Seresin fluff! Short but sweet. Hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k +

Your eyes flipped back to the calendar on the wall with a big red circle around today. You’d probably looked at that calendar a thousand times over the last six months as you waited. Waited agonizingly every single day praying you wouldn’t get a knock on your door or the dreaded phone call.

Jake had been deployed on a carrier off the coast of Israel in the Mediterranean Sea for the last six months. You knew it came with the territory when you started dating him all those years ago. It terrified you every single time he came to tell you he was off on a mission or going on orders overseas. You’d never show it, only your utmost support and confidence in the man. But you knew how dangerous it was. He told you about all the men and women he’s seen gone down and some never making it home in his short span as a pilot in the Navy. It didn’t just terrify you, it rocked you all the way down to your core. What if he didn’t make it home? He was a hell of a pilot, one of the best that was flying, but things didn’t always go your way. He knew that. You knew it. Everybody seemed to know it.

But today was the day. He was coming home. After the months of shitty less than communication and trying your best to stay distracted it was here. He was safe. He was alive. You’d talked to him just a few hours ago. Waiting.

Jake’s parents picked you up from your shared home just off base that’d been eerily quiet in his absence. They didn’t want you driving in your hyper-fixated state. They never wanted you driving when it came to these kinds of events. They knew how much it tore you up when he was gone on deployment. If you didn’t fly down to Texas they made sure to fly to you. Just to keep you company. You hadn’t a clue how you’d gotten so lucky to have them in your life. And hopefully in the future as family. You never pushed it though. You didn’t want him to panic and ran. And truth be told you’d be fine never marrying him so long as he was like this in your life. Your best friend and love wrapped up in one.

“Are you excited?” His mom asked seeing you nearly bouncing out of the backseat once the car rolled onto base.

“Oh Nancy,” you could only nod your head in confirmation, “I’m more than excited.” Your cheeks were starting to burn from the big cheesy grin you were wearing.

His dad, David, spoke up, “I know Jake is just as excited.” He smiled just feeling the excitement in the air. These days were truly the best. Six months was a long time to be away. The longest deployment he’d been on in years.

The three of you made small talk as David drove to the base. Once parked, you happily led the older couple over to where the sailors would stand before they waited to be dismissed. You watched as the hundred or so men and women aboard the ship departed to their designated formation. Your eyes scanned for your loved one. Your Jake.

Finally spotting him you waited anxiously as the rest of the crew lined up. You just had to wait it out another ten minutes or so. They had to officially be dismissed before they could break for the family reunions. These last few minutes always seemed to draw on for decades trying to be as patient as possible.

You kept your eyes on him as he kept his forward. You hadn’t a clue that he already spotted you moments before you did him. But he had to keep his attention forward. No matter how anxious he was to see his favorite girl again.

They second they were dismissed Jake made a beeline right for you. Your face lit up in surprise as he headed right at you. Your body responding by moving forward you jumped right into his arms once he got close enough. He was more than ready. He wrapped his arms right around you securing you tightly to his chest while your feet locked behind him.

“Jakey.” You grinned hugging him tightly, afraid he’d be gone from your arms again you cherished every second like this. It made you realize how much you really did love the man you were holding so tightly. How much you craved him, everything about him. You’d rather not have had him gone for six months though. That was far too long for your liking. As if you had any say.

“Honey.” He cooed gently rocking you side to side. One arm snaked around your waist, one arm gently cradling your head in his hands, “You’re so fucking pretty. How’d you get even more beautiful? God I missed your face.” Jake leaned down capturing your lips in his. As gentle as he normally was with you this was hungrier. He really had missed you. Giving your hip as squeeze you felt him smile into the kiss as you squirmed away from his grasp.

Once you stopped giggling you looked right into his eyes smiling dopily, “And I missed yours, handsome man.” You gave him a wicked smirk before doing the unthinkable. Jake had warned you time and time again how he couldn’t show visible marks on the skin, or the Navy could have his ass. And maybe even yours if they were angry enough. You’d known they were empty threats, but you’d never dreamed of potentially hurting his flying in anyway. So, you’d never leave any marks.

Sliding his collar to the side you decided to throw caution to the wind seeing everybody lost in their own world with their own families. Jake’s parents were even admiring all the reunions around them instead of having their eyes fixated on the two of you. They loved watching all the joy every time. Nancy always made sure that every sailor was feeling the love. That was just one of the reasons you’d fallen in love not only with Jake but his entire family. His mom was as sweet as they came. His dad just as caring but even more tough. It was no wonder Jake was the way he was. Albeit a little more of an asshole than either of them even combined.

“Ma’am. That is abhorrent.” A vaguely familiar voice made you focus on your surroundings once more, “This is Destruction of Government Property.” You heard a cough from behind Jake drawing you away from your boyfriends neck. The look you sent could’ve killed him if it were at all possible. Bradley fucking Bradshaw. Was he actually serious right now?

You felt Jake’s laughter in his chest before you heard it. Flicking your eyes up momentarily at him you kissed him on his cheek before flipping Bradley off, “I don’t care Bradley.” You continued flipping him off while Jake held you tightly to his chest.

“Sweetheart…” Jake tried to warn you. The government really did own his ass. But his Commanding Officer was cool. He wasn’t expected to be back on base for another few weeks… what did a few hickies hurt? You knew the drill, but it didn’t seem to matter as you clung to him like he was about to vanish at any second. He looked down at your doe eyed expression, “I missed you.” He finished realizing just how hard deployment really was on you. The two of you were going on year five together. He’d been a pilot for all of them. He’d flown his hardest missions during that time. Your support never wavered. But seeing you like this? Like you’d never see him again… it hurt him. It hurt knowing you were feeling like that.

“You’ll care when there are Naval Officers on your doorstep.” Bradley tried. He really did. But you really didn’t care. You missed him more than anything. You didn’t care that his parents were there watching. You just missed him. Missed his corny ass jokes and the soft touches he always threw your way. You missed the sweet smiles and laughter that came with being around him.

“So be it. Worth it.” You giggled as Jake pinched your sides again bringing your attention back to the man you’d dreamed about every day.

“Eyes over here darling.” He made sure to flip Bradley off before holding you back in his arms once again. He wouldn’t let you drop your hold on him. He wanted you close. He didn’t care either. He’d craved you for those months. He’d forgotten just how bad deployment got. Bradley mumbled some incoherent words before disappearing off into the crowd.

Kissing his cheek once more you nodded, “Sorry Jakey.” Brushing your hands through his hair it felt like it really was just the two of you there. Like nobody else was around.

“No need to apologize.” He whispered in your ear sending immediate chills down your spine, “You didn’t answer my question though. How’d you seem to get even more beautiful while I was gone?”

You truly felt like a little schoolgirl was a nasty crush on a boy way out of your league. He was so sweet to you and only you. Not having a clue why. You loved watching him interact with everyone else. He was so different than the man who came home to you every night. But that was Jake. Tough as they come. Sweet as can be. The biggest fight the two of you had was when he came home and told you about the six month long deployment a year ago. You didn’t even fight you were just sad. Sad that he volunteered to go. Volunteered and didn’t tell you. The two of you worked through it though. You always did.

“Shush. You’ve just been trapped on a big boat for so long I’d be offended if you didn’t think I was pretty.” You wanted to kiss him so bad. You didn’t even remember the kiss you gave him once you spotted him walk off the ship. You blacked out, truly.

“Never ever.” He grinned, “I’ll never stop complementing my beautiful girl.”

You squeezed your arms around him pulling him so much closer. You’d melt into him if you could, “You’re too sweet to me Mr. Seresin.”

He shook his head, “Not enough, I’d say.” He took the lead this time leaning down to give you a soft, sweet kiss that was far too short for your liking.

“I love you.” You whispered to him feeling oh so happy. So beyond excited he was holding you in his arms once again. You tried to step away to give his parents a chance to say hello, but he only held you tighter. Shaking his head.

“Love you too, gorgeous girl.” He hummed placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “That was it, by the way.”

You scrunched your eyes together in confusion, “What?”

He nodded his head with that larger than life smile on his face, “You’re looking at Captain Jake Seresin. Command Ground Officer.” He emphasized ground with wide eyes.

“Jake! Congrats. You didn’t tell me! Does this mean you’re here? Permanently?” Looking at him expectedly. It hit you just how good it could really get once you knew he’d be sleeping by your side every night.

He nodded his head in excitement, “At least for this job. I’ll still be flying but more on the leadership side. Training. Preparing them.”

You didn’t think your heart could swell any larger in love. But there it went. Only Jake could do that. You knew it. He knew it, “You’re not kidding right? Like you’re being serious?”

“Yes sweetheart. So serious.” He kissed your nose this time. He missed you more than you could’ve imagined. It was an impossible six months. He didn’t want to do that anymore. He couldn’t be away from you anymore. Lucky for him he had options. They let him choose. He choose to ground himself from missions. It was time to grow up and move on. He’d accomplished everything he sought out to and more already in the air. Now he was on a mission to rise to the top. Admiral Jake Seresin had a ring to it.

You wanted to squeal but knew you had eyes all over you. Anybody could’ve been watching, “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while J.”

“Just you wait.” He grinned ear to ear leaning down once more, whispering into your ear, “Won’t even be the best news you’ve heard all day.” Leaning all the way down he kissed you with a little bit more but keeping it PG. His parents were standing there a little annoyed that he’d chosen to be with you for so long before he even acknowledged them. But they knew. They knew the raw power of love. How much it could sway and dissuade. How deeply Jake was in love with you and how much you were with him.

“Oh? Do tell.” You pulled away looking at him curiously.

“You’ll see.” He wiggled his eyebrows just to egg you on.

You narrowed your eyebrows in on the man you loved so dearly, “You know how much I hate surprises.”

He laughed gleefully, “Oh darling, I know.” He pulled you back into him momentarily, “Promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

“Promise?” You knew he’d keep true to his word, but you wanted to hear him confirm it.

“I promise you darling. Just you wait.” Squeezing your hand, he finally walked over to his parents bringing you right along with him. Only dropping your hand as he went in for the hug with his mom.

Taglist: @stuffingbuttsandshit @genius2050

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Happy day of survival, Eddie!

Steve doesn’t leave the hospital.

He says it’s because Max’s mom can’t be reached and he doesn’t want her to wake up alone, which is true, but that’s not the main reason.

Wayne Munson looks haunted.

His nephew has been borderline dead for hours now, and they won’t let anyone back to see him or give any updates other than he’s still alive, not dead, heart beating, blood still forcefully exiting the body through multiple wounds.

It’s not looking good.

It’s beyond touch and go.

It’s go and go. Touch and touch?

Steve doesn’t fucking know. He just knows they’ve never been here before.

And he didn’t know what to do about it.

Max was in surgery getting the bones in her legs fixed. They expected her to stabilize after surgery, but she’d have a long road ahead.

Eddie was in surgery to get internal bleeding under control so they could focus on the external bleeding. They were giving him blood as quickly as he was losing it.

Wayne had given two pints the moment he arrived, despite the doctors recommending he not give more than one since he hadn’t eaten all day.

Steve was a match, but they wouldn’t take from him because he’d suffered significant blood loss himself. No matter how much he argued, they turned him away, said they could find other donors.

He tried every time he saw a new nurse. But they must have all been warned about the ‘kid trying to kill himself via voluntary blood loss.’

So they all waited.

Wayne paced. Robin would just stare into space, then look at Steve, then the clock, then space again. Nancy was trying to manage the kids, making sure that all the parents were contacted and Dustin’s ankle was being looked at. Jonathan and Argyle had disappeared with Hopper and Joyce almost immediately, and Steve couldn’t really find it in himself to care about that.

They waited.

The kids all went to Max’s recovery room the moment they were allowed. Nancy waited outside for the parents to show up. Robin’s parents had shown up and insisted she leave with them and Steve agreed; No use waiting here when she could wait at home.

But Steve and Wayne waited.

They sat across from each other, but didn’t look at each other or talk.

Wayne watched the doors, Steve watched the clock.

Four hours is a long time to be in surgery.

Five hours is a very long time to be in surgery.

Six hours is too long to be in surgery.

At hour seven, Steve finds one of the nicer nurses from earlier to try to get any kind of update that wasn’t just ‘he’s still alive.’

“Excuse me. Is there anything new on Eddie Munson?”

“Oh, you’re still here? Sweetie, you need to get some rest!”

“I’m fine. I just need to know how Eddie’s doing.”

He could feel Wayne’s eyes on him, but he ignored them for now.

“He’s still alive. They’d let you know if he wasn’t.”

“Yes, but how much longer will they be?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has. He had a lot of very serious injuries.”

“I know, it just.” He sighed and shook his head. “He was asking for me when they brought him back. He was awake. I didn’t think it would take this long.”

He felt a warm weight on his shoulder. He turned to see Wayne standing beside him, sad smile pointed at the nurse.

“C’mon Steve. Let’s take a little walk.”

“What if they’re done while we’re gone?”

Wayne looked at the nurse. “Just going to the cafeteria. Come find us please.”

“Can do, Mr. Munson.”

Wayne gently guided Steve out of the waiting room, down the only hall that wasn’t closed with double doors. They passed some offices, a few supply closets, and made it to the cafeteria. It was busy, a fair mix of doctors, nurses, and visitors bustling through the line to grab some dinner or lunch or midnight snack. Steve had no idea what time it was.

“How about some sandwiches? They got premade ones over there so we don’t have to wait in line.”

“Sure.”

Steve followed Wayne towards the sandwiches, surprised to find they looked decent. He pulled out his wallet and started to shuffle through the few bills he had left from their trip to War Zone when he felt Wayne’s hand on his.

“They aren’t charging right now because of the quake.”

“Oh.”

Steve put his wallet away and picked out a ham, cheese, and mustard sandwich. He wasn’t really hungry, but he knew Wayne wasn’t going to let him leave if he didn’t try.

They sat down at a table in the far corner, no one at the surrounding tables despite the crowd hovering at the entrance.

They both took a bite of their sandwich, Steve resisting the nausea building up to get something in his system.

“So.”

Steve stared at Wayne.

“Didn’t know you knew Eddie.”

“We kinda just met.”

“He’s mentioned you before.”

Steve knew his reputation, especially to people like Eddie. He may not have ever done anything directly to him, but he was around to watch it happen. He did his best not to cower from Wayne.

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything good. Look, Mr. Munson…”

“Uh uh. Let me finish.”

Steve nodded, eyes wide in fear of what Wayne would say.

“I remember him coming home one day his junior year saying there was this kid with this great hair that got all the girls. He sounded pretty jealous, but not of you.” Wayne raised his eyebrows, seeing if Steve understood. He did. “He didn’t say anything else until his second senior year. He came home with a black eye and I asked what the hell happened and he said you saved his ass from much worse. Remember that?”

The memory hit him hard.

Tommy had been stupid, like always. Eddie had been feeding into it, like always. Tommy got carried away and started pushing Eddie around. Eddie tried to walk away, Tommy refused to let him. He shoved him against the wall and threw two punches in a row at his eye before Steve was able to pull Tommy away and convince him to let Eddie go.

“I’d forgotten, but yeah.”

“He brought you up sometimes after that. About how you seemed different. But still didn’t have the courage to see for himself. Guess that changed?”

“In a way. We didn’t have much of a choice with this. I don’t know that he’d wanna be around me outside of…all of this.”

“Let’s ask him when he wakes up. I’ll make a bet with you.” Wayne smirked. Steve had no idea how he was holding it together so well. “I bet $5 he asks for you the moment he wakes up.”

“You don’t think he’ll ask for you? Or Dustin?”

“Nope. It’ll be you.”

“Alright. $5?”

“$5.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

Steve managed to have about half of his sandwich before giving up. He still felt nauseous especially when he saw that the clock was broken and he had no real idea for how long they were sitting in there.

Wayne didn’t comment as they made their way back to the waiting area, just followed behind him, slight limp present from sitting in hospital chairs for too long.

They were only sitting down for about ten minutes when a nurse came over to Wayne. She looked like she had bad news.

Steve walked over to listen in.

“He may not wake up. He’s stable, but his status could change quickly. You can see him if you’d like, but be prepared for a lot of machines keeping him alive. He has a lot of stitches.”

“He’s alive?”

Steve hadn’t meant to speak, but couldn’t help the relief flooding out of him.

Wayne nodded at him, tears shining in his eyes.

“He’s alive.”

Steve repeated so he could believe it.

He’d spent the last 12 hours trying to convince himself Eddie couldn’t die, but now he had to convince himself he was alive.

“I’ll wait here, Mr. Munson.”

Despite the fact his brain and body were trying to force him to go see for himself that Eddie was alive, he knew Wayne needed to go first.

“Nonsense. You’re coming with me. The boy’s got two hands to hold, don’t he?”

Steve blushed, but nodded.

They followed the nurse through the doors Steve had been so convinced were locked, but had really just been closed. She walked them down a hall, then turned right down another hall, and left down a hall that was much darker, but had more doctors bustling around.

She stopped outside of room 327, turning to both of them.

“Visiting hours are technically over, but they’re giving you permission to stay. It helps patients to have company even when in a coma.”

Steve and Wayne nodded and thanked her before walking through the doorway.

She’d been right to warn them; machinery was hooked up to almost all available skin. He had one IV on his right hand that connected to a liquid bag to keep him hydrated, and one on his left hand for another blood transfusion. More tubes were coming out of various places, and he had an oxygen mask on his face instead of just the usual cannulas Steve had seen before.

“Oh, Eds.”

Wayne pulled the chair to by the door over to his bed and sat down, gently touching his fingers and letting out the tears he’d probably been holding in for hours.

“You better come back to us, boy.”

Steve stood at the end of the bed, feeling like he was intruding on Wayne’s moment, but knowing saying anything or leaving would just interrupt it more.

“Grab the other chair and sit on that side, Steve.”

Who was Steve to argue?

He sat and placed his fingers on top of Eddie’s, frowning when the heart monitor started beating more rapidly.

Wayne looked over at their hands and then the heart monitor, a knowing smirk crossing his face.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“I thought he got over it.”

“Got over what?!”

Steve was trying not to get impatient, but Wayne wasn’t making any sense and Steve’s head hurt and he was exhausted and just wanted to rest.

“His crush on you.”

“His what?”

“St…eve?”

Steve’s head turned to Eddie so quickly, he practically gave himself whiplash.

“Eddie?!”

He didn’t want to remove the oxygen mask, but he wanted so badly to see the full smile he knew Eddie was giving him.

“We win?”

His voice was barely audible, but Steve could make out the gist of it.

“Yeah, babe. We won.”

“Wayne?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Did…he…just say…babe?”

Wayne snorted. “He did.”

“‘M high.”

Steve squeezed his fingers gently, and then leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“Go back to sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“‘Kay. Luh you bo’.”

“Love ya, kid.”

Steve remained quiet, but looked up at Wayne after he was sure Eddie was actually back asleep.

“You know, I got to know him a lot better over the last few days. They say you don’t really know someone until you’ve seen them at their worst.” Steve shrugged. “I think we saw each others worst at different times and still managed to be here. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

Wayne reached a hand over and covered his and Eddie’s fingers.

“Yeah, kid. I think it means somethin’ pretty important.”

When Eddie woke up the next day, he was lucid enough to remove his own oxygen mask and start whisper yelling about his throat being dry.

Wayne shook his head and said he needed some fresh air, but he knew that was just to give Steve some privacy.

“I got you some water. Doctor says small sips and you can only have a few at a time.”

“Doc can…suck my…dick.”

“I’d rather he didn’t.”

“Why? Jealous?”

Steve had no control here. He wasn’t used to it.

“Yeah, actually.”

Eddie’s eyes searched his face for any sign of teasing, but found none. Of course he wouldn’t. Steve had spent the last 24 hours figuring out he was kind of halfway in love with Eddie already.

Robin was gonna lose her shit.

“When…can…I leave?”

“Not any time soon. You’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

“But…”

“Nope. Put your oxygen back on before they come yell at you.”

He groaned, but did as Steve asked.

He fell asleep minutes later, Steve’s fingers tracing patterns on his palm.

He wasn’t sure of many things; Eddie’s name still had to be officially cleared, the kids still had to visit, and Eddie had to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. But he knew that he was where he was supposed to be. With Eddie.

Part 2

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #wayne munson #eddie munson lives #but barely #he’s dramatic and has to stress everyone out #this is super cheesy #but it’s Eddie Munson is actually alive and absolutely did not die day

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s-4pphics · 1 month

Text

mourn. intro. (e.w.)

INTRO.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, backstory lemme cook, parental death, mentions of overdoses, funeral, baby ellie :), oc intro… cackles evilly

A/N: last post til eid lol

pay zakat. feed a family this ramadan. k!ll zios.

SEPTEMBER, 2009

ANGUISH floods Ellie’s chest as she witnesses decorative rosewood being lowered into the sopping dirt. It’s cinematic; watching herself from a bird’s eye view, floating above her own body. Her brain cranks at an alarming rate. Churning in attempts to convince her that she’s not actually here, staring dead at her mother’s casket. The grass sludges beneath her shoes with every unsteady shuffle of her feet.

There aren't many people around. Three of her mother’s former work friends, a service dog, and the officiant. They’re hardly acknowledging Ellie; no one would be able to stop her from leaping head-first into the ground due to the lowering clouds. Buried and suffocated by grass and mud, a feast for the maggots, but loved eternally. Every cell in Ellie’s body thrums with anxiety. Just when she trusted that her mother’s health was improving, she woke up, shrouded in ice next to a limp body and an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. The same ones her mother took to sleep throughout the night.

That was three weeks ago. She doesn’t remember calling 911.

Her best friend — her only friend is gone. And it’s permanent. This isn’t like how her mother used to scavenge the streets until dawn searching for another job before Ellie woke up. She’s not coming back to crawl into their shared, warm bed, sleep for half an hour, then help her get ready for school. No more oatmeal in the mornings. No laughter. No joy. No symmetry. Ellie’s life is forever scattered. Beaten to death until she’s leaking venomous, black blood.

There’s a man that keeps staring at her with pity: familiarity crushes her every time they lock eyes. She kind of remembers him. Somewhat. She almost forgot her shoes before coming here. He seems more upset than her. At least externally; Ellie’s rotting from the inside.

Her mother’s chamber is completely submerged underneath dirt within the next few hours. The man from earlier is much closer now.

She jumps when he whispers,

I owed your mom a favor.

OCTOBER, 2009

Ellie hates Joel. Hates her mother for leaving her with him. Hates herself for not being able to save her from the claws of addiction.

Joel’s home is always silent during the day. He gave Ellie the grace of letting her stay home until the Spring, but it’s too quiet. Music never plays and they never talk, and it’s driving her to madness. The silence makes her itch.

Until the sun sets.

She already has trouble sleeping. Her insomnia combined with the thunderous clanking that blares from the garage every night is enough to get her sobbing into her pillow until the sun rises the next morning. One night, the noise had gotten so uncontrollably loud that Ellie barged into the garage to shout every curse she recalled her mom screaming into the phone before bedtime.

She didn't expect, however, to see Joel’s legs extended out from underneath her mom’s wrecked ‘57 Chevrolet. Ellie could hear him grunting as cranking and banging of metal took over the space.

… What are you doing?

Joel rolls out from beneath the car on a creeper, face confused and smeared with dark sludge.

Why’re you up?

It’s loud. She snaps. Why is her car here.

Joel sighs. Just trying to fix it up.

For what. Ellie eyes the cracked windshield. She somehow remembers how a rock hit it on the freeway when she was six. Her mom was livid. She can’t drive it anymore.

Joel’s face twists uncomfortably. It’s almost comical; the seemingly boiling child stands at a whopping four-foot-three with her fists clenched, burning holes through her bright yellow Spongebob pjs. Her glare sharpens when he mumbles,

Kid…

So you stole her freaking car? Her eyes swelter, brows hauled downward and hands in fists. He sits up straight, palms up in surrender, wrench in hand. How’d he even get back into their old house?

No, I — He rushes, She asked me to try n’ get it started again. That’s all. I… I shoulda asked you —

Ellie’s not sure why she’s so enraged, but she’s hollering with a pointed index in his direction, berating him, degrading him with sobbed vulgarities. Pushes him hard when he rises to comfort her. Eyes him with so much disdain that he flinches.

She hates him. She misses her mom.

The guest room door slammed shut with the click of a lock. She screamed for her mother for hours. Voice shrieking so loud that the neighbors came knocking after the first fifteen minutes. Cops pounded on Joel’s door and proceeded to conduct a wellness check on the household after an hour.

Their presence made Ellie swallow her scorn. Ellie’s already received a small taste of what it’s like to be in the system. She vowed to never reenter as if her life depended on it.

NOVEMBER, 2009

Joel made Ellie chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday.

Breakfast is silent, per usual. Light clinks of utensils on silverware and breathing are the only proof of life in the room. Ellie refuses to touch the squared slices of pineapple. It was her mother’s favorite, despite her complaints of an itchy mouth after every juicy piece.

Your mom and I…

Ellie pauses, skeptic eyes connecting with Joel’s. He’s treading light, she can tell. The nerves in his fingers are evident; The sorrow in his eyes suffocates her. Joel’s gaze drops onto his plate at the scrutiny he receives from across the table.

She’s a good friend of mine, He mutters before his lips turn downward. Was.

Ellie snorts humorlessly, Way to rub it in.

Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs, I’m… Sorr—

Were you the one she told? Her tone is sharp. Unforgiving. I heard her on the phone a few days before she did it.

A storm flurries in the man’s gaze. A familiar one; It’s identical to when she would catch her mother in the middle of night talking to herself with a bottle in her hand. The winds in his pupils take her back to one of the darkest times of Ellie’s life. Maybe they were closer than she assumed. They look identical when they’re guilty.

