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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

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Body Like A Back Road: Part Two

Read Part One

Joe comes to terms with the fact that he can't take back his confession, and it may change his relationship with you forever

Warnings: smut, language, mentions of funeral, angst

A/N: I didn't really expect this to turn into such an angsty mini-series, but here we are lol

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

Joe was looking for an outlet for his frustrations, and he found it in the 600 lb. vending machine that was holding his bag of Lays barbecue chips hostage. It had to be way after midnight, the hallway empty and eerily quiet, the only sounds from the mechanics of the machines around him.

He ignored the buzzing from the overhead lighting and the hum of the ice machine next to him, as he sized up his opponent. He faced off against an o-line bigger than this all the time, but unfortunately, he wasn't wearing any padding right now, and the other team usually DIDN'T smack HAVE smack HIS smack DINNER smack HOSTAGE.

He threw his shoulder against the machine a couple of times, rocking it back and forth, before giving up, the bag still suspended between the glass and the coil. He roughly pulled his wallet out his back pocket, pulled out a couple dollar bills, and went through the motions again, stabbing his finger on the buttons A and 3. The mechanics whirred as another bag of chips was pushed forward, tipping before it ultimately landed on top of the previous bag. Now he was out four dollars with nothing to show for it.

At some point tonight, between agonizing over his confession of love to you and trying to get you to answer your damn phone, he must have fallen asleep on the rock hard mattress in his room and woke up starving. This hotel was severely lacking in amenities, the only source of food the stale snacks in the vending machine at the end of the hall.

Joe hated hotels. They always smelled kind of funny, he could never get the air condition to cool the room enough to his preferred sleep temperature, and he hated the thought that someone else had slept on the same bed before him. Still he didn't hesitate to join you on this road trip, knowing it meant leaving his comfort zone. You meant a lot to him, for whatever that was worth now.

"C'mon you piece of shit", he mumbled under his breath as he punched the glass, which didn't budge, before resting his forearm on top of the machine, hanging his head in defeat. He could try to pretend he was angry at the machine for swallowing his dollar all he wanted, but he knew it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that he had just told his best friend, the only solid relationship in his life, that he loved her, and her response was sheer confusion. "You sure do know how to fuck up a good thing, don't you?"

His head quickly turned to the side at the sound of footsteps, another hotel guest watching having caught his tantrum. They looked stunned, and honestly a little bit disturbed, which he really couldn't blame them for.

"How much of that did you see?", Joe muttered out just above a whisper, the patron stone faced and unmoving, ice bucket in hand. Joe gave him a quick nod and rushed past him, just hoping and praying he wouldn't see a headline about him on Sports Center tomorrow.

He immediately felt a thin layer of condensation on his skin as he entered his room, throwing the key card on the desk and heading directly for the balcony. The door stuck as he tried to open it, giving him trouble as he closed it back with a slam.

Your contact was at the top of his recent call list, unsuccessful attempt after attempt filling up the rows. He pressed your name again, holding up the phone to his ear as it rung a couple of times before going to voicemail.

"Hey this is Y/N, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave me a message"

Your relationship was a lot of things: messy, intimate (he had the bite marks to prove it), surprisingly cathartic, to name a few.

The one thing it wasn't: love.

Joe had been in love before. It made him sick to his stomach, unsure of himself in every conceivable way, and it always ended up the same way, with him regretting ever having uttered the three words.

With you, things were easy. The sex was amazing; he was blushing just thinking about the events of earlier that night, and you didn't hound him for answers to questions he couldn't possibly answer or try to force vulnerability out of him. Things between you two just were the way they were, they settled exactly where they were supposed to, no muss, no fuss. He had no intention on ruining any of that on this road trip, but it slipped out, and he wholeheartedly regretted it.

So why did he say it then? Why did he say he loved you if he wasn't in love with you?

His feelings for you started building when you guys were just friends, but you both were just moving at different speeds it seemed, and if you weren't in a relationship, he was hung up on someone else and the time just never seemed right. You both ended up in the same city by a pure stroke of luck, but he was so focused on his career and trying to cure his only loneliness, he entered this agreement with you instead of confessing his feelings, simply because it was easier at the time.

Joe had a hard time keeping up with you, metaphorically of course. A big part of him had felt you slipping away for quite a while. He knew where he was going to be for the next couple of years, his contract with the Bengals determined that, but you were never sure, allowing life to take you were it wanted to in the moment. You made it clear from the jump that Cincy wasn't where you saw yourself settling down, and even if you were just "fuck buddies" by definition, he didn't want to lose you. He couldn't imagine a life where you weren't in it, and he knew that once you left, your relationship, and most importantly, your friendship was as good as dead.

He leaned forward on the railing, taking in the subpar view of the main road of whatever small town they were in, the warm air hitting his face, the smell of cigarette smoke burning his nostrils. This road trip had opened his eyes to one thing: your friends with benefits relationship was going to end eventually, and he wanted, no he needed you, after it was all over.

Who the hell was he kidding? He told you he loved you because he did love you, and he was hoping that he meant enough to you to make you stick around. Sure, he didn't go about it in the best way, but he meant what he said, and he needed to make sure you knew it wasn't a slip of the tongue.

If you weren't gonna answer your phone, he'd go to your room and try to explain everything to you. He had to fix this before you got back on the road tomorrow.

When he went to pull on the wooden balcony door handle, it let out a couple of squeaks, shaking in his hand, but it wouldn't budge. Figuring it was giving him trouble again, he pulled with all of his might, straining his bicep muscle, but the door wouldn't open.

This had to be some twisted, fucked up joke. He was stuck out on this crappy balcony, cigarette butts piled in the corners, the neon McDonalds sign cascading a dull yellow on the side of the hotel building, and he had no way of getting back into his room.

His hand was shaking as he pulled his phone out his pocket and called you again, this time being sent straight to voicemail.

Your phone was either off or it had died. Fuck. He dialed the front desk, but just as the call connected, the line went silent. He pulled his phone down to see the flashing red battery symbol on the screen. His own phone was dead, and he had no way to call for help.

He rolled through his options. He could try to break the glass door but it was very thick, and he didn't have anything to throw through it. He looked over the edge of the balcony. He was only a couple floors up, he could jump down, but the potential for injury took that idea out of the running.

Frantically looking around, he realized he really only had one option.

With his long arms he could just barely reach the edge of the neighboring balcony. He could try and jump over and try to get into the next room over. The room was completely dark, and there was a chance that no one was occupying the room, but he had to try.

His sneakers squeaked against the painted concrete as he propped his foot on top of the balcony and lifted himself up, clinging to the side of the building. He was able to easily step over to the next balcony, jumping down into the cement box.

He didn't need to peek through the window as the curtains were wide open and the room was empty, the sheets still balled up on the bed, waiting for turn down service.

He went through the motions again, stepping over to the next room... that was also empty.

He was tired, hungry, and irritable, growing more frustrated by each passing second, but he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep outside tonight, so he lifted himself up for the third time, jumping down into the balcony. At least the light was on in this room, the curtains just barely open. He felt bad for looking in, but he was desperate.

You had just gotten out of the shower, your hair dripping wet, a towel tightly wrapped around your form. The blue light from the TV flashed across your face as you dried off your hair. Joe couldn't help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you move around the room. He really did love you. He felt the familiar knot in his stomach, but not one that made him sick, one that made him excited. He only felt that way when he was around you.

Your head snapped around when Joe rapped his knuckles against the glass, startling you.

"Fuck!", you screamed out, cowering against the bed, gripping your towel tightly in your fist.

"Can you let me in?" Joe asked with a chuckle as he pointed to the door lock, his voice muffled by the thick pane of glass. You let out a huff as you crossed the room, unlocking and sliding the door open for him.

"What the hell are you doing out there?", you pointed a finger at him, "and how the hell did you get on my balcony?"

Joe threw himself back on the bed, sighing as he closed his eyes, exhaustion hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Your phone is dead.", he grumbled out, almost about to fall asleep. You grabbed your phone off the nightstand to confirm that he was correct.

"Yeah, that doesn't answer either of my questions."

Joe opened one eye to look up at you. "Balcony door broken. Locked out of room." You rushed over to the balcony, stepping out to survey how much of a jump he had to make. "So you decided to hop balconies? Do you know how badly you could have hurt yourself if you fell?" You weren't in the mood to go at it with Joe after the night you had, but that wouldn't stop you from chastising him for doing something so stupid. "You're lucky you didn't fall to your death."

Joe watched you as you turned away from him to get dressed, holding your towel up so he wouldn't be able to see your naked body. "You know its nothing I haven't seen right?"

You scoffed, "Joe, I'm not in the mood right now, okay?" You rolled your neck to alleviate the tension you were feeling in your body. Joe sat up, positioning himself on the edge of the bed, his elbows propped on his thighs. "About that..."

You snapped the band of your sweatpants around your waist, stopping his train of thought. "Joe, please don't do this. I just want to forget what happened between us and just go back to the way things were. I liked the arrangement we had." You squeezed the last drops of water out of your hair with your towel. "It was working for both of us."

Joe paused for a second, his gaze falling to the ground. "What if it wasn't working for me?" He could only imagine the look on your face, because he couldn't dare to raise his head.

You were frozen in place, not sure of how you felt. You were so confused; this confession came out of the blue, and while you cared so much about Joe, probably more than anyone else who came into your life, things were just too complicated to go down that road. You didn't like complicated. You liked simple, your life demanded simple.

"Are you going to say something?" Joe let a sharp breath out of his nostrils, his jaw flexing as he finally looked over at you. He could see your wheels turning, and the longer you were silent, the more he knew he wasn't going to like your answer.

You crossed your arms over your chest, digging your fingertips into the spaces between your ribcage. "No."

"No, what? No, you don't love me? No, you don't know how you feel?" Joe raked a hand through his hair, an incredulous look on his face. "I need a little bit more than no."

"No", you shifted your weight between your feet nervously. "No, I'm not going to say anything. I just want to go to sleep, get my car in the morning, and get the fuck out of this town." You stuffed your things back into your bag. "This was a mistake", you mumbled under your breath, but he caught every word.

