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#Coffee And Pancakes series
harrysmimi · 1 year
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Disrespect
Synopsis: Harry walks in to see YN being mistreated by his fans at her work
Series Masterlist | More of my work
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"Harry!"
It was eight the morning when Harry heard YN calling him from the shower whilst he was preparing for breakfast.
"You alright?" He rushed back to their bedroom to watch her head popped out of the bathroom door, he could really see she was butt naked in the mirror behind her through the cracked door. "What?"
"I forgot my towel." She said, obviously sheepish smile on her face.
"You could have come out you know." He suggested already going to fetch the towel for her. "I can see your bum in the mirror there."
She rolled her eyes, "like you haven't seen it already." And it's cold to walk out of shower butt nakey without a towel.
"I have, I have," he agreed.
"Can I wear one of your hoodie?" She asked, taking the towel from him. He got a thank you kiss on the cheek instead of her saying it out loud.
"When do you not?" He shrugged, "you've stole all my clothes. Just got me boxers to my name."
YN just giggles, "they're comfy!"
"And you know you don't have to ask me, darling." He assured her, watching her walk out with the towel wrapped around her body. "Are you still sore?" Enquiring about the changing weather which triggers her arthritis, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. Also, they went a little too rough last night. Bask in the fresh smell of her body wash.
"A hot shower helped, can definitely walk now." She shared. He caught her towel which unraveled to her chest.
"I really do go at it like a rabit." He realised. "But can you blame me though!"
"No one's blaming you." She resumed picking out her clothes and a hoodie from his side of the closet with a six feet tall, man baby clinging onto her.
"I think you should take the day off." He suggested. "I crave attention today!"
"I already took up all paid leaves, I can't." She cooed, "it's Friday. I'll be home for the weekend, I promise."
"You're not going over to Brielle's, this weekend?" His earn perked up like a cat at the news.
She has been going over to her friend's because she was really struggling in the last trimester of her pregnancy, with her Fiancé working extra hours at office so he can take the leave, her mum being busy with work the girl pregnant with twins was left alone for the most of the time. YN was a good friend, it really warmed his heart to see how she cared for people close to her. He didn't mind when she went over to her friend's house for the day on weekend.
"Yeah, she said her Fiancé's paternity leave begins from today." She shared.
"Well, good, I get to have my girl to myself." He sighed dropping his head into the crook of her neck, his soft lips brushing against her soft skin. "When do you get off work today?"
"At five." She reached for her pants hung on the hangers. "Haz, you're tickling me!" She squealed feeling his finger tips dig in her side making him chuckle. He press his lips onto her bare shoulder, coming to halt with his teasing.
"Alright then, I'm dropping you off on my way to gym and I'll be coming over to pick you up as well." He announced his plan, tucking the loose end of the towel back in so it wouldn't fall off when he pulled away.
"Mhmm." She nodded.
......................................................................
YN's day was going super well today. Especially because they were not short staffed today. And she gets to see her man at the end of the day who had just dropped her off at work this morning.
Today they had very generous customers coming in who did not hesitate to give tips. It wasn't a common thing for folks in UK to tip, and not to take it wrong they get paid fair wages. YN's boss ensures that they get their holiday bonuses every time. But there are employees who had many good uses of those extra tips.
"YN, would you mind?" Emily gestured a request for her to go over to the til whilst she get the order ready. YN stood behind the vacant register, next to her other co-worker Kathleen, who was already taking in a order.
"Hello good evening, what can I get for you today?" She smiled greeting the two girls who'd just walked in. She could already sense the vibes as if she's a psychic. Especially with a LOT tote bags and Pleasing hoodie. Both of the girls had their heads buried into their phones, air pods in.
"I'll take an iced mocha latte," the girl in the yellow hoodie said. YN decided to ignore the fact her head was still down.
"Can I'll take a black coffee." The other one said who had the decency to at least look at her.
"I'll also take a chocolate croissant." Now the girl in the yellow hoodie looked up at YN, who was punching in the order in the register as if she was on autopilot.
"What size to you want it to be?" YN asked more about their vague order.
"The croissant?" The yellow hoodie scoffed.
"Coffee?" YN said, but it came in as more of a question. How stupid a person have to be to ask thay question... But who is she to judge?