I didn’t—

But he did. He’ll never forget being on the other line with Ellie’s mother as she attempted to keep her cries to a minimum. Her croaked wails terrified him. Left wounds in his chest as his heart raced. I can’t do this to her, She’d said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! … Please… You owe me…

Joel did what he could over the phone. Made promises to her that he couldn’t keep, reaffirmed how much Ellie loved her. How badly she needed her mother, and eventually eased her sobs into pained whimpers. He believed the calmness she exuded prior to ending the call was a sign of understanding of her importance, but it wasn’t. Her mind and body merely accepted her fate. She was dead two mornings after.

And Ellie was a witness to it all.

Ellie’s eyes roll and sickness floods her, so she stands, You’re a liar. When you’re ready to tell the truth… You know where I am. She doesn’t bother to push her chair in, clean her dishes, pause at his calls of her name. Her feet stomp through the hallway, marrow searing beneath her skin. The guest room door slams shut and she breaks, guarded by the plainness of the beige walls while tears flow.

She knows he knew. Why else would her mother leave her with him?

When Ellie got up to use the restroom hours later, she nearly tripped over a teddy bear holding a birthday cake. With candles. She’s never received a gift before.

She doesn’t tell him that she slept for an hour with it hugged to her chest.

The noises in the garage halt for a week. Ellie still can’t fall asleep. Joel has the same problem, she’s discovered. She finds him sprawled out on the couch one night, burning holes through the roof with a picture frame in his arms. She watches him silently for some time, perched behind the main wall of the hallway.

Hey.

Joel’s acknowledgement earns a gasp followed by scuffling, and he snorts. He sits up and sets the dusty frame on the cushion in front of him, noting how awful Ellie is at hiding; It makes him smile. Barely, but he’s endeared; Her entire arm was exposed. He can even see her duck-shaped slippers from where she’s tucked behind the wall.

Ellie.

She doesn’t come out, and he sighs. His heart twists painfully when he hears a wet sniffle. He’s up and moving when a guttural sob echoes from the hallway, crouching down in front of Ellie with her knees squeezed into her heaving chest. Joel’s heart cracks at her flushed cheeks drenched in salt. Talking won’t calm her, he knows it, but he’s unsure of what else to do. Ellie… isn’t an emotional kid, but he hushes her, attempts to cradle, apologizes softly.

But when her wet eyes pinch open, she unravels and falls into him completely. Her arms squeeze around his neck in a deadly grip and she cries and coughs and whines for her mother. Joel holds her just as tightly as she hangs off him.

We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. He mumbles, and he feels her head shake in denial, tucked in the crook of his neck. His knees wobble, and a soothing hand rises to caress the back of her head; He's never seen a kid this hopeless. It makes him wonder.

What the hell did she witness in that house?

Ellie’s always struggled to fall asleep alone.

Her need to be coddled to dreamland was always a mystery to her mother. Skin-to-skin was a normal trait for infants, toddlers, maybe even a little over, but at age ten? Eleven, and unable to fall asleep without the feeling or knowledge of a loved one present? There was only one time where she recalled her mother carrying her to her own room to rest, but the second the door clicked shut, she was up. Awake. Alert and exposed to harm. Or, at least that’s what she convinced herself.

She crawled into her mother’s bed minutes later and snoozed throughout the entire night. She didn’t hear the end of it when the sun rose.

Joel doesn’t berate her, though.

I can’t sleep by myself, she’d said to him after she calmed from her breakdown in the living room. They’d sat on the couch as he rubbed a comforting palm down her back, her small ones coming up to wipe her wet cheeks.

How come?

She scoffed, Scared of the dark, I guess? I dunno. I just can’t.

Joel hummed in understanding.

I’m like that, too. Sometimes.

Ellie snickered wetly, You’re old, though. It’s not the same.

Joel scoffed and snatched his hand away in mocked hurt. I’m not old!

The gray hairs say otherwise!

That night was the first time they ever laughed together. The first time Ellie laughed since her mother’s death, and it carried on until she knocked out beside him on the couch.

For Joel, though, he couldn’t rest. Not when Ellie favored his daughter that much. Whenever he feels as though he’s progressing, letting go of grief, something life changing — disastrous — forces him right back to square one. Meeting Ellie was one of those moments. He tried to keep his weeping to a minimum as he held her sleeping form, eyes glued to the picture of him hugging his baby after her first soccer win.

DECEMBER, 2009

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Ellie’s trapped inside the garage with Joel.

Watching him tweak her mother’s vehicle has aided her raging boredom… To a certain degree. When he starts getting nerdy and raving about car parts, she tunes him out, despite the slight interest she’s taken with underneath the hood.

The connecting wires, the bolts, the valves and cranks and this manual makes absolutely zero sense—

Can you stop dillydallyin’ around n’ hand me that?

Ellie’s gobsmacked reading is paused when she passes Joel the manual, dark sludge-covered hands staining the fading paper. She cringes.

Ellie watches silently as Joel inspects the contents, nodding to himself as his eyes flicker from the vehicle to the booklet, mapping out his next moves of attack. His eyes sparkle and curiosity sparks in her.

Did you fix it?

Joel only murmurs to himself, and Ellie’s eyes roll. She inches closer to him and waves a hand in front of his eyes. Hellooo? Is it gonna start?

… I think so, kid. His head shakes in disbelief, If I can get that transmission replaced, it might be alright.

Ellie’s brows furrow… What on earth is a transmission?

I’ve been workin’ on cars for a while. I can tell you now that finding such an essential part for a model this old is gonna be tough. Might cost me an arm n’ leg.

Ellie shrugs, You’ll figure it out, old man.

He stares down at her blankly, Gee, thanks. Hand me that wrench, assistant.

Ellie mocks glee on her skip to the rolling cart, Gosh golly dang, does this mean I’m hired?

He jokingly snatches the tool from her extended hand. Little bugger. And just like that, you’re not gettin’ paid. How’s it feel to be outta funds?

WAAAAAAA—

Ellie’s fake wails earn her a deep holler.

Ellie oversees Joel until the clock strikes twelve, following his line of vision on every rusted compartment of the vehicle. Stood attentively at his side as he pointed out the carefully crafted machinery, listing their parts despite Ellie’s protest of forgetfulness. There are so many names for everything; Building cars seems so complicated, but curiosity sparks in her. She starts to think: maybe cars aren’t so boring.

Another sleepless night for the both of them; Might as well commit to movie night. Fireworks are still going off in the small neighborhood hours later. The booming colors in the sky makes Joel's teeth grind. Reminds him of the time he took Sarah to Santa Monica Pier.

Joel?

Mhm?

… What favor did you owe my mom?

Thickness builds in his throat the second Ellie mentions her. He sets the large bowl of chocolate-doused popcorn onto the coffee table, reaching for the remote to turn the movie down. Not off, down. Ellie hates feeling like she’s being scolded.

Joel doesn’t look at her, but her eyes are glued on the side of his face.

Umm… He scratches his face, Did your mom ever mention me to you? Ellie denies with a hum.

Joel’s mind whirs back to the first time he met Anna: sophomore year. He was exhausted, drained, barely making it, but despite being miserable, he still cared deeply for his education. He studied until his eyes burned, jotted down notes until his hand cramped and the librarian was gently urging him to head home.

She… We were friends in college. He fonds, We met at an ice cream truck.

Weird. Ellie notes causally, She hates dairy.

… Yeah. She does. Joel coughs to mask the brokenness in his voice.

Anna was… a genius, to put it lightly. Academically gifted to an intimidating degree. Her mind was a camera; She’d scan one excerpt from the thickest novel once and still manage to repeat it word for word years later. They had comms together; Her voice sounded like tweeting birds whenever she recited her prepared speech like it was nothing. She was an emotional speaker, entranced everyone in the room, and always ended with a question that forced students and professors to self-reflect. Joel wouldn’t call it a crush… Merely admiration. Envy. He was motivated whenever he left comms.

He’ll never forget the image of her, sweating and worn, carrying what seemed like a twenty-pound backpack — all stuffed with calculus books — while ordering a can of Sprite from the humming, beaten down truck. Anna didn’t leave after the vendor handed her the soft drink. She simply turned to Joel, inspected him from head to toe, and turned back to the vendor.

I’ll cover whatever he gets, too. With a thumb aimed at him. He nearly choked.

A free snow cone couldn’t halt the racing in his chest.

I know what you are.

What, He questioned without a stutter.

You fix cars? Anna quirked a brow at him. Joel’s brows pull downward. How did she know that? He’s fixed one car since he’s been enrolled. His buddy pulled up in front of his dorm asking for a windshield repair. But he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. I dunno.

The green-eyed girl scoffs and sips from her nearly emptied can.

You down to replace a tire? Some jackass thought it would be funny to leave a rusty nail in our parking lot.

Our. She must have roommates… or lives where he does, he thinks. For how much? Not a beat missed.

Her shoulders lift, I dunno. How much does a tire cost?

Depends on the model. What d’you drive?

A chevy. Don’t ask the year, I’m not sure. It was a hand-me-down.

A slight pause between them before Anna suggests with a sigh,

Come see ‘er.

Thar she blows.

Joel can’t help but snicker at the woman in front of him, posing right next to her teetered vehicle. It’s quite charismatic; the bright pink bumper stickers, the crisp turquoise paint job, the slight scratch on the trunk. It’s nice. Classically vintage; it suits her.

A beauty, he notes with his eyes locked onto Anna’s. She gives a hum in agreement.

Revive her, if ya don’t mind. I’m desperate and can’t sue, so. Joel nods and inspects the damage on her tire. The air is nearly fully gone, and it’s making her drive slump.

Tire shouldn’t be more than thirty-five… Gonna have to head home for some stuff. Willing to wait an hour? When he turns to her, they’re shoulder to shoulder.

Anna smirks, Whatever you need, mechanic.

My dad, Joel corrects, He taught me the basics when I was like… twelve.

Her voice lowers, Good on him… Earned me a discount, eh? A hand claps down on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and he revs to life.

He swears the tips of his ears are red hot, Sure… minus that deposit. I needa twenty for emotional damages.

Fuck off. Her eyes are soft, Might never go to the shop again. You’re officially my car fixer-upper. Fuck these grease-balls n’ their price spikes.

Joel snorts, You get into that many goddamn accidents?

She leans in closer, and his throat closes. Slams shut. Turns to dust.

You’ll find out, mechanic.

That’s why you’re spending so much time on it, Ellie notes at Joel’s retelling before a harsh gasp escapes her. Dude, were you in love with my mom or somethin’?

The man stutters and coughs, No — what? I told you she was a frien—

Ellie snickers with a judgmental point, Yeaaah, yeaaah, I know how these things go. You sucker!

What the hell — I’m not a sucker… And what things—

Anna and Joeeel sitting in a tree! —

A pillow smacks Ellie dead in the face, and she topples over in cackles. Joel rubs deep in his temples. Ellie would’ve loved Sarah. Two little bullies who feast on his suffering.

No more storytelling. I’m going to bed.

You can’t! Remember? Ellie hollers as tears fall from her eyes. She coos at Joel when he lifts himself off the couch and down the hall, trying to mask his small smile.

Aww! C’mon, old man, it was a joke!

I can’t wait for you to go back to school, ya vermin!

An exhausted Ellie creeps into Joel’s room half an hour later. She sighs in relief when she doesn’t hear snoring. Her mom was the worst when she was tired. She tiptoes across the carpeted floors until she’s in front of the unoccupied side of the mattress, stealthily adjusting the blankets and pulling back the sheets.

She slowly manages to tuck herself in, fixing the pillows so her head rests on the cold side of the case, exhaling happily at the warmth defrosting her limbs.

The second she dozed off, she yanked to consciousness by raspy sarcasm. Her eyes roll underneath her lids.

You can’t, either. Joel croaks, Remember?

JANUARY, 2010

Five days until school. Five days until misery. Five days until… strangers. Ellie’s skin crawls whenever she thinks about being an enclosed space with snot-nosed boys and soggy lunches.

And math… Gross.

Joel has been more than willing to postpone Ellie’s enrollment whenever she becomes anxious, but she always denies his requests. She’s grown to like Joel, but… he’s not the best teacher, especially social studies. Reviewing one of her old packets nearly gave him an aneurysm. She can’t afford to be homeschooled by him.

What's been the best distraction from her impending doom?

Binge watching Cars for the billionth time… And helping Joel patch up that blue Chevy.

They celebrated their first victory last night for repairs, at least: Joel stuck and twisted the key to start up the engine, and it managed to stutter to life. For less than five seconds. The headlights barely came on and an old Foreigner record broke through the crackly speaker. They rejoiced with the brightest smiles as their hands slapped the dashboard before the vehicle crashed out once more.

A glimmer of hope. A chance for reconnection. Anna’s sending them messages. The joy in that car shifted to grievance; Joel had to cradle Ellie in his lap as she wept into his shoulder.

But there’s hope. Ellie wanted nothing more than to get this car working after that. Duty calls, though, and the alarm’s coming from a backpack.

You got this, kid. Stop stressin’.

Ellie, without a doubt in her mind, does not got this.

Screaming children, muddy slides, bloody band aids; they’re all on the other side of that office door. Her worst nightmare has come to life, and she desires nothing more than to hide out in her mom’s car forever. The bag strapped around her shoulders matches the weight of a body. She refuses to let go of Joel’s hand as he speaks with the giggly receptionist who’s too happy to see him (what the hell), but it's okay; he’s holding hers just as tightly. Just as paranoid, apparently.

She’ll be with Mrs. Lawson for the remainder of the year. Ellie hears the receptionist say over her pounding heart, She’s incredible! I’m sure they'll develop an amazing bond.

Ellie’s palms are sweltering. Joel must feel it because his thumb nuzzles into her wrist. She’s not built for this. Maybe returning so soon wasn’t a great idea. She can’t do this without her mom.

Cool backpack, Spidey, is said from behind her, and she stiffens instantly.

She has a Spider-man backpack.

Hush. An older man’s voice replies. Sounds strained. Stressed, but he only receives a light snicker from her in return.

Ellie watches with squinted eyes as a young girl gets escorted towards the front of the office by… the principal, she assumes? He seems fancy in his suit slacks.

You stay right here until I get your uncle on the phone, The suited man is stern towards the girl, who plops down on one of the waiting chairs. Backpack and all, You can explain to him how you swore at a teacher. I’m not dealing with this from you today.

M’kay, Mr. Harris.

Ellie observes the entire scene indiscreetly. Her stares are obvious, glued to the clearly agitated dean who stomps into his office.

Where’d you get your backpack?

Ellie’s stunned at your sudden whisper. She shocks herself when she quietly stutters,

Um… Walmart?

You smile, I like it. I want one.

Ellie simply nods, but gets paused before she can redirect her attention to Joel.

Are you new? Your voice grows quieter when you look over your shoulder. Right at the principal’s door. I am, too. I just moved schools.

This shocks the brunette. The new year just started, and you're already locked in the office with evidently angry staff.

Yeah… I’m new.

Something in your grin shifts. Ellie’s nails lock into Joel’s hand. … Interesting—

Young lady! Did Mr. Harris give you permission to speak?

You audibly ponder like the attendance clerk asked you to solve a riddle.

No, ma’am. I apologize.

Then hush. Not another word.

Ellie watches you fold your hands politely, twiddling your thumbs. Your eyes don’t leave her backpack.

Ready, kiddo?

Her eyes finally reconnect with Joel’s, encouraging and chocolate, and she nods. He guides her to the office exit where her new life resides. Before their departure, she can’t help but take one last respectful glance over her shoulder. She finds you staring with a quirked lip and your wrist outstretched like your shooting spider webs at her. Ellie jerks her head forward and releases the breath she’s been holding.

What a weirdo.

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#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #lesbian #streetracer!ellie #works 𖧧࣪#ellie williams x f!reader

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goldsbitch · 4 months

Text

That one flight home

part 6 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Kiss me hard before you go.

warning: oral sex, cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

It's inevitably a strange experience to wake up next to someone you'd never slept next to before. Y/N kept waking up as her heart was testing the limits of the amount of heartbeats a human body can entail before it becomes a condition. She watched Lando, as he snored ever so quietly, saving every moment in her memory. Unlike her, Lando was used to sleepless nights. And unlike her, the strangest part of their first night together for him was the fact he fell asleep in the middle of his sentence. So simple, so easy. His mind and soul safe and sound. Perhaps he made the leap of the first night slumber on the first flight, when she rested her head on his shoulder for almost six hours.

When he woke up, she was standing by the window, watching whatever seemed to be happening on the street. He stayed silent, admiring the figure and the way light higlighted her curves. Only once she turned around, he spoke to her.

"Hey you...early morning person, I see," he grunted, wanting nothing more that to return to any of their previous activities, starting with cuddling.

"Yeah, sadly so. Would love to sleep til 12 sometimes," she said and glanced over to him morning boner. Lando noticed her look and shook his head.

"What can I say, impossible to control that."

"I like it, it's cute!"

"Did you just call my boner cute? Ouch," he pretended to get hurt.

She returned back to the bed. "It's cute that you have one."

"Hard to imagine not having one." They locked their lips having absolutely no care in the world for morning breath.

"Breakfast?" she asked, hungry as ever. It was a hard decision as she absolutely loved being locked in his embrace.

Lando had something different in mind, but god he was starving.

They got dressed and lazily strolled downstairs to a lovely breakfast patio. Y/N was over the moon internally about how touchy Lando became with her. His and on her lower back was something she could get used to very quickly. Y/N noticed few looks coming their way as they sat down and could not quite pin down why. First thing on her mind was that they looked a cute couple. She disregarded that as she remembered that she was sitting here with Lando Norris.

"Did you notice that people were looking at us?" she remarked over her morning coffee.

"Yeah...But like in a different way than they usually stare at me. Fuck it honestly, we have few hours before return to the madness so let's just chill," he smiled without a care in the world. Y/N relaxed again. They chatted away for few minutes before an older Italian lady, one of the fellow guests, approached them. Lando was almost ready for a photograph and a plea for confidentiality - that was until she opened her mouth and started screaming at them in Italian. He had no idea what any of those words meant, so he searched for a clue on Y/N's face. The poor girl sat there with a red face, making it really hard for Lando not to laugh at this situation, so he sipped his tea to hide his mouth. Once this lady left, silence fell over. Quite few people were giving them looks.

"Was she commenting on my hair?" asked Lando to ease the tension. "I am having an exceptionally good hair day."

Y/N took a deep breath. "From what I've gathered, we are both absolute filthy pigs, who have no manners and use this nice hotel as a brothel."

"Ah, nice. Cool!" Lando respectfully waved at the angry lady.

"Do you think we were like loud yesterday?" It was wrong how proud it had been making him.

"We're in Italy for god sake, isn't it all suppose to be little louder here?"

Y/N shot him a look. He sent her a wink.

Time was a cruel lady. The pair was starting to reach the final minutes of their encounter. The quickly wrapped up their breakfast, sharing amused looks in silence. Lando felt a strange discomfort when he saw her checking out the time.

They were back kissing in their hotel room in minutes. It was impossible to do anything else. They were making out on the bed when the housekeeper came in. Lando stopped them in the door: "Late check out, please! Late check out. Yeah, thanks." He then turned back to Y/N. "I'm not done with you, honey." With a cheeky look on his eyes, he began to remove Y/N's shorts and underwear.

"Pretty," he commented once she was naked. She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue. Lando went onto putting slow kisses from her feet all the way to her thighs, testing which spots worked the best. Once he was almost the top of her thighs, he looked up to her and gently bit. When he saw that she was ok with it, he used more force. Y/N let out a shy scream of pain, the kind of pain that is dancing on the edge of pleasure and aching.

She moaned his name softly, as his tongue continued where it had started and abruptly ended the night before. She touched his hair and held his head in the place. Lando enjoyed her being demanding. He varied his moves and meticulously burned her reactions into his memory as if he was suppose to be completing his exams on this. Once he fund the specific moves she responded to the most, he repeated those until she could not continue no more. He watched as she reached the high for two times. There were few things making him feel genuinely proud of himself like this has. This what people meant when they described mindblowing, Y/N realized. "Come here to me," she demanded once she was done. Lando went to cuddle with her, face to face, watching her breath slowing down again. The laid like this for few minutes, neither of them wanting to break the silence. Until one of them had to.

"We'll need to get going so you don't miss your flight," Lando whispered. Y/N wanted nothing else then to miss her flight and stay stuck in this room with him.

"Yeah, I know. Just one more minute."

The drive to the airport was unusually quiet. Lando had his flight later than Y/N did, but insisted on going with her earlier to accompany her. Airports were becoming her least favorite thing, as another goodbye was knocking on the door. They held hands casually all the way to the check in. Another last kiss. The kind to leave sting.

"Give me something of yours. So that I have something to remind me of you," he asked softly. Taken back a bit, Y/N took her necklace off and handed it to him and exchanged it for Lando's hoodie.

Y/N was the last passenger to board the plane taking her back home. Lando had the same coffee at the same place as he did yesteday, only this time it had a weirdly bitter aftertaste. He played with her necklace, she wore his hoodie trying to soak his perfume in while it was still fresh.

First hangover is always the worst. Pains in weird places one did not know existed, blood flowing in a strange pace. Everything slightly out of place and sun just a little too bright on the tired eyes. Y/N got drunk a little too quickly on her racer crush and the come down was more like a vertical crash down.

The evening she arrived back home was a joyous one. She got out the plane and almost danced all the way to the train heading to the centre. Met up with her friends and would just not shut up about her time with Lando. Unstoppable force that would talk the most skilled politician into listening her talk about the way his hair curled and his touch burned. Like every other drug addict, once the reality hit and the high lost its intense hue, she crashed.

What was supposed to happen now? Monday morning rolled in and new chapter began. The darkest thoughts she kept at bay for long enough got landed the main role. It was just a hook up to him. Nothing more. He was way beyond her league. She gave him what he wanted and he will not be able to give her what she wants. He is already is somebody else's arms by now. All the other guys will be just a different shade of gray compared to the bright orange that followed his charming aura.

"Y/N? Yes, she is a hard to get bitch, she will not fall easily for just about anyone. Not the relationship kind, that's for sure", is how she'd probably get described as by her friends. Her best kept secret was that she was an absolute hopeless romantic. Fell a little too hard for every crush she had and never found a way how to attract those she wished to spend her days and nights with. Her evening with Lando was the closest she got to her deepest dreams coming true. Every other situationship she has had in the past was so dull compared the how loudly this one screamed. So of course, when no messages came in from him, her natural instinct to draw herself back kicked in. A lovely coping mechanism that has destroyed lots of chances in the past. Even though she was well aware of that, it was the road she knew how to walk and somehow could not help herself to avoid it.

A lifeless copy of the bubbly girl from this weekend roamed the halls of Bologna university, digging her self into a deeper hole than needed. All those sad songs suddenly made sense.

Life came back screaming loudly at Lando. As soon as he landed back it was one thing after another to make up for the time. Races comes first, always. Even if it does not on that day naturally, there will always be several people to force it upon him. In those randomly scattered moment where his mind could run freely, he immediately went back to the salt cured late night air in Italy and the kisses with the one who'd been occupying his mind for longer than he'd be willing to admit. Life demanded a lot from him, so daydreaming had to be put on hold.

One thought haunted Lando no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Y/N was just so pure in his eyes. Unaffected by clouds of fame, free in whatever she wanted to do whenever she desired to. Not having to face constant criticism and prying looks. He still hadn't processed fully the effect this has had on his relationships in the past. How it gradually changed the tone of the romance, until it destroyed it completely. He fell for her hard. Fascinated by the lightness that surrounded her. She radiated, lifting him up to her heights when he was with her and that was something you just could not buy.

She was grounded. Belonged somewhere, was a local and a regular. Had a life centred in one place (mostly, excluded family), group of university friends and was figuring this life out on her own, without anyone inserting their own ambitions into her. There were no people relying on how she did and he almost envied the freedom this provided her. A feeling he was sure she could not properly understand, as he did not as well before responsibility had been thrusted on him.

He loved his formula 1 life. But a part of him felt strangely inadequate around those who have had these student life experiences. She could do anything.

He needed time to think about his next move, if there was any to ever happen. Gut feeling was to fly her out here to spend time with him, introduce her to everyone that walked by and make sure she falls for him at least half as strongly as he fell for her. On the other hand, he also felt like clumsy giant trying to pick up an origami dove - once he would, he would inevitably crush her and damage the wings, the kind of she did not know she had. The kind of wings one starts to see only once they are impaired. Maybe keeping their affair as it was now was the only way how to keep the light in this memory.

But at night, when the noises of his busy life went quiet and the the intrusive thought we like "yeah baby, let's go", he buried himself deep in his favorite sad songs and dreamed of touching her again, of seeing her smile and of her proudly introducing him to her friends. Sleep was something Lando struggled with even on a normal day, but on days like these it was like as if it was a secret language he was never taught to speak.

Jealous. That’s what Y/N was. In the ugliest sense of the sinful word. Gone was any internal morale compass guiding her to not go against other girls. Feminism said goodbye when she scrolled down endless adoring comments on his fan page.

She did not give two shits about his fame or god forbid money. When she met him, she had no idea what he meant to so many people. A cheeky well dressed funny boy with a dream, that’s what she saw. Seeing the pure adoration thousands of people had for him was overwhealming. So in the random moments between other people talking, she imagined meeting him in another life, one where he was just one of the other students and she finally got to relive the uni romance she had wished for - cute study dates, making out at parties and sitting at local balconies, over looking the historical town. It was becoming a little too consuming. Like a headache that won’t go away.