Joe jumped to his feet. "Finally something we can agree on. Me coming with you on this trip was a big fucking mistake." He paced to the door, his hand roughly gripping the handle. "If I knew that we were going to end up here, I would have kept my mouth shut." He swung the door open harder than he intended, hitting the wall with a bang.

He took a single step before stopping in the threshold. That pep talk he gave himself before coming over here wasn't for nothing.

In the blink of an eye, Joe slammed the door shut, grabbing you by the waist and pinning you against the wall with his hips. You could barely let out a gasp before he crashed lips with you, the kiss hard and passionate, his hands cradling the back of your head, holding you in place. You pushed at his chest to break away for a breath, taking in his face, his eyelids heavy with lust. "What the hell was that?", you whispered, unable to look away from his pink, swollen lips.

He tone was even, his voice a low rumble. "Tell me that you don't love me, right now, and I'll drop the subject forever. We can go back to being fuck buddies, or nothing. Whatever you want."

Your chests heaved in unison as you contemplated Joe's ultimatum.

"I-", the word was came out as a squeak, your throat drying up as you tried to speak. You didn't know what you were going to do, but you knew you didn't want to lose Joe.

You grabbed the back of his neck, roughly kissing him again, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you made out. You were glad he was holding you up, as every inch of your body went numb, your fingers and toes tingling with excitement.

Joe pulled away for second, a smile on his face as he looked at you, moving back to kiss you again as he lifted you up, carrying you to the bed.

#joe burow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x y/n #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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zanarkandskylines · 4 months

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Tidal Wave

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡ summary: a horrible accident occurs while reader is on patrol for the night. when she's released, she runs to bakugo's apartment for support tags & warnings: loss of parent, failed rescue, trauma, angst, emotional comfort, fluff a/n: in my head, katsuki would be a very supportive BF who would comfort you after a bad day in any way he could, especially when it comes to losing people on the job. it's never easy and heroes need care, too!! ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,454 ꒱

Getting ready to head out for a short night shift, you text Bakugo to let him know you're safe. He's always worried whenever they schedule you super late, especially by yourself.

[you] i'm heading in now, want me to text you when i'm home? might be late [kat] yes, don't care. if i'm up or not, i'll at least know you got home safe [you] okay, love you [kat] love you too

───

Time of death; 12:05AM.

The rain pelted against the neoprene material of your hero suit as you stood with the paramedics.

“Y/H/N?” One of them called to you. “We need your report on the incident.” She waited beside you with a clipboard, her paperwork growing damp with each raindrop.

─── A normal late night patrol, you’d been walking a dimly lit street on your route when a small child came running up to you, latching on to your leg. She couldn’t have been more than 8 years old.

“Excuse me! Miss hero!” She sniveled as she buried her face against your thigh, clutching your suit in her tiny palms. She was shaking like a leaf - covered in, what you presume, is mud.

You slouch over, a gentle hand on her head. “What’s wrong, little one?” She looks up at you, her eyes the color of sapphires.

“My mommy is in trouble! I tried to help her, but…please miss hero, come with me!”

Her dainty fingers grab your hand and pull you in the direction she came from. A few minutes down the road, you see an older woman on the riverbank. She’s face down, it’s hard to see without direct light what exactly happened. You’re jogging over to her with the little girl by your side.

“Sweetie, can you tell me what happened?” You ask the child.

She wipes a dribble of snot on the back of her hand. “Mommy and I were walking over there,” she points to the nearby bridge. “And she fell over into the water!”

”You’re very brave to come find help,” you praise, giving her a pat on the back. “Let’s get your mommy away from the water while I call my friends to help.”

While waiting for the rescue crew to arrive, you cautiously move the mother further away from the edge of the river. Suddenly, she begins to seize, catching you off guard. She’s gasping for air, flailing her arms around with tears pricking the corner of her eyes. You roll her on her side, rubbing her back as you see the lights of the sirens coming over the bridge.

Come on, come on, get here faster!

The ambulance pulls up on the pathway and 3 paramedics dispatched from all sides. They’re running up to you, yelling, “Clear the way!” You take the little girl’s hand and guide her up the riverbank to the ambulance.

“She’s been poisoned! Grab the siphon kit, stat!”

As chaos is brewing all around, rain begins to patter against the grass outside. You’re wiping mud off of the little girl’s face as you hear, “We’re losing her!”

You place your hands softly over her ears, turning to the paramedics as they’re attempting to revive her mother.

Please, no...

"Is my mommy going to be okay?" the little girl asks sheepishly. You can't answer her, you just nod your head and smile the best you can. You have to keep a brave face for her.

Then, you hear the dreaded noise.

* Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep *

Your heart drops, sinking into your stomach as you squeeze your eyes shut. Everyone in the vicinity is holding their breaths collectively. The paramedic with the respiratory machine wearily gets to her feet.

"Mark the time of death as 12:05AM."

───

You’re on autopilot, shoving your emotions deep down as you recall the events of the night to the paramedic for her report. You can't emote right now, you have to pull it together until you can leave.

"The child will be brought into protective custody until we find a relative. Thank you for your service, Y/H/N. You're free to go - we'll take it from here."

Before leaving the scene, you take one last glance over to the small girl. She's under a blanket in the back of the ambulance, staring blankly into space.

It breaks your heart.

───

You're sprinting, faster than your legs can carry you, through the downpour as you approach Bakugo's apartment complex. What time even was it? Last you checked, almost 12:30AM. He's gonna be pissed when you wake him up.

You needed him, now more than ever.

You round the corner of the third floor and skid to a stop at his door, soaking wet, leaving a puddle onto the hallway floor. You can hardly breathe as you knock, praying he's either still awake or won't be frustrated.

Fuck, I should have just called.

To your surprise, Bakugo answers the door after only two knocks. His expression shifts violently from annoyed to worried when he sees you standing there, immediately pulling you inside and shutting the door.

"What the fuck happened Y/N?!" he asked, more so demanded.

You can't hold it together anymore - you crumble into his arms, sobbing hysterically. His t-shirt absorbs the waterfall of tears you're crying, inconsolable against his chest as he's supporting your weight.

He runs his hand through your bangs, brushing the wet strands away from your face.

"Shh, hey, it's alright," he whispers, stroking your wet hair. "Any louder and you're gonna get me a noise complaint."

You let go, realizing that you've made a mess of his entryway and his t-shirt. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"Y'don't have to explain shit. Now let me get you out of that before you catch a cold."

Bakugo spins you around, tugging at the zipper of your hero suit harshly. The skin-tight bodysuit under the rest of your gear loosens, letting him slip his hands inside and peeling it off of your cool skin. You didn't realize how cold you were until this moment, shivering beneath his touch. Your suit crumples onto the floor, along with the rest of your accessories, leaving you in your underwear.

He tenderly grabs your shoulders, pushing you toward the bathroom. Little droplets of water fall from your damp hair as he's leading you down the hallway.

Before you know it, steams is rolling out of the shower as Bakugo is stripping himself down to get in with you. He soothes you as he takes the rest of your clothes off, guiding you into the shower with him. He puts you under the water first, rinsing your body with the hot water to warm you back up.

As the water cascades around the two of you, he's stroking your back, eliciting the remainder of your emotions to come pouring out. A quiet sob escapes you as you try to explain yourself.

"I...I couldn't save her," you start to say, hiccupping between your words. "Her daughter was...she was just a kid...I couldn't help her mother."

Bakugo kisses your forehead. "I'm sorry, baby. I figured that was the case." He continues to wash your hair and body, peppering you with kisses and letting you cry out the feeling. He knows all too well how you feel - the first time you lose someone you're protecting on patrol hurts a fuck ton, no matter the circumstance. It never gets easier.

Once you're all cleaned up, he steps out of the shower first to grab towels. He hands you one as he exits the bathroom, muttering just a sec under his breath. Not more than a minute later, Bakugo returns with a handful of his clothes for you.

"Arms up, buttercup," he playfully sings as he throws the t-shirt over your head, ruffling it at the hem to get it to fit over your physique. He kneels to the floor, a pair of his boxers stretched out for you to step into. You oblige as he yanks them up your legs and comfortably settles them on your hips.

You shuffle your feet in place, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry for making such a mess, Kat. I didn't know what else to do in the moment."

He cups your cheek in his hand. "Idiot, y'don't need an excuse to come to me. You should know that by now."

Bakugo takes your hand in his, leading you out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He tucks you under the covers first and settles in behind you, immediately wrapping his arms around your midsection.

"I'll wash your suit for you tomorrow," he says hushed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Kats. Thank you."

Just a quick little blurb 'cause I wanted to write Katsuki being sweet without hesitation. :)

Divider by : @/saradika

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #pro hero bakugou #pro hero bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #bnha #mha #bnha shorts #☆.rei writes

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kaushikengworks · 9 months

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Thermoplastic vs. Cold Plastic Road Marking Machines

Explore the differences between thermoplastic and cold plastic road marking machines in this informative blog. Make informed choices for efficient road marking solutions. Learn more now!

#Construction Products #Road Marking Machine #Construction Equipment Manufacturer

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K]

Summary: Rather than telling Joel you’re thankful for him saving your life, you show him.

Word Count: 4k

CW: A bit artsy 👀 mentions of physical assault, descriptions of wounds, detailed gore. Quickie vibes. Dirty (literally) sex. Slight exhibitionism. Gagging. Possible Ep. (4) spoilers, BASED ON THE GAME.

Tease: “Good… That should keep you quiet,” he mumbles.

Squeezing the veins in your wrists, the blanched zip ties that locked your hands tightly had cut off the circulation to your fingers. You hadn’t been able to feel them when the door burst open.

He’d stormed into the ‘abattoir’, as the Pittsburgh hunters called it, with a bull-like rage. Blood from the gaping wound on your forehead seeped into your eyes, yet you could see the heaving of his chest as he descended upon the butchers with a callous ferocity.

It all felt dream-like, the sequence of his fatal dance. The dingy room was lit only by the slithers of sunlight that peeked through the boarded windows, illuminating the dripping crimson on the blade he plunged into the hunter's throat. He offers them little solace in death, moving swiftly to the next and discarding the shiv in favour of his fists.