"Make the black coffee a medium please, with no sweetner."
"Make mine a medium too then I guess!" You g lady said, rather rudely when YN looked at her for her order.
"Okay," she nodded, "do you want it with regular milk or substituted milk?"
"Duh, regular milk."
Kathleen looked at YN as she patiently deal with these teenagers. She proceeded to ask their names to put on the cups. Trice and Juniper it was.
Not to take this in a wrong way, her co-workers felt bad for her. Because from this past week she's got her boyfriend's fans coming in just to mistreat her and bully her. Yes, all of the people who work with YN are Harry's huge fans but they respect him enough to be involved in his personal business with their co-worker. Everyone loved YN at the cafe, especially the frequent customers. She was literally ray of sunshine at work, nothing but kind and sweet to others.
What reason has she got to be rude to other people for no reason anyway? She goes to work because she likes it and it put food on her plate a roof over her head.
And then there are these people who are worse than who they call Karens and Kevins among the employees, the rude and entitled ones who are inevitable to avoid. These girls clearly seem to know who she is, especially since YN's been to a premier with Harry. Even though she wasn't on red carpet with him, his fans still managed to get her pictures next to Glenn and Jeffery. Everyone knew what Harry's secret girlfriend looked like all of a sudden.
YN proceeded to tell them their total and girl in the yellow hoodie decided to pay, with cash.
The door bell chimed catching YN's attention, it was Harry she saw. He'd came over to pick her. He shot her petite wave as he went on to stand to a side whilst she gets done with her work. He greeted Emily who was making a latte at YN's usually spot of work, talking about the kittens. He wouldn't lie, he's been excited about it.
YN's had enough them the girl threw two bills on the counter, instead of handing it to her when she had her hand out. Causing the money to fall in two different directions. She picked it up quiet and reached for coins in the til.
"Would you like the bill?" YN asked but that just earned a scoff to her.
Kathleen shot her a no look because she, well, apparently everyone knows that she's pissed now. She tossed the coins on the counter the same way the girl did, causing the metal to bounce, and some rolled off the counter on the floor. Both the girls gasp. Harry saw all of that, clearly, he glanced at a shocked Emily who missed it whilst she was doing her work.
"Your order will be ready in five, Trice." YN said with am overly fake smile she even bothered to put on.
"You are so fucking rude!" Trice said, "fat, ugly bitch, what did you do that for?"
"Oi, watch it!" Kathleen butted it, clearly offended for her co-worker.
"Clearly, everything said about you on the internet is true. You don't deserve to be with Harry, you ungrateful who—"
"What is going on here?" Jennifer, YN's manager came over seeing the commotion before Harry was about to stand up for his girl. That was the most atrocious thing he'd seen. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you kindly to step out of our shop." She continued, politely moving YN to a side, she fetched for the amount the girl had paid ever so kindly to refund.
"This is ridiculous. She was being mean to me, throwing the money like I'm a fucking begger by a mere server!" Trice exclaimed. "Are you the manager?" All the whilst her friend stood there with her jaw hung to the floor. Maybe she was surprised by her friend's behaviour, or she was thinking YN's in wrong here.
"Yes, I am and I'm not going to let you treat my employees this way. We are refusing to serve you today, and in the future." Jennifer said, firmly. "Please." She gestured the girls to the door.
Harry couldn't take it, especially when the other one saw him standing right there to be a witness to the scene. On the internet, it could be pretty much easy to avoid by simply not indulging into it, and his girl is has mastered doing that so far. But this is insane, coming in at her work place. He had let the incident on her flight to New York, he wasn't there and YN chose to not tell him the details. But this. This all all happened right in front of him. That person was about to call his girlfriend disrespectful names, that broke his peak of patience there.
The other one nudged her friend's side to make his presence known to him there. The girl, who's name is Trice he reckoned looked at him as if she just saw a ghost there.
"This is her place of work. Whatever you think her job is, doesn't give you the right the treat my girlfriend that way." He spoke to the girls, calmly, because he doesn't want to add to the commotion happening, "I want you to know that, I found it very rude of you. Hope you work on being on a better person!"