She wondered why - why was there a huge ever-present hole in her stomach making her nauseous.

part 7

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak @llando4norris @ophcelia

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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Text

sweet pea

aaron hotchner x teen!reader, bau team x teen!reader

5 times the team hears about you and the 1 time they actually meet you

cw: fem reader, set over the span of three years, case mentions, broken family unit, hotchner trio, hotch is a swiftie, also refers to his daughter as ‘sweet pea’, team is nosy, eating/food, forehead kisses run the hotchner home

wc: 3.4k

༺♡༻

1. inception

child cases are always rough.

they’re not only extremely sensitive, but they hit emotionally for everyone involved.

it’s a small town and yet no strong leads. there’s no reason for the case to be as difficult as it is, but every case the team looks into is different.

local p.d. bring in a woman named chancy solace. she was the last one to see the missing boy alive and no one wants to wait around for another death to happen to look for evidence.

hotch was set to do the interview.

he asked basic questions about the missing boy, keeping his voice calm as she recounted her day through tears. they all knew she was innocent, no doubts about it. he was set to finish up after a few moments. it was clear she didn’t know much.

as he went to stand, however, solace had stopped him.

“do you have children, agent hotchner?” her voice was broken.

hotch nods. “i do.”

“how old?”

“my son is 3 and my daughter is 13.”

the air outside the room went stale. everyone on the team knew jack. some had even met him within his first few weeks of life. he was three, that was a fact - but a daughter? not once had hotch mentioned one, let alone one with such a large age gap. jack never rattled about a big sister either.

solace frowned, more tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “then you must understand the guilt i’m feeling right now. can you imagine if you were the last one to see your daughter before she disappeared? how can i possibly have it in me to be a part of this?”

hotch doesn’t want to think about the question she posed, not at all.

“we’re going to find him. it’s going to be alright,” it was a promise, one hotch intended not to break.

he left the room after that. their only known witness wasn’t much help for the case and there was no point in wasting time.

rossi stops hotch before he can walk away.

“why’d you lie?”

there’s no question on what rossi is asking about. it’s profiling 101 that lying to a suspect, no matter innocent or not, could be dangerous.

hotch glanced at his team.

“i didn’t.”

2. first encounter

you’ve had a really, really, really bad day.

from the second you woke up, everything seemed to go wrong. school wasn’t any better and by the end of the day, the only thing you wanted to do was see your dad. he’s your favorite person and a hug from him always reassures you that things will be okay.

you text him before your last class of the day to ask when he’ll be home. if it’s even possible, a deeper frown appears on his face when he tells you no later than six.

part of you wants to be happy from that response. no later than six means there’s no cases and he’s on top of his files. but after the day you had, you just need someone and waiting nearly four hours for him to get home is less than ideal.

can i come to the bau?

your text is a shot in the dark. your dad keeps you out of his profession and you’ve never stepped foot in quantico. you just hope he gets some sort of semblance for what's going on if you're asking to come see him.

he responds back seconds later. ‘i’ll send an agent.’

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to get there on your own, there’s even a direct line from the train station closest to your school, but you're still young, only 14, and you know he would feel more comfortable having an agent pick you up.

the next time you check your phone, your dad has sent a message with the name of the agent and instructions on how to prove that it’s him. it’s not him being overprotective, it’s him wanting you to be safe.

agent anderson is easy enough to spot. you run through the procedures your dad wanted and once you know it’s the right person, you get in the car.

he doesn’t say anything when you shove your earbuds in your ears and shuffle your playlist and you’re thankful for that. you’re especially grateful that he doesn’t ask questions when you bite your lip and swipe away stray tears that have fallen down your face.

music is an outlet for you, an escape, and right now that’s all you wanted to do.

earbuds remain in your ears as you step into the bau building. anderson leads you through security and gets you a visitors badge. you very faintly hear any of his verbal instructions.

he leaves you once you reach the right floor, pointing through the glass doors to show you where to go. with a smile, he’s gone.

you weigh your options for a moment before walking in. you told your dad you're here but you don’t know where his office is. and right now, you really do not want to deal with anyone else. but with a deep breath, you decide to take your chances and head in.

a child walking into the bau is an automatic red flag, let alone one with puffy eyes and red cheeks, a clear sign of crying.

morgan and j.j. are the first two to stand up, wasting no time in circling their desks to walk to where you stand at the bullpen entrance; j.j.’s mouth already open with an “are you alright?” on the tip of her tongue.

but before they reach you, and before j.j. can speak, hotch is out of his office and moving down the stairs.

he steps in front of them when he faces you, thus shielding you from the prying eyes of the team. you look up at your dad, eyes full of a new wave of tears.

hotch doesn’t hug you then, though he desperately wants to, nor does he explain who you are to the team. instead, he places a strong hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly before guiding you up to his office. the door is shut and the blinds are closed. the two of you are cut off from the others and all of them know not to intrude.

“who was that?” rossi questioned after stepping onto the catwalk. the commotion was noticeable.

“i think we just met y/n.”

3. phone call

on flights home from cases, what the team does onboard genuinely varies with what time of day it is.

during early morning and late night flights, you can find most of the team asleep, trying to make up for the rest lost in the past few days. anything between that is typically a more active time.

hotch is dealt into a game of poker with the entire team. rossi acts as the dealer claiming he’s “not in the mood to get outsmarted at his favorite game.”

the entire group is laughing and chatting among themselves as they play. there’s no reason not to, it was a successful case - worth the positive mood on the jet.

hotch’s phone ringing cuts through emily’s turn.

he holds his hands up in defense and mumbles a quiet apology.

“hi sweet pea,” hotch barely has time to greet you before he gets cut off with your frantic “did you listen?”

his laugh causes the others to bring their heads up from their cards. a hotch laugh is uncommon, rare.

“i did. we finished up here last night so i listened before i went to bed and finished when i woke up,” he answers your question.

he waits for your response, already knowing that you want to know his thoughts on the album.

“well,” hotch pauses. “if i’m being honest, i liked it more than fearless.”

j.j. and emily are the only two who have any idea what he’s talking about. a record could be set for how fast their eyes snap to each other once it clicks.

hotch is quiet for a few moments. though no one can make out exactly what you’re saying on the other end, they can hear your muffled rambling.

“yeah yeah, i liked that one too,” hotch agrees. “i think my top two are dear john and haunted, though. her songwriting is incredible in those.”

whatever he means clearly pleases you judging by the content look on his face.

“alright i have to get going,” he starts. “but i have the vinyl reserved at the record store. we can go when i get back? should be home by two.”

you agree without hesitation, several “thank you’s” being repeated. hotch won’t admit it ever to anyone besides you, but he’s excited to hear it on vinyl too. it’s kinda your shared thing.

“i’ll see you when i get home, okay? i love you.”

he hangs up after goodbyes, placing his phone back onto the table before picking up his cards. the silence lingers in the air even after he makes the motion that he’s ready to continue. “what?”

“you listen to taylor swift?”

hotch smiles, a genuine one. “my daughter loves her. have to keep up somehow.”

4. vacation

when hotch doesn’t show up to work for a week, it takes only the first day for the team to panic. it had been a little over a year and a half since foyet had stabbed hotch and hotch had gone missing. no one was going to take chances when their boss, who typically had perfect attendance, showed up without notice.

rossi and morgan went to strauss at the end of the day.

their interrogation on hotch’s whereabouts is in good faith, but it doesn’t take a profiler to notice strauss’ sigh at their concerns.

“agent hotchner is on vacation,” she starts. “he should be back next week. until then, i am under orders to not assign a new case unless necessary.”

the agents turn to each other in confusion as they leave. “a vacation? come on rossi, when in all the years of knowing him has hotch ever willingly gone on vacation.”

the older man shrugs. “i don’t know. maybe this’ll be good for him.”

there’s no arguing with that.

when hotch returns the following monday, no one hesitates to notice the change in his physical appearance.

his skin is tanned and he has a slight tinge of sunburn on his nose and cheekbones; a clear sign he went somewhere warm.

“hotch!” emily catches him before he can retreat to his office.

all eyes are on him and he knows it.

“where were you?” she inquired.

hotch sighs. “greece.”

this catches the attention of the other team members in the bullpen. rossi seems to have found an empty chair at j.j.’s desk. even garcia had chosen this exact moment to get a new cup of coffee.

“greece?” emily stutters. “like the european country?”

hotch nods. “that’s the one.”

morgan whistles. vacations in the bau are fairly uncommon. the looming threat of being called back for a case stops most from planning. even if the timing does work out, no one goes far; let alone out of the country.

“and you just decided to go there for a casual vacation,” j.j.’s tone isn’t condescending, but rather showing genuine curiosity.

“it’s y/n’s birthday in a few months and she’s always wanted to go,” hotch explains like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “jack’s still a little too young so he stayed with jessica.”

he doesn’t mingle around after that, choosing to head up to his office to get set up after his week away.

“huh,” garcia murmurs. “didn’t take him for a greek island guy.”

“guess that shows just how much he’s wrapped around y/n’s finger.”

5. baked goods

you don’t have school today.

despite that, you still get up early to have breakfast with your brother and dad. once jack is picked up by the bus for school, your dad gets ready for work.

you stay in the kitchen, however, moving the cookies you made last night from one container to the other.

when your dad reappears, you wait for his hands to be empty before posing your question.

“is there any way you can give these to agent rossi?” you practically shove the container into your dad’s hand.

aaron raises an eyebrow. “rossi?”

“you mentioned he was italian,” you wait for a nod of confirmation. “these are canestrelli, they’re an italian cookie. i wanted to know if you could give these to him for a taste test.”

he smiles. “trying to expand your baking horizons?”

you match his expression. “exactly.”

with a kiss to your forehead, your dad is out the door and off to work.

“delivery,” hotch’s tone is steady as he knocks on rossi’s office door.

“from who?”

“y/n,” hotch answers as he sets the container down. “she tried to make canestrelli and wanted your opinion. i’m just the messenger.”

rossi takes the container from hotch. he opens it up before plucking a cookie out and examining it. “looks authentic.”

if he’s being honest, even if the cookie isn’t good, he’ll still love it.

but it isn’t.

of course it isn’t.

rossi takes one bite and his eyes widen.

“i haven’t had canestrelli this good since the last time i went to italy. tell her she should be very proud and i will be happy to pay for more.”

hotch can’t hide his proud expression. “i will.”

+1 first meeting

you always wait for your dad to get home from work. it’s routine.

plus, you made a promise to jack when you put him to bed that you would send your dad upstairs when he got home.

you bake in the meantime. it’s something to pass the time and you figure having something fresh to eat would be a nice surprise for your dad.

music plays from the record you have spinning. you keep it quiet as to not wake jack up upstairs. he’s not a light sleeper, but you don’t want to disturb his rest.

the side door opens as you're mixing the flour to the batter. tonight’s bake is gingerbread. easy enough to make.

it surprises you when your dad doesn’t call out a hello. he’s come home this late before when you’re still up and he always makes it a point to greet you. plus, you have music playing. there’s no doubt he can’t hear that.

“dad?” your voice is quiet.

you peer around the corner, stepping out a bit further when you see him, though you freeze when you notice the other people following him.

“hi sweet pea,” his voice is tired, you can tell. you close your eyes when he hugs you and kisses your forehead. if his team is here you know it’s not good.

“what’s going on?”

he turns to you. “i can explain in a few minutes. are you okay for introductions?” his voice lowers for the last part, not wanting the team to hear if you say no.

you nod, though anxiety bubbles at the pit of your stomach at the deflection of the question.

“everyone, this is y/n, my daughter,” your dad starts. unsure what to do, you wave slightly. “y/n, this is my team, that’s dave, derek, emily, spencer, j.j., and penelope.” he points to each of the people as he rattles his name off.

while your dad kept you out of his work, you did faintly know each member of the team. he talked about them in passing and jack rambled often about something “uncle dave” or “uncle derek” did.

“why are they here?” you hope your question doesn’t come off as rude.

your dad squeezes your arm. “can you go back in the kitchen for a few? i’m going to get these guys set up and then i can explain. is jack asleep?”

you nod. “i put him to bed a few hours ago. he was asking for you.”

“thank you,” he starts. “i’ll go see him in a bit.”

the conversation is over. you feel awkward standing in the foyer where you’re clearly the center of attention. you turn and walk into the kitchen. finishing your baking seems like a good idea.

aaron enters the kitchen as you’re pouring the batter into the pans. the music is off by now, though the record stays on the turntable. he waits for you to put the pan in the oven and face him before explaining.

“there’s a mole in the bau. we’re trying to figure it out but we obviously can’t work there. i volunteered our house. we would’ve gone to dave’s but he’s having work done.” you know he’s giving you the most minimal answer possible.

“oh,” you’re honestly not quite sure what else to say.

he continues. “we’re hoping to have it cleared up soon but we don’t have a lot of our normal equipment. i wasn’t expecting you to be up for all this. couldn’t sleep?”

“was waiting for you to get home,” you shrugged. “you know i always do.”

“yeah i know. i should’ve called.”

you turn to him. “It’s alright. i’m just going to clean up while i wait for the gingerbread to be done and then i’ll go to bed.”

your dad nods. “let me know when you do.” he disappears out of the kitchen after that.

cleaning up doesn’t take long and you’re still elbows deep in soapy water when the oven beeps. you take it out of the pan and set it on a cooling rack before gathering your stuff. you’re honestly exhausted.

going into the living room takes a moment of mental courage. you know everyone is in there and you don’t want to interrupt them. but, you’ve missed your dad and you want him to say goodnight.

“um, i’m going to head up to bed,” your voice echoes through the room. it was fairly quiet before and you feel embarrassed for interrupting that. the first part is directed at your dad. you turn to the rest of the team. “i made fresh gingerbread if anyone wants any. it’s on the counter, help yourself. i also put on a fresh pot of coffee and that should be ready soon.”

aaron’s heart is so full that he almost forgets the case at hand.

“i’ll be up in a minute,” aaron voices.

you hum, nodding to the team as a non-verbal goodnight.

he dishes out individual assignments within the team. they’ll work as a group to start before taking shifts so others can rest.

jack’s room is his first stop. he doesn’t wake the boy, choosing to instead kiss his forehead before picking up his stuffed dinosaur, a gift, and placing it back on the bed.

you’re just getting under the covers when your dad knocks.

“come in!”

your dad steps inside, shutting the door slightly.

“hi,” you smile.

“hi,” he echoes. “good day?”

you shrug. “yeah, i guess so. i got jack from school and we spent the afternoon together. missed you though.”

aaron frowns. “i’m sorry sweet pea. didn’t think this was going to happen. none of us did.”

“i know you didn’t. i’m not mad.”

you want to continue your statement and wash away any guilt you know he’s feeling. but, your body betrays you and a yawn cuts you off.

“alright, time for bed,” his words make you feel like a child but you know he’s right.

he tucks you in and like with jack, he kisses your forehead.

“goodnight dad, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

his demeanor changes when he goes downstairs and sits with the team. he’s serious, ready to work. right now this case is his priority. he, like others, wants to wrap it up quickly and efficiently.

emily nudges him when he sits down beside her. spencer and derek’s banter about the case is long drowned out.

“she’s a good kid.”

hotch beams.

“i know.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader #bau x teen reader #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #derek morgan #david rossi #penelope garcia #Aaron hotchner x teen reader

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year

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The Decision

Taking care of my dad has been challenging but probably the most rewarding thing I've ever done. In the past year I've had to push myself beyond my limits, beyond my illness, and do everything I could to make sure my dad was comfortable as his body slowly failed him.

I hadn't driven in over a decade, but he needed to get to dialysis so I took the entire driving test like a teenager in order to get my license again. I had to move out of my cozy basement command center and upstairs into the light. I hate the light. Much too bright. Since then we have been spending almost every second of every day together. This causes us to get on each others' nerves on occasion. But most of the time we are happy to have each others' company.

My job is mostly supervision and problem solving. I watch him to make sure he doesn't fall. But if he did fall, I needed a way to get him back up. So I found an electric chair lift. I just scoot his butt on and raise him back up. If he had a medical problem, I would figure out which doctor could help him. If his feet were cold, I would find battery-powered heated slippers to keep his toes toasty. Our house is filled with little solutions I found to make him as comfortable and safe as possible.

If he needs help with anything I am always right there to assist. It's usually little things, but for him, sometimes little things can be impossible things.

I was proud to do this and I believe it brought us closer than we have ever been.

Wednesday morning the surgery team came to visit my dad and look at his foot. They told me they cannot save the foot. My dad would need a below-the-knee amputation. This would require two months of grueling, painful rehab. Then another month or two for him to adjust to a prosthetic leg. Which he may not be able to tolerate with his balance issues.

Then the lung doctor came in. He said my dad's breathing could improve, but probably not to a comfortable degree. He explained with my dad's congestive heart failure getting worse, he is probably looking at another six months to a year of life, but only if everything with the amputation goes well.

I asked the lung doctor if this was all worth it. Four months of painful recovery from amputation just to live another two months? He said a reasonable person could decide it is worth it. That some people want to squeeze every second out of life. But another reasonable person might decide that quality of life is more important than length of life.

My dad has been unhappy with his health struggles for a while now. Dialysis is just awful. He sits in a chair for four hours, three times per week, and comes home absolutely wiped out. He sleeps for two to three hours and then feels miserable the rest of the night. Sometimes he will recover from the dialysis and then it is time to get more dialysis. Sundays were his only real day of rest because he had an extra day of recovery time.

He has breathing difficulties and they are getting worse. He can't take deep breaths so his lungs keep filling with CO2. The CO2 exacerbates his delirium and confusion. He has to wear an uncomfortable BiPAP breathing mask for hours to get rid of the CO2. Once the CO2 is blown off, he switches to high flow oxygen in his nose. The CO2 builds up again... back to the BiPAP. It has become a vicious cycle.

He is constantly trying to right his balance when he walks. He has arthritis pain that never stops. And because his circulation is so bad, his extremities are always either tingling or stinging him with neuropathy pain. Those heated slippers were his only refuge.

His depression is obvious. He curses at every little inconvenience. Every dropped pill due to his hands not working. Every time he bumps into the wall with his walker. Every time he fails to stand up, having to try multiple times. Everything frustrates him.

He hates being tethered to oxygen. He feels trapped in a 50 foot radius. He constantly wishes for nothing more than to go outside and take his riding mower for a spin.

I try to entertain him with new movies and TV shows, but he has trouble concentrating on new things. Sometimes he prefers just to watch his NCIS shows that he has seen many times. That way he won't get frustrated if he falls asleep and misses the ending.

And... he lost his wife.

He has had to exist without her for a year now and he sometimes forgets she is gone. He'll call out to her and she won't respond. He'll think she is still lying next to him in bed only to discover it is the pillow supporting his back. I think when she died a part of himself died as well. He lost a huge reason to keep fighting.

And since he has been back in the hospital, his delirium and confusion have returned. He is more lucid in the mornings after sleeping. But the exhaustion from not getting enough sleep, dialysis, his foot infection and pain, the drugs, the constant in-and-out of people checking on him... it's just too much. His brain cannot function without restful sleep. So he ends up hallucinating and losing the ability to communicate.

There just does not seem to be a path forward where he could have a comfortable quality of life.

In the height of his foot pain he has exclaimed many times "I WANT TO DIE." And while I know part of that was due to his misery and frustration and pain in that moment... I think that exclamation contained his unfiltered wishes.

He was lucid Wednesday morning and we had a good conversation. He did not want to endure months of recovery and rehab. He did not want the pain of losing a leg. He did not want to fight for every breath. He did not want to lose access to clear thoughts on a regular basis. And he did not want to continue on without the love of his life.

There is this selfish part of me that wanted to convince him to keep fighting. He is my best friend. He is the greatest father I could ask for. Taking care of him this past year has given me great purpose. It has been an honor to help take care of him--as he had done for me all of my life.

Lately, he has had trouble getting into bed and covering himself up. So I have been tucking him in every night just like he did for me when I was little. First I have to arrange his pillows just right. One between his legs and one for him to hug. I put on his toasty slippers to keep his feet warm. I pull the covers up, give him a hug, tell him I love him, and say goodnight. Then I ask his Alexa speaker to play Billy Joel for him to fall asleep to. And I love doing that for him. I feel happy that we got through another day.

Whenever I am alone in our house, I miss him. I have never been in an empty house. It just feels wrong. And I'm not sure I am ready to adjust to that reality.

I want to watch another season of Cardinal's baseball with him. He loves The Mandalorian so much and I want to watch the new episodes with him. I downloaded every John Wayne movie, and even though I don't always care for those films, I like seeing him smile as he watches The Duke get into trouble.

I don't want to lose both of my parents in the span of a year.

And, well, I also don't want to lose the house. I don't want to live on my own. I don't want to worry about not having enough money to live. These are just things I can't help worrying about. And I feel guilty for worrying about myself during this time.

I have all of these reasons to want him to continue on. And I bet if I asked him to keep trying, he would do that for me. He would continue suffering and struggling for me. Because there has never been a time in his life that he would not do *anything* for his sons.

That's just who he is.

But I know I have to filter those feelings and reasons out. I know I can't ask my father to endure any more pain and misery because I fear being alone. He has always done what is best for me, and now I need to return the favor.

He has lived a long life. He had a wife that he loved. He had two sons that he raised and instilled his values in. He has a beautiful legacy that will live on in us.

He has nothing left to accomplish in this world.

He told me he wanted an out but he didn't know how to go about it. But I did. And I had to fight the urge to keep it to myself. I did not want to tell my father how to end his life. And telling him almost felt like I was personally killing him.

Thursday morning his favorite doctor is going to come speak to us. She is his kidney doctor. She is going to explain the process of stopping dialysis. With palliative care, it can be a relatively painless exit. Over a few weeks his kidneys will fail to filter out toxins. They will build up in his system. And eventually he will fade to black.

My mother had a horrible, painful, lonely death. Her final words were over a telephone because of COVID restrictions. The last time I saw her was across the ICU through a glass window.

Thankfully, my dad will be able to go out on his own terms.

He will be comfortable and surrounded by loved ones.

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fastlikealambo · 5 months

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Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter Five

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: violence against reader, gore, blood, injuries, bones being put back in place.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter four! If you want to see chapter six, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

As you slept, Coriolanus studied you.

Tucking a stray curl underneath the silk on your hair, he studied your face. The stressed expression you had concerned him, he fought the urge to smooth the knitted space between your brows.

He could do this every night.

Courtships were quick affairs in The Capitol, arranged and wed within weeks, hours even, depending on the wealth of each party and what could be gained.

A wealthy orphan such as yourself worked in Coryo’s favor, no parents to impress, no dowries, just you and your ability to control a room.

Coriolanus had plans for Panem and he needed someone at his side who could stand with him, without fear.

President Ravinstill represented the victory of war, old and bloated, a reminder of the dark days.

You would be the face of his Panem, bright and beautiful.

Yes, you would do just fine.

The smell of smoke interrupted Coryo’s study and he untangled himself from you to go to the window, throwing open the curtains.

The sun had yet to come up but a fire in a visible quarter of The Capitol raged, illuminating the sky and from the Plinth’s window he could see multiple hovercrafts carrying water to douse the flames.

“Coryo?”

You stood next to him, watching the fiery scene and he took your hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

A knock on the door brought you both from the window and you opened it to see Mrs. Plinth, a worried expression on her face.

“There’s been a bombing, it’s all over the news. Peacekeepers want everyone in their own homes within the hour. I’ll get you some food to take home, dears.” She said kindly.

Too quickly you were standing outside, Coryo’s suit jacket draped around your shoulders, waiting for your car.

“ I was going to ask you to lunch with Tigris and Grandma’am but I think we’ll have to reschedule.” Coryo said.

“You’ll just have to make it up to me, Coriolanus Snow. If waltzing and a bombing are typical society affairs, I’m eager to see what happens the next time we’re together.”

With a kiss upon your hand, Coriolanus helped you into the car, noticing it was driven by a peacekeeper.

Peacekeepers weren’t usually drivers.

“Excuse me, if I’m going to meet Dr. Gaul, I’d like to change first.” You said, wanting very much to get out of a dress you’d been in for far too long but the peacekeeper kept driving right past your residence.

“Where are we going?” You asked but as usual, you were ignored and the car continued past The Corso,eventually coming to a stop outside a familiar looking building.

Even in the dark, you knew where you were and a fear you hadn’t had in years greeted you like an old friend.

The Arena.

A peacekeeper opened the door and three more took hold of you, yanking you of the car. Your claims that you could walk just fine went unheard as they dragged you with purpose into the massive yet crumbling amphitheater.

Nothing could quite prepare you for the scope of it, having only seen it back home on a tv that turned off and on during the games if you didn’t kick it three times. You couldn’t remember the last time it was used but there you were, taking in the sights while they shoved you through the turnstile.

“Enjoy the show!” A broken down robotic voice said.

“My little thief, right on time! Don’t you look pretty?” Dr. Gaul said, pointing to a spot for the peacekeepers to throw you down.

“What is this, why am I here?” You asked, standing to your feet, looking around at the empty structure.

“As you well aware, there was an attack on The Capitol this morning, a poorly constructed bomb killed two Capitol citizens. Imagine my surprise when we caught the animal behind this, I found out he’s from your district!”

“Dr. Gaul, I’m not behind this, you have my parents, I’m already risking everything-

“Oh no young lady, we know you weren’t behind this, we just need you to clean up a mess for the glory of Panem.”

A familiar voice and the sound of marching feet echoed throughout the arena and out of the shadows strolled President Ravinstill and his guards.

Of course, they would be working together.

“I believe you’ve already met President Ravinstill so no need for introductions. Gentlemen, if you please!” Dr. Gaul called out and from another corner came muffled screaming.

Two peacekeepers dragged a badly beaten man in front of you, one eye swollen shut, the other widening in recognition.

District 6 was big, but you knew him, he worked on delivery trains.

You used to see his children chase after the hefty freighter, waving to him on his route.

“If you’d be so kind, dear girl.” President Ravinstill said, placing a handgun into your shaking hand.

No, please, no.

“I don’t want to do this, I don’t need to do this, you have guns, you do it.” You stuttered.