He tears through him, knuckles devastating the face of the man who had dragged you into the room by your hair. Discarded in the corner of the death chamber, you’d been promised a skinning, to be carved up until you painted the ashen tiles rosey. Instead, the bull-man brutalises your aggressor with military precision, slamming his head into the marble catafalque with such force that fractions of his skull fly through the room, ricocheting off the ceramic-grid walls.

You considered, at the time, that it gave the same effect as firecrackers. Though, you hadn’t felt like celebrating.

“You bit?” He’d asked, detecting you on his final sweep of the room. In turn, you offered an almost comically meek shake of your head, daunted by the cruor that dripped across his face. You were inclined to remember Carrie, the pigs' blood painting her prom dress and staining her blonde hair. Likening your captor to a pig felt cruel to the swine.

Your saviour hovered, his eyes drifting over your exposed skin in search of teeth marks.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” A loud, alarmed cry of a young girl had shocked you from your trepid-haze. She lingered in the doorway, staring slack-jawed at the blood that soaks the aggressive animal she calls ‘Joel’. Her youthful face is round, dotted with freckles and her mousy brown hair is pulled up in a ponytail. Strands of her fringe frame her face, and scrapes cover her cheekbones and chin.

“Ellie,” Joel had answered with a firm tone, ordering her attention, “We gotta go; they ain’t gonna take long to fi-“

“You can’t just leave her here,” The young girl, Ellie, squeaked in utter dismay, the frantic wave of her index finger at your bindings indicating her urgency.

Joel’s expression showed his irritation, opening his mouth to argue before letting out a strangled growl. His blood-wet hands white-knuckled the shiv in the body he had discarded, pulling the weapon from its throat with a sickening squelch.

Stepping over to you, he’d slipped the shiv between your hands, slicing through the zip-ties with a single heave. The blade's flat edge painted the insides of your wrists with sticky gore.

That was six hours ago if the moon's location was anything to judge. Joel had led both you and Ellie through the savage streets of Pittsburgh, narrowly evading the Humvee that cruised the roads. With the machine gun trained on the shadows in the alleyways, the hunters implored ‘the man and the girl’ to reveal themselves; their voices tinged callously. The decaying corpse strapped to the hood of the armoured vehicle hadn’t gone unnoticed by you, and you doubt Joel, eagle-eyed as he was, had overlooked the wordless threat either.

The environment was challenging, flooded hotels with rusted elevators that were out of use and crumbling buildings that were dangerous to scale. Despite the risk, Joel remained calm and led you and Ellie through it with barely a fault.

By evening, as the lowering sun painted the bloodied streets with an ichor glow, your impromptu group had discovered more survivors- Sam and Henry. The brothers had offered shelter in exchange for company and aid crossing town. Once again, Joel had begrudgingly obliged.

Henry had opened the door to his safe house, situated within a rundown apartment building. He and Sam shared out blueberries, the kids toying around and taking turns throwing the fruits into each other's mouths before sleeping for the night, Joel insisting the two needed rest for the final frontier tomorrow.

With the children asleep, Joel and Henry set about their plan to leave the city. The uncertainty you felt about Joel’s appreciation for your presence kept you from adding to the proposal. Regardless, both men appeared confident without your input — natural leaders born from protecting their respective children.

It’s sometime past midnight. Joel sits at the window, a mixture of the silver moonlight and the golden lampposts just beyond the glass pane illuminating his face. Henry had given up his post an hour ago, retreating to a mattress in the corner of the room to recoup. Joel has taken over, lost in deep thought. His eyes scan the streets below in search of a threat, be it the homicidal Humvee or clickers crawling around in the shadows.

Unspoken gratitude sticks to your oesophagus, causing a lump in your throat. Despite his hesitation, Joel had saved you from those hunters and led you through the city until freedom was within touching distance. Something told you he was deserving of thanks for at least gifting you this golden opportunity.

Joel’s silver hair glows in the moonlight, strands of platinum against the bronze. The scar stretching across the bridge of his nose appears ruddy in the low light, drawing attention to the age-old wound and causing you to contemplate how he got it.

You know practically nothing about this man beside the obvious; His name, that he’s guardian to the young kid called Ellie, who you’re not even sure is his child. Your only other observation was that he was a brilliant battle strategist and executioner. Joel’s weapon skill is undeniable, his hands brutal and deadly with a handle or a trigger.

Regardless of this limited information which ensures he remains more of an enigma than a friend, your heart thrums wildly in your chest as you watch him, bathed in the glow of the night while protecting his new-found group of survivors.

If you weren’t so fucking hot, you’d put it down to a fever-chill, delirious with flu. Sadly, you could only put your crush-like symptoms down to years of solitude. The little kindness the gruff, staunch man had shown you had kicked your heart into overdrive, millennia of evolution and human nature begging you to search for further comfort in him. All this within six hours.

Pathetic.

Suppression of the ridiculous notion simply isn’t enough. Your body yearns for Joel’s touch. Despite the feral and frankly terrifying way he dismantled his foes, your brain has somehow managed to convince you of his suitability as a partner, a protector.

At the very least, you manage to steer your lovesick brain towards at least thanking him for rescuing you from your bindings. However, it’s as though your lips are frozen. Situated in the corner of the room, you cannot will yourself to speak, can’t urge yourself to articulate your appreciation.

Instead, you stand. Joel’s eyes snap towards you, the fingers that had been scratching at his beard stilling at the motion he detected in the corner of his eye. He seems to settle at the sight of you, though, muscles melting back into their semi-relaxed posture as you approach slowly, careful to avoid knocking anything that could wake those around you.

“Trouble sleepin’?” He broaches conversation delicately, as though he’s uncertain you’re strong enough to face communication. It’s not as though you’re surprised; you probably reminded him of a kicked puppy when he discovered you shivering and whimpering in the disgusting corner of the abattoir.

You offer a nod, which Joel returns with a slow bob of his head. His eyes flicker to the window, hawk-eyes scanning the area before turning his attention back to you. “Can’ta been easy for you.”

Swallowing thickly, you urge the words forwards from your throat. When your thanks breach your lips, to your embarrassment, your voice cracks. No sound comes out.

Joel’s eyebrow arches, the crinkles on his forehead deepening as he watches you struggle to articulate.

“You feelin’ okay?” He asks you, pupils once again dragging across your exposed skin in search of bites. The simple action has your cheeks burning in the darkness, and it’s as though he’s hypnotised you with this minute act of kindness. “You’ve been quiet since we got back.”

How pitiful that is; simply asking you if you felt okay being enough to make you fall head over heels for a stranger.

Joel shifts towards you in his seat, palm settling against the rotten wood of the window sill to steady himself. His muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his flannel, and you can’t help how your heart surges against your sternum. It’s screaming out how you want him so bad it’s almost dizzying. You want him.

“Haulin’ ass across the city like that must’a been difficult after that close call,” he continues the one-sided, hushed conversation. Clearly, this was unlike Joel’s brusque persona, but he was delicate with you, and you find it all the more endearing. “M’Sorry if it was too much, we couldn’t risk bein’ caught aga-“

You lunge forward, capturing Joel’s slightly chapped lips against your own. The sudden movement appears to have shocked the poor man, his hands hovering in the air on either side of your head and balling into fists on instinct. It’s ridiculous, but you’re trembling as you kiss him, overwhelmed with nerves at his body's rigid stance. You hear him release a haggard gasp of surprise through his nose, but he does nothing to pull you from him.

Anxiety has your body frozen in place until you feel the rough, survival-calloused touch of his palms against the skin of your arms. It urges you to search for your own anchor, your hand settling on the thick chords of his neck and your fingertips scraped by the rough texture of his beard. You’re startled by the frantic thumping of his pulse there.

It’s like you both spark into action at once. Joel’s tongue slips past your lips and traces across your tastebuds clumsily, losing all composure as you pull him closer. His fingertips are digging into the muscles of your biceps while you grasp frantically at the collar of his dirtied flannel.

It felt dream-like. Touch and affection after countless days and nights of solitude have you almost delirious when you wrap your forearms around his neck. You wonder how long he’s been on his own, his own hands frenzied as they settle on the globes of your ass. Embarrassingly, you’re whimpering at the sensation of his tongue swirling around your own and Joel’s hushing you when he pulls back.

“C’mere,” his baritone voice vibrates through you head to toe as he hooks his hands under the backs of your thighs, lifting your body for you to cling to him. His equanimity long forgotten, Joel appears to clutch at this opportunity for intimacy as desperately as you do, carrying you across the floor of the room. He’s careful not to rush, quiet as he passes the sleeping children to approach one of the doors to another room.

You’re a menace, dragging your tongue across the vein protruding through the veil of skin across his neck. He tastes salty, sweat clinging to him from the efforts of escaping the hunters and a twinge of iron from the blood that had washed off in the flooded hotel. You’re already addicted to his musky scent, moaning softly against his throat. It earns you a yank of your hair in warning, his body pushing through a doorway and clicking the lock behind you before you yelp out in surprise.

“Told you to be quiet,” he mumbles hoarsely, lacking any sense of admonishment.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his skin, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt in an attempt to strip him and gain further access. Joel carries you in the almost pitch blackness, using the moon's low light dripping through the far window to locate a sofa. He lowers you down onto the dusty fabric, but neither of you seems bothered by the less-than-ideal location - the likelihood of surviving tomorrow to get another chance at this was slim.

The wall between you and the rest of the group seems to settle Joel, his actions a little less restrained. He sinks his hips between your thighs, knees resting on the cushions as his hands drag up the peaks and troughs of your ribcage and a squeeeze at the flesh of your breasts. It causes your hips to lift from the sofa, grinding against his own blindly. The whines that leak from your lips are obscene, erect nipples brushing his rough palms as he grips at your boobs.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel moans mindlessly, leaning down quickly to press his lips to yours and mute your filthy noises. Your knees hook over his hip bones, the heels of your feet pushing against his ass to pull him harder against you in a desperate attempt to feel closer to him.

Somewhere between groping in the darkness and kissing him breathlessly, you hear Joel let out a ragged gasp of his own, your clothed crotch rubbing just right at his growing erection.

Fervently, you’re grabbing at his belt and battling the darkness to unhook the prong from the leather. Joel’s palms are pushing under the hem of your t-shirt, raising it over the curve of your breasts so that the bunched-up material settles just under your throat. This way, he has unfettered access to the naked swell of your boobs. He envelopes your nipple with his mouth, tongue swirling over the nub and dragging a needy whimper of his name from your throat.