YN looked at him, surprised. Honestly she didn't know why she was surprised. She was shook, as that girl was about to call her the w-word. She had never heard anyone call her that, even through she's gotten into many arguments with rude customers like the girl. Not even on the internet people go this far to bully her for simply being her boyfriend's girlfriend.
YN didn't know how to take it and process it!
Harry was so grateful for YN's manager to stepping in. Or he would have lost it actually hearing someone calling his girlfriend so disrespectful. He just watched as those girl mumbled their apologies to him before leaving. He proceeded to pick up the change which had fallen on the floor and handed it back to Kathleen.
"You alright?" Jennifer asked YN, who was still trying to take in what just happened.
"Yeah, I, I am really sorry about that." YN mumbled.
"Don't be," Kathleen butted in who saw everything first hand happening to her, "that girl was a literal shit of a person. What you did was very fucking badass!"
"Mhmm!" Emily sounded.
There were not many people in the cafe that time but everyone who was watching had seemed to get back to their work. Harry approached closer to the til. "Do you want to go home now?"
"Yes, yeah, I'll be out." YN agreed, before heading to the back. "Gimme five minutes."
"Mhmm." He nodded.
On the way he stayed silent, it was awkward for the first time in between them. Especially that's what YN felt.
"I'm sorry about that." He spoke, once they're back in comfort of their home.
"Why so? It wasn't your fault Harry." She cooed. "Come here, sit down." Walking over to the living room she made him sit down on the sofa whilst she took a seat on the coffee table in front of him. "It's okay, I promise."
"It's not," he looked more hurt than her, "they bully you just because you choose to stick by my side. That's fuck up, baby and not okay!"
"I know, but we can't control everyone, can we?" She shrugged, "you say it to me that the best we can do it just ignore the hate. And honestly I now look at her like one of those bad customers, that's all."
"That's the thing, you shouldn't!" He stressed, "I'm going to put out an statement, this is ridiculous. She was clearly about to call you something so disrespectful, I don't even wanna say it! It's disgusting!"
"Don't do that, please, it's only going to add to the drama." She insisted, "it's gonna attract more hate and criticism, and I don't want that that for you, for us."
Well, she isn't entirely in wrong here. People wouldn't mind talking shit about him either, why was he at his girlfriend's work place? Where is the professionalism? Why would he say that to people who literally keep him employed? What was he thinking when he said that? Why did he said it like that? He cares too much, or he cares too little. The criticism was going to come in from left, right, front and back.
"Okay." He nodded.
"Yeah, we'll just deal with it when we absolutely have to. We don't owe anyone any explaination. I see rude customers every single day." She nudged her nose closer to his with her forehead on his.
"I just hated that do much!" with a sigh his voice sounded so watery. God he loves her so much, he would fight the world for her with his bare hands in that moment.
All the other times, it didn't hit him this hard. With her it was different for him. Of course it was, it is YN he's talking about here!
"I know, Haz. But it's okay." She pulled him in a tight embrace his head rested on her chest, "I promise!"
"It shouldn't be okay!" He sighed, pulling away. "It shouldn't be. Don't tell me to keep low when they cause a big stir on the internet and it reaches media, I'm not going to sit here and let everyone talk more shit about you!"
"Okay, only if they make drama." She agreed.
"Okay." He nodded.
"We just came back, but do you want to go get some ice-cream?" She suggested.
"Hmm," he sighed remembering about this thing he had planned on, "I had plan to go to Italy."
"What is it with you and your impromptu vacations?" She chuckled. "Why Italy all of a sudden?"
"I don't know." He shrugged, "I'm bored now that I don't have anything to do. Thought I could take you to a museum there, on a date."
"Oh how rich are you!" She sighed dramatically, with dreamy eyes making him giggle.
"You still want to go? We have about two three hours." He suggested.
"You already booked a flight?" She was surprised.
"Yeah, come on, will help you pack." He grabbed her hand and walked her to their bedroom.
"Harry, it's gonna take time and you traffic this time is the worse." She stressed.
"We'll wait for another one if we miss it, now come on, we need to pack enough for the weekend." Harry went on to bring out a duffle bag.
"Can we postpone it to the next weekend? I am anxious we're going to miss the flight." She was froze to her spot watching him move back and forth from the closet picking out his own clothes too. She'd feel to bad if they miss the flight as it is going to be waste of money.