“Just pretend he’s a morphling, that worked the last time, didn’t it?” Dr. Gaul asked. President Ravinstill walked up behind you and wrenched your hands into position, the gun on the man’s forehead but you dropped the gun, a missed shot ringing in the air.

“I have a better idea. Let him up, gentlemen.” Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands.

“Enjoy the show!”

Peacekeepers filed into the arena, blocking off the exits and breaks in the concrete where the floor and tunnels caved in, forming a circle around the perimeter.

A peacekeeper unlocked the cuffed man and heaved him to his feet in front of Dr. Gaul who pointed a gloved hand in your direction.

“You see her? We’ll pin all of your mess on her and you’ll get to see your family again. All you have to do is kill her and everything is forgiven. ” Dr. Gaul whispered into his ear.

Surely he couldn’t actually believe that?

He took a step in Gaul’s direction and for a moment you believed the rebel in him saw through the lies and he’d take out Dr. Gaul and President together.

Was this the moment a rebellion was born?

But then you saw it, a shine in his uninjured eye, that told you this was just a man who wanted to go home.

“Young lady, I suggest you run.” President Ravinstill instructed.

If he couldn’t catch, he couldn’t kill you.

So you ran.

Shoes off, you ran with him on your heels, climbing up a piece of debris towards what was left of the stands, dress and skin ripping as you climbed this way and that, trying to tire him out. He stumbled but kept up the pace and you brought your bleeding hands to a corner to get further up but a warning shot made you freeze, unable to climb any higher.

That split second of indecision worked in his favor and the man grabbed your still tender ankle and brought you back down to the same level as him.

His hands were around your throat, slamming you back on the concrete before you had a chance to get back up, kicking wildly and scratching deep into his arms, the world around you starting to blur.

You weren’t a fighter, that morphling was drugged out of his mind, you couldn’t steal your way out of this.

Would they let your parents go now?

What would they tell Coriolanus?

What was the point of any of this?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a broken arrow, probably left over from the games, and as he pressed harder, anguish grunting escaping his bloody mouth, you let yourself go limp beneath him.

He would go no further.

The moment he loosened his grip ever so slightly in victory, you drove your thumb through his bad eye and as he tried everything, slammed you into everything but you wouldn’t let go until the last minute, letting him shove you into a pile of rocks, something in your shoulder popped, causing you to scream.

When he came at you one last time, you drove that arrow into his throat, watching him sink to the ground, jerking and gasping until President Ravinstill took a gun from a peacekeeper, aimed it at the man from District 6, the husband and father, one shot to make him lie still.

It wasn’t fair.

“Well done little thief, you would have made a fantastic tribute! Allow me.” Dr. Gaul gave no warning before she popped your shoulder back into place.

“It’s quite remarkable, all that Capitol finery, and you still reverted back to your most natural form.” President Ravinstill marveled, looking your bloody and bruised body up and down.

You were going to be sick.

“Do you see why I chose you now? You will do anything to survive, the ugly brutal things Capitol citizens don’t like to think about except on that very special time every year, and that’s what Panem needs alongside Coriolanus. Beauty is one thing, but brutality is what keeps the mice at bay.” Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands once more, the peacekeepers moved from the exit.

“Go to him, little thief. Go to him and remember the only standing between becoming Mrs. Snow or ending up like your district friend here is your cooperation.” Gaul said and without another word you turned and stumbled out of the arena.

“See you Monday, young lady!” President Ravinstill called out.

You wandered through the streets of the Capitol for hours till you found yourself in front of Coryo’s apartment and more or less crawled up the stairs.

Before you could lift your hand to knock, the door flew open and Coriolanus enveloped you in his arms, your unrehearsed sobs stifled into his chest.

“Who did this to you?” He asked voice colder than you've ever experienced, touching you all over, cataloging each and every bruise and blood stain. At the noise, Tigris peeked her head out of her room only to come racing out fully when she saw you.

As you collapsed into their embrace, you had one thought in your head.

Dr. Gaul and President Ravinstill were very much like mice.

To get rid of mice, you would need a snake.

That’s Chapter 5! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 6, please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading :)

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #Coriolanus snow x black!reader #coriolanus snow x you

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george-weasleys-girl · 10 months

Note

Heyy, could you write something where the reader is jealous? You can choose if you want to write about Fred or George

Thank you for your request! This is a long one. It really took on a life of its own. I hope you like it.

~•~

George x Fem Reader

~•~

George’s laughter carried across the store, bringing a smile to your face. You turned to see what had delighted him so much and immediately regretted it. Your heart plummeted, and sullen glower replaced your smile as you watched him chat with the bouncy, vapid woman who'd started coming into the shop at least once a week, making a beeline straight to George every time. She obviously had a thing for him, and from the looks of it, he was developing a thing for her.

You just couldn't understand why George would be even remotely attracted to her. Sure, she was pretty, but she was also dumb as a stump. You'd talked to her a few times and were convinced she had a maximum of two brain cells bouncing around in her skull, one of which was solely responsible for keeping her alive.

You looked back up to see George, smiling wide, enraptured by whatever nonsense she was babbling as she twirled her precious little curls around her index finger.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you went back to stocking the Canary Creams, slamming them down on the display, startling the elderly lady perusing the shelf next to you.

"Sorry, ma'am," you apologized. "Rough day." The woman huffed and shook her head before scurrying off to the other side of the store.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging in defeat. You knew you had no right to be jealous. George was your boss, not your boyfriend. He could flirt with whoever the hell he wants. If your heart got broken in the process, it was your own damn fault for falling for him.

~•~

George watched as you tidied up a display of Fainting Fancies. When he hired you two years ago, he was exhausted and frazzled and was looking for people who could learn the ropes quickly and help out in the newly reopened shop until Fred recovered from the spinal injury he'd gotten during the Battle of Hogwarts.

In no time, you were all but running the store, allowing him to spend more time with his twin. He was eternally grateful, but it wasn't until around six months later that he saw you as anything more than a valued employee.

At that point, Fred had started working for a couple of hours a day. But he was still fragile, and one afternoon, he lost his balance and fell. You did two things that day that endeared you to George forever. While he ran to help Fred, you somehow managed to keep both the customers and other employees away from the area, saving Fred from the embarrassment of being seen sprawled out on the floor.

Then, after spending several hours at the hospital, followed by the difficult task of getting a very stubborn and very grumpy Fred settled into bed, George wanted nothing more than to just fall flat on his face in bed, or on the couch or even the floor. All three sounded equally appealing. But he couldn't. Fred needed to eat, and he probably should, too.

He'd just decided to use magic to whip up some chicken fingers and french fries when someone knocked on the door, causing a confused look to cross his face. It couldn't be one of the employees. The shop had long since closed, and everybody had gone home. And he knew it wouldn't be his mum. Fred had made him promise not to tell the family he'd fallen. He didn't want them "worrying over nothing."

George opened up the door to find you standing there with a huge bowl of spaghetti and some freshly baked garlic bread. "Hey," you said a little shyly. "I figured you'd probably be exhausted when you got home, so I thought I'd make dinner for you and Fred. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" A massive smile replaced the confusion on George's face. "No, I don't mind at all, come in!" He opened the door wider. "You are an absolute angel for doing this. How did you know we were home?"

"I didn't," you replied. "But I still have the flat key you gave me, so I could check in on Fred when you got wrapped up with customers. I thought I'd just leave it on the counter with a spell cast to keep it nice and hot."

For a moment, George looked like he might cry, but then he smiled again. "Would you like to join us for dinner? Well, really me. Fred will take his dinner in bed."

"Well, I've already eaten," you said, watching his face fall. "But I can never turn down a slice of garlic bread."

"Ok, great!" He replied. "Just let me get Fred set up."

You smiled. "Shall I get him a plate together?"

"Thank you! That would be wonderful," George said as he hurried into Fred's bedroom.

That was the night George Weasley fell in love with you.

~•~

You managed to make it through the rest of the morning without breaking down. By the time your lunch break rolled around, you had reigned your emotions back under control.

You sat outside on the little patio behind the shop, nibbling on your sandwich and mulling over the situation. You'd never intended to fall in love with George. In fact, you'd never intended to work at the joke shop at all. You'd taken the job out of sheer desperation.

While at Hogwarts, you discovered you had a knack for healing, and since you didn't have a clue what you wanted to do after graduation, training as a healer seemed just as good as anything else. As it turned out, you grew to love the work, and for a while, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And then the war happened.

You didn't know if it was because you weren't cut out for the raw intensity of being a healer or if it was watching helplessly as people you knew and loved died all around you. Either way, the war broke you.

The very thought of continuing on as healer sent you into paralyzing panic attacks. So, you packed up and moved in with your muggle sister. For the first few months, you carried your weight by doing all the cleaning and cooking and taking on any other chores that needed doing.

It worked well for a while, but your sister didn't have a great paying job, and it soon became evident that you'd need to pitch in financially. You'd hoped to find something in the magical world, but the prospects weren't promising. Most of the business owners had taken to the hills after the return of Voldemort. And, though they were now returning, many of them barely had the means left to restart their business, never mind hiring on help.

The outlook was so bleak that you were beginning to think that working in the muggle world was your only option. Then, one morning, you spied a Help Wanted ad in the Daily Prophet. Within a week, you were working at the infamous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Then, within a couple of months, you'd become George's right-hand woman, taking on the lion's share of running the shop so he could take care of Fred.

Soon after, George found out you had healing experience and started asking you for advice. Eventually, you were going upstairs to help. More often than not, it was to convince Fred to do something. Or not do something.

"He won't listen to me," George would say. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

That's when your feelings for George began to develop. During those early days, watching him care for his brother with such patience and gentleness, even when Fred was at his worst, won you over.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Fred would yell.

"I know," George would calmly say, "but the healers said you could reverse some of your progress if you try to stand on your own right now. You don't want to end up back in the hospital, do you?"

"No," Fred would huff.

"Good. Now, put your arm around my shoulders so we can get you in your wheelchair."

And now, here you were. Madly in love with a man who'd never feel the same. Who was now falling in love with someone you were certain didn't deserve him or could make him happy. You rolled your eyes. So much for keeping your emotions in check. You balled up what was left of your sandwich and hurled it into the nearby waste bin and then preceded to stomp from one end of the patio to the other, your hands balled into tight fists, until your break was over.

~•~

"Mate, I know you like her," Fred spoke as he and George finished up some paperwork in the office.

"I more than like her, Freddie, but I'm her boss for Godric's sake. I can't just start dating an employee."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" George stared at his twin. "For one, it's unprofessional, and two, what if it doesn't work out? It would make everything weird."

Fred sighed. "You have a limited time to ask her out. She might quit or meet someone else, and then where will you be?"

George remained silent for a long while, chewing on his thumbnail. "Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"Of course I'm right," Fred smirked. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Yeah," George half-grinned. "I'm gonna ask her out."

~•~

You'd finished up with your closing duties and headed upstairs to see if George or Fred needed you to do anything else before you left.

Their office door was open, just a crack. You lifted your hand to knock when you heard Fred's cheeky voice. "Of course I'm right. So are you gonna do it?"

"Yeah," George answered. "I'm gonna ask her out."

It was if someone had punched you in the gut. George was going to ask Miss Vapid out. You clamped your mouth over your hand to cover the sob that fell from your lips unbidden and backed away from the door as quietly as possible. As soon as you were out of earshot, you turned and fled the shop.

~•~

"Did she just leave?" George made one more turn around the store. "Without saying anything?"

"That's not like her," Fred said.

"No. It isn't," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I hope everything's alright."

~•~

You barely slept that night, and when you did, your dreams were plagued with images of George laughing with his soon to be girlfriend, holding her hand, kissing her. You'd wake up in tears, followed by another hour of tossing and turning, before dozing back off and starting the whole vicious cycle over again.

When the sun finally crested the horizon, you drug yourself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Luckily, today was your day off, and you fully intended to start it off right. With a glass of wine or two or maybe ten. You were exhausted, sore, and heartsick, and you just didn't want to feel anymore.

You'd just finished off your second glass when someone knocked on the door. You rolled your eyes. Who the hell is here, ruining my perfectly good pity party at... you looked down at your watch, the fucking ass-crack of dawn?

~•~

George spent the night pacing from one end of the apartment to the other.

Why would you just leave like that?

Were you feeling ill?

Or did something happen yesterday?

Did he or Fred say something stupid and hurt your feelings?

Why didn't you just come and talk to him if that was the case?

He'd almost sent you an owl at least 782 times last night, but chickened out every time. And of course, today was your day off. So that meant he'd spend the next twenty-four hours worrying himself sick over you.

"George, have you slept at all?" Fred shuffled out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No."

Fred sighed and went to put on a pot of coffee. "Why don't you just go and talk to her?"

"Don't you think that'd be a bit weird. Me, her boss, showing up on her doorstep at 7am, wondering why she left work without saying goodbye."

"At this point, Georgie, who the fuck cares? You're going to make yourself physically ill if you don't find out what's going on."

George rubbed a hand over his face. "Ok. Yeah. You're right. But I need about a gallon of coffee first."

Fred opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a thermos. "Take it with you, mate."

~•~

You swung the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, and froze when you saw George standing there. He looked exactly like you felt. Good thing he's not flying anywhere, your tipsy self thought briefly. He'd have to check in the bags under his eyes before they'd let him on the plane.

"Why are you here?" The words came out sharper than you intended it, causing George to take a step back.

"I, um, I was worried about you," he fumbled. "You left without saying goodbye yesterday."

"You're here at seven in the morning because I didn't say goodbye?"

"Well, yeah... that's not like you. At all. I was worried something had happened yesterday."

Worried something had happened yesterday? You almost laughed in his face. "Come on in," you said. "I'm gonna need another glass of wine for this one. Want one?"

George followed you into the living room. "Love...why are you drinking? How much have you had?"

You shrugged and upended your glass and then wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "Why do you care? I can do what I want in my free time. You're just my boss. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."

He visibly flinched at the last comment, but at this point, you didn't care.

"I really am worried. Something happened yesterday. Please tell me what it was. I want to help."

This time, you did laugh. "You really wanna know what happened yesterday? I realized that I'm a fucking idiot. That's what happened yesterday."

"I - I don't understand," George searched her eyes for any clues.

"No, of course you wouldn't. And it's not your fault. Not really. And I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am," you rambled. "It's my own fault for being stupid. And I'm gonna keep being stupid as long as I'm working there. So, yeah, I'm giving you my two week notice."

"What?! How we go from you saying you're stupid to you quitting?"

"It doesn't matter." You reached for the wine bottle, but George grabbed it first and moved it out of your reach.

"Hey!" You tried to grab it back, but he stood, took it to the kitchen, and emptied the rest of it into the sink.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Because you're done with it," George tossed the empty bottle in the trash. "And we're going to work through whatever the fuck this is."

You sighed. "There's nothing to work through. I'm quitting, and that's that."

"No." George said simply.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not letting you quit."

"As if you have a choice in the matter," you said. "Why do you care anyway? You'll find someone to replace me easily enough. Probably someone who's better than me."

"No," George repeated. "No one can replace you. There's no one better than you."

You shook your head and stood, turning away from him. "Not even your new girlfriend," you muttered under your breath.

"My new girl - what are you talking about?"

Shit. You didn't mean for him to hear that.

"What new girlfriend?" He asked again.

Something about the way he said it, with such shock and indignation, as if he had no idea what you were talking about, set you off, and you rounded on him. "Mindy or Wendy or whatever the fuck her name is!"

He looked genuinely confused for a moment, and then realization hit. "You mean Cindy? Cindy Fletcher? Why in Godric's name would I want to date her?"

"I don't know," you threw your hands in the air. "You tell me. You were all up in her face yesterday, hanging on to her every word."

"She was telling me about her muggle cousins new invention, and it sounded really cool and - " George paused. "Wait, why do you care so much who I talk to?"

"I - I don't," you stammered. "Just forget it. Just forget I said anything at all."

"Are you - jealous?"

You turned your back to him again. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You are, aren't you?" There was surprise in his voice and something else you couldn't quite place.

He moved to stand before you. "Do you," he hesitated for a moment. "Like me? Like as more than just your boss or your friend?"

The tears you'd been fighting to hold back poured down your cheeks. There was no denying it now. "Yes, I like you! Ok? I more than like you. But you're my boss - "

George pulled you into his arms, silencing you with a kiss. Your first instinct to anyone kissing you unexpectedly was to push them away. But then it dawned on you what was happening. Did George like you back? Apparently so, otherwise he wouldn't be kissing you right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

~•~

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," George confessed. You were cuddled on the sofa, refusing to let go of one another.

"Me too," you smiled. "Why did you never say anything?"

George shrugged. "I'm your boss. It would've been inappropriate. And what if things didn't work out? Talk about awkward. Us trying to work together."

"Hm," you nodded. "So does that mean I should still quit?"

"If it means I can keep kissing you like that, I'll fire you right now."

You giggled. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Good," he said. "The place would fall apart without you."

"Pfft, don't be silly," you scoffed.

George pulled back a little so he could look at your face. "I'm not. I'm being dead serious. The shop would fall apart without you. And so would I."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out were the words you'd been holding back for so long. "I love you, George Weasley."

His smile melted your heart. "I love you, too," he said and pulled you in for another kiss.

~•~

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#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley headcannon #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #hp universe #hp fandom

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thelov3lybookworm · 6 months

Text

Remember Me? (Part six)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: yeah, i like this one very much 😏 there is no rhys in this part, but he will make an appearance in the next one, and will make y'all hate rhysie for sure 😏😌

•○🌑○•

At some point, the two of them had moved to the couch. she was practically sitting in his lap as she let her tears wet his shirt.

The room was silent except for the sound of Y/n's sobs and Eris's soft voice murmuring assurances in her ear.

He stroked her back, randomly running his fingers through her hair, and that made her cry harder, curling her fingers tighter in his shirt.

Y/n had lost track of time, so immersed in emptying her tears onto Eris's tunic. It could have been mere moments since Rhys had left, could have been hours. She didn't know, for with her face burried in his chest, all she could see was how stupid she'd been.

How stupid to let that manipulative bastard, brain conquering scoundrel into her home again.

She hadn't realised it then, but now she knew that he had somehow slipped into her mind, dominated her sane thoughts, and had been about to force her to let him back in.

She felt sick to her stomach, knowing what could have happened if Eris hadn't arrived on time.

Finally, Y/n decided to stop trying to drown Eris's shirt in her tears and pulled away, blinking up at him. He smiled softly, pushing away the hair from her face.

The smile on his face was unlike any of his other smiles. It was gentle and looked loving, but there was an edge to it, like a predator pretending to be the prey's friend.

"What time is it? How long till sunset?" She mumbled, straightening as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

He said nothing for a moment, simply studying her. "A few hours at best. We should start packing if we have any hope of getting Fin and you out of here."

Y/n blinked. "You- you were serious when you said you wanted us to come to autumn?"

He gave her a look as he stood, stretching before he began to look around. "Of course I was. Now, where do we start?"

•○🌑○•

There was not a lot to pack. After Y/n had moved here, she hadn't unpacked all of her stuff because she'd been tired. And the day she was going to do it, Rhys had found out about Fin, and since then Y/n had been on edge and hadn't unpacked much in case she had to leave within a moment's notice.

Everything that Y/n owned was packed and winnowed away, thanks to Eris.

Now as Y/n stood studying this empty space, two parts within her clashed.

One wanted to be sad, wanted to think she'd miss this place. The other couldn't wait to get out.

As she was busy surveying the place to make sure she had packed everything, she felt, more than heard, Eris come up behind her.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

His voice was feather soft as it brushed across the nape of her neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He was practically a furnace as he stood behind her, warming every part of her body.

She had to stop a shiver from crawling down her spine.

She turned her head to look at him to find him barely away from her, standing so close they were sharing breath. Her eyes widened to find him closer than she expected, but he seemed unfazed.

His gaze travelled from her eyes to her mouth and back again. His eyes seemed to hold something that she couldn't decipher, nor did she want to because her brain was currently malfunctioning.

There were no thoughts in her head, and all she could think about was how beautiful the male in front of her was. How his eyes were one of the most beautiful ones she'd ever seen. How his hair was same colour of Fin's favourite stuffed toy.

What? Stuffed toy?

Y/n had no idea where that thought came from, but she didn't care.

His breath washed over her lips, and she leaned her head back to get a good look at him.

There was no sound other than their breathing. She didn't want to break the silence, but she had to. Thankfully, Eris beat her to it.

"Y/n..." If she hadn't been straining her ears, she wouldn't have bee able to her what he was saying, his voice was so low.

It didn't help that she could hear her own heartbeat as well as his. Her heart was speeding so much she felt like it would burst out of her chest any moment now.

By the look on his face, he felt the same.

"Eris..."

"Yes?" He mumbled, his eyes focused on her lips. She decided to ignore that and the warmth spreading through her face.

"We need to wake Fin."

He blinked, seeming to process her words before his eyes cleared of the haze that had set in.

He blinked a couple of times before he mumble an oh.

He met her eyes, his cheeks turning a beautiful and endearing shade of red as he nodded, taking a step back. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but her as she turned to him fully.

She felt bad for putting him in such an awkward situation, so she opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't give her the chance. He swiftly turned on his heel and headed off towards where Fin was sleeping.

Y/n followed a little behind Eris, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

What the hell is going on?

The day was going in a way that she hadn't expected, and she didn't know what to make of it.

By the time Y/n reached the room Fin was in, she found Eris leaned over her son, mumbling something. Fin squirmed for a moment, blinking his eyes open. He smiled sleepily at Eris as the redhead ran his fingers through the boy's hair.

Fin sat up, crawling onto Eris's lap as the two of them conversed in hushed tones.

Y/n was about to ask what they were talking about when Fin looked at her. He smiled wide. "Hello mommy."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at her son, her world.

Her hardships didn't feel that great when she knew it was all for her baby. It all felt worth it.

She walked to him, pecking his forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

Fin nodded happily, then glanced at Eris. The redhead gave him an encouraging smile, and Fin turned back to Y/n.

Y/n was immediately suspicious. "What are you up to now?"

Fin giggled. "Daddy told me we were going with him to his home-" What? Who? "and I wanted to go have ice cream before we left. He agreed."

Y/n's eyes flew to Eris's, who stared at Fin with wide eyes, all traces of his previous smile gone.

There is so much wrong in that sentence.

Eris's eyes lifted to Y/n's, and there was so much emotion in his eyes it took Y/n a moment to decipher it all.

Happiness warred with panic, love sparred with fear. Excitement, surprise and pure satisfaction were sat back, watching the show.

It took her another moment to realise that the fear and panic had a place in those beautiful russet orbs because he thought she would not be happy.

He... he was not scared of Fin calling him daddy. He was happy about it.

Fin climbed to his feet on the bed, clinging to Y/n, trying to convince her to let him get some ice cream, but Y/n couldn't hear him over the roaring in her head as she continued to stare at the High lord of Autumn court.

"He had promised that he will get me an ice cream before we came home, but I fell asleep. Can we please get an ice cream before we leave mommy? Please?"

Y/n swallowed, finally turning to Fin as Eris stood. "O-okay."

Fin squealed happily, hopping off the bed and running out the door, not waiting to see if Y/n or Eris followed.

"Y/n I- I swear I didn't tell him to call me that-"

Y/n turned away, ignoring his attempts to get her attention.

Her heart yearned to turn back to him, listen to what he had to say, but se did not have the energy for anymore drama. Not today.

Not when all going through her head was that word Fin had uttered.

The word he'd never had the chance to say before.

Daddy.

•○🌑○•

Part 7

Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautifu @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913@j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten@txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta

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speedycoffeedelight · 1 month

Text

An Animalistic Disaster

Summery:Where you reveal a bit of your past and go on a shopping trip with the girls (And Pentious).

Masterlist

CH-14 :Past memories and a shopping trip

Tw: domestic abuse.

"When I was six, me and my mom went to live with mom's brother, my uncle and aunt. They had a daughter and a son, Melody and Skylar.

Melody was younger and more timid than me. I gradually realised that Melody was almost like a puppet to her parents. They gave all their focus on Skylar. Which would make sense since he was a kid then. But they took it too far.

They would never try to discipline Skylar. It was clear her parents had a soft spot for him. Skylar understood that very clearly and would abuse that."

You sighed, remembering what used to happen in that household.

"Skylar would scream and hit Melody whenever he wanted and if we as much as raised our voice on him, he would cry endlessly in front of his mom like we hit him brutally. Before you say anything, he would only do that whenever his parents were around to hear, so that little shit knew what he was doing.

And of course his mom would believe him every fucking time. So since I couldn't make him behave, the best course of action was to lock myself up in my room so he couldn't get in and cause trouble for me."

"That sounds horrible...." Charlie gasped.

"That's not the end of it." You sadly smiled. "I haven't even told you why I'm hated."

"I hated how they treated Melody from the bottom of my heart. I would speak up for her since she couldn't.

She would often seek refuge in me and stay in my room away from everyone. I read her my different storybooks, showed her my favourite shows and shared my experiences. Gradually she began to think for herself. She began to stand up for herself. Her parents hated that.

They blamed me for corrupting their sweet child with my venomous company. They were mad they couldn't control Melody like before.

Their scolding and hitting got worse from then. There were times we would stay locked in my room for hours while her mom kept shouting all shitty things she could say about me. She even told Melody, A child, to live with me instead of them if she liked me that much."

"Please tell me you guys did something about that later..." Vaggie almost pleaded.

"When things got worse and I couldn't take it anymore, I finally told my mom one day after she got home from work. I didn't want to tell her at first before cause I didn't want to make her worry. My mom and aunt had a huge argument then. Later finally, we rented a small house for ourselves."

'But what happened to Melody?' Angel quickly asked and Charlie translated it just as fast. Everyone had the same question in their mind.

"She...stayed back. I asked her to come with me but she smiled and shook her head. She said she wanted to stay and make that place better."