Somehow, between the mess of limbs and bundled-up fabric, you manage to unhook his belt. Slipping it from the loops in his jeans, you throw it to the floor recklessly. The metal of the discarded buckle clatters against the wooden floor, and you can’t help the bubbling complaints in your chest when Joel pauses his ministrations at the loud noise.

He’s listening out for the group waking, you know this, but you’re so desperate that you’re frantically shoving your hand underneath the seam of his trousers and gripping at the velvety shaft of his cock. Joel groans against the supple flesh in his mouth, holding your other breasts in a bruising, punishing grip.

“Fuck-“ he mumbles illegibly against your skin, releasing it from his mouth with an audible pop. “So fuckin’ desperate. You like havin’ your tits out for me like this?” There’s a flutter of amusement in his voice, feverish at how your body responds to his touch.

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you agitatedly grab at him with a soft whimper. Joel lets out a pleased hum as you flick the button of his jeans, pulling the fly down to hurry him up. A thatch of curls peaks from behind the bottom of the zipper, exposing his nakedness beneath his trousers. Your eyes flicker up to Joel in shock, skin burning.

Joel doesn’t offer you a moment to address his commando-ness, instead hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your jeans. He doesn’t bother to unbutton them, instead opting to wrench them over the width of your hips with a strong heave. Your underwear goes with them, the tightness of the unforgiving fabric of your jeans dragging them down your thighs and bruising your hip bones.

You’re grasping blindly at the armrest above your head as Joel spreads your legs wide, his hands settled on the backs of your thighs. He hasn’t even bothered to remove his jeans entirely; the waistband dropped just above his knees.

“Fuck-“ He grits out between his teeth, sweeping the tip of his cock through the weeping mess between your folds. You’re soaked. You can hear it, the glossy wetness loud in the quiet of the room as he lubricates the head of his dick with your cum.

He nudges against your neglected clit, and the barely there friction is enough to rip a choked sob from you. Your knuckles strain at how hard you grip the corduroy fabric of the sofa. Joel’s hold on you is equally strained, grabbing handfuls of flesh from your thighs and pulling until it aches.

Your pussy clenches as he drags himself back through your folds, settling the head of his dick against your entrance. His chest is heaving, steadying himself against the arousal humming in his bones. It had been years of loneliness, no doubt for the two of you, and you weren’t confident it would last longer than a few moments.

Slowwwwly, he’s sheathing himself inside you with a steady roll forward of his hips. Your toes curl into the small of his back as he stretches you open with his length, pressure building deep in your abdomen already. Joel lets out a strained growl as he slams his fist into the cushion beneath your head.

“F-uck-“ he chokes out, watching your head tilt back into the sofa, your jaw slack. It’s like he’s pushing the oxygen out of your body to make room for him, your lungs burning white hot.

Joel’s forehead braces against your collarbone, rattling breaths indicating the strain your heat has on his concentration. “Christ- I just- fuck, gimmie a minute.”

His cock is throbbing inside you, nudging against your walls as you spread your thighs wider. His breath is hot against your skin, fanning across your sternum and grounding you from the intense strain against his width.

Joel manages to collect himself eventually, nodding weakly and steadying his palm against the sofa’s armrest. He uses his other hand to tilt your hips upwards, testing the waters by slowly pulling himself from your sopping heat and inching inside you again slowly.

It’s as though he’s punched you in the gut, dispelling what little oxygen you had left and winding you. A high-pitched wail falls from your mouth, and he’s quick to cover your lips with his palm, groaning out as he pushes himself flush inside you. You swear you can see his lashes flutter as his eyes roll back, your tight walls driving him insane.

“Shut up,” he somewhat begs you, nose pushed into the soft flesh of your cheek as he whispers into your ear. Then he’s grinnddding up against something utterly devastating inside you, heaving gasps of his name leaving you from behind his hand.

“JoelJoelJoelJoel,” you sob, tears welling as his cock splits you open again. Your cunt is loud too, creaming around his dick as you cry loudly. Joel’s laughing weakly, finding your almost devastating arousal amusing if a little nerve-wracking considering you’re definitely being too loud.

“This ain’t gonna work,” Joel mumbled softly, slipping out from you again. It causes you both to gasp at the loss of friction, your hips pushing back against your will in search of his touch.

“N-No wait-“ you beg with a whisper, scared he’s giving up on this, “I can be good, I’ll be quiet, I promise-“

Joel cuts off your rambling suddenly, looping his arm underneath your hips and heaving you over until you lay flat on your stomach. You feel his abdomen resting against your back, arching over you as he reaches over your body.

“Joe-“ you attempt to ask him what he’s doing, but you don’t make it that far. Joel’s fingers slide into your mouth, pushing down on the flat of your tongue and sinking down your throat. You gag around them at first, surprised by the intrusion.

A rumble sounds beside your ear, Joel humming in appreciation as you grow accustomed to the feeling and begin to suck on his digits. “Good… That should keep you quiet,” he mumbles, nose pressing into your hair as his free hand angles your hips upwards again.

You feel him notch against your entrance again before slowly grinding himself back into you. He stretches you nicely this time, sinking inside to the hilt until his hips meet the curve of your ass. Whimpers leaking from your lips are smothered by the blockage of his fingers in your mouth.

“Perfect.”

With that, Joel pulls his hips back before slamming back inside of you to the point it jolts your body up the sofa. You sob out; the sound blocked in your throat as Joel sets a brutal pace, pounding into you so hard that your ears start ringing. The slapping of his skin meeting yours and quiet curses dripping from his mouth is all that sounds through the room.

Your stifled cries rise in pitch despite their muted volume, the head of Joel’s dick pushing up against something utterly ruinous inside you. His hand on your hip uses your body as a counterweight, pulling you back onto his cock to meet his thrusts, and it’s like your vision is swimming.

“Oh god-“ you choke out around his fingers, but it comes out all slurred and incoherent, your body trembling at the rising pressure building inside it.

“Mhmm f-fuck,” Joel hums into your ear, beginning to lose composure already. “God— ‘m gonna cum, fuckin’— so tight. ”

Joel reached around your waist, feeling blindly through his thrusts for your clit. It doesn’t take long, and a single, delicate brush against the sensitive nerves has your eyes rolling back in your skull while everything below your hips clamps down suddenly.

You go rigid, squeezing his cock tightly through your mind-melting orgasm. The muscles of your thighs are trembling, and you let out a hoarse shout that Joel only just manages to suppress by shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, to the point your teeth press into the back of his palm hard.

Pathetic whimpers are all you can manage as he suddenly slows down, his grip on you almost bruising as you bear down on him. “Ngh— Fuckin’ shit-! I’m—“

Joel’s fumbling to get out of the confines of your greedy cunt, grabbing ahold of his cock with his palm and barely managing to pump it more than once before he’s cumming, the warm yet feeling of his cum spurting across your back causing your sore muscles to contract in shock. You hear him growl quietly, and it sounds like he’s biting his lip to hold in the sinful noises.

When the ringing dissipates, you hear the panting from both of your lungs, Joel’s ragged as he removes his fingers from your mouth, strings of saliva trailing from your lips. He leans back against the sofa, groaning softly. You glance over your shoulder, unable to find the strength to lift your body yet. He’s rubbing at his face with his hands, looking utterly exhausted.

“Christ,” his accent seems thicker like this, slurred with bliss and fatigue. “That your way’a sayin’ thank you?” His question hangs in the air before his eyes glance at you.

Nodding slowly, you offer a wordless answer which causes him to let out a single, short exhale—something like a laugh.

“Mhm. It’s a pretty interestin’ way of showin’ gratitude.”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” you whisper to him shyly, your voice hoarse from his fingers shoved down your throat.

He tilts his head back slowly, arms resting against the back of the sofa, and shakes his head slowly. No, he didn’t. Chances are the group wouldn’t make it past the Humvee tomorrow, and if the armoured vehicle didn’t get them, the guards on the bridge just might.

“Get some rest,” he whispers to you, standing up from the sofa on unsteady legs and pulling his jeans up. “Gotta go back on watch, and you gotta be ready for the shit storm comin’ tomorrow.”

A smile plays on your lips, watching him redress. Sounds like you’re invited to join in on his little escape plan after all. You remember how he dismantled the hunters when he saved you, the brutal nature of ripping him down each threat with frightening skill.

Somehow you felt you’d be just fine.

“Got it.”

END

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homunculus-argument · 11 months

Text

Things that are beyond our neighbour's dog's comprehension:

The unpleasant part of the walk is over quicker if you walk faster instead of dragging behind. A walk in unpleasant weather will take longer if you move as slowly as you can.

Your owner's door and the door outside are on different levels. One must go through the elevator to reach the right door.

The elevator door only closes if you are on one side or the other. If you're standing in the middle of the doorway, the doors will continue bumping into you and sliding back open until you choose which side of them to stand on.

Though shaped differently, other doors also function by the same principle. If a door is slowly approaching your head, it will make impact with your head unless you move out of the way.

As strong as you are, the human walking you is still stronger than you are, or at least heavier. You cannot physically drag the human the way you want to go. The human walking you can physically drag you the other way, but would strongly prefer not to.

Cars will also hit you if you stand directly in front of the course they are moving on. A car will not be lulled into a false sense of security and then fooled into dodging if you pretend to be uninterested in it and bolt right in front of it when everyone else involved the least expects you to.

The stone border between the slightly elevated asphalt and the lower side of asphalt marks the boundary between the road where cars are supposed to go, and the road where people (and you) are supposed to be. You are supposed to spend as little of time as possible walking on the car-road.

When the human walking you is trying to do a little jog to cross the street because a car stopped to wait, that means you could do a little jog too. Into the same direction as the human.

You can avoid having the wind blow directly at your asshole when you poop by choosing some other spot than the draftiest wind tunnel along the way, and then not positioning yourself with your ass aligned exactly to match the direction of the wind.

You are relatively small for a dog and cannot fight a rottweiller, a german shepherd, or a golden retriever. The human walking you does not want you to fight them. The human walking them does not want you to fight them. While they may engage in self-defense if attacked, these dogs do not want you to fight them. Nobody else involved in this situation wants to fight.