"I don't think so, it's okay," he assured her. "We don't have to waste no more time."
"I'm telling you we're going to miss the flight!"
"We're not!" He laughed. "We'll take this too." He picked out a random pretty dress from her side and folded it nicely before stuffing it into the bag.
"You're so annoying! Could have told me beforehand about this." She scolded him, now frantically picking out her stuff, "if we miss the flight it's gonna go to waste!"
"Baby, baby, baby I need you to calm down please!" giggling, he rushed towards his girlfriend  who was carrying her stuff in her arms, a towel, her toiletries, her hoodies and under garments. "It's okay. I was going to tell you this the in the car but shit happened so I couldn't. It's okay if we miss the flight, we'll wait another hour for the next one. We're not going to postpone this trip, okay? Now chop-chop!"
"Where are we gonna stay? Hotels are very fucking expensive."
"I've got a house there we'll be staying at."
He's got a surprise for her there waiting there. With a pat pn her bum her urged her to hurry as he called for a cab to the airport. And they really missed the flight, YN was pissed to say the least. But Harry distracted her reading about the museum he was actually going to take her to whilst they waited there for the next flight.
......................................................................
Tag list:
@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @supersanelyromantic @tenaciousperfectionunknown @haarrrys Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list
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moviesstoriesandbooks · 8 months
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What if Chay moves on from Kim and starts bringing over people from clubs and college parties to the minor family house ? He picks them carefully , he now knows how to , they're usually vaguely aware of who he is. They also know enough to not question the security surrounding him and his "house". He's learnt to protect himself from people who get close only with their selfish ulterior motives.
He's only young and in college once. He's gonna enjoy it goddamnit.
Except once when Kim comes over to the minor fam house at Kinn's request for "personally verifying the money leaks Porsche found out and see if he could update the security in any way possible while he's at it " , and he runs a *bit* late . Kim gracefully accepts Porsche's invitation to "crash opposite to Chay's room , that's where his friends stay over sometimes . Chay's my brother by the way, have you guys met?😄".
And Kim has to listen to Porchay and some ba**ard loudly make their way to Porchay's suite in what was so late at night that it was early in the morning , even by Kim's standards.
Pants , purrs . *Moans.* F#cking moans.
And thuds of flesh on the wall when they got too excited and tripped on the carpet. Laughs and giggles. Not a care as to who might hear.
Kim thought it would end once they got in the suite . Well he was wrong. He had to listen to every single whimper, shout and cry ; and finally understood why the maid explained how Khun Porchay prefers the entire floor to himself for his music usually .
He couldn't sleep even after it got fully quiet . He couldn't sleep for a long time after .
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harrysfolklore · 3 months
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my favorite fics, vol 6
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it’s been a while since the last time i posted a fic rec masterpost ! here are my favorite fics i’ve read recently (i’m doing one for tom soon) enjoy !
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
fluff:
perception by @goldengalore
harry styles talking about his girlfriend for 16 minutes by @astranva
afterparty by @chaoticloving
favorite holiday by @tsumtsumrry (has smut)
knight in shinning armor by @fetusharryluvr
just called to say i love you by @harrywritingsbyme
bad habit by @ifancyharry
maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two by @itsallyscorner
when you fall in love by @avatar-anna
serendipity by @adorebeaa (has smut and angst)
pinky swear by @inyourhaven
italy by @bonesandchalamet
5 ways harry mentions you on stage by @glitteredrry
my love, we were in paris by @alonetimelover
sweet nothings by @pancakes4two
get enough by @theshyspy
this insta blurb by @llvstrous099
dynamic by @mydearesthrry
the pact by @harryslittlefreakk
oh, i think she said by @justmeinatree
routines by @elioslover
coffee talk by @itsallyscorner
finally a dad by @flwrsforu
bo peep by @haarrrys
this by @harryyskiwii
angst:
little freak by @goldenbuckyyy
i wish i could change by @cowboy-like-mee
argument by @secret-rendezvous1d
don’t let me down by @itsprashimusic
false god by @sleepyhollands
airport chaos by @musicforastylesrestaurant
this by @alonetimelover
if you love something by @writingsfromhome
home is a feeling by @adore-laur
smut:
italian sun by @harry-on-broadway
no guarantee by @allofurlove
we fight, we make up by @strawnarrries
bad idea, right? by @atharryshouse
private show by @stylesharrys
bad idea right by @lukesaprince
under his bed by @gurugirl
tease by @eveningepiphany
just a little taste by @stylescine
series:
begin again by @sweetcherryharry
ifall for harry by @freedomfireflies
the divorce by @butdaddyilovehim-hs
stages of grief by @missmielyhoran
somebody else by @harrystylescherry
ms honey by @solarisstyles
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Note
Her babes! Was wondering if you could do a imagine for toms dad series maybe he’s up early doing a interview on the computer. Y/n still sleeping and their daughter wakes up coming into the office maybe climbing into his lap all sleepy still and Tom’s like “Sorry hold on give me one moment gotta take care of my girl!”