'Ya gotta hand it to the kid. She had some real guts to stay in a family like that'

You nodded at what Husk said after Vaggie translated it.

"She really had. We did get to see each other from time to time in our family gatherings and such and kept in contact through texting and calling sometimes. But I'm glad to say our bond ever wavered no matter how long we are away from each other "

You said with a small smile looking at everyone.

"Melody has learned to be her own person since I left despite still being in those harsh conditions. And even after all this time, I've never gotten close to her parents for this reason."

You finally finished talking and looked at them for their reactions. Charlie almost immediately tackled you into a hug.

"I knew you were great person! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Thanks for what Charlie?"

"Nothing don't worry about it!"

Charlie was relieved that you were actually a good person. She doesn't have to feel guilty for defending you. She hugged you tighter in happiness almost choking you.

"C-charlie, can't breathe-"

"Oh sorry sorry"

She quickly let you go and smiled brightly at you. "You're a nice person (Y/n)." Vaggie gave you soft smile.

Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing. The earlier suspicion on you vanishing in an instant.

"Yeah well anyways" you scratched your neck while blushing from all this attention you're getting plus seeing all their eyes on you. "We should eat dinner and go to sleep. I plan on going shopping tomorrow. I want Charlie, Vaggie and Niffty accompanying me since they turned human."

"We get to hang around in the human world?" Niffty said excitedly. You chuckled noticing her enthusiasm.

"Yes you can plus we'll be doing job hunting for you guys. We don't know how long it'll take to find a job so we should start searching from tomorrow "

"Awesome!"

With that, you all slowly went around cooking while chatting, making jabs at one another. Angel was almost thrown into a cooking pot by accident but Charlie noticed it immediately. Other then that, everything was fine.

After sleeping again in previous positions, you woke up to Vaggie calling you this time. You smiled at her and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

After you finished,you went to the kitchen to see Charlie cooking this time with her tongue out a bit upwards as she was flipping pancakes very carefully. It was honestly quite adorable to watch. Vaggie was about to call you but you put a finger on your mouth, making Vaggie go quiet.

You slowly tiptoed behind Charlie making Vaggie look at you confused. Just as Charlie finished flipping a Pancake, you went 'Boo' in her ear playfully. But you didn't expect what happened.

Charlie let out a surprised yelp as she let go of the pan. A bright golden light engulfed her as something fell to the ground in a thud.

As the light disappeared, there was Charlie again, but in her sheep form.

'Oh no, oh no, oh nononono! I'm not getting stuck in this form again!'

She started to scream in panic with sheep sounds and ran around. Vaggie quickly tried running after her to try and calm her down. She picked up a very scared Charlie and held her close as you looked over with guilt.

"Hun calm down, breathe." Vaggie patted Charlie as she looked looked up at her girlfriend teary eyed. "Try to see if you can become human again okay?"

Charlie nodded and calmed her nerves as she tried to imagine herself as human again. After some time, a golden light engulfed her again as she again reappeared as human in Charlie's arms.

"Vaggie, I'm human again! I'm human!" She said shaking Vaggie. "Yes, I can see that...but what happened? Can we turn to our human and animal form at will?" Charlie shruged, not knowing. You came forward looking down.

"I'm really really sorry Charlie. I didn't mean for that to happen.." you said meekly.

"It's alright... It just gave me a little shock that's all" Charlie said nervously laughing. "But at least I turned back again."

'What happened? Why are you all looking so shaken?' Husk said stepping into the room alongside Angel and noticing the pair on the floor holding each other as well as you looking at them apologetically.

After Vaggie told him his eyes were wide open. 'Wait, no shit? That actually worked? Let me see if I can try.' Husk and Angel both tried to imagine themselves as humans but nothing happened. 'Guess it only works with those who already transformed..' Angel sighed.

"Make sure to let others know about this and oh-" Charlie's nose picked up a burning smell. "MY PANCAKES!" She quickly ran towards the pan to salvage the food before it's fully wasted.

You volunteered to eat the slightly burnt pancake as an apology and after that, it was time to go shopping. You, Charlie, Vaggie and Niffty all dressed up in your clothes. Vaggie gathered all the animals before going.

"I'm leaving my front door open in case you all need something. But for this reason, I'll need you all to stay close to the house as well to guard it." You said looking at all of them.

"Especially you Alastor, you're the only one that can do something if a burglar comes by." Since you saw how Alastor could fight even in this form in the woods, he was the best option.

'Yes, yes, I know you can't do anything without me. You girls can go ahead without worry. I'll keep watch." Alastor said in a bored tone but inside he was fuming with pride that you relied on him the most.

"Now then, we shouldn't take too much time. Be safe you guys. You're free to go." With that you went to get the car ready as your three companions waited patiently.

Sir Pentious was about to slither back to the cabin but stopped seeing Cherri head towards your car. Being confused he quickly followed her. Cherri jumped into the car's open trunk while you weren't looking and Pentious did the same.

'Misss Cherri what are you doing here? We're supposed to be back at the cabin!' Pentious whisper shouted.

'Wha- Hey what the fuck man. Don't creep up on me like that!' Cherri was a little spooked seeing Pentious behind her. She thought she was being discreet.

'And I'm going to the town with them! I can't wait till I've transformed see what the world is like now since I'm the last. So I'm hitching a ride!'

'But isn't thiss a bad idea? What if sssomeone sees uss?'

'Oh quit your yapping. You can leave if you want.'

But he could not even if wanted since the trunk closed on them followed by the car starting. Cherri had a grin on her face and Pentious had a look of worry.

Niffty decided to sit next to you on the car and Charlie and Vaggie sat behind. While driving, you started some songs for everyone to enjoy.

All three of them were enjoying the sight of human world as they were practically glued to their windows. Especially Charlie since she spent her entire life in hell. Even though they went outside in your cabin, it was nothing compared to driving through various places like this. The sight of them made the corners of your lips turn up.

"By the way Niffty, did you get any powers like us?" Vaggie asked suddenly remembering.

"Not really, no. Me and mr.Alastor tried really hard to see if I had any type of powers but nothing worked." Niffty answered while her eyes were still glued to the window. "But I can turn into a dog again at will now!"

"I see..oh and (Y/n). Can I request something..?" Vaggie asked sheepishly.

"Hm,yes? What is it?"

"Can I get some glasses? I think my eye sight has lessened.."

"Oh yes sure! We'll get your eyes checked then!"

Finally you reached your place. You parked the car and you three finally stepped outside. Suddenly Niffty started sniffing the air with her ears moving.

"Niffty? What's wrong?" Charlie asked concerned. Niffty didn't answer as she stepped behind the trunk and opened it.

"Uh-huh! Found you! I knew I heard some weird sounds coming from the back!"

"What? Who's there?" You went to stand beside Niffty and found Pentious and Cherri red handed.

You quickly pulled the hood down and looked around see if anyone was starting at you. Having a squirrel was fine but people might report you to the police if they saw you have a snake in your car, thinking you're a poacher. And the worst thing is they'll take him away to who knows where.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here? You guys should be at the cabin!" You hissed through your teeth at them.

'What? Taking a stroll couldn't hurt! Plus this dumbass followed me here himself.' Cherri said looking at Pentious. 'I wass only trying to ssee what you were doing!'

You sighed. You couldn't leave them both here. Who knows what they'll start doing if they're left alone. You don't want to have any more trouble in your hands. Rummaging through the car, you found a big shopping bag that you usually use for groceries.

"Jump in here and not a single peek from either of you got it?" You said holding the bag in front of them.

'Got it!' Cherri grinned as she jumped inside and Pentious followed. You gave the bag to Niffty.

"Niffty can I ask you to take care of this bag? Make sure none of them peeks their head out of try to come out okay?" You requested her with worry. "Can you do that for me?"

"Mam,Yes Mam! I'll make sure of that!" She copied military style and gave you a salute making you chuckle a bit.

"I'll hold onto that then"

After that was over, you guys went to buy foods and two extra mattresses for now. Then you guys went to buy clothes. They didn't buy much since they could just wear your clothes for the most part as you suggested and bought personal items. You'll have to spend more money on the boys clothes when they turn human. And finally on Vaggie's glasses.

After a successful trip, you four bought some ice creams as you headed towards your car. Cherri did try to sneak out a couple of times but Niffty made sure she couldn't. Some people on the street thought the three of them were cosplaying and wanted to take selfies but you quickly declined.

You also collected some informations on the places looking to hire right now. You decided to sort through them later. You led them through a shortcut to reach the parking lot faster. You spent more time than you planned on getting sucked in the fun hanging out with them.

All in all it was a successful shopping trip. That was until you turned a corner while walking and bumped into someone making you spill your ice cream over them.

"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" You quickly yelled out looking at the shirt that now had a stain and some bits of ice cream falling to the ground from the shirt.

"Oi look where you're going bitch!" The guy yelled out pushing you away from him. You would fall to the floor if Vaggie didn't catch you in time. "Careful!" She yelled out.

As the guy started to come closer Charlie moved in front of you defensively. "She said sorry already! So please stop this!" She pleaded as you stood up again.

"Fuck no. That bitch ruined my shirt and now she'll have to pay for it!" The guy shoved Charlie aside and grabbed your collar making you look at his face.

Niffty was standing behind Vaggie still holding onto the bag as the scene transpired in from of her. She started growling unknowningly as she took a step ahead.

Sir Pentious and Cherri were listening to everything that was transpiring outside.

'Shit, something very bad is happening outside!' Cherri said looking a bit nervous.

'It sounds like (Y/n) is in trouble..' Pentious said as they both peeked out of the bag just as you were grabbed by your collar.

'(Y/n) no..I can't let anything happen to her!' Pentious said as he jumped out of the bag. Niffty finally noticed him. "Pentious you're not supposed to be out!"

'She helped us all these time, fed us, took care of us. The least I can do is protect in danger!'

His body began to grow bright yellow. Vaggie who was about to jump onto the guy, stopped and looked behind her.

The man's disgusting breath hit your nose like a tornado. He raised one hand to hit you as you quickly prepared yourself to defend. But a hand came from behind you, catching the attackers raised one.

"I don't think it's in proper manner to hit a lady."

A.N: So I've realised that I should probably make the chapters longer otherwise there's gonna be a huge number of chapters by the time I'm finished.

So yeah, heads up for that! (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Also I didn't tell here before, but I'm planning on a QnA if I reach 1k votes and kudos in ao3 and wattpad. I already reached 1k on wattpad and now for the ao3 (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

You guys can ask the cast or me any questions during that. But of course, no telling spoilers.

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150

@darifes @aria-tempest

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happiest-hotch · 1 year

Text

Appreciation

a/n: so i was watching Don't Worry, Darling for the first time and all I could think about was the dining room table scene with Aaron, so I had to write it

Summary: You cook your husband dinner and he makes sure you get the appreciation you deserve

CW: oral sex (fem receiving)

WC: 1.5k

There's an evergrowing list of things you love about your life post-BAU. The reason you had to go into WITSEC was terrifying, and it changed your world and perception of security, but now that you're out of protective custody, things are better than ever.

Vermont being so beautiful helps, as does the lack of stress from Aaron choosing not to return to Quantico and his endless list of Unit Chief duties. After being with Aaron for a crazy six years, the slower-paced life is perfect. There are no missed dates and mutual guilt because Aaron always felt terrible for canceling last minute, and you felt bad that he felt bad.

One of your favorite things is when he comes back from work. There's more than enough money between his FBI 'retirement' and your shared investments for him not to work, but he's thrived off structure for so many years that he's not ready to give it up. His hours are nothing like when he was at the BAU. There are no missed holidays, and he's never missed a school event of Jack's.

That morning, Aaron told you he'd be home 'late,' which is 6 pm these days, not 2 am. Although Fridays are date nights, you like surprising him, and you've got a few extra hours, so it seems like the perfect chance to make a more elaborate meal.

You're just turning off the oven to let the roast sit when you hear Aaron's key in the door. Excitedly, you skip over to greet him.

"Hey, handsome." You say with a grin. Aaron in a suit is a pleasure you get to see every day.

He puts his bag and keys down on the side table. "It smells amazing in here." He notes. "Did you make a pork roast?"

You nod, not having the time to answer before he kisses you. Unlike the peck you were expecting, his lips are firm against yours as he walks you back through the house with his hands on your hips.

"With roast vegetables?" He checks when he pulls back, his lips only an inch from yours.

"Mhm." You agree, but you can't tell him what specific vegetables you've cooked before he kisses you again. You're boring together, but you usually have a routine: a welcome home kiss, a drink, maybe some hugs in the kitchen, and dinner. His affection isn't anything new or unwanted, but it's notable.

"And those nice brussel sprouts?" He asks.

You have to grab his face to move it away from yours so you can actually answer. "Yeah, because the only way you'll at them is with cheese."

Aaron kisses you firmly again, guiding you until your butt hits the table. "You love me." He sing-songs teasingly.

You chuckle. "Yeah, I love you."

"Good because I love you too." He replies sweetly.

Then he's kissing you again with renewed vigor, and you're slightly stunned by his boldness. His hands drift from your waist to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up onto the table with ease. On instinct, your thighs spread to let him stand between them.

"Mmm." You mumble against his lips, pulling back for some air. "What's gotten into you?"

"What? I can't thank my darling wife for a delicious homecooked meal?" He wonders, making it easy for you to identify what's made his eyes darken. "Jack's out, right?"

You brush your nose against his with a soft smile that he mimics. "He is, but how do you know it's going to be delicious?" You joke.

Aaron chuckles, quickly coming up with a witty reply. "I'll thank you for the effort then." He decides.

You grin. "Alright, get to it."

He winks, planting another kiss on your lips before sinking down to his knee.

You're thanking yourself for wearing a dress that gives him quick access when he bunches the skirt further up your thighs.

He starts with gentle kisses trailing up your inner thighs, designed to be loving and teasing. Your skin heats with his mouth on it.

"Someone had after-dinner plans for tonight." He teases, fingers tracing along your underwear- your lacy white underwear- to accentuate his point.

"The order wasn't important." You say through pressed-together lips to keep from moaning.

His laugh pushes warm air against your core, making you tense on reflex. "Relax, baby." He instructs. "Let me take care of you."

You lay back, getting ready for what'll no doubt be a mindblowing orgasm. Aaron pushes your panties to the side, fingertip tracing over your most delicate skin. You can feel him smirking at how you quiver, completely at his mercy. Because this technically is your reward, he doesn't excessively tease you, and you barely have a few seconds before his lips are right where you need them. He starts with slow kisses up and down your slit before his tongue finally dives in, making you gasp.

"Fuck, Aaron." You moan as his tongue darts around, tasting every inch of you. "Feels so good."

Your praises make him double his efforts, pressing firmer into you with his tongue. Your walls flutter around him, but it doesn't do anything to dissuade his work as he keeps lapping you up.

You card your hand through Aaron's hair, tugging him closer to you, and he gets the message. He moves his head from side to side, brushing his nose against your clit and making you squeal with delight. Like the expert at working your body that he is, he focuses on a different part of you, licking a fat strip with his tongue flat against you before reaching your clit. He anticipates your next move as well because his hand has been ghosting over your thigh, knowing you'd tease and try to close them, so when you do, he grips your thigh, spreading you again.

"Baby." He growls in his low, warning tone. "Keep your thighs spread."

"Okay." You agree, biting your bottom lip to keep from moaning at his hot breath fanning your clit.

He notices because, of course, he does. "And I want to hear every one of those beautiful moans." To test that you're going to follow his instruction, his lips latch onto your clit, sucking firmly, and your jaw drops open, and a loud moan falls out.

Satisfied with you, he keeps the same movement going, focusing all his attention on your bundle of nerves, cycling between sucking and blowing and licking, with no order. You're screaming a mix of his name and curse words above him, feeling pleasure stream through your body. There's no doubt a proud smirk on his face, but your eyes are so tightly shut from the bliss that you can't see it.

"Please don't stop." You whimper, subconsciously rolling your hips against his face as you chase your high.

"Ready to take my fingers?" He asks, his voice all low and deep against you.

"Please." You whimper out, overcome by the pleasure but still wanting more. As his middle finger slightly nudges you, you grip the edge of the table. He momentarily pulls off your clit, forcing you to focus on the feel of his fingers. He's swift with his motion to push it deep into you, resulting in a loud moan falling from your lips. His ring finger joins, stretching you open, and you silently thank the universe that he's part of the ten percent of left-handed people because the coldness of his wedding ring against your warm core is a delightful contrast.

You see stars when he starts to move his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you. "So good." You manage to moan out as you arch your back.

"Here." He offers out his free hand to you, and you stop gripping the table's edge to hold it. You know he likes to feel how much pleasure he's giving you, so you squeeze it as he works you.

His lips reattach to your clit, giving you so much bliss from both places, and you scream out as you get closer.

"A-Aaron, I need to- shit- cum." You say, words no doubt slurred together.

He knows, and he knows how to get you over the edge. "Mm-hmm." He mumbles against you. The added vibrations are enough to do it, making you moan his name while squirming on the table as you reach your high. He works you through it, lips, fingers, and tongue not letting up until you're gasping at the overstimulation.

Spent, you lay against the table as Aaron readjusts your underwear and dress before standing up.

"That good, huh?" He asks despite knowing that, yeah, it really was that good.

"Absolutely." You agree, letting him pull you upright with the hand you're holding his with. He leans in to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on his lips. "Thank you."

"Thank you." He says. "Do you think dinner's burnt by now?"

You shake your head, hopping off the table. His hands hold your hips, helping support your unstable legs. "The oven was off, so it's just probably cold." You assure him before smirking. "Oh, I meant to ask, since that was just appreciation for me cooking, what do I get if the meal actually is delicious?"

Aaron chuckles. "We'll see, but I have a feeling you've already got some requests."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch hotchner

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cts-ryu-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

Melissa is Overdue

This was a little piece I thought up on a whim. A Pregnancy that went well overdue. Anyway this was pretty fun to work on.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Melissa was just an average woman living in a small town. One day in the fall, she discovered that she was pregnant. Melissa at first was rather reluctant to discover this, as she was now all alone. Of course, it would happen after her boyfriend left her with his blonde whore of a waitress from the local diner. She was heavily contemplating aborting the baby. But eventually changed her mind. The reason she never divulged to anyone.

Melissa was already a rather plump lady to begin with and as the pregnancy progressed she wasn’t exactly overjoyed about it. She was hoping for more of the easy-to-manage symptoms with her pregnancy, like tiredness, and some morning sickness.

What she learned is that it is more of a roulette wheel, and what she got was a sensitivity to smells, wild and erratic mood swings, and incredibly tender breasts. At least when she discovered she was having a baby boy. If she was going to have one at least she wanted it to be “easy” as she’d put it.

Weeks turned to months, and Melissa's baby grew bigger and bigger. Her plump tum rounded out into a fully-fledged baby bump by the time she reached six months. As her pregnancy developed into more of the later stages she talked with her doctor about her plan. “I want a water birth, I’ve already been in talks with a few different midwives,” she told her nurse

“I can see you’ve set your sights on it,” the nurse replied

“I have,” She told her doctor confidently

One thing that she absolutely did not want was to be cut open in any regard. She knew tearing might happen and resigned herself to that. But did not want to be cut open surgically if she didn’t need to. Something she voiced with extreme prejudice to her doctor, Gregory Lipshcitz, many times over several appointments.

“I just wanna make sure that you have a backup plan should something go wrong.”

“I know and nothing will go wrong, 'cause I already have it all planned out,” she told him

She was getting closer to her due date, July Second. Melissa was already a few weeks away. As she ran through everything she had planned out meticulously every detail from when she expected to start feeling her contractions to the hour she expected her baby to be born. She wanted everything to fall into place according to her own time and her convenience. But as July Second came and went, the baby didn’t so much as attempt to arrive.

“Sometimes babies come when they’re ready,” her closest friend told her

“Bullshit,” she replied “They can come when I’m ready for them”

A trip to her doctor would confirm this fact. However, he was out of town. And the stand-in, Doctor Edward Thompson, did not feel the same as she did. “You only missed it by a day and the little guy seems fine and healthy so, I don’t feel there is a need to induce your labor right now.”

‘I can think of several,” She pointed out to him, partially annoyed that her plans were ruined.

“Well we can agree to disagree,” Dr. Thompson told her, “I’m sure he’ll come out when you least expect it,” he told her wishing her well as she left the hospital

Melissa drove home with her bump nearly against the steering wheel. She started to look into ways to naturally induce her labor. She tried them all. She tried exercise, according to one study she saw a two-and-a-half-mile walk every day or a thirty-minute workout could help pop her. But nothing came of it except a daily fatigue halfway through the day. She ate a bowl of dates every day hearing that they could induce labor. Again there was nothing.

The last thing she tried was sex. With no real boyfriend to fuck her rather regularly she took to having one of her friends dick her down nice and hard. But that too didn’t induce labor, even after getting fucked several times a day all she got was more frustration from the fact that he was less than reciprocating to her own needs. It had now been two whole weeks and she hadn’t even felt so much as a contraction.

Now at her doctor at forty-two weeks, huge and overdue she wanted to know if she could be induced now. “Despite my stubborn boy, he does need to come out eventually”

Dr. Thompson of course said he would consult with her primary doctor on this matter. With the go-ahead, they were ready to begin. While a nurse was setting up the IV line Melissa was asked, “So you haven’t felt any labor pains? No Braxton hicks? Nothing?”

“I wish I did,” she said

Not that she had pitocin coursing through her system. They waited for the telltale sign that it was doing its job. They waited the allotted forty minutes, but Melissa didn’t feel a thing. Not so much as a single cramp. Her water didn’t even break. An hour passed, but still nothing. Ultrasounds confirmed the baby was alive and healthy. “I don’t understand it,” Dr. Thompson said aloud

Objecting to use it again. They started to wade in on the idea of their next course of action. Melissa stayed in the hospital that night as they kept a close eye on her. She ended up sleeping rather soundly that night. Only really woke up to pee cause her son was using her bladder like a pillow.

Several doctors were gathered around Thompson and Lipschitz. Looking at extra copies of the ultrasound other doctors weighed in on the matter. They noted that the baby hasn’t dropped into position yet which could be the root cause. One suggests that there may be a different method of induction. All of them still neglect the fact that Melissa was over forty-two weeks pregnant, and her water didn’t break even after having pitocin in her system. Hours passed, and before she knew it another day had passed.

Melissa finally buckled and relented to her earlier point. “Fine, just give me a C-section! Let’s get this over with,” she told them.

The doctors didn’t waste any time. However, it didn’t exactly go according to plan. Bizarre and unforeseen circumstances caused a pause or a hindrance every time she was going to be wheeled in for a cesarean. An electrical fire erupted as they prepared the room for Melissa. Another surgical room had the ceiling collapse in on it. The nurses talked amongst each other about how it felt like this was an eerie coincidence.

Melissa was starting to feel it too. “Am I just gonna be cursed to be pregnant forever?”

“No,” One nurse tried to console her.

“Then why haven’t I felt anything, any sign that this kid is gonna be coming out of me.”

Unsure how to respond. The nurse simply replied, “I’m sure that your son will be coming out any day now,”

Another week passed and she was now three weeks overdue. Walking felt rather cumbersome, and her waddle stride didn’t feel like it covered enough ground. She complained about how her son was just getting heavier and heavier.

The doctors still didn’t have an answer. The hospital was rather cautious about attempting to induce her again. The two surgical rooms they had lost were still in the clean-up phases. They absolutely did not want to risk a freak accident happening again and taking out another room.

Despite the hospital administration's growing concerns, Melissa remained determined to go for another. A different hospital. A different part of town. Only to be met with the same thing. A freak accident, this one a chemical explosion, the cause of which was still being determined.

“Oh god,” Melissa uttered upon hearing the news that her procedure was being moved to another date. “I’m gonna be fucking pregnant forever aren’t I?” she asked with a melancholy head hunched down over her massive baby belly.

Melissa felt her son moving, a little food pressing against the skin. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back her tears. Was this supposed to be a sign? Was this her baby's way of telling her that he was never going to leave her?

Several more weeks had passed and she was now sitting at a staggering fifty-two weeks. Her stubborn boy refused to budge. Not so much as a sign that the baby was coming out. He rested nice and high, not even descending. It was getting harder for Melissa to walk around and carry the weight of this pregnancy.

Sitting down for too long made her legs go numb. And lying down she found it was getting harder to stand back up. The way she waddled she was bound to knock things down more and more making trips to the store all the more challenging. She was getting embarrassed by her size. She was beginning to feel like she was under some kind of curse, a curse to carry her son in her womb forever.

One night before bed. As she lay there overburdened Resting as comfortably as she could, she started to question her baby, “Why haven’t you come out? What did I do to you? I carried you, I fed you so you’d grow, I did everything to make sure you grew healthy.” She was starting to tear up, “So why… So why won’t you come out?”

She waited. Nothing. She felt him lay there against where her hand was but not so much as an arm moved.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked

That night in her dream, she was standing there massively overdue. In her dream, she knew she had been pregnant for years. Her son just got bigger and bigger, never leaving the confines of her womb. She strained her back to keep her massively distending pregnant belly from scraping against the floor. The floor was a pedestal of stained glass heavily embroidered with imagery of broken hearts. She could hear every plan she ever made, every little detail she had ever planned out. A single question from one person she had overlooked. An interaction that seemed rather unimportant at the time.

“It doesn't sound like you love them,” a woman commented she too was expecting a baby herself

It was when Melissa was in the store buying some maternity clothes. “That doesn’t matter, Until they’re here it's all about me,” she said arrogantly

“That’s so sad,” she commented back. “How could you not love them before they’re born?”