Pacing back and forth in the elevator does not actually make it move any faster. Moving really fast inside the elevator has no effect on the speed of the machine.

There is no need to bark an alarm about the door bell ringing when you are returning home. While the door bell does mean that there are people outside, the people outside of the door is us. There will be no new people inside the house.

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wangxianficfinder · 1 month

Text

Fic Finder

Apr 12th

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1. For the ficfinder: In the last "In the mood for", no 8 reminded me of a fic but I cant recall the one. Wwx is travelling by himself, writing letters to LZ, he stays in a town and it ends up cursed. LZ and the juniors arrive to solve the case. Wwx is acting weird and hides his letters. The juniors read the letters and find out wwx is angry and full of resentment about how he's been treated. They find out the curse resonates from him. They talk it out to resolve matters. It was written really well. Any idea? @kesterling

FOUND! i found it myself, it kept bugging me. The fic is sadly deleted but on the wayback machine: Dock of the Bay by Haysel.

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2. Hi! This is for Fic Finder. All I remember is the ending, where Yu Ziyuan had her arms cut off, and that there was a part that mentioned that this was punishment enough as she would have to live her life with no pride. Also, she had an affair with Jin Guangshan, and Jiang Cheng was his child, and she had to become his concubine, I think. Hope someone knows which fic this is!

FOUND? sounds like the deleted "OOC!" by A_flower_in_the_snow. It's avaiable on the wayback machine.

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3. Hi, once again.

I’m looking for a fic that I seriously can’t find, at all.

So it would really be a great help if you could.

Wwx was brought to cloud recesses for healing after madam yu had whipped him so bloody he couldn’t move and wa sin active danger of dying.

The disciples who brought him there did so on a donkey I think?

Anyway they asked LZ to please befriend Wwx.

The healers weren’t sure if Wwx would survive. He does.

And joins the lan, befriending LZ oh and he can’t fight with his sword anymore because of the damage and something about his heart having been weakened.

That is all I remember.

Have a nice day/night. @ravenwithwings

NOT FOUND!🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

FOUND! 🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

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4. Hi!! I'm looking for a fic I can't remember the name of, a modern AU, possibly set in the UK where lwj is part of some sort of anarchist/ community activist group and wwx joins. Most people in the group already know wwx and are reallly good friends with him but lwj is super skeptical about him. Also at some point I think wwx goes missing and lwj is super worried??? I can't remember anything else... thank you in advance🙏🙏🙏 @kavlobebeki

FOUND? now to begin the road by detectorist (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pining, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Getting Together, Light Angst, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Activism, Politics, Rooftop Conversations)

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5. Hi, I'm wondering if anyone else remembers a fic similar to leading tone by silencemostofall, and pastel by antebunny, but that's set in the canon era while they're at Cloud Recesses? A few details I remember was that the coloured mark that indicated Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship started to fade, and that Jiang Cheng was allowed home to celebrate his birthday, while Wei Wuxian's was completely ignored by the Jiang Sect and so he spent it drinking and was caught by Lan Wangji. Apologies that I don't have more! @flaxenhairedsamurai

Hi, I was number 5 on the fic finder on April 12. Just letting you know I found the fic I was looking for! It was Mark Me With Your Devotion by an orphan account. Thank you, and I've bookmarked it so I don't lose it again!

FOUND! Mark me with your devotion by orphan_account (M, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, soulmate AU with a twist, The twist is not a curse though, I'm sorry but everyone is kind of toxic in this, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, A-Yuan is adorable, First Time, Canon-typical Sex, Cultivation Partners, Fluffy wangxian, Nothing else is all that fluffy, Night-hunting together, Their studies are different that's why they keep going on missions and not staying in Gusu much)

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6. There was this fic on ao3 I don't remember, much, but it had this part, where lwj refused to go near his child(/children??) Because when wwx was pregnant he slowly grew ill or I dunno I think there was some complications (?) and when it was finally the time of delivery, wwx fell into coma I think. And lxc was angry with lwj for not even looking at his child / children when both wc were so excited for the baby.

There is a similar wx comic on Twitter. Can you please find both of them? The ao3 fic and the Twitter comic too please?

FOUND? I don’t know the Ao3 but I do know the comic similar to the description which made by AlasseTassir in twitter and they post it on their pixiv.

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7. A while back I found and lost 😥 a fic where WangXian, I think, were smuggling Wen Ning (and probably Wen Qing) across a border somewhere and they put a fake mustache on one of the two and people kept complimenting them on how nice it looked. I think people even copied the mustache after that? Maybe even the bad Wens? That's literally all I can remember about it. I've tried every tag I can think of and haven't been able to find it. Hopefully someone will know. TIA! @lilyinthesnow

FOUND! Bloom where you are planted by luckymoonly (M, 44k wangxian, MM/WQ, Canon Divergence, Fix It, courting, Mpreg, Sunshot Campaign, Fluff, Happy Ending, getting together early, Romance, WWX giving birth in the middle of the war? Most likely than you think!, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Smut, Drama, Blood and Violence, Minor Character Death, There Is Only One Bed, No Fall of Lotus Pier, Crossdressing, Shotgun Wedding, Mention of miscarriage (not WWX), wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Giving Birth, Soft granduncle LQR)

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8. hii i need help finding a fic. I remember it is ongoing it is a time travel one where wei ying travels back to the past decides not to join the jiang sect but to be rouge i remember he stole gold from the sects which made the economy go to shit the emperor got involved and disbanded the wen sect wei ying is now rich he is studying to pass some exams he has a nice house with a mini farm meets lan zhan and they fall in love and we find out from lan qiren that wei ying is a royal bc his father was a prince but he ran away to be a servant to the jiang sect and sometime near the last chapters the emperor gives permission to wangxian to marry and to take with him some princes and princesses to raise away from the palace. @wangxian4evermdzs

FOUND? Starting Over by SplitGirl28 (M, 69k, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Back to Childhood, Change his life, Different lifestyle, But WWX is still gifted genius, Unrestrained WWX, Living his ideal life)

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9. Hi all! 👋 I am so sorry to bother you if you’ve already found this fic but I’ve scoured across the internet all day and decided to go ahead and ask anyway! I’m looking for a fic that has Wei Ying being adopted into the Lan clan as a child, he was scared to be kicked out and became rather solemn and a perfect lan clan member, on the other hand Lan Zhan has grown to be shameless and flirts with Wei Ying every chance he gets. There’s also some Jiang Bashing, OCs, and maybe some time travel? Help🥹

FOUND? could be the deleted "Uno Reverse" by A_flower_in_the_snow. It's on the wayback machine.

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10. Hello!! I swear I just read it and now I can't find this fic- but it's supposed to be an AU where wwx stayed behind during Lotus Pier's attack and Madam Yu and JC escaped but wwx stayed to fight, and lwj heard wwx was missing and he rushes to help wwx and he runs in JC and JY also trying to save wwx? Thank you in advance!

FOUND? for as long as he will let me by RavenclawLoki (T, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Love Confessions, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, First Kiss, BAMF JYL, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

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11. Hi, thanks so much for all your efforts!!

I’ve been looking for a fic and hope it hasn’t been deleted. Wei Ying, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli were mermaids but were also semi-amphibious? They could go on land for short periods and they helped fight the Wens during the Sunshot Campaign. Wei Ying is married off to Lan Zhan and he lives in the Cloud Recesses. Most of the story is centered around Wei Ying adjusting to his life on the surface amongst humans and navigating the relationship with his new husband.

FOUND? you’re a bird in the water / i’m a fish on the ground by plonk (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Merpeople, Canon Era)

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12. Hi, can you help me find a fic . The story goes somewhat like Lan Wangji was in a nighthunt and had taken shelter in an inn . There was a storm, and Wei Ying came to that inn seeking shelter with a few orphan kids . Those kids and Wei Ying were both from the same, and they escaped from being sold ? I think Wangji was a bit older than Wei Ying. Also, Wei Ying could use his cultivation powers without any medium like swords or instruments. 🙏

FOUND? ❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)

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13. Helppp! looking for a fic I read awhile ago and it just wont leave my mind, So basically Wangxian had an age gap LWJ was like 16 or 17 and WWX in his 20's but like "the cloud recesses" is some sort of mansion and the lotus siblings visit them in cloud recesses. I think it was tagged E if that helps

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14. Hi! For Fic Finder. Thank you very much for your help. There’s a fic I thought I bookmarked but can no longer find.

The first fic is a dark Lans fic set during the Cloud Recesses arc. WWX and JC are betrothed in this universe. But LWJ and WWX fall in love. LWJ manipulates the environment and JCs insecurities to break them up. I believe it’s in a two part series.

Thank you!

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15. Story of Yanxi Palace based fic. WY is the empress/consort who hides in a box from Sizhui. LZ knows he's inside the box, and as a prank/punishment, he uses the box to play a boardgames with Sizhui

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16. Hi! I really am looking for this story in AO3 and still can't find it. It was about Wei Wuxian who got married to Wen Chao but Lan Zhan couldn't take it so he plans to take Wei Wuxian back by claiming Wei Wuxian each time he got (even in the wedding night of WWX and WC) and destroying the company of the Wens. As they (LWJ & WWX) continued the deed, WWX ended up pregnant and LWJ is more than determined to take WWX back. I do hope you can help me find this story. Thank you in advance!😘 @gegegeeee

FOUND? 姻緣 | this marriage was always predestinedby saccharinings (E, 43k, wangxian, Cheating, Infidelity, not between wangxian, WWX is married and LWJ persuades him to cheat on his husband with him, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Feminizing Language, Exhibitionism, Size Difference, WagnXian Have a Breeding Kink, Stomach Bulge, Possessive LWJ, Manipulation, WWX Wears Lingerie, Rape/Non-con Elements, for one part, Hair-pulling Kink, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Mirror Sex, Vibrators, Phone Sex, Rimming, Edgeplay, slight choking kink, Light Bondage, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, LJY’s Big Fat Crush on Milfxian, Pregnant WWX, WangXian Endgame, Spanish Translation)

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17. I'm looking for this fic that's basically a bunch of drabbles in one. Each chapter title is one word and serves as the theme for that chapter. I remember it having quite a lot of chapters, but I only remember one titled "kneeling" where Wuxian kneeled before Wangji (if you need a better picture, imagine that one scene in CQL where Wuxian kneeled and put his head on Yanli's lap in that one episode) @mindaneacc

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18. Hey, I'm looking for a fic where LZ and WY are already married and living in Gusu. But they get separated from each other due to an illness/curse going through the Wen Sect, so LZ leaves to give medical aid. In the process, he ends up adopting Wen Yuan. There is a sweet connection between WY and Lan Qiren. But most importantly Wen Qing managed to assassinate Wen Ruohan. @mother-of-pigeons

I remember 18, though I can't find it either. The sickness/curse in question made people burn from the inside; it was contagious from breathing in the ashes of the people dying. There was a honestly touching scene with Wen Chao dying while Wen Ning kept him company. Wen Qing assassinated WRH because she was treating him for the illness, for which they'd finally found the cure, and he announced that he therefore would use it as a weapon against the other sects, by deliberately infecting them and holding the cure hostage. The only ones they'd allow to have the cure are the Lans, because they're the only ones who came to help. He also intended to marry WQ, as he'd lost both his sons and needed new ones. I think it might have been part of a series, with the first part showing how WangXian got together.