First Priority
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A/n: I pictured this so vividly in my head. Also, I’m so sorry this took me awhile anon!!
Dad!Tom Blyth x reader masterlist
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Divider by @s-hyia
Opening his eyes and readjusting to the light that seeped into the bedroom, he gently places a kiss on his 4 year old daughter's forehead who was sleeping in between the two of you. Elsie had woken from a nightmare just after midnight so you and Tom gladly let her sleep with the two of you.
He quietly gets out of bed, stretching his limbs before coming to your side where he placed a kiss on your forehead, muttering a good morning as you gently smile, still half asleep.
Reason for Tom being up so early on a Saturday morning was because he had an interview at home for the upcoming episodes of Billy the kid. He got ready as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb his girls before he walked downstairs to make a cup of coffee before the interview started.
Tom cringed at the loud noise the coffee machine was making as he glances to the stairs leading upstairs. Walking back upstairs with a cup of coffee in one hand to wake him up more, he slowly turns the door handle to your shared bedroom and peeked his head in.
A soft smile making it to his lips at the sight of you and Elsie cuddled up to one another, fast asleep. Tom then walked down further down the hallway to his office where he shut the door. He set up his computer and in a couple of minutes, started his interview that was planned to go for about 30 minutes to an hour.
Just a couple minutes after Tom started his interview, Elsie had stirred in her sleep. The absence of her dad beside her made her more alert as she sits up on the bed, her head turning every which way to see if Tom was in the room.
You were still fast asleep. Elsie let out a little whine, her stomach rumbling in hunger as she rubs her eyes and decides to get out of bed. She looks around the room, checking the closet and the bathroom and there was still no sign of Tom.
Going on her tippy toes, Elsie opens the door and cheers up when she hears her dad's voice coming from the door at the end of the hallway. She ventures out and opens the door to the office.
Elsie stood at the door, slightly confused as to what her dad was doing as he had headsets on and was talking. "Sorry Tom, I'm going to have to stop you there- uh your daughter is at the door-" At her words, Tom whips his head around and sees Elsie there, in her cute little pjs and her brunette hair all over the place.
"Sweetheart, what is it?" He takes his headphones off to hear his daughter, his mic still on. "I'm hungry, mumma is still sleeping," She frowns. Tom looks to his computer, "I'm so sorry Lisa, could you give me a moment, I just gotta take care of my girl!"
"No no of course! go for it Tom!" The lady chuckles as Tom gives her a grateful smile before he gets up, scooping up Elsie in his arms. The second he walks out the door, you walked out the door as you look at the two confused.
"I thought you had an interview to do?" You chuckle as you caress Elsie's cheek who was still in Tom's arms. "Yeah, I'm in the middle of it, Elsie came in saying she was hungry," He chuckles as your eyes widen as you look at him.
"I didn't want to wake you up mumma," Elsie says as you melt at her comment, " It's okay, baby," You cooed as Tom let's her down on the ground. "Go, go back to your interview I'll make breakfast for us all," You shoo him away but not before he quickly steals a kiss from you.
After the interview finished, Tom walked out the door and the scent of pancakes wafted in the air as he felt his stomach automatically rumble. Walking down the stairs, he could hear soft giggles making him smile.
"Smells good," Tom says as you and Elsie look over to him, Elsie quickly getting out of her seat and running to her dad who lifts her up. "How did the interview go, darling?" You smile as you flip a pancake, "Good, it went great," He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.