Something Melissa never answered then. She woke up to see her huge belly, her hand still resting on it gently. With a soft voice and a gentle caress, she muttered the words to her sleeping baby boy, “I love you, Joshua. I love you,”

She felt him move that fluttering feeling; like back in the earliest stages of her pregnancy. Melissa closed her eyes and said it again. Faintly she started to feel the weight shifting. And the sensation around her uterus. A tingle at first that got stronger. She was fifty-two weeks pregnant, and with three simple words, she started to feel the early signs of labor. Melissa hoped he’d be coming out soon, happy and healthy, she didn’t care what happened to her now. But it wasn’t to be, she carried for another forty-eight days with no sign of ending in sight. As week sixty approached its end, her waiting son chose then to begin his birthing.

#pregnant #pregnancy #pregnant story #female pregnancy #pregnant kink #preg #overdue pregnancy #very overdue pregnancy

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

Hi! I've spent hours reading your Steddie stuff when I honestly should have been sleeping because work and adulting. Gotta be some of my favorite writing! You have requests/prompts open? I have 2! If you like them :) 1. The Soulmate idea of people having a moving animal tattoo representing their Soulmate. Steve has hyperactive bat who loves to drape itself around his neck quite possessively. Eddie with a retriever pup or something that likes to curl up over his heart. 2. Always a sweetheart Steve? No King Steve era thing. He bugs Eddie to learn about D&D to understand his kids better qnd our poor metal gremlin melts :) I'm Soft Boi, so sorry for no angst.

I'm posting the 1st one here, but on the second one, I am gonna just give a rec instead. Last Man Standing by @griefabyss69 (GriefAbyss on AO3) is kind of this request but taking it to filth level 😈 But anyways, this idea is so fucking cool my dudes. I love a good soulmate AU, and when it's something super unique like this, I lose my shit. I definitely think someone could make a slow burn with this idea and if anyone does, please let me know! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

He used to hate it.

A bat was such a menacing and disgusting creature.

Anyone who saw it would give him a look that was equal parts apologetic and concerned.

But when Steve started getting left alone at home, when he only had surface level friends, when he cried himself to sleep because the silence wasn’t enough to drown out the negative thoughts, the bat wrapped itself around his neck, and he didn’t feel so alone.

He’d started sleeping with his hand on his shoulder just to feel closer to his soulmate.

Hoped that whoever it was wouldn’t be disappointed that he was theirs.

————-

Eddie convinced himself for his entire childhood that the golden retriever tattoo that ran up and down his arms every day was some sympathy soulmate tattoo.

There was no way his soulmate was someone this hyper.

And then Wayne explained there was usually a story behind the tattoo, something more than just the personality or energy of a person.

At night, the retriever would pace across his chest, eventually settling right over his heart.

He wondered what his tattoo representation was.

He hoped it was a bat.

————-

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Just show us!” Tommy yelled to Steve from the pool.

Steve had managed to hide it from his friends for so long.

He wasn’t ashamed necessarily, but he definitely didn’t need Tommy and Carol or any of the rest of the basketball team to see it.

The tattoo often stayed hidden pretty well during the day, usually hid on his thigh or stomach. He got away with always wearing shirts for practice and skipped post-practice showers with excuses that he had a study group to get to.

But his pool was a problem, especially now that he was at an age where everyone wanted to come over to swim when his parents weren’t around, which was often.

He tried to make excuses, said he was just worried about the sun, worried about a creepy neighbor watching.

It only worked a couple of times.

Now it was night, so no sun.

The neighbor was on vacation.

And everyone expected him to strip down and get into the pool.

So he did.

Everyone stared in silence as the bat flew from his stomach to his back and settled on his shoulder.

It seemed like it wanted to be seen, but still wasn’t sure how it wanted to be perceived.

Steve could relate.

No one commented on it, probably too afraid that one wrong word would get them kicked out of the pool permanently.

When he went to bed that night, the bat took its place around his neck, his hand rested in its place against his shoulder, and he sighed.

“I hope you’re being seen,” he whispered into his empty room.

——————-

The golden retriever was completely still for more than eight hours the same night Starcourt exploded.

Eddie tried not to panic for the first few hours, knew it could be any number of reasons the tattoo wasn’t moving.

But after hour six, he called Wayne at work, worry carrying over the line as fireworks boomed in the background.

“It’s not moving. It- you said when it stopped it meant- they can’t be, though.”

“Eds, take a few slow breaths, son. C’mon now, you’d have known if he-”

“But what if mine’s broken? What if the connection isn’t right?” Eddie tried taking breaths, but it wasn’t working.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that his soulmate was gone.

By the time Wayne made it home from work, the retriever had moved from his forearm to its usual place over his heart, and Eddie was fast asleep on the couch, his hand resting on top of it.

—--------------------

Being dragged into more freaky Upside Down shit was not on Steve’s to-do list. Then again, it never really was.

He wouldn’t have even bothered coming with Dustin and Max if not for the fact that Dustin was terrified something had happened to his new best friend Eddie.

He tried to hide his terrible mood, but knew he was failing.

He woke up this morning to his bat already on his leg, seemingly asleep, though it was normally still around his neck or on his shoulder when he woke up.

It hadn’t moved all morning, and he was a little worried about what that might mean.

He was also getting more worried by the day that he’d never meet his soulmate.

He knew it was dramatic, but most people he went to school with had met theirs by now, their tattoos now permanently placed in matching spots on their bodies.

“Dustin, this is so stupid,” he reiterated for the hundredth time as they walked up to the boathouse door.

He kept thinking it to himself as they poked around looking for Eddie, as he was being held against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck by Eddie, as he felt a flutter in his stomach at the way Eddie was watching him as they told him about the Upside Down.

He didn’t take the time over the next couple of days to pay much attention to his tattoo, didn’t really consider the fact that what little time he slept, he was so out of it he didn’t even notice whether the bat was on his neck or not.

Didn’t think about it until a moment in the RV alone with Eddie, when something in his brain told him to check on the bat.

“Sorry, just. Can you wait one second?” Steve interrupted Eddie’s thought as kindly as he could.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie responded, confused.

He slipped to the back, not bothering to close the curtain that separated it from the rest of the RV.

He lifted his shirt in hopes of seeing it, but it wasn’t there.

He groaned and unbuttoned his jeans, rushing to just check and see if the bat had moved at all.

He shoved his jeans down and frowned.

It was in the same place still.

On his inner thigh on his right leg.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, or what he thought was under his breath.

“Everything okay?” Eddie’s voice was much closer than he expected, making him jump and rush to pull his pants back up. “Shit, was that your tattoo?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t moved in a while.”

“Neither has mine.” Eddie moved in closer. “Actually, mine’s on my thigh too. Kinda makes it hard to check.”

“Which thigh?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

“Right.”

“What is it?”

“Golden retriever. Can’t really imagine who it would be,” he admitted.

Steve’s first and only pet had been a puppy. A golden retriever named Daisy.

She was his entire world for almost a year until she chewed on one of his dad’s expensive watches and ended up being given to a man who worked with him.

He cried for days after that, didn’t talk to his dad for weeks, not that that was difficult to do since he was gone more often than not.

He vowed that he would get another one the moment he was an adult.

That didn’t quite work out.

But his nannies all used to call him a retriever, his energy contagious in the best way, his playful demeanor a relief. As he grew up, it got dulled by his parents, expectations, society, but he knew inside, all of that was still there.

“What’s yours?” Eddie asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“A bat.”

Eddie tilted his head and looked at him, eyes squinting to take him in.

“A bat?”

“Yeah. He’s a playful guy, but kinda shy it seems like,” Steve’s smile was fond until it was sad. “At least until he stopped moving.”

“When did he stop moving?” Eddie ignored the fact that it was a he for now.

“I guess I noticed it the day we found you in the boathouse.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, possibly coming to similar conclusions.

“What about yours?” Steve asked quietly, though something told Eddie he already knew the answer.

“The day you found me in the boathouse.”

“I-”

“How-”

“Dingus, we gotta go!” Robin was suddenly yelling as the RV door slammed open.

They could figure this out later.

They would have to.

—-----------------------

As Steve sat by Eddie’s bedside in the hospital, he thought about how often the bat tattoo had been the only comfort he had, the only thing that kept him from being completely alone.

He thought about how Eddie had always done his best to include the people who didn’t belong anywhere else, how he’d put on a show to protect himself, but hated being seen.

Wayne watched him from the other side of the bed, silently judging him, probably trying to figure out how to kick him out.

But he couldn’t.

He felt the pull now.

Now that he’d been around Eddie, somewhat gotten to know him, how he was fearless when it came to the gremlins, was willing to give up his own life if it meant getting Dustin to safety, he could feel the tug on his heart.

It was inconvenient since they didn’t know when or really even if Eddie would wake up.

So he waited.

He waited for Wayne to kick him out. He waited for doctors and nurses to have answers. He waited for Eddie to wake up.

He waited to know if he’d be able to have his soulmate or not.

—-------------------

Eddie’s first word when he woke up was Steve’s name.

Steve let out an uncontrollable sob, curling down so his head rested in the sheets of the bed.

Wayne’s hand was on his back, his voice trying to speak to him and Eddie at the same time.

They’d gotten closer over the last few days, Wayne’s calm presence enough to keep Steve from completely losing his mind with worry.

But the pain meds in the IV drip seemed to catch back up to Eddie within minutes and he was asleep again.

“He woke up though. Your boy woke up,” Wayne said to him, holding his hand.

“Yeah. He did.”

—-------------------

When Eddie left the hospital, Steve insisted on pushing his wheelchair to Wayne’s truck himself.

The nurse agreed with little argument; The hospital was incredibly understaffed and overrun with patients from the “earthquake” and she had a million better things to do.

The walk down was mostly quiet, but not awkward.

“I think some of my tattoo is missing,” Eddie finally said, barely more than a whisper.

“From the bats?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Doesn’t change anything.”

“No?” he asked, voice full of hope.

“Not a thing for me.”

—------------------------

They dated.

It was unconventional in every way.

Steve had never pictured himself with a man, but now he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Eddie.

Eddie had to explain that they couldn’t just go out and hold hands like any of Steve’s other dates, they had to be careful.

It wasn’t always easy; Steve got frustrated and Eddie got insecure.

But they always ended their nights with soft kisses, with whispered words of comfort and promises.

They fell in love like that, the tattoos only the beginning of something that no one could have expected.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #soulmate au

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sweetsweetjellybean · 9 months

Text

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 4 | The Reason

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst, Smut WC:11038 Masterlist Here

The nights are louder than he remembers. Full of the songs of the cicadas and peepers. The occasional croak of a bullfrog or the hoot of an owl. The distance sounds of traffic from streets away. Somehow it all seems much louder than the Upside-Down. Between the booms of thunder and howls of creatures, there were hours of absolute silence. It’s been six weeks, and Steve hasn’t forgotten how the silence made him feel. Anxious and defensive, like an itch he could never scratch.

Returning to his dark empty house, the quiet is more than he can stand. It’s become routine for him to sit outside on one of the loungers, watching the last rays of gold sink beneath the treeline, waiting for the sky to cycle through the palette of sunset until darkness finally gives way to the burst of stars. The nighttime sounds calm his worries. This is home. Sitting there, he tries to remember every detail so that it can never be taken from him again. Focusing on the pattern of shadows woven across the moon, he can’t help thinking about you. Are you looking up at the same sky?

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Nancy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts as she steps out of the house from the sliding glass door. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

“Of course not,” Steve says, twisting to look at her over his shoulder, “Come have a seat,” he gestures to the chaise beside him.

She moves into the space between the two loungers sitting down sideways so she can face him, folding her dainty hands in her lap. “I heard you were at Dustin’s all day today.”

“I put some shingles on that spot on the roof where the tree fell. They don’t need it leaking when it rains.” Construction is underway all over town. Minor projects are getting pushed down the waitlist as tradesmen try to complete the most lucrative jobs first, so Steve has been doing what he can to help his friends and neighbors.

“Well, that was nice of you,” she comments with a smile.

“Well, if you haven’t heard, I’m a nice guy,” he says with smug charm, his lips quirking on one side, aiming to pull an incredulous laugh from her.

“I think I may have heard that somewhere before,” she giggles, rolling her eyes before continuing, “You must be hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Nah, Mrs. Henderson made pot roast. She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two helpings.” He rubs his flat stomach, smiling. Dustin’s mom always makes him feel like family.

“How about a movie then?” she asks, hope filling her voice.

“I’m exhausted, Nance.” He reaches out, patting her hand, “It’s a nice night. Stay here with me for a while.”

“You’ve been sitting out here a lot lately.” She looks down to where his hand covers hers.

“I never realized what I had until I almost lost it,” he says, pulling away from her and looking back towards the horizon. “I like it out here. It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Everything…nothing. I don’t know.” The longer he looks, the more stars come into view. Simple truths are relieved by just taking the time to look.

“You’ve been so distant.”

Her words have him turning towards her again. She’s still looking down, wrapping her arms around herself, her small hands disappearing into the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be,” he frowns, watching how she’s trying to protect herself, “Are you cold?” He sits up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. “Here. Sit back.” He stands and waits for her to swing her legs onto the lounger before tucking his coat over her like a blanket.

“Thanks,” she pauses, settling into the leftover warmth, “I thought this would be our time, and I’ve hardly seen you. We haven’t… we’re barely ever alone together.”

He runs a hand through his hair before sitting sideways on the lounger, taking up her position from earlier. “I guess we haven’t,” he says, knowing he’s been neglecting her, but there’s not much left of himself to give, “Work is keeping me busy, and the kids–”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, frustrated by his excuses, “Volunteering at the shelter and doing odd jobs for free doesn’t count as work. And the kids don’t need you to babysit them anymore. Robin’s been back at Family Video for a few weeks now. She told me that Keith has called you.”

“I don’t want to go back to Family Video,” he says, looking away. He’s been over all this before with Robin. “I’m not ready.”

“I know it’s been hard. We’ve all been through so much, but Max is healing. The kids are fine. Everyone is moving on. It’s time for you to start your life.”

His mouth opens with surprise. “Nance, the kids aren’t fine. Have you seen them? Max is struggling.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Nancy, she’s blind. And it’s not just her. Haven’t you seen the way Lucas panics every time he has to leave her side, even for a few minutes?”

“Steve,” she sits up, his jacket slipping down around her waist as she swings her legs to the side, reaching across the space between them to take his hand, “Nothing you can do is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, but even acknowledging it stirs his guilt.

“I think you should come with me to Boston.” her fingers tighten around his as if she can already sense his reluctance.

“Boston? For school?”

“I think you’ll really like it there. It’s smaller than Indianapolis, and there are all these great old buildings. I called Emerson, and I’ve got it all figured out. It’s not too late to get the money back from my room and board. We can get an apartment, and I can get a job on the weekends.”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be studying, not working,” he shakes his head, looking away, “I don’t even know what I’d do in Boston.”

“It’s a city. I’m sure you can find some job that you’d like. Anything is better than Scoops, right? Maybe you can even go to school?”

“Sure, Nance, I didn’t get in at Hawkin’s Community, but I’ll pull out that acceptance letter I got from Harvard.” his eyes roll.

“Then just be with me, Steve. Let’s try and make it work this time,” she moves her head, seeking his eyes, trying to break through the wall between them ever since he’s been back.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave them.”

She blows out a deep breath and lets go of his hand.

“What if something happens? What if it starts again?”

“It’s not going to, Steve. It’s over,” she emphasizes, like it's something she’s explained before. “Why can’t anyone accept that?” Her question makes him realize maybe she has just not to him. He may not be the only one thinking of someone else. Steve has only seen Will a few times since he’s been home. The boy’s clothes were even looser on his slight frame, and purple skin circled his sunken eyes, and Jonathan wasn’t leaving for school in the fall.

“That’s what we thought the last time, Nance. That’s what we’ve thought every time,” he says, his voice quiet but resolved, “I need to stay until they graduate–”

“That’s three more years,” she complains.

“They need me.”

“I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” he gives her a soft smile, reaching for her again, “You never have, not even once.”

She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes before they can fall. There isn’t anything else she can say.

“Come’er,” he tugs her off her seat, pulling her into his side as he settles back onto his lounger. Her arm wraps around him as she rests her head on his chest, the worry coming off her in waves. “It’s going to be alright, he smooths his hand over her hair, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling closer, “Just don’t take too long.”

He holds her tightly as he looks back toward the darkened sky, the endless stars glinting as brightly as the moon. He tries to imagine his life with her in Boston, sitting on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. Would the stars shine as vividly with all the city lights? Would he still be thinking of you?

“Double check for any loose nails,” Steve instructs Dustin as he climbs down the ladder, his white t-shirt covered in sweat and dirt.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Dustin says smartly as he picks up the discarded singles that Steve had tossed down from the roof and throws them into the trash barrel.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the lawn mower,” he points his finger at the boy before picking up a bottle of water and taking a long pull. Despite the cool nights, the heat during the day still felt oppressive, and he could feel the tenderness of a burn beginning on the back of his neck.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the mower,” the boy mimics in a mocking voice before adding, “What an asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve fumes, settling his hands on his hips just as Mrs. Henderson comes toddling out of the house holding two glasses of lemonade.

“Oh boys, you finished! It looks so nice,” she says, handing the boys the lemonade and stepping back to admire the view, “You two did a great job.”

“You can’t even see it from down here, Mom,” Dustin scoffs. Earning a warning glance from Steve.

“Well, I can just tell,” Claudia Henderson informs her son, “It’s going to be such a relief not to worry every time it rains,” she says, turning her attention to the other boy, “I can’t thank you enough, Steven. I know you said I couldn’t pay you but here,” she pulls some folded bills from her pocket trying to hand them to Steve.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve waves his palms in front of his chest, “The pot roast was thanks enough. It’s been a while since I had a meal like that.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Dusty?” She looks for confirmation from her son. When Dustins folds his arms across his chest with a mumble of ‘son of a bitch’, her face goes red with embarrassment. She recovers quickly, smiling at Steve, “Would you like to stay tonight? I’ve got a casserole already to go in the oven.”

“Well–”

“Not tonight, Mom,” Dustin cuts in before Steve can finish, “I’m going to Gareth’s for Hellfire.”

“Dusty, We’ve talked about this. I don’t think that’s safe after everything that’s happened,” Claudia says, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Eddie’s dead. What more do you want?”

“Watch it, Henderson,” Steve says, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Steven,” Dustin says, shrugging him off.

“Dusty!“

“Excuse us,” Steve says to Mrs. Henderson as he grabs Dustin by the collar and yanks him around the corner of the house.

“Since when do you talk to your mother like that?” Steve asks the boy as he releases him against the side of the house. “I know you’ve been feeling bad since Eddie, but you need to get this attitude in check. She doesn’t deserve that, and neither does anyone else.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Dustin says, his voice rising in anger as he puts both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves him away. “You didn’t know him or care about him. Just do me a favor and add his name to the list of people you don’t give a shit about and forget you ever met him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, confused. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Ding ding ding. Good detective work, Sherlock Holmes,” Dustin says, trying to walk away until Steve stops him, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“So help me, I may not win many fights, but I know I can kick your ass, you little shit,” he pushes Dustin back against the house. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Like you care,” the boy spits, his face red with anger.

“Of course I care!” Steve yells, waving his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Dustin challenges.

“What?”

“Just until you get to play the hero again. Right, Steve?” he asks sarcastically.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” Steve asks, catching on. How can he actually think that? “That’s what this is all about because I pushed you through the gate? I did that for you. So you wouldn’t get stuck there. Someone had to stay-“

“Don’t give me that. You did it to be the hero. I begged Eddie not to go back,” Dustin yells, his voice cracking, nose beginning to run, “He just wouldn’t listen, and neither would you. I don’t need another dead friend, Steve. I need you here.”

“I am here!”

“I heard you,” he says, swiping at his eyes, “When El found you, screaming for her not to take you. You don’t know what it took to get you out. To get that gate back open. What we risked. Tell me again how much you care about us.”

“You got this all wrong. I care about you. All of you,” Steve shakes his head and pulls the boy into a reluctant hug, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, you understand?”

Dustin nods into Steve’s chest, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and Steve recognizes the gesture as his own. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick with emotion. “All I thought about was getting home, man. I just couldn’t leave her behind.”

Dustin sniffs, one arm reluctantly landing on Steve’s back. “There’s one thing I don’t get, Steve. If she was so important, then where is she?”

The polished silverware slides against each other, hitting the back of the drawer with a loud clank when Steve yanks it open with more force than necessary. He pulls out a fork and retrieves the open can of SpaghettiOs before heading outside through the slider of the sunroom. The conversation with Dustin plays on a loop in his mind. It’s clear the scars that they all bear are more than skin deep. How do you rejoin a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore?

He sits on the lounger stirring the tomatoey contents of the can. It’s later than usual. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. A light mist hangs over the pool's surface, its blue-green light brightening the dark corners of the yard. With the thick clouds obscuring the waning moon and stars, the woods surrounding the yards stay shrouded in shadows. Decisions hang over his head like a knife about to drop, hurting the people he cares about. It’s not the past that’s hard to let go. It’s the future that was never supposed to be.

“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff cold,” Hopper’s voice comes from beside Steve just as the first bite passes his lips.

“I guess it’s just a habit now,” Steve replies as Hopper eases himself down on the chair beside him, a six-pack in his hand. He pulls one from the plastic ring, handing it to Steve before taking one for himself.

“Hmm,” Hopper cracks the tab of the Schlitz and takes a loud slurp, “Habits can be hard to break.”

Hopper had been dropping by Steve’s a couple of times a week since he had been home. Steve isn’t sure if this is Hopper’s way of checking up on him or if he just wants an hour of quiet before returning to the full house he shares with Joyce. Hopper has as much on his mind as Steve. Some nights they don’t exchange more than a few words. Whatever his reasoning for stopping by, Steve welcomes the company.

“So,” Steve says after washing down a couple more mouthfuls of Spaghettios with the cold beer, “If I needed to find the address for someone outside of town, is that something you could help me with?”

Hopper’s answer comes in the form of a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket, holding it out to Steve in between two fingers.

There’s a skeptical look on Steve’s face as he takes the paper from the older man. Hopper picks up his beer, going in for another sip as Steve unfolds the note, his eyes widening.

“You’re a damn good cop. You know that, right?” Steve asks, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his jeans.

“You’re not the first one to tell me, kid,” Hopper says, settling back into his lounge and looking to the sky where the clouds have shifted and thinned. Beams of light push through the thin wisps, brightening the darkness. “Whatta ya know?” Hopper says, pulling a cigar from the same pocket, “Looks like it might be a clear night after all.”

A light breeze blows the gauzy material of your sundress around your bare legs as you walk down the street toward your apartment. As you hitch your tote higher, the sun warms your shoulders, and a smile plays at your lips. The pieces of your life always find their way together like a jigsaw puzzle without the bigger picture. Forcing them into what you want never works, but eventually, they fit, a new section more beautiful than you imagined is laid out before you.

Your eyes lift from the sidewalk as a car speeds past, Higher Love blasting out of its open windows. The notes blend with the rush of wind through the trees that line your street. One yellow leaf flutters to the ground, an unmistakable sign that the end of summer is near. You watch the car cruise down the road until it passes the stone steps of your apartment. Your stomach and heart turn somersaults when you see him sitting there watching you from behind a pair of dark avatars, a million-dollar smile gracing his handsome face. Your pulse quickens as you approach, wondering if he will always have this effect on you.

“Hi,” he says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his white tee just as the car turns the corner and the music fades away.

“Hi yourself,” you say, stopping in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“I thought it was fair,” he shrugs, squinting up at you with one eye slightly closed. “We have unfinished business.�� He moves his coat and an empty soda can to his other side, inviting you to join him on the steps.

Climbing a few, you sit next to him, letting the bag fall from your shoulder to rest beside you. “What’s this business?” you ask, your arms circling your knees.

He smirks in response, turning to pull something from his jacket. Returning with a cellophane packet of Twinkies in his hand. “The other pack got a little squished,” he explains as his long fingers tear open the packaging, “These are fresher. I checked the date.” He hands you one of the yellow cakes before taking the other for himself.

“Thanks,” you laugh, taking the slightly sticky treat from his hand. He brings his to his mouth but pauses, wanting to watch you take your first bite, and you oblige him. One hand hovering under your mouth to catch the crumbs as your teeth breach the soft cake. The sweetness is overwhelming you as much as his gesture. “Mmmm, that’s good,” you say with your mouth still full.

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling, taking pleasure in your reaction, at how it feels just being near you again like no time has passed.

“Mmmhmm.” Your tongue darts out, licking the filling from your lips, missing a tiny glob in the corner. Before you can make a second pass, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Behind you, the apartment door opens, and your neighbor from upstairs is maneuvering around you with a heavy box in his arms. Steve’s arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, giving your neighbor more room to get by. It happens quick enough for you to feel dizzy. Five minutes ago, you didn’t think you’d see him again, and now he’s surrounding you, heat lingering like a ghost every place he touches you. The thin material of your skirt barely separates your skin from his Levi-covered legs, his mouth just inches from yours as he bites into his Twinkie.

Your hand shakes as you turn away from him to pull a bottle of water from your bag. Twisting the lid, you take a few gulps to give yourself a moment to regroup.

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with a curious expression. He knows you too well. “Is it okay that I’m here?” He asks, his voice dropping, turning serious.

“I’m always glad to see you, Steve,” you answer honestly. It’s the goodbyes that you can’t bear.

He takes a moment, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. “You look really pretty,” the corners of his mouth lift but not with charm or arrogance, with something much softer. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I saw you coming down the street, you looked happy. I didn’t get to see that when we were…there.”

“Thank you. So do you, but I kind of miss the axe.”

A laugh bursts from deep in his chest, “Yeah? Did that do it for you?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder, “Want some?” You tip your bottle towards him.

“Sure,” he takes it from you.

“It’s my new habit,” you nod toward the bottle, “I get a bit panicked if I don’t have water with me. Kinda crazy, right?”

“Nah,” he takes a sip before replacing the cap and handing it back to you, “That’s not so bad as far as habits go. It’s kind of a smart one, actually. I keep eating Chef Boyardee cold.”