FOUND!🔒Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by Titans_R_Us (T, 11k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Mutual Pining, Temporary Separation, BAMF WQ)

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19. Hello!! Here I am again looking for a wangxian fic. It's one that I read through here but never found again, anyway, the things I remember from the fic are: the sects transform into animals, being shapeshifters, the Lan are dragons like WWX, I also remember that the transfer of core occurred but the core has a mind of its own and it goes back to WWX's body, WWX faints and Wanji makes a soulmate connection... Those are the only things I remember!!

Note: I think Ao3 should have category filtering in our subscriptions, because I think I subscribed to the story but I already looked and couldn't find it... @sweettiebah

FOUND? sounds like "Revealed Truths Against Dragon's Fire" by Preludian_Staves. It's hidden on AO3 but avaiable on the waback machine.

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20. Hi! I'm looking for a fic with a red string of fate au where wwx jumps off the cliff, but has a moment of weakness when he looks at lwj and end up tying himself to lwj before dying... And when he wakes up he discovers lwj kept the string bc when he wakes up as mxy he can see it connecting him to lwj. He flees and tries to put as much distance as he can between them but lwj still finds him at dafan mountain... It's a multi chapter (I think) with a happy ending. Help please? 🥺

FOUND? 💖 a trail of blood to find your way back home by blackelement7 (T, 19k, wangxian, JC & WWX, what if a soulmate string au, but without the soulmates aspect of it, a reflection on the nature of marriage, WWX is full of regrets, so is LWJ, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, JC & WWX Reconciliation, JC is trying his best but words are hard and his brother is stupid, Siblings, Canonical Character Death, but it’s just WWX, accidental 3zun feels, WWX as the most unreliable of narrators)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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luneariaa · 7 months

Text

this really took me some time to decide on how to actually write the story lmaoo;; ngl the plot got somehow lost 😭

contains angst but comforting ending; not much proofread.

also tagging @sody-toast !!

. dividers by @/cafekitsune !! 💜🌻

"So, the usual, Mike?"

The girl behind the cash register machine asks for confirmation, along with a friendly smile plastered upon her face. Mike is spaced out-- as per usual, so when hearing those words, it's enough to bring him back to reality.

"Oh, yes." He gave his own quick reply, before seemingly becoming a bit lost in his own thoughts of the past once again.

"Got it!"

While the girl has her back facing him, he simply waits there silently. But that is, until he sees someone rather familiar from the distance.

He sees you, waving at him while grinning happily from afar outside the bakery he was currently in.

Your sudden appearance sends him into a temporary state of shock, clearly not expecting this. Without wasting any time, he reaches for the door and goes out, the food he ordered being left forgotten as he chases you out while you run someplace.

As his feet hit the hard ground below onto the pavement outside, he eventually caught up to you pretty quickly.

"Hey!"

Slowing down a bit, he grabs your wrist and prevents you from running away any further. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

He wasn't even realizing that he's been smiling a bit all the while, though it didn't last when he finally realizes that it's not you that he's been chasing. It's just a total stranger who happens to pass by the streets, now looking at him weirdly.

That's not you, never was. He's just trying to convince himself that you were the one who just waved at him. Smiling, laughing at him..

By this point, he just feels pathetic and ashamed of himself.

But was it truly his fault, when all he's trying is to cling to the thin thread that he created upon himself? To come to terms with you being truly gone, but it's a hard process for him despite it happened a few years ago; he lost count.

Just great.

Working at Freddy's once again, and it's already quite exhausting for him. But he needed the job for the cash; for him and Abby.

So far, nothing really interesting has happened, so this leads to him deciding to take a quick nap at his security desk. What could go wrong, right? But the second he closes his eyes, his thoughts immediately drift back to you, replaying old memories that have passed through time.

Mike could remember the days when you both would spend time with each other even with limited time possible. Your eyes would meet his own every so often, a soft smile playing on your lips that's reserved for him.

The look of pure adoration and love in your eyes that he would never get tired of. And you're wearing the outfit that he bought for you during your first date with him.

How could he ever look away whenever you decided to wear it? It looks so perfect on you, he couldn't stop staring for hours shamelessly.

But nothing lasts forever. That's what he keeps trying to remind himself with.

You were supposed to buy something from the store while Mike was away at work around that time of day, but that fateful day has also marked your forever end as well.

You never came back.

The day you died-- it was a hit-and-run accident. Blood was everywhere, even staining your own clothes. Your head was being hit hard on the road, which caused you to go unconscious almost instantly. The phone you previously were holding has flung elsewhere; the screen cracked badly.

Maybe he shouldn't let you out that day. Maybe he should've stayed at home. Maybe, just maybe..

He would've changed the past if he could, but alas, there's nothing that he can do. He's just a human, after all.

A series of painful images flash through his mind while he's still asleep-- one of them being the day he found out that you're being involved in the said accident. He could never forget no matter how hard he tried to.

"No, no, no, no.."

"Not again. Damn it." He covers his face with his own hands out of frustration. He just wants the nightmares to stop.

But at the same moment, he could've sworn he could feel your touch; hugging him from behind. The soft caress of your hand on his back is unmistakable. He could feel it.

Mike takes a few deep breaths, as if to try to compose himself. His attempts to reach back to return your mere touch are futile, nonetheless, only grabbing at the nothingness in the air.

It's a harsh reality, and you are not coming back.

Mike was starting to give up once more, but stopped from doing so when he felt your mere touch on his cheeks. It feels so tender, loving, warm.. He could see you standing in front of him; placing a needed kiss on his forehead affectionately, before a warm smile was plastered on your features.

No words were needed at the moment. He doesn't really care if he's going insane due to the whole situation; he just needed you.

Even when you're not coming back alive-- to him, his memory of you will live on forever.

"Stay." His voice sounded quiet and hoarse, almost begging. "Please.."

You didn't respond, however. But the smile on your face is enough to reassure him that you're there with him at that exact moment.

But it's enough for him. He knows that you'll be with him for as long as he's alive when you start to embrace him ever so tightly and lovingly.

And that's all he needs.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy’s #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf x y/n #aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

Text

Keith wakes up with terror turning to ice in his veins and his brother’s name clawing its way out of his throat.

He takes a moment, chest heaving, to orient himself. The details of the dream quickly fade, dark caves and towering footsteps, leaving only an impression of fear and the memory of Shiro, falling, crying out for Keith to save him, and Keith being just too late. He peels the sweat-soaked sheets off himself in disgust, tossing them haphazardly on the ground in front of him. Grunting, he forces himself upright, placing his feet on the cold tile floor of his bedroom to force himself fully awake. Sunlight streams through his window, assaulting his bleary eyes, making him grumble as he walks over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.

Not unusually, his nightmares have woken him hours before he really needs to be awake. He only has one afternoon class, today, and it's frustrating to have one of his few mornings off spoiled so early. As he spits frothy toothpaste into the sink, he tries to rework the whole situation in his mind. Waking up too early sucks, but with the extra time this morning, he’ll have time to wash his sheets. That’s a net neutral, at least.

It doesn’t take him too long to gather up a load of linens and clothes, tossing them into the machine, sipping a coffee as the old thing chugs on. He hangs them to dry once the cycle is over, tossing some overdue marking into his messenger bag and scarfing down a bagel before hopping onto his bike.

His bicycle, that is. He would never take his precious bike to class. The one and only time he had, it had been vandalised by angry students. Never again.

The ride to the school is uneventful, normal, boring. Even the asshole drivers who refuse to give him space on the road, coming within inches of crushing him, are par for the course. He wonders if he looks particularly dead-eyed, or if that’s just how he feels.

“Hey, Pidge,” he says to his lab assistant, nodding at her as he walks into their lab. She shouldn’t even be his lab assistant, really. She’s more brilliant than he’ll ever be, and it’s insulting that she has to answer to him. But she’s only twenty, and whip smart as she is, their field is ripe with rich old white guys who smile condescendingly at her and call her sweetheart. No one will give her a tenured position. So while not ideal, their situation is the best both of them can come up with: Pidge gets total freedom in his lab, any resource that she wants and he can get his hands on, and he’ll publish any finding she discovers with her name as a second on the paper. That way she’ll be credited with dozens of peer-reviewed papers before she even has her doctorate, and once she’s finally got a lab of her own and every intellectual around the globe is interviewing her, she can tell them all where to stuff it and get all the credit she deserves.

“Bad news, Kogane,” Pidge says, glancing up at him with a furrowed brow.

Keith grimaces. If Pidge is looking up from her computer screen, then he’s fucked.

“Is the building on fire?” he says hopefully. That’s a slightly less miserable conclusion than the one he knows is happening.

She huffs sadly, shaking her head. “Nah, check the douchebag waiting in your office.”

Sighing, Keith does. James Griffin, head of the geography department and the resident jackass who’s been trying to shut Keith down for years.

“Keith!” he cries, grinning at him like they’re friends.

Keith doesn’t even pretend to smile at him, staring at him blankly.