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joelalorian · 19 days
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Fall Into Me
dbf!Joel x f!reader
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The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 4.1k
Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Chapter One: The Day That I Met You
If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.
No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.
He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.
Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.
He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.
He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.
The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.
When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.
“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.
“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.
“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.
Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”
“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.
“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.
The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.
“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.
“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”
“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”
Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”
“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.
Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”
“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.
Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…
“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.
“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”
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Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.
You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…
Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.
You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.
The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.
“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”
“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”
“Me, too, kid.”
You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”
“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.
Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.
“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”
You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”
Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”
Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.
“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”
Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”
A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”
“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”
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“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.
“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.
Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”
“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.
“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.
Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”
His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”
The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.
After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.
At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.
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It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.
“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.
“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”
You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.
“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.
You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.
Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.
“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.
“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.
“I’m ready!”
Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”
“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.
The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.
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“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”
“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.
“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.
“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.
“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”
“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.
Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”
Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.
“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”
Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.
“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.
“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”
“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”
You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”
Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.
“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.
“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”
“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”
Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.
“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.
Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.
“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”
How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.
Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.
TBC
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munson-blurbs · 5 months
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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss
WC: 7.8k
Chapter 20/20
A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚
Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.
Divider credit to @saradika
The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill. 
You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents. 
Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne. 
“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”
You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are. 
“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”
You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you. 
“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”
You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it. 
The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise. 
Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.
“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”
“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.
The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.
To Eddie, it’s perfect.
“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”
The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”
Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump. 
“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.” 
“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed. 
“Well, I lied.”
Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule. 
A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo. 
It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.
“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.” 
You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.
The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.
“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”
The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”
The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking. 
You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”
“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes. 
“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”
Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”
“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”
“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”
Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne. 
The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds. 
Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation. 
“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”
Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.” 
“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”
“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”
Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”
Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”
“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat. 
“Damn straight.”
The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue. 
“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.
You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”
You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat. 
Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition. 
“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”
“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”
Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”
Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do. 
He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. 
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The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats. 
Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats. 
Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.
“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”
“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off. 
Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.
“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”
Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.
“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”
The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.
You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.
Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows. 
Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.
“Harris Munson!”
Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.
He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.
Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.
You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you. 
You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team. 
Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.
You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines. 
Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly. 
“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them. 
To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes. 
“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”
“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks. 
Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”
“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper. 
Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same. 
The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure. 
You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all. 
“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug. 
“I’ll be right down the hall!”
Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”
“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”
Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”
You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air. 
“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”
“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin. 
“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap. 
Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”
“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”
“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.
Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”
“Shut up!”
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“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.
Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?” 
“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.
Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.
“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”
Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.
You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.
Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.
“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”
Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”
Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”
As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.
You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”
Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”
Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”
The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day. 
Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.
You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place. 
Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 
Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust. 
“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful. 
Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look. 
Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”
“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body. 
“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”
He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it. 
You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”
Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”
“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”
“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong. 
Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie. 
The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer. 
The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth. 
“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”
The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye. 
“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”
Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”
“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”
A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.
Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.
There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.
“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers. 
But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.
“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”
“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”
Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”
“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin. 
“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”
Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours. 
You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck. 
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When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.
“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. 
Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles. 
“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously. 
“Smooth.”
“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”
It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?
You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible. 
“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. 
You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave. 
One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard. 
“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”
Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high. 
“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs. 
You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”
“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”
His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.
The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath. 
“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”
You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do. 
There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.
He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today. 
“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”
You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.” 
“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.
You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started. 
“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain. 
“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”
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Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone. 
“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”
You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is. 
“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”
You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart. 
“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance. 
“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”
You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation. 
“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”
There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”
You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.
The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”
You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.
Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.
“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”
--
💚
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hischeapcigar · 9 months
Text
𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓌𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓈 
Pre-outbreak Joel Miller x reader
Part: 1 2 3 4
Summary: you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most 
Word count: 3.6k ish
Warning: none except your father is a bit deranged so maybe that's all
a/n: it was supposed to be cute little one shot but i think it's gonna be series lolol. reblogs and comments are appreciated. love you mwah
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Your dad hated Joel. You never knew why but it had been like this as far as you could think. Your father played the major role in trying his best to keep you away from Joel.  