“Eww.” Your nose scrunches.

“Right out of the can,” he chuckles, his fingers circling your wrist, gently pulling your arm into his lap, turning it to reveal the healing scar running down the inside of your arm. “I can’t stand the quiet at night,” he says without looking up from your arm. “I sit outside on my back deck for the noise. It’s where I think about you.” His long fingers trace the raised skin with the softest pressure. “I fall asleep out there most nights.”

“I sleep with the lights on,” you admit in a quieter voice, loving and hating how he touches you like you belong to him-like you’ll always belong to him. “And I stuff a couple of pillows behind me, so it feels like yo–like I’m not alone.”

His eyes lock with yours, and his fingers still. An ache that dulled over the past few weeks but never disappeared completely, crashes over you like a wave. You belong to him, but he’ll never be yours. Not here. Only in another world. Pulling your arm back, you wrap it back around your knees.

He frowns, sensing the shift between you, and changes the subject. “Were you coming from school?” he nods in the direction you came from.

“Oh. Um, yeah,” you say, following his eyes. The center of campus is a few blocks away from your apartment.

“Have classes started?” he asks, thinking about the answer he owes Nancy.

“No. Not for a few more weeks. I-uhh…I was changing my schedule. I’m not going to do fieldwork anymore. I’m going to teach instead. Maybe high school,” you explain.

“But you loved it,” his eyebrows pull together in a straight line.

The same expression your advisor gave you when you told him. “I know, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, an expression of guilt washing over his face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad for me. Teaching’s a good gig. Great hours. Summers off. There are worse jobs.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says, recovering. “You can force all those kids to listen to your bad jokes.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, squeezing your knees tighter, “What about you? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”

“No, not yet,” his head turns away, looking down the other side street, “Nancy wants me to come with her to Boston.”

Your heart cracks open even though you knew this was coming. “So you’re together again?”

He turns, shaking his head, “No. Not really. She wants to be.”

“And what do you want?” you ask, but your heart already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” both hands card through his thick hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. The kids….Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Nothing’s made sense since the last time I was with you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“I think you know exactly what you want.” You place your hand on his knee, a gesture meant to comfort, but he takes full advantage, covering your hand with his, lacing his fingers through yours. You should pull away, but your heart pleads to take what you can. Goodbye is just on the horizon.

“You’ve loved her for so long.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore,” he argues, leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“I think,” you pause, wetting your lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I think you’ve been making decisions thinking of everyone else for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to choose something that will make you happy.”

“What if the right thing,” his voice has dropped to just louder than a whisper as his nose runs along your cheek, “and what I want is the same thing?”

“Steve,” your breaths are coming in shudders from deep in your chest. Tears sting behind your eyes as a cruel voice repeats from the back of your mind. He’ll never choose you.

“Can we go inside?” his lips touch yours with the barest of brushes.

His question is a jolt of ice water up your spine. You’ve indulged yourself too long. If you let him in now, tomorrow when he’s gone, you won’t recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, pulling back. You let your resolve steel your spine as you stand. Climbing a few steps, putting distance between you.

He stands, trying to follow. Sadness and confusion marring his pretty face. “Honey– "

You stop him with a hand held out in front of you. “All of this. Everything we’ve been through. It happened so you can get what you’ve always wanted. So she can see you. Don’t throw it away, Steve. You’re going to thank me someday.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t find the words. Stepping forward, you throw your arms around him in a hug too quick for him to return before you step back. “I’m so happy to have seen you again.” you smile, working hard to keep your tone enthusiastic, promising yourself you will not fall apart despite the pain. Not this time. “Send me a postcard from Boston, okay?” you ask, but you’re already turning away, pulling your keys from your tote, and moving to the door.

“I miss you,” he says. The pain in his voice makes you pause and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone before, not the way I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you turn back to him. You know he’s trying, but it’s not enough, not after having him. He’s still not choosing you, and you deserve someone who will, even though it’s so tempting to give in to him.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you next time,” you keep it light, “I’ll show up in Boston when I need someone to share a Twinkie. Take care of yourself, Steve,” you push your key into the lock.

“Wait. Wait, he says, waving his hands before they settle on his hips, “If you’re so sure I’m supposed to be with her, then what’s your reason? Why were you there? Why did we even meet?”

Your eyes shift to your shoes, trying to find an answer that isn’t a lie, reasoning that it’s okay to lie if it’s for his own good. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

The lock clicks before he can say anything else, and you quickly seal yourself on the other side. You wait until you see him walking down the steps to let yourself into your apartment. Immediately dropping your bag and leaning your back against the door. Your hand moves to your stomach as you silently apologize for your lie. Pushing away, you walk through your tiny kitchen to the refrigerator. Rubbing your eyes, you refuse to let a tear fall. You won’t regret doing the right thing. Your hand wraps around the handle before you yank it open and pull out a juice container. “It was the right thing,” you whisper, letting the door swing closed, revealing the black and white strip of photos of a small blurry shape taped to the other side. “For all of us.”

The buzzing from the cars zooming past in a haphazard flow does nothing to calm Steve’s nerves as he makes the long drive back to Hawkins.

“Fuck,” he slams his hand against the wheel as the memory of you closing that door, shutting him out of your life, replays in his mind. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. He shouldn’t have pushed. After being apart for so long, he should have known better. But seeing you come down the street, having you so close–it was like no time had passed. It felt natural to touch you. He had just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see that you were alright, but the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips had only made him want more. And then, just like before, it was over before it really began.

Steve snaps off the radio, cutting off Lindesy’s pleas. One thing had come out of it, though. He had gone to you looking for clarity, and you had given it to him. You were right. He does know what he wants. He keeps the radio off, rolling down the window, listening to the sounds of life around him. Watching the highways turn into towns and more familiar roads until he was crossing the Hawkins town line. Passing the turn for Cornwallis, he heads north toward Maple. The house is dark when he pulls into the driveway, his lights bouncing off the second-story window he had climbed through more than a few times before. But not tonight. He turns the key, pulling it from the ignition, the leather creaking as he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. The light’s still low, just breaking, when the knock on his window wakes him. The blue of Nancy’s eyes is brighter than the sky as she stands barefoot, freezing her nightgown. She takes his hand as they walk inside.

“I’m working on it, Flo,” Hopper yells in response to the knock at his closed office door. He scrambles for the empty file folder stuck between his booted feet and the desk that they are resting on. He wraps the folder around the copy of Car and Driver that he’s been reading and quickly shoves the half-eaten donut into his top drawer. Replacing it with a red apple that he takes a big bite of just as his door swings open.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says as Steve wanders into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk.

“What do you want?” Hopper asks as he settles back further in his chair, his eyes moving back to the file folder he’s holding up in front of him.

“How about a job?” Steve asks, his eyes roving around the small office.

“Ha, good one,” Hopper chuckles, pulling out a camel from his breast pocket.

“I’m serious, Hop.”

Hopper narrows his eyes as he lights his cigarette. “What’s gotten into you, kid? Having regrets about not leaving with Nancy a few weeks ago?”

“No. Nothing like that. It was never gonna work out,” Steve says, shaking his head. He said goodbye to Nancy the morning she found him outside her house. He loved her, but they weren’t right for each other. It would have left them both broken if they’d forced their lives to fit together. So, he let her go like you had let him go with affection and without regrets. Another chapter closed.

“I’m ready to figure out what to do with my life.”

Hopper stays quiet, taking another drag from his smoke.

“I figure I’m pretty good at helping people, so that’s what I want to do,” Steve shrugs.

“This isn’t just helping old ladies across the street, Harrington,” Hopper says, sitting up in his chair and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, I can eat donuts and read Car and Driver, too, Chief,” Steve says, waving a hand toward Hopper.

“Watch it, kid,” Hopper says, slamming the magazine on his desk and stubbing out his cigarette, “What happened with the girl?”

“The girl?” Steve questions

“You went to see her, right?” Hopper asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve says, looking away.

Hopper’s jaw tightens as his eyes turn to slits under thick eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, crossing one leg over the other. “She wasn’t interested.”

“Let me get this straight. You went there?”

“Yup.”

“Knocked on her door?”

“Waited for her to get home half the day.”

“Then you told her you weren’t going with Nancy?”

“Well–“

“And that you’re in love with her.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are in love with her?”

“I–”

“What’s wrong with you, Harrington?” Hopper asks, gripping the edge of his desk, “Are you stupid or something?”

“Jesus, Hop,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you seen them out there?” Hopper’s uniform-covered elbow slams down on the desk as he points to the closed door, “I’m full up on stupid. Now,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I might have something for someone who’s got their shit together, but right now that aint you, Harrington. So, come back and talk to me when you do.”

“Hop, I–“

“I don’t want to hear it, Harrington. You might be able to do some real good someday, but right now, I’m busy. Important police business to take care of,” Hopper says, propping his feet back up on the desk and burying his face in the magazine.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s sentimentality or sheer curiosity that drew him here, but he did know as soon as he saw the stack of folded afghans being placed in a box at the shelter that this is where he’d end up. On first approach, the cottage doesn’t appear much different than the one in the Upside-down. The tiny home still remained obscured by tall sugar maples and eastern white pines. White curls of paint still clinging to the old timber walls next to sturdy black shutters. But the well-tended beds of colorful flowers that line the walkways and front of the cottage give it a more inviting feel.

His shoes scrape up the stone steps, where he stops to take a fortifying breath preparing to see the woman that used to haunt his bad dreams. His knuckles wrap against the door while flashes of himself cutting away vines play in his mind.

“Mrs. Willard,” he calls after hearing a series of loud coughs on the other side of the door.

“Just a minute. Just a minute,” Her voice gets closer as he hears the locks being worked before the door swings open, “Jesum crow, give an old lady a minute to get to the door.”

Anne Willard’s full height barely put her at the center of Steve’s chest. Her poof of white curls gave her an extra few inches, as well as the sensible black shoes that adorned her feet. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” she huffs, ready to slam the door.

“I’m not selling anything, ma’am,” Steve says, giving her one of his best smiles, “I’m Steve Harrington, a volunteer from the shelter over at the middle school. I don’t think anyone thanked you for donating all those blankets, so I wanted to stop by and ask if there was anything I could help you with around your property.”

“Help me?” She takes a step forward, her balled hands landing on her hips, head tipped up to look Steve in the eye, “Do you think I’m senile? Can’t take care of myself?”

“No, ma’am. I know you’re alone out here, and I thought I could be useful.”

“Humph. Well, I guess we’ll have just to wait and see about that,” she says, her clear blue eyes as sharp as a woman half her age, “You better come inside then.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and Steve with no choice but to follow her. His eyes roam the familiar space. She must not have changed a thing in her home since time stopped in the Upside-down. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime here instead of only a few days.

“Tea,” Mrs. Willard says, raising her finger as she starts down the hall leading to the kitchen. Steve follows her, ghosts echoing in his heart as he passes the closed door of the bedroom where he made love to you.

The kitchen is the same, with brighter sunlight pouring through the windows and backdoor. Fresh flowers stuffed in pitchers dot surfaces between the knit-covered crockery. The older woman stops in front of the butcher block countertop, pushing up on her toes to reach for two mugs from the open shelving.

“Let me do that, Mrs. Willard,” Steve says, reaching beside her and retrieving the mugs.

“Enough with the Missus stuff. Anyone who makes tea in my kitchen calls me Anne,” she says, shuffling to the table and sitting, “The kettle is right there on the–”

But Steve already has the kettle filling. The knited cozy folded neatly near the stove.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she says, looking at him with a curious eye as he starts the kettle boiling and drops the teabags into the cups.

“I remember you,” she says when he turns and leans against the counter, “I know your mother. You used to run around town with your little gang like you were the Prince of Hawkins. So tell me, have you done any growing up since then?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says as the kettle starts to sing. He pulls it from the stove, pouring water into each mug, and brings both cups to the table.

“Now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap while waiting for the tea to steep, “Is there anything I need doin’? Let’s see, I had the gutters cleaned a few months back. I mow my own lawn and tend to the garden. Besides that, there’s not much else to do. My Jacob built this whole place himself, and it’s just as sturdy as the day we moved in.”

“You have a beautiful home, Anne,” he comments, trying out her first name. “You don’t see places built this solid.” The cottage was the only house they came across in the Upside-Down that was mainly untouched by the decay.

“He built it as a wedding gift. He knew I loved the lake. I just wish we had more years here together. So much wasted time.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three wonderful years. Not enough,” she smiles sadly, sorting through her memories. “We got married at nineteen, but that was considered late at the time. We met when I was sixteen, and everyone knew Jacob was sweet on me right from the start. Walking me home, and bringing me flowers, but every time he asked to take me out, I turned him down flat. I thought he was too good for me. You see, Jacob was from a very well-to-do family. Things like that mattered so much more back then. I told him he shoulda been courting Ellen-Mae Sattler. Her family owned the quarry and half the town. It was no secret she had her sights set on him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every time I sent him away, he’d just come right back.”

“How did he finally convince you,” Steve asks, completely wrapped up in her story.

“Well, one day he just showed up with a ring and said, ‘I love you, Annie, and if you turn me down, it’s not going to make one lick of difference cause I’m just gonna keep on loving you anyway.’ We got married three days later." Her lip quivers as her eyes turn glossy. "The Lord knows I miss that man every day. Suppose I’ll be joining him soon enough.”

“I know he’ll be waiting, Anne,” Steve says, covering her hand with his.

“Oh well, now I’ve gotten all weepy,” she says, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. “Now, what about you, young man? Do you got a girl out there that you love like that?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips, “I definitely do.”

A bright flash lights up your small living room, follows a round of thunder rattling the rain-streaked windows. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you sit on your worn couch with your knees pulled up, tucked under your oversized Perdue sweatshirt, you take deep soothing breaths. There have been storms since you’ve returned, but not like this. Not the kind that has the entire sky dark and purple with near-constant thunder. Not the kind with so much lighting, the hair on your arms stands up straight, and you can feel electricity buzzing in the air. It’s taken you right back there, and this time you’re alone.

With another loud boom, the lamp in the corner of the room cuts out, and the room falls into near darkness. “One-two-three,” you count, trying to keep your voice steady and breathing even. As suddenly as it turned off, the light flares on, and the display on your VCR flashes zeros. A deep sigh escapes your chest just as the door buzzer sounds.

Your muscles are stiff with tension as you stand up, moving towards the intercom, “Who is it?”

“It’s Steve.” The sound of his voice is barely audible over the pouring rain. One hand moves to your mouth while your thumb punches the button, unlocking the door. Here he is, saving you again.

Your fingers shake as you work the locks as quickly as you can, opening the door to him standing there half-drenched, hair dripping onto the collar of his soaked gray jacket, a wet crumpled bag in his right hand. He hasn’t taken a full step over the threshold when you are crushing yourself into his chest, your arms going around his middle. Stiffening, he swallows hard before dropping the bag, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s freezing but somehow still filling you with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his chest, “The storm.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, pulling you closer, letting his hands trail up and down your back, “you’re alright.”

The feel of his lips ghosting at your temple brings you back to awareness, and you step away from him, heat rising from your chest to your cheeks. “Sorry,” you say again, yanking on the cuffs of your sweatshirt, “You picked a good time to drop by,” you chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he laughs with you, “Would you mind if I come in then?”

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face with your hands, “Of course.”

Your eyes shift around your kitchen, trying to remember what you might have left out as he picks up his bag and follows you through your apartment into your living room. A small one-bedroom subsidized by the university, is a step up from the dorms you were lucky to get. The galley kitchen leads into the small living room, big enough for a sofa and a desk, that surface overflows with books and papers.

“Nice place,” he says, concern filling him as he watches you flinch with the next flash of lightning.

“Thanks.” You stand in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now, watching as he unzips his wet jacket revealing a crisp Polo. He carefully folds it, trying to avoid tracking more water through your apartment, and looks around for somewhere he can put it down.

“Let me get you a towel,” you say, rushing from the room down the narrow hallway, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The wind picks up outside. The storm is right over you now. Branches of the tree outside your bedroom sway back and forth, scraping against your windows. The bi-fold doors of the overstuffed closet stick when you try to pull them open.

“Shit,” you cry when they won’t budge more than an inch.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s worried voice calls from the living room.

The lights flicker as quick snaps of lightning flash like a strobe while you tug harder on the handles. Thunderclaps roar loud enough to shake the entire building as the doors burst open with one last tug that sends you falling backward onto your butt as half your closet empties onto the floor.

“No,” you press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed as panic and frustration claw their way up inside you. Ignoring how your head swims, you move to your knees, chasing loose geodes scattered across the floor, when you feel his hands on your shoulders.

“Leave it for now,” he says, his warm hands covering your shaking ones as he helps you to your feet. “It’s not important. We’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, trying to slow your breathing.

“It’s okay.” He cups your jaw, tipping your head back so you’re focused on him. The deep hazel of his eyes pulls you in. “Stay with me. I’ve got you, okay? It’s you and me.”

Your hands move to his chest, bunching the fabric into your fists, bringing him closer. Despite the questions that swirl lost somewhere in your mind, you can’t deny yourself the comfort he offers.

“I won’t leave you.” His chest tightens, hoping this is a promise he’s allowed to keep.

“Why aren’t you in Boston?” you ask as a tear spills over your lash line.

“Honey,” his eyes soften as his thumb strokes your cheek, “I was never going to Boston.”

As his arms move around you, bringing you close, you let out a breath that you feel you’ve been holding since you woke up in the hospital. One that has been keeping you from falling to pieces because now you can—he’s holding you together.

Without leaving the safety of his arms, you let him lead you to the couch. Your head finds a home on his chest, and you bring your legs up, curling into him. Something warm gets tucked around you. He holds you close as the storm rages outside, his heartbeat lulling you into calm. At some point, your eyes must have closed because the sound of light rain is the next thing you remember.

“It passed,” Steve says, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stirring, hoping he doesn’t have to let you go yet. Content to stay, you snuggle in deeper, tugging the afghan tighter around you both. The familiar softness of the downy yarn catches your attention.

“Wait, where did you get this?” you ask, sitting up, the scalloped edges running between your fingers, give way to a pattern of multicolored flowers.

“I went to the cottage. Mrs. Willard gave it to me, but I knew right away that it belonged with you.” His arm slides from your shoulder, traveling the length of your back.

“You went there?” An ache runs rampant through your chest. As the sensible voice inside you begs you not to let him climb through the cracks into your heart.

“I needed to see it,” he takes your hand, eager to keep the connection, “it was exactly the same. She hasn’t changed a thing. I asked if she needed any help, but as it turned out, the only thing she needed was someone to listen.”

"And what did she say?"

“She just talked,” he shrugs. “She told me about her husband and their life together. It made me realize how much time I’ve wasted,” he lifts his eyes to yours, “You were right, I know what I want. I want you. You’re the one I can’t live without.”

After all these weeks, the words you didn't dare dream of fall easily from his lips. Leaving what was left of your battered armor to shatter and fall away.

“I should never have left you in the hospital, and I should never have said goodbye. I should have fought for you like I did there. I know you don’t think we belong together, but you loved me. Is there any part of you that still does?”

“I never stopped.” The tears run down your face faster than you can wipe them away. “I can’t. I love you, Steve.”

His eyes light up at your confession. His lips pull tight into a smile as he leans forward, dipping his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I love you,” you start again, choking on the words, “But there are things you don’t know about. Things that could change your mind.”

The secret you’ve been keeping is a band on your heart, constricting its beats. One that you know will change everything.

“Honey, whatever it is…I love you. We survived the world burning down around us. We can make it through anything.”

His hand moves to your neck, but you push him away, “No, Steve, you don’t understand,” you hiccup as the tears blur your vision. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I promise,” His thumbs wipe away your tears, “Let me get you some water, and you can tell me.” He stands, leaving you for the kitchen while you try to find a way to tell him.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve would do the right thing, and that’s exactly why you couldn’t tell him. He would stay with you out of obligation, and one morning you’d wake up to resentment written all over his face as he trudges through the day instead of living out his dreams. You won’t take that from him. So you’ll tell him, and then you’ll let him go for the last time taking your heart with him. The cabinet bumping closed reminds you of what's pinned on your fridge.

“Steve, wait!” you scramble toward the kitchen, but you're too late. He turns the corner, his eyes lowered to the ultrasound photos he’s carrying in his hands.

You stand still, quiet sobs wracking your chest, like a chess piece on a board waiting to see if his next move will knock you down.

His eyes finally rise, full of hurt and shock. "You're having my baby."

You owe him so much more than the nod of your head, but the words stay lodged in your throat. The sound of soft rain hitting the windows fills the silence between you. He carefully sets the strip of scans on your desk, making sure they have their own spot like they’re something precious. He staggers toward you, moving slowly like he’s afraid to frighten you, his face still in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” you manage as he stops before you. He shakes his head from side to side, keeping his eyes lowered.

“You don’t have to…”

Your words trail off as he sinks to his knees. Placing a gentle hand on your belly, he leans forward until his forehead rests softly beside it.

“Hi,” he whispers, “I’m your dad.”

His fingers stroke feather light where his child is growing inside you. He’s never imagined anything more beautiful.

“You want us?” you ask in whispered tones, “Are you sure?”

“Honey, you’re giving me family. It’s all I have ever wanted.” His lips press softly against your belly.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh taking your fears with it. The love you feel for him—him and the part of him inside you, cracks open your heart until it’s filling every part of you with such a force you’re surprised you can’t see it glowing under your skin.

“Are they okay?” he asks, lifting his head, keeping his hand where it is, his eyes glossy as he looks up at you, “Is the baby okay? The Upside-down..”

“Yes,” you say, interrupting, not wanting him to worry for a second, “The baby’s fine. Developing normally. I had the ultrasound early, to be sure.” You cover his hand with yours, and he sighs in clear relief, his other hand grabbing your hip.

“You're my reason. Both of you,” he says, pulling you closer, “I’ve never been more sure.”

“You’re mine too,” you say, dropping to the floor to join him, your hand moving to his stubbled cheek, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore,” his hand cradles the back of your head, “I love you, and I’m going to take care of you if you’ll let me?”

“How about we take care of each other?”

His lips stretch into a smile before he leans forward, and they close over yours. "Deal," he agrees, going back for another kiss.

Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls you tightly against him. The plush of his lips working lazily around yours. Steve was right. He had held you like this while the world burned around you, expecting your last act to be loving each other. A love that is rare and true and written in the stars. A love that will survive the test of time. Time that neither one of you will take for granted. Living fully in each minute, watching your love grow into a family. You can feel all this in the press of his lips. The stories of your future are printed there.

"I love you," he says again because he wants you to know loving you was never a choice. His fingers move under the edge of your sweatshirt lighting trails of fire along your skin as his kiss changes from slow to hungry.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. Even though his hands are already on you, he wants your permission to go further.

"Please," you pant, already on the edge of being consumed with want, "I need you, Steve."

"I need you too, honey. Need to know you're mine." His hands lift the edge of your sweatshirt, and you raise your arms, helping him rid you of it. He barely glimpses what he's uncovered before you pull at his Polo, stretching the fabric in your greed to feel his skin against yours. He takes you back in his arms, and it feels like home. Your soft skin a contrast to the thatch of hair on his chest as you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own. The wet slide of his kiss only makes you want more. Want all of him.

Your whimpers drive his urgency as he lets you go to retrieve a pillow from the couch and carefully lays you back on it. His fingers grip the waistband of shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs.

"You look so pretty all laid out for me," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his heels, his big hand landing where your knees are pushed together, "but I want to see all of you."

Your fingers trace your kiss-bitten lips, feeling the ghost of his as your thighs fall open, revealing the glossy evidence of exactly what he does to you. His fingers run absently up and down your inner thigh as he looks his fill wearing the expression of a man about to take what's his.

"Steve," you whine, feeling impatient while your hands move to your breasts adding a graceful slow roll of your hips to remind him he can do more than just look.

"Fuck, honey. How did I ever stay away from you?" he asks, crawling over to place a kiss just above your belly button, the first in a slow trail ending at the top of your pussy. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you open for his first slow lick up your center that sends your back arching off the floor.

“You taste so good. I’m already addicted,” he says, eyes catching yours before his mouth closes over you in a wet assault, tongue swirling through your folds, drawing circles around your clit.

“No one,” you gasp, clawing at the carpet while your hips fight against the press of his hands, “No one has ever made me feel this way.”

You can feel him smile against you as he slides two fingers inside your velvety heat moving in and out of you steadily, curling upward to brush against the spot that adds a new layer of euphoria radiating through you.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel like this,” he pauses to kiss the plush of your thigh. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he returns his attention back to your pleasure. He groans with your gentle tugs, the vibrations rippling against your core.

“Need to get you ready for me, honey,” he says, adding a third finger. Biting down on your lip, you hiss through your teeth at the slight sting of the stretch. He gives you time to adjust, waiting until your slick soaks his fingers.

His pace quickens, changing those quick jolts of lighting into a blur of rapture. Your walls tighten as your body tenses. Your chorus of desperate moans his new favorite tune.

"That's it, give it all to me. Cum for me, beautiful." His lips close over your clit, sucking in short bursts. Your blood sings with the new sensations rushing through you, turning molten as you rise like a fiery star.

Calling his name, you fall over the edge into bliss, the world ceasing to exist beyond your connection. He helps you float down with gentle touches and light kisses placed on your belly. He can’t fight back his smile as he looks down at you. A face that he memorized every detail of, now glowing with his love and his child. He didn’t have to die to become the man he wanted to be. He just had to open his heart.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s there, deep moss swirling with amber and gold filled with love. From the first moment you met, you placed your faith in him, and fate has led you to a love you never thought you’d find. After the uncertainty, the struggles, and the fears have fallen away, love is all that is left between you.