“Good to see you, pal,” James continues, either oblivious or uncaring. “Thought I’d drop by and personally deliver the news. I’m getting a new office!”

The absurdity of the sentence makes Keith blink, looking at James in confusion. “Pardon?”

James ignores him, pulling out a tape measure and holding it against the cabinets and counters, barely even making any real effort to measure anything. Keith finally starts to notice the smugness to his department head’s grin, and something like dread builds in his stomach.

“See, progressive volcanology just isn’t what it used to be. Ten years ago it was breakthrough science, today it’s an ancient relic of the past.” He snaps the tape measure closed, turning back to face Keith. He no longer makes any effort to hide his smirk, placing a falsely pitying hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith shrugs it off immediately. “They’re shuttin’ ya down, bud. I’m taking the space. I’m sure you myriad of adoring students will be devastated, but budget cuts are budget cuts, and this is a decision the department has to make. For the good of the university, you understand.”

Keith knows that pleading is useless. In all likelihood, this decision was made months ago, and he’s only hearing about it now because it’s been finalised. No way would James be so confident otherwise.

But there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from trying.

“You can’t shut us down,” he pleads, throat unfathomably dry. “We’re – we’re on the verge of a breakthrough, James, I can feel it, shutting us down would be spitting in the face of progress –”

“How many of your sensors are even still active?” James interrupts. “One? Two?”

He sounds so smug that Keith can’t bear it. “Three!”

“Right,” James says, snorting. “Three whole sensors.” He turns away, patting one of the overhanging shelves of the wall, crowded from front to back with dozens and dozens of rock samples slowly collecting dust. “It’s not worth the money it takes to keep them going.”

“You can’t do this,” Keith begs, voice quiet and small. He hates himself for his weakness in front of James, of all people in the world, but his hands shake and his blood rushes in his ears and the only thought running through his mind is save the lab save the lab save the lab. “It’s all I have left. Of him.”

To James’ credit, that gives him pause. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a monster.

“It’s been ten years, man,” he says softly. “The lab isn’t going to bring him back.”

Keith says nothing. He stares at him, eyes hard, hatred and pain alike building up in them and spilling over.

Shiro’s sensors. Shiro’s work. Shiro, all over the lab, in every way, the only pieces Keith has of him that are still going, that are not stagnant, and James is taking them away. Whether or not it’s James’ fault directly is irrelevant – Keith hates him for any role he plays.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” James says, and he almost sounds sincere before disappearing out of the lab and down the hall.

Keith sits down heavily in his – in Shiro’s – rickety old office chair as he goes, elbows on the crowded desk, fingers clenched in his hair. Pidge puts a gentle and awkward hand on his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter.

— — —

His classes pass in a blur. None of his students even pretend to pay attention, but that’s not unusual. He can’t remember the last time someone came into his classroom and gave even one eighth of a shit. Hell, the last person in his class to care might have been Pidge.

By the end of the day, he’s exhausted. He dreads the bike ride home, knowing it will take more energy than he has, but he tries to convince himself that the fresh air might make him feel less like the world is collapsing in on itself.

He fails.

By the time he stumbles through the door, late afternoon light spilling over his messy coffee table, he feels like a used battery from 1996. He slides the scattered change he’d found on the road today into one of his near-filled collection bottles and collapses on the couch, face-first, groaning as loud as he can into a scratchy pillow. He blindly flails one arm around until it hits the beeping answering machine, letting it play its onslaught of messages, preparing to delete whatever spam calls have made it through while he was gone.

“Keith, hey. It’s Adam. Just calling to remind you that today’s the day! We just left, we’ll be there around quarter to six? Hopefully. See you soon.”

With a gasp, Keith yanks himself upright with so much force he nearly throws himself off the couch.

Adam.

Adam!

The next message plays automatically. “Hey, got your answering machine again. Getting a little worried. We’re halfway there, and we can’t wait to see you. Right, kiddo?”

A much younger voice mutters something unintelligible, but the tone makes their enthusiasm – or lack thereof – abundantly clear.

Keith sweeps a bunch of junk off his coffee table, frantically searching for his calendar. He finds it under a stack of half-finished books, praying to himself that what he’s hearing is wrong somehow, and today is not the day he thinks it is.

In bold red ben, in the tiny square of the 28th of June, is his niece’s name written in capital letters and underlined no less than five times.

“Hana,” he breathes, and looks in horror at his watch just as the answering machine beeps and plays the newest message.

“Alright, well, we’re ten minutes away, so I hope everything’s okay. Please be ready.”

“Fuck!” Keith shouts, jumping up off the couch and catapulting into action. He can’t believe he forgot! It’s so easy for all the days to blur together, for dates to lose meaning, when everything is so mundane. He’s been thinking that Hana’s visit is ‘months away’ for half a year now, completely forgetting that time is, in fact, linear.

Adam is going to kill him. And worst of all, he is going to be justified.

He starts scooping random shit off end tables and random surfaces, sticking it wherever there’s space. Adam is a neat freak, always has been, and if he looks through that front door and sees the mess he is about to leave his only daughter in for ten whole days he is going to take it out on Keith’s hide. Keith shoves a random stack of cereal bowls into a drawer, stuffs a cabinet full of old newspapers, kicks a pile of discarded sweaters into a corner and throws a blanket over them. His answering machine beeps again, and he whips his head to his clock, watching in horror as the big hand ticks to the 9 – it’s five forty-five on the dot.

“Hope you’re home, Keith, because we’re pulling up to your place.”

A silver car slows to a stop across the street.

“Fuck!”

Keith increases his half-assed cleaning tenfold. He dumps every dish he sees into the sink, hacks up a lung from trying to blow away the accumulated dust, glances in the fridge to see what expired food he needs to toss. Is Adam going to search through his fridge? Probably not.

But there’s a chance.

He sees his brother-in-law approach the front door as he’s holding a stack of greasy car parts and freezes, slowly backing away as the man turns and makes a face at the car. Keith hears the doorbell ring but ignores it, figuring he has about three more rings to panic-clean before Adam gets fed up and picks the lock. He rushes to his bedroom, grabbing the truly gigantic quilt Pidge’s brother had made him, and throws it over his couch, coffee table, and armchair in a half-assed attempt to make the room look less like Keith has not cleaned in several weeks.

It does not work.

The doorbell rings for a third time, followed by rapid knocking.

“Keith? You home?”

Keith takes a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face.

Fine. This is going to be fine.

“Hey, Adam!” he greets, opening the door. Adam glances behind him, taking in the mess, so Keith quickly closes the door as much as he can without squishing himself.

Unfortunately, Adam has always been quick. He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You forgot, didn’t you.”

“Forget?” Keith laughs nervously. “Of course I didn’t – I didn’t forget! Been looking forward to this for weeks, counting down the days, just been prepping like you would not believe –”

Adam takes off his glasses, cleaning them slowly while making direct eye contact.

Keith sighs.

“Yeah, I forgot.”

“Come on, Keith,” Adam sighs, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We planned this months ago. Ten days. That’s all I ask. She’s your niece.”

“Just because I forgot doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to it!” Keith says defensively. “I haven’t seen her since she was what, nine?”

“Seven,” Adam corrects flatly.

Keith winces. “Right. Seven.” He follows his brother-in-law to his car, forcing himself not to drag his feet. He is excited. He is. He loves his niece, and besides, it’s only ten days. What can happen in ten days?

“Hana,” Adam says, knocking on the roof of the car. “Say hi to your uncle.”

“Hi to your uncle,” deadpans a young girl, pulling her beanie further down over her eyes and sinking into her seat. Adam sighs, heading to the trunk to dig out some bags, and Keith has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He probably shouldn’t laugh when teenagers are being little shits, but that was kind of funny.

“Hey, kid,” Keith says, in the same semi-awkward tone he used to talk to Pidge in until she started decking him every time he did. He inclines his head at the device in her hands. “Whatcha got there? One of those ePod thingies?”

The look she gives him is so dry and judgemental that Keith almost feels the need to both apologise and pull out a fiver to pay for the stupidity of his sentence, which is honestly an insanely powerful look for a thirteen year old to pull off.

Only Adam’s kid, honestly.

“It’s a PSP,” she says, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world and Keith is a dunce for not knowing. “And ePods aren’t a thing. The word you’re looking for is iPod.”

Lordie, this is going to be a tough ten days. Keith should have researched how to make teenagers like him.

Well. Maybe not. That would probably get him on a list somewhere.

“It’s good to see you, Hana,” Keith says, switching gears. He smiles slightly, and it's genuine, because he really is glad to see her. “You wanna head inside? Door’s open, I’ll meet you in a few.”

“Come see me first, baby,” Adam calls.

Hana huffs and walks over to see her dad. He hands her a duffel bag, which she shrugs over her shoulder, and then cups her face tightly, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Ten days, okay?” he murmurs. “Then I’ll meet you in the Ottawa airport.” He squeezes her in a hug, which she returns, if slightly reluctantly. “This move will be good for us.”

“Right,” Hana says, so bitter that Keith actually physically winces. “I am so pumped to leave behind everything I’ve ever known and go live in a new country. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

Without so much as a backwards glance at her father, she pulls away and stomps inside to Keith’s place.

“Yikes,” Keith says, grimacing at his brother-in-law. Adam isn’t looking at him, gaze following his daughter with an expression Keith can only describe as pained. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just staring at the house, eyes far-away and deeply sad. Keith’s chest starts to ache, right under his sternum, because he gets that look, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” Adam says softly. “I’m just — I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.” And it’s been months since they’ve talked anything but surface level pleasantries but they will always be the same, Keith thinks, and he reaches over and squeezes Adam’s hand because he will always be family. Adam squeezes back, smiling tightly.

“I’ll take care of her,” Keith promises. He swallows against the sandpaper roughness of his throat and tries to stand up straight, to make up for his crumpled shirt and messy hair. The attemlt makes Adam roll his eyes, which makes Keith grin. Adam can never stay mad at him for long.

“I know you will, brat.” He cups Keith’s cheeks identically to the way he did Hana’s, tipping over to kiss his forehead. Keith’s eyes close and his hands come up to grab Adam’s wrists. “I trust you. I just wish you would take better care of yourself.”