BBQ party? Everyone's invited except Joel. 
Your birthday? Everyone but Joel 
He’s grumpy all day? Must've had an interaction with Joel  
He even hit Joel, who obviously retaliated but the neighbors showed up to resolve the matter.  
The whole neighborhood knew. How could they not? Your dad insulted him behind his back, which some entertained, but most of them grumbled and left the room. Because they knew Joel and they knew your dad too.  
Even you felt pity for Joel, the few rare interactions told you he may look big and fierce, but he was a charmer. Sarah’s happy face was proof of his kind nature and your anxious state of mind was a reflection of your dad’s nature.  
You once tried to defend Joel, but your father smashed the glass so hard, a sharp piece pierced the skin of your foot, leaving a scar. 
 Your parents always change the subject every time you try to bring it up,  
“Its past, it doesn’t matter,” they’d say 
But it mattered to you, a lot. Since the small get-together in the field the other night, when you first saw him. Sarah had lost track of his father, so you went looking for him with her, and that's when you first met him properly after like forever. 
Eyes locked and you swore brown became your favorite color. Your breath hitched; mouth slightly agape. He mirrored your reaction but both of you let go just as quickly, minding Sarah’s presence. They left but he turned back to bless his eyes one more time, stealing one more glance at you. The smile he slipped, held your heart forever. You prayed to the heavens to let you both meet again. 
 Working in the cafe which Sarah and her friends called their “second home”, you had befriended all those little girls. It was fun to be around them, and they loved your company. 
 You never officially met any of their parents but one of them captured your mind since that night. You didn't know what you could do without offending Sarah.  
But you didn't have to do anything, because Joel took the wheel as he showed up the next day in the cafe. Sunday meant Sarah and her friends were having breakfast together in their corner spot.  
 You came out from the kitchen, passing the tray of coffee to your coworker as you absentmindedly made your way to the counter, ruffling around with the drawer and all the papers.  
“Hey” your head shot up to the sound of the voice and the unmistakable familiarity it carried.  
“Hi” you replied breathlessly, hands frozen on the paper you just grabbed.  
“Um, can I please get a pancake?” his thick Texan accent flowed like honey, his eyes warm and eager. 
“Y-yeah, sure,” you could bet that you conjured him from your imaginations. Seeing him again in a person in less than a week was unbelievable 
You quickly turned around to pass the order to the kitchen window but stopped just as quick, lightly smacking your forehead as you returned to him,  
“Sorry, uh, which flavor would you like?” you cursed yourself for being so clumsy  
He tilted his head to the side, contemplating, before he turned on his good old charm, “su’prise me, sweetheart,” he smirked seeing the look on your face.  
Absolutely flustered at the nickname he just gave you, and how easily it rolled off his tongue.  
You smiled, mumbling a little, “okay,” before you disappeared in the back  
You took a moment, taking a deep breath steadying yourself. Hoping no one notices your flushed cheeks, and no one did.  
In a few minutes, you prepared yourself to serve him. Running a hand on your outfit once smoothing it, you took the tray and made your way to Joel. You were glad he busied himself reading a magazine because if he looked at you, you would have forgotten how to walk.  
“Hello again,” you announced, and he quickly abandoned whatever article he was reading,  
“Hey” he smiled, looking curiously at the pancake plate you just put down, followed by a cup of coffee 
“I didn’t order coffee-” 
“It's on the house, since we believe it's your first time and because your daughter is our loyal customer,” you snickered  
He chuckled, “I- thank you, so much, y’didn’t have to though”  
“Also, i chose strawberry flavor because it’s my favorite so I'm hoping you’d like it too,” you shrugged lightly before taking a step back, leaving him with his breakfast,  
Just as you turned to leave, you heard him call your name, and God that was the sweetest music to your ears. You had no idea how he knew your name, maybe sarah mentioned it, you figured 
You cocked an eyebrow,  
“You looked pretty that night”  
Your heart warmed at the confession, “thank you Joel, you looked great too” you smiled before you left 
You couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Every now and then your gaze found its way to Joel. Even after he caught you stealing glances, he just smirked. He knew what he was doing to you, you knew what you were doing to him. A game for two.  