He’s chosen you, and you, him. Once in another world and again in this one. A life together that was fought for and hard-won. As the page turns, you’re no longer fearful of what's next, knowing you’ll be together. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll take his hand and welcome the adventure.

Epilogue

"And that's why you don’t take life for granite."

A chorus of groans erupts as the students gather their books and papers when the shrill bell sounds over the loudspeaker.

"Hey, I better start getting some more laughs out of you all, or I'll be forced to assign more homework," you call out over your shoulder as you erase the formulas you had written on the blackboard.

"Will we see you later, Mrs. Harrington?" says the ringleader of a group of four boys lingering around your desk.

"Sorry, guys. No AV club tonight," you tell them as you settle into the creaking chair behind your wooden desk, "I've got plans. Next week, alright?"

"I bet you're going to be busy getting set up to watch the Perseid meteor shower?" questions Travis, the overly enthusiastic one. With a mouth full of braces and a head full of curls, he reminds you of someone else you know.

"Something like that," you smile, thinking about your plans as you tidy the papers on your desk, adjusting the large geode next to your nameplate.

"Alright, see you tomorrow," they concede, shuffling out, their disappointment already forgotten by the time they make it to the door.

"See you tomorrow," you call after them as Tina, an 8th grader with hearts in her eyes, squeezes past them into the doorway.

"A policeman in the office is asking to see you, Mrs. Harrington."

"Thank you, Tina. Can you please tell him I'll meet him outside?" you can barely hide your smile, knowing exactly why he’s here.

"Sure," she says, leaning her head against the edge of the door frame, "He's really dreamy."

“Alright, Tina,” your eyes roll, “Get to where you're supposed to be.”

She’s quick to follow instruction as you finish preparing for your next class. Leaving your room, you walk through the quiet halls and across the empty gym, the sound of your heels clicking against polished floors. Pushing open the set of double doors at the far end, a warm hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you outside into the shade of the building and maneuvers you up against the hard brick wall.

“Mmm,” you whine as Steve pulls away the collar of your blouse and attaches his lips to the spot where your pulse is speeding up, “You're going to get me in trouble,” your voice already breathless, as your hands move to his head holding him there.

“I can’t help it,” he says, running his hands along your sides, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve got me so distracted.”

“Is that so?” you ask as his lips brush over yours.

“That’s so.” His thumb tugs at your chin, coaxing you to open so he can take the kiss deeper. “I can’t even concentrate..” His words trail off as his mouth takes yours, kissing you like he did that very first time. Like you’re the only woman in the world. Like he adores you.

“Steve,” you mumble against his lip as your hands smooth up the front of the crisp tight-fitting blue button-up. Seeing him in uniform never fails to make you ache with need. The top two buttons are always undone, revealing the white shirt he wears underneath with just a glimpse of the hair on his chest showing and a shiny silver badge pinned just left of his heart. Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck that he still wears too long to be regulation.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” He asks as one of his hands slides lower on your hip, down the side of your skirt, dipping just under the hem.

“He gave me the all clear,” you breathe out, pulling his mouth back to yours as his hand continues to climb until it finds the lacy edge of your stocking and the garter it’s attached to.

"Are you wearing lingerie?" His fingers get bolder seeking out more of the lace.

"It's new," you answer, grinding yourself against his hardening length, “I thought you deserved it. You’ve been taking such good care of everything since the baby.”

“Jesus, honey,” he groans, tipping his head back and slapping his hand against the rough wall of the building, “How am I going to wait until the kids are in bed?”

“You won’t have to. Hopper is picking up the boys after hockey, and Joyce already has the baby,” two of your fingers start walking down the front of his shirt, brushing against the leather of his belt, heading lower to the flat front of his tight black pants. “We’ll have the house to ourselves until tomorrow.”

“What about Fate?” He asks, his eyebrows pulling together, always the protector of his other favorite girl.

“She’s having a girl's night with El and Max.” you smile, knowing he would ask about your oldest. You set up this plan weeks ago. Waiting to be together after the birth of your babies is just as hard on you as it is on him.

“You’re sneaky.” His hand reaches around you to give your ass a little squeeze.

“You love it,” you admit pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says as the bell rings again, projected through the speaker over your heads.

“I’ve got to go,” you swat his hand away so you can straighten your skirt.

“Not yet,” he pouts, using a finger to trace your neckline, pulling it away from your body, “Just let me have a little peek,” he tries looking down the front of your blouse.

“Get out of here,” you laugh, giving him a gentle push.

“Fine,” he grumbles with a smile, turning to walk back to where his cruiser is parked.

“Tonight,” you call, making him turn and look back at you.

“Tonight,” he says, raising the fingers of his left hand to his lips, the sun glinting off the gold band on his fourth finger, “and forever.”

The End

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with this little series. It challenged me in ways that I never expected, but I learned a lot writing it.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #if tomorrow never comes #steve harrington x fem #stranger things smut

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eddies-house · 7 months

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Six - Sugar

W/C: 4.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

A crybaby and the town grump walk into a bar...

A/N: idk why but this chapter was giving me so much trouble and i've been really doubting my writing and second guessing. It's more of a filler chapter but still important to the story. I'm super excited for what's to come tho!!

Masterlist

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Three Weeks Later

“Bambi, go home already. Your shift ended–” Eddie pauses to check his watch. “-jesus, like an hour ago. Why are you still here?”

The floors were pristine, mopped to perfection, chairs stacked on top of the tables, and rags started in the washer. Every glass found home on their corresponding shelves, all dried and perfectly polished for the following shift, not one imperfection among the twinkling surfaces. The place was spotless and there you were, standing on top of the bar in order to reach the top of the light fixtures which, judging by the amount of dust on them, went neglected for some time now. Your apron was long discarded on one of the barstools and sweat dripped from your brow, the epitome of hard work if he’d ever seen it. The Bourbon hadn’t been this clean in years.

“I’m almost done, I swear.” You reply quietly, clearly far more engaged in your cleaning frenzy than any conversation he was trying to coax you into.

“No, you’re done.” Eddie marches around the bar, revealing himself just in your peripheral. “Get outta here.” There wasn’t an ounce of venom behind his words, however, he was without a doubt becoming increasingly annoyed.

You chance a glance down at him only to find his standard scowl etched onto his face. Except, it wasn’t as mean spirited as you were used to and it hadn’t been for quite some time. It was cute; the way his lip would slightly jut out and how his smile lines were so prominent, eyes drooping in irritation. Endearing irritation that you grew accustomed to.

“I will.” You state, feather duster swiping through a satisfying amount of dust. “When I finish.”

“No, get down.”

Your first instinct is to obey without question. Listen to authority. But in the previous weeks, you’d found it easier to let loose. Sure, Eddie was always somewhat crabby but it never intimidated you and whenever he found himself particularly pissed off, he’d banish himself to the back office which aided in releasing any tension you’d built up throughout the week. So, it wasn’t that difficult to at least attempt some friendly banter. Especially if you could get him to crack a smile. It was a win in your books when he tried so hard to withhold it from you or even better, turned around completely to shield his broken composure from you.

“Don’t you have–what did you call it– ‘a shit ton of paperwork’ to do?” You joke.

“Ha. Ha. I’m serious, get down.” He mocks, glaring up at you, a stupid little tug pulling at the corners of his mouth. Barely noticeable, but you take note of it.

“‘M not gonna fall, if that’s what you're worried about.” You mumble, shaking your head.

“Judging by how many times you nearly eat shit throughout the week, I’m pretty worried.”

Pretty worried.

Saliva caught in the back of your throat, you try to play it off like dust that had gotten trapped in your airways, clearing your throat. Only, your body had just reacted far too quickly to his words, resulting in the failure of a simple bodily function.

“I do not…” You crouch down, poking the end of the feather duster at his chest. “...fall that often.” You pout.

“Yeah?” A tiny smile pulls at his lips. There it is. “That’s why I said ‘nearly’.”

If you could bottle up the look he was giving you, you would selfishly keep it all for yourself to stare at on bad days. Such mischief and amusement lingered in his gaze. Sparks lighting up the dark and cloudy haze he usually exhibited. Like fireworks against a colorless sky, beautiful hues popping left and right but after all, everything is always temporary.

“I don’t ‘nearly’ fall that often either.” You whine.

“Just get off my bar and go home.” Eddie demands, voice warm and buttery despite his intent to kick you out.

Staring at him expectantly, he relays the same expression to you with raised brows. In response, you cock your head to the side, luring the word out of him. He doesn’t quite catch on, eyes narrowing while you wait. A smirk appears on your lips as you remain perched on top of the bar, feather duster forgotten next to you. His eyes grow a few sizes as if to urge you to speak up. And then he gets it.

“Please.” It drips from his tongue like warm caramel.

His eyes relax, creases between his brows ceasing and lids becoming heavy. Another look you would mentally take a snapshot of just to hang it on the walls of your cluttered brain. You’d be sure to clear a spot just for it.

“Gladly.” You offer the same smooth tone, hopping off the bar only to lose your balance along the way.

And before you can face plant into the hard wood planks, two large hands stabilize you, holding your waist firmly until he is sure you aren't going to collapse, but not yet letting go. If you were to set aside your cowardly tendencies, you would look up and feel his breath against your face. And you’re sure you could probably count the faint freckles on his nose that you’d only seen briefly when almost colliding into him during a rush. You only remain glued to the floor, both your eyes and feet.

“Careful, Bambi.” He scolds softly.

“‘M sorry.” You murmur.

“No need to be sorry.” You timidly glance up at him. “Just–just be more careful.” He pleads.

You were good and ready for him to yell at you, fully prepared to recoil as he raises his voice but it never comes. And it hadn’t since that one time with the plates but you were like a skittish animal and long before you had even known him, any conflict had you in a corner every time, eyes full of tears and lip trembling. You could only hope you didn’t look as pathetic right now.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He begins to soothe, a certain nervousness in his voice. Obviously you did look just as pathetic if not more.

His hands had left your waist to graze over your shoulders hesitantly, concern evident in his tone while he consoled you. He shouldn’t have to console you for fuck’s sake. Why were you on the verge of tears over your clumsiness?

“Sorry, sorry. ‘M fine, I swear.” You attempt to suck back the tears, head tilted toward the ceiling, lip tucked in between your teeth anxiously. “J-just go do your paperwork. I’ll be gone in a minute.”

Just when you think–no hope that he walks away, those large hands are gently grabbing at your wrists as you use your fingers to push the tears back into the corners of your eyes. A soft touch that for some reason, only made you want to cry more.

“Stop apologizing.” Eddie says, attempting to catch your gaze, finding it difficult as you begin to stare at the floor, hiding huge watery globs under your eyelashes.

“Just–let me get my things–” You begin to voice shakily, vision blurred with tears that you resented.

“Sit down.” He demands calmly, concern carved into his features from what you can make out through blurred vision.

“No, no, it’s okay–”

“Right here, sit.”

Eddie directs you to a barstool, the distorted world around you becoming progressively more overwhelming by the second. And all because you almost fell in front of your boss and he had to catch you. It wasn’t your intention, appearing as the stupid girl who happened to be a gigantic cry baby, emotions too sensitive to the horrors of the real world. Though, that was the reality, wasn’t it?

“Sorry.” You whisper, a few rogue tears escaping after the good fight you put up.

At this, he releases a heavy sigh. You can’t help but feel childish and small, your confidence devastatingly lower than before as you try to regulate your shaky breathing and wobbly lip. You just needed a minute, one minute to ride out the wave of anxiety. Eddie lets your umpteenth apology slide, slowly slipping into the stool next to you.

“I’m–uh–I’m gonna go home.” Your voice is an octave too high for his liking.

“Not like this you’re not.”

You remain on the stool, embarrassed, your cheeks feeling hot with stained tears. This was hell if anyone ever asked you. Slowly but surely revealing just how big of a wimp you were. Sure, you’d shed a few tears when he screamed at you over the plates but he hadn’t even done anything this time. You reacted purely on instinct and it was humbling.

“Let’s uh, let’s try this…” Eddie starts, running a ringed hand through his bangs. He slides a napkin in front of you before reaching for your apron on the back of his stool, stealing a pen and setting it on the napkin. “W-write down, uh, write down your feelings?” He says, so unsure even he couldn’t take himself seriously.

With a sniffle, you try to hide your confusion as you stare at the bland brown napkin. Eddie groans and for a moment you think it’s because you’re not playing along but quickly dismisses the thought when he reaches for another napkin and steals a second pen from your apron.

“Um, it sounds–it sounds stupid. It kinda is stupid. But, um, you just write what you’re feeling? A-and it’s supposed to…shit I dunno. It’s supposed to help clear your head I guess?” He explains.

You wait for him to laugh, wait for him to mock your tear stained face and absolute lack of emotional control. You wait for the ‘why are you crying’ in the most condescending tone and the lecture as to why you had no reason to cry. It never comes. Instead, as you sneak a glimpse at him from the corner of your teary eye, and he starts writing.

“So, right now, um…” He clears his throat. “Right now I’m feeling, uh, concerned?”

You can tell he’s having trouble coming up with words and that this was difficult for him…feelings were difficult for him. Something you could heavily relate to.

“Or, uh, you c-can just write…whatever…” He trails off, clicking the pen against the counter repeatedly.

Rather than answering, you clumsily pick up the blue pen, dropping it once with a trembling hand before fully grasping it. Then you begin writing as he instructed. If he made fun of you for what you were writing down, so be it. You’d already embarrassed yourself enough.

You expected him to chime in by now, scoffing at what you had written down. But when you glanced over, he was doodling on his napkin, something that appeared to be a dragon. Minding his own business. Awkwardly, you set the pen back on the counter, causing him to peek over at you.

“It helped.” You mumble. “A little.”

“Good.” He replies, tapping his pen against the counter. “So, uh my therapist usually has me share once I write everything down–or at least share the main points. You don’t–you don’t have to but that’s just…that’s what we do.”

Eddie expects you to crumple up the napkin and throw it out. Then you would leave and think to yourself how ridiculous he is. He didn’t know how to help people–hell, he didn’t even know how to help himself most of the time. What he doesn’t expect is for you to shyly slide the napkin in front of him. Averting his eyes, he’s unsure if he actually has permission to read but when you nod your head ever so slightly, he still has trouble looking down at what you had scribbled out. It felt like he was peeking into your brain, something he felt he wasn’t worthy of.

Humiliated

Stupid

Exhausted

Anxious

Small

Burden

Crybaby

Lonely

So many words for such a small increment of time that you had been scrawling away on that napkin. So many words that held such heaviness.

“Wow.” Is all that he says upon his first glance over.

Anxiously, you suck in a breath, attempting to snatch the napkin back in regret only to fail as Eddie slides it out of your reach.

“It’s stupid, I-I’m gonna go…” You begin, hopping off of your stool.

“It’s not stupid–”

Then you were gone, a gust of wind practically slapping him in the face. He couldn’t find it in himself to complain, only troubled by the inner workings of your mind. It was all too familiar and he was beginning to feel as if he wasn’t the only one cursed with a diseased mind. Selfishly, he found comfort in that.

–

There’s only one thing worse than a shitty car. Two shitty cars. Specifically a shitty car and a shitty truck. Both unreliable, both sputtering every time Eddie put the key in the ignition. Grandpa Roy’s ‘Ol Reliable four-door sedan wasn’t living up to its name and was on the decline by the looks of it. It had been for some time, though he was alway able to find a temporary fix and keep it running. Today he had no such luck.

The truck, Sugar, was arguably in much better shape. She was well-loved, red paint chipping after years of use and a cracked rear window. The engine had its moments but she was still better off than ‘Ol Reliable.

“C’mon, Sugar. Don’t be like that.” Eddie mutters, turning the key in the ignition a few times more, only to be met with failure. “Fuck.” He whispers, hopping out from the driver’s side to prop the hood open, large hands splayed out along the sides as he prepares for battle.

With a sigh, he ties his hair back and discards his leather jacket on the ground in exasperation, even going as far as to give it a small kick away from his work space. A wooden work bench was strategically placed on the porch under the awning, leaving no issue for when winter came around so that he had easy access to his tools even in the most dreadful of snows. Snow hadn’t kissed the ground quite yet but the further into October it got, the more crisp the air became, a subtle announcement for what was to come.

A deep, resentful groan leaves Eddie’s chest as he trudged up the steps to the porch, lips all perfectly pouted while he reluctantly pulls each of his large rings off only to drop them in a cup he’d taken from a diner years ago when he made the move to Knife’s Edge. An already greased up rag was snatched from the worktop and tucked snugly into his back pocket.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

He counts to himself under his breath as he collects the necessary tools. It wasn’t like he had to be at the bar yet, though he would’ve liked to stop by the store to stock up on cigarettes and see if he could find any of those cocktail cherries on sale. He wanted to save where he could. Every cent mattered. Then he was more than likely going to sulk in self pity while trying to figure out how to summon money from the sky. Maybe indulge in a beer in his office. He couldn’t afford to comp beers for himself like that but he could dream. After that maybe he’d have a good cry before the chaos ensued again.

Those plans went out the window when Sugar decided to test his patience. Perhaps he should be grateful to his unfaithful truck for attempting to lure him out of the isolation he planned to encase himself in. It was one thing to isolate yourself at home, it was another to trap yourself at your place of work hours before it actually opened and beat yourself up over every little thing and question where it all went wrong.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit.” He reiterates to himself, tossing a wrench in his hand as he makes his way back to Sugar. “Go easy on me.” He begs.

The pumpkins you had been angling perfectly on your porch were suddenly so miserably uninteresting; how could they not be when such an erotic site was placed right in front of your prying eyes? Regretfully, your wet dream came to life. Except, you played no part in it and Eddie paid no mind to you. Not that he ever would. And even if he did, you’d made it clear that you were a nutcase.

You still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way his arms flexed under his short sleeves and how he grunted while tugging at something under the hood of his truck. Drool could have been dripping from your chin and you wouldn’t notice, too hypnotized by his every movement. He had opted to wear some black converse today rather than his standard black combat boots. It was cute, you couldn’t lie, the small change made you giddy. And the way his shirt was riding up as he stretched himself over the engine felt like a tease. A peek at what you had once gotten a glance of while wasted but didn’t get to fully appreciate as your sober self.

God, you could recall the blurry image of him momentarily pulling his puke stained shirt off cautiously, revealing his lean figure. It was practically pixelated in your mind. As you reminisce on what your drunk self had taken for granted, reality feels just as distorted when Eddie’s eyes land on yours. Huge doe eyes, almost cartoon-like catching your attention as if a moth to a flame. You want to look away, you beg of yourself to look away but your inner voice is muffled; almost as though you were under an enchantment.

And like a siren call, his voice reaches you. You fear that you may be all too willing to drown just to hear it again.

“Will you hold this for me?” He shouts, almost desperately. Almost.

Your eyes widen, hands still resting atop a perfectly orange pumpkin while you sit pretty on your porch step. An Autumn dream. Suddenly, Eddie wishes he would’ve kept to himself rather than requesting your assistance. Had he thought it through, he would’ve opted to magically grow another hand. Instead, he stands with ruddy cheeks and syrupy eyes, glazed with adoration that he was frantically attempting to wipe from his vision, shoving the feelings that were oozing out of him back into his stupid sweaty skin.

“Um…” You reply in surprise, already crossing the border between properties, a shy stutter to your walk. “Well I don’t really know how to…” You trail off, suspecting that he could figure out the rest of your thoughts on his own.

Oh, how he regrets calling you over. His clammy hand clutches the wrench, providing no aid in his attempt to calm his nerves.

“You don’t…you don’t have to, uh…” He appears as if he’s battling his own thoughts, gaze casted toward the ground as his eyes dart left and right. “Can you just hold this?” He finally gets out, pointing to a part of the engine. “Sugar won’t start and I swear I can have her running again but it’d be a hell lot easier if you could just hold this real quick.”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar.” He confirms. “Oh!” Realization hits him. “Yeah, Sugar. My truck.”

“Okay…” You whisper, unsure.

You could almost forget the mortifying incident from the early hours of 3:00 AM as you took in his wet chocolate coated eyes, the light Fall breeze seeming to affect him. His lashes clumped together like art and his nose was tinted the perfect shade of rose, those faint freckles dotted along the bridge like little constellations.

“Just, right here.” He instructs, turning his attention back to Sugar.

Following his lead, you adjust your hand where it's needed, an uncomfortable, greasy residue coating your fingers as he works. From this angle, the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his profile, flyaway curls highlighted in the light like a halo and nose endearingly round at the tip with lips tucked into his teeth as he concentrates. And then, his tongue pokes out, an adoring sight that only makes you yearn to reach out and graze your fingertips over the stubble threatening to emerge from his cheek.

“Thought you’d name it something more…tough.”

Your meek voice earns a glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in that cute way that everyone always recognized as harsh and cold-hearted.

“What?” The way his eyes crinkle at the corners paired with his confused expression only give you more reason to let your stare linger a little bit longer, a bold move on your part.

“Um, Sugar–”

“Oh, Sugar.”

Simultaneously, you refer to his truck, interrupting each other while his elbow grazes your arm as he tightens a bolt.

“Uh, well…she’s, uh, the only girl in my life.” He jokes, quietly chuckling. “And, she’s not exactly brand new so I’ve gotta treat ‘er nice.”

“And…she can hear you?” You question, attempting to hide your oncoming grin.

This time, he only glares at you over his shoulder. There’s a comfort in the way his eyes seem to swallow you whole.

“Okay, okay, ha, ha. I know, she’s a truck–”

“And you keep calling it a ‘she’.”

Eddie pulls back, stepping away from the engine, prompting you to do the same as you stare up at him, a smidge afraid that you might have actually offended him. A few rebellious curls frame his face, creating the vision of a princely man who in reality, was nothing of the sort. Not in the sense that he wasn’t gentlemanly, only in the sense that he didn’t care what others thought.

“What? You never heard of people calling their car a ‘she’ before?” He asks, offense barely evident in his tone. More than anything, he appears to be amused by your observation.

“No, I have. Just didn’t think you seemed like one of them.” You remark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Again his eyebrows crinkle in the cutest fashion, lip curling ever so slightly as he brings a hand to his hip. You begin to think that no one has ever looked so good covered in grease and you’d never been attracted to the smell of oil but you could make an exception if it meant you’d get to see his features this close. Eddie was a pretty guy. And the more his colors showed, the more entranced you became.

“I dunno, nevermind.” You attempt to divert the conversation.

“No, no, you have to tell me. Please enlighten me.” He crosses his arms, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“No, forget it!.” You giggle.

Eddie can feel his shoulders relaxing at the sound. Can feel his tension release even if just the slightest. His eyes relax, a lazy gaze focused on you. Everything suddenly feels so…calm. As if his life wasn’t falling apart. You were like some kind of drug that made him forget how shitty things were and if it only lasted a few seconds at a time, he would gladly invest in as much as he could until he overdosed. Which to be fair, he didn’t think was possible.

“No, what do you mean? Say it with your chest, I dare you.” He nods at you, eyes showcasing that same spark you’d notice every now and then. The spark only seemed to get bigger and bigger. One day you’d hoped to see a fire ignite, a full explosion of his personality.

Biting your lip, you look at him sheepishly, doubting yourself. But something about his gaze eggs you on.

“You just…you’re all…big and bad.” You mumble, eyes finding themselves glued to the ground.

“Big and bad?” Eddie repeats.

It’s enough to have you backtracking, pathetically trying to erase your words. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like a goldfish.

“See, it was stupid! I was being stupid. Just forget–”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He asks, genuine curiosity blended in his tone along with a dash of concern.

“Doing what?”

Your puzzled expression only makes his chest ache. Leaves crunch under your feet as you fidget, visually nervous. He hates that he always ends up making you uncomfortable, never able to get a grip though maybe he can blame his highschool-self. He never talked to girls and maybe if he had, he’d be having better luck right now. Who’s he kidding, maybe if he just wasn’t even himself he’d be making a lot more progress.

“Calling yourself stupid.” He mentions quietly.

No one has ever confronted your self-deprecating commentary, only ever remained silent as if to agree with you or they’d simply shift the topic. Never has someone questioned your reasoning.

“Oh…well I uh, I didn’t think I did it that often.” You begin to stutter, clearly taken back. He wishes he could rewind back to when you were bantering back and forth about his truck. He probably would’ve found another way to fuck up the conversation, even if he could go back and give himself another chance.

“But if this is because last night I wrote–” You start again, only for him to keep running his big mouth.

“A bunch of bullshit?” He states. Like it's a fact.

Your wide eyes aren’t a good sign.

“What?”

“Yeah. Bullshit.” He sounds so sure of himself.

“Oh.”

You physically seem as if you're deflating, your body closing in on itself, shoulders slumping while you take a step back. It was the opposite of what he wanted. But he could always count on himself to ruin a good thing.

“No, no! I didn’t mean it like–I didn’t mean–fuckin’ christ.” Eddie runs his clean hand down his face. “I didn’t mean it was bullshit. I meant that…I guess I meant that you shouldn’t feel like that?”

It’s quiet. Eddie knows he deserves a slap across the face, if anything. But you just continue staring at the ground, lost in thought. Moments pass and he’s starting to feel he should dismiss himself and hide forever. Forget fixing Sugar and just become a hermit.

“Why?” You whisper.

He doesn’t offer an answer, only shrugs slowly. He just kept putting nails in his own coffin.

“Don’t you…don’t you think I’m those things? Like…like there’s something wrong with me?”

Eddie steps closer, not enough to push your boundaries but still enough for you to notice. He tugs his lip in between his teeth, pulling at it anxiously while he thinks. And with his arms still crossed, one finger taps at his elbow in threes. You follow the action.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“No.” He says simply, to which your head snaps up.

Cola colored irises are awaiting you, welcoming you in a way. A softer expression falls over his face, his cherub-like features becoming enhanced.

“I don’t think you’re those things.” Eddie says confidently. “I think you’re just right.”

~end~

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