He pulls away and Keith lets him go, watching the easy way in which he composes himself, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket and pushing up his jacket, putting himself back together in front of Keith’s eyes. The process has fascinated him since he was little; the way Adam can always pull himself back to full height.

“Besides,” he adds, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and heading for the passenger side. “You have my daughter to look after, now. If she comes home to me in ten days complaining about doing the dishes because Uncle Keith just eats pasta out of the pot, I will fly back here just to smack you.”

Keith snorts. “Noted. Drive safe, Adam.”

He waves as he shuts the door and starts the car. Keith watches him go, then turns back towards his house, peering through the door, looking for a glimpse of the kid. He doesn’t see her, but he can hear the muted sounds of a video game from outside.

“I have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” he mutters to himself, and walks inside.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

PART OF THE ‘SEQUELS’ REQUESTS. READ SLUGGER HERE

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Steve didn’t look sorry, not one bit.

You got the call from Hopper just as you were about to start dinner, a pot of water on the stove waiting to be boiled. The phone rang, you rolled your eyes and then you were taking the spare keys from the hook and climbing in Steve’s BMW.

The chief met you at the front desk, moustache twitching as he tried not to smirk, too amused at the situation, at how your feet were stuffed in bunny slippers, your hair too messy and your legs bare in sleep shorts that were actually from Steve’s old basketball uniform.

“Did I interrupt?” Hopper asked, brows raised.

“My macaroni is going to be mush,” you said in reply, peering behind him to catch a glimpse of a wild haired boy on the other side of the glass. “Is he okay? Why’d you bring him in?”

The older man sighed, seemingly apologetic. He dropped his voice and scratched at his jaw, nodding subtly to the two young officers that were sitting at their desks doing paperwork. “Had new recruits with me. Had to set an example,” Hopper explained. “If I keep letting you all off with the shit you pull, I’ll have the mayor leading the town with a pitchfork to my front door.”

You winced, understanding. You’d lost count of the times Jim Hopper had pulled over Steve or Nancy, peering into the back of the car with a furrowed brow as he counted five, no, seven other bodies crammed together, walkie talkies and rucksacks in hand, all murmuring awkward greetings as they waved hello.

Eddie missed out on a fine for playing his guitar too loud at an ungodly hour, the rest of the trailer park wondering how the town menace got off scot free, how he was able to wave to them the next morning, guitar still in hand and a smug smile on his face.

Jonathan had crashed his car into a stop sign last summer - the dent still there, the pole never replaced - all because Dustin had yelled frantically about another gate opening, pointing into the trees at something that turned out to be a deer. Jonathan had panicked and sent the car off the road, mounting the curb and giving three of the kids whiplash for their unnecessary shouting.

“Anyway, he’s not charged with anything,” Hopper gestured towards his office, silently asking you to follow. The station was busy with beeps of fax machines, ringing phones and the gurgle of a too old coffee machine. “Wouldn’t do that to him. Joyce would kill me.”

You scoffed, trailing behind him, your fuzzy slippers slapping on the linoleum. “You don’t think I would?”

Hopper snorted, opening the door and letting you enter first. “You’re still on thin ice for the mall incident, kid. Cindy’s nose has just reset, don’t push it.” You had the decency to squirm under the chief's stare, looking contrite before he smirked. Your hand still throbbed at the memory. “Cmon, he’s in my office, sulking.”

Steve was indeed sulking. His head was bent when you entered, long legs spread out in front of him as he sat low in the chair in front of Hop’s desk. His hair was falling into his face, and you didn’t see the extent of the damage until you bent in front of him, eyes concerned. You caught sight of a new bruise, a split lip and some blood before he lifted his face for you, eyes widening at your sudden appearance.

“Hey, babe,” he tried, voice wheedling, nervous.

“Steven, what the fuck?”

Hopper snorted.

“I’m fine,” he immediately began, sitting up and reaching for you. His hand found yours, coaxing you to stand, bringing you between his knees. “Nice slippers, you get dressed up for me?”

You slapped at his shoulder, glaring. Steve grinned even with his bloodied lip, eyes bright despite the red that circled around his right one, the blue and black edges of a mark beginning to appear. He saw your expression falter, eyebrows ticking up, lips downturned.

“Baby, I’m fine,” he said again, softer and more serious now. His hand squeezed yours. “Promise.”

“Hagan looks worse, I can assure you,” Hopper grunted, opening desk drawers and seemingly looking for something. He hummed when he found it, throwing the small first aid kit across the desk to you. “Sort his sorry ass out, would you, kid? I need to go make his paperwork disappear.”

When Hopper left, you turned back to Steve, hands carding through his hair and making him look up at you. You raised your brows, questioning. “Tommy?”

Steve shrugged, looking surly, his eyes set on the ceiling instead of you. You sighed, letting go of him - much to Steve’s upset - leaning back on the edge of Hopper’s desk instead. Tommy and Steve were hardly best friends anymore, in fact, they’d barely spoken since the incident with Nancy and the cinema. But they were civil, nodding stiffly when they passed each other around town, tight smiles and raised brows when their parents forced them to country club events.

“He’s a dick,” Steve replied flatly.

You snorted. “Tommy Hagan has been a dick since second grade, Steve. You haven’t to maul him before. What happened?”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes. “I didn’t try to maul him, god. You hang out with Eddie too much.”

Leaning forward to caught his right hand, holding in between you both. His knuckles were an angry red, some split, blood dried and settling in the lines of his skin. You stared at him, deadpan expression. “No? This is just, what? A fist bump gone wrong?”

Steve glowered.

“What happened?” You asked again, opening the first aid kit as you waited, knowing Steve wouldn’t - and couldn’t - stay moody with you for too long.

The boy sighed, shuffling forward to let you drag a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic across his knuckles, hissing at the burn. But you held his hand in yours so gently, he didn’t dare snatch it away.

“He was saying shit to Max,” Steve finally relented, eyes hardening as he recalled the story. “She fucked up a trick or somethin’ sent her board into the wheel of his car. Didn’t even leave a mark or nothing.”

You stopped, waiting, throat thick. If the kids were involved, if Max had been involved… well. You weren’t sure you wanted to see the state of Tommy’s face.

“But he just started yelling. Got all up in her face about it, could tell he never knew I was there, he didn’t see me. And then— then he started saying shit about Billy.”

You held your breath. Fuck.

Steve swallowed hard, closed his eyes and set his lips in a straight line when you came closer, kneeling back between his legs to catch his chin in your hand, cleaning up the blood around his mouth. You wanted to kiss him, to tell him it didn’t matter anymore, you weren’t mad at him, but he kept talking.

“I know Hargrove wasn’t a good guy. Shit, we all know that. Even Max. But he was her brother and she had to watch him— she had to watch it. And Tommy was being fucking vile, telling her things that weren’t true and god, babe, Max started tearing up and I just lost it.”

You leant in and kissed him, square on the mouth, tasting metal and medicine, a little of Steve underneath. He flinched but returned the sentiment, a soft noise leaving his throat at your sudden affection.

“Is Max okay?” You asked when you pulled back, cotton balls and bandaids abandoned in favour of running your thumbs over Steve’s jaw instead. He nodded, telling you that Hop dropped her off at Eddie’s, warning the other boy that he wasn’t allowed to hunt down Hagan either. “Good. Are you okay?”

Steve wrinkled his nose, gazing up at you. “Yeah m’fine. You’re not mad?”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, hiding your smile. You shook your head, smoothed your thumbs over his cuts and scrapes, over the line of his cheekbone and the sensitive spot under his ear. Steve shivered and leaned in, giving you access to do whatever you wanted.

“I’m not mad, no,” you said softly, voice sticky with adoration. “My baby’s a badass.”

His cheeks turned pink at that, all flushed and pretty looking, head tilting up until his nose bumped yours and you gave him what he wanted. A sweet kiss, soft and a little lingering, only breaking away when Hopper made a big fuss of shuffling back in, ripped up pieces of paper stuffed in his pockets, a small smirk on his face.

After, Steve let you drive him home, your bunny slippers on the pedals, his hand on your bare thigh. He perched himself on the kitchen counter without arguing, the same place he’d placed you after you’d brawled with Cindy. The boy was just as reluctant when you produced more antiseptic, cotton soaked and wielded like a weapon as you asked him to sit still for you. He didn’t need any Band-Aids, so you granted him another kiss, soft over his poor, split lip and he only let you go - albeit, grudgingly - to call Max and check in.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb

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superblysubpar · 2 months

Text

Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again.

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good.

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation.

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you.

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks.

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower.

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake.

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love.

But this one, this one takes the cake every time.

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay.

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down.

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you.

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat.

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does.

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road.

He’s always amazed when you do that.

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately.

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you.

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you.

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it.

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos.

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently.

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep.

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow.

The next day though, something inside of you snapped.

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway.

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right.

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!”

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention.

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer.

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass.

He didn’t.

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple.

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table.

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers.

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.”

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop.

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other.

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door.

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick.

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again.

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.”

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep.

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed.

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck.

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited.

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep.

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate.

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious.

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now.

All week? Why hadn’t you told him?

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer.

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink.

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour.

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house.

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar.

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything?

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up.

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you.

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled.

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened?

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months.

Maybe it had been.

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours.

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t.

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently.

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose.

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that.

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined.

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same.

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it.

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day.

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do.

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit.

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her.

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you.

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later.

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him.

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway.

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could.

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler.

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school.

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised.

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you.

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler.

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities.

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned.

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation.

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed.

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word.

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?”

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human.

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next.

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle.

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door.

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face.

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you.

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting.

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word.

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old.

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards.

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently.

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you.

“You don’t, huh?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks.

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded.

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at.

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again.

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right.

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all.

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer.

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed.

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you.

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise.

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged.

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did.

“Oh my god!”

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling.

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards.

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it.

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke.

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly.

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her.

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie.

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets.

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned.

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt.

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console.

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you.

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders.

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”.

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time.

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed.

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced.

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again.

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level.

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face.

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed.

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again.

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

#eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpars writing #cw alcohol #cw injury #cw blood #easy like sunday morning universe #easy like sunday morning AU

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