You had your back on the counter, conversing with your coworker, when she pointed behind you. You turned to see Joel standing there, ready to leave.  
“Thank you once again, I loved the pancake, though I can’t tell if it's my favorite”  
“You could come by every week to try all the flavors until you find your preference” you suggested. Any excuse to bring him back.  
“Tryin’ all the flavors, huh? I had another reasons to come back anyway, might as well try all the other flavors” smile tugging at the corner of his smile 
Oh.  
Oh.  
You didn’t even get the chance to response when he added, “hey ya mind, if y’get the uh, the cup?” he nodded to his table 
“Yeah, sure” you were confused, why would he tell you what to do? 
You went anyway and now you know why as you looked at the tissue piece with his number scribbled in a messy handwriting  
Such a flirt. You smiled so widely your jaw hurt.  
“Is this Joel or some cute stranger left a wrong phone number on the table?”  
You read it for the thousandth time, indecisive if you should send it or is it a bold way to start a conversation. But then it’s Joel, he wouldn’t mind, you thought and hit send.  
Your heart was beating fast, wanting to throw your phone across the room. Checking every other second if he replied, then a few minutes later,  
J- “Stranger? I thought we were befriendin' each other”
you giggled at the response, feeling like a young teenager having her crush moment 
“Well, we’re getting there”  
J- “That so? Hope you realize your dad isn’t really my fan”  
 
“Yes, and I wonder why” curiosity creeping back up at you, 
J- “We got into a fight back then during a job we did, since then we just couldn’t get along”  
Now was that too hard to disclose? Your parents were just dramatic, you thought. 
Before typing your response, he started typing again so you waited,  
J- “Wish it doesn’t change our sweet journey of becoming friends”
you read his text, wide grin plastered on your face , though a little disappointed that he only wants friendship, but you felt giddy nevertheless 
The next week was the beginning of your new, fragile relationship. Joel would stop by at your cafe any chance he got.  
I missed my morning coffee (he missed it on purpose) 
I’m tired and I thought coffee might help (he just wanted to see you)  
Sarah and her friends wanted pancakes (he asked them, “you guys don’t have to go, I'll get you your order if you want” he’d say and gets “okay, Mr. Miller!” “that’s so kind, Mr. Miller”) 
Weeks went by, and you grew to his presence at random hours. You started to look forward to him showing up randomly. Your coworkers were quick to welcome him, noticing how your face would light up every time he was around.  
He made a three-day streak of visiting before he didn’t show up for 2 days. A part of you wanted to text him to find out if he was okay, but you wanted to give it one more day, and you were not even sure about the thing you both had going on. 
  You were preparing the order, Oliver standing next to you, working on his order and occasionally making you laugh with his corny jokes when Gina, another coworker, showed up at your side, pulling you away from your half-done coffee,  
“I’ll take it from here, go and deal with your favorite customer” she nudged your side, 
You couldn’t help but let the smile make its way to grace your lips, but you had to play dumb, 
“What?”  
Gina gave you the stare that said really?  
You snickered as you left, your heartbeat quickening, exhaustion already leaving your body as you saw him sitting at his usual spot, the corner table that nobody likes, so it’s always available, your favorite spot since him. 
You reached him and instead of staying seated as usual, he got up and walked closer to you. It has been 2 days and you didn't know how much you missed him now that he was standing in front of you, all you wanted was to hug him and never let him out of your sight.  
He took one more step towards you, maintaining eye contact as he slowly raised his hand to your waist and pulled you into him in one swift motion. You stiffened at first, then you locked your arms at his nape melting into his big frame. You took a deep breath like this was something you were missing all your life. 
“Hello to my favorite customer,” you smiled at him when you detached yourselves from each other 
“Hello to you too, my sunshine,” he replied, matching your smile 
You both returned to the table, and he slid a small bag towards you, you didn’t have to open to know what was inside, strawberries, as he started getting you those ever since you told him that strawberries were your favorite. 
Whenever you got free from your morning shift, you two would sit in the reserved area of the cafe just to talk. That’s what you both did. Talk about everything and anything. You didn’t need to pretend, you were completely yourself around him, and he, with you.  
He kept buying you strawberries because you loved them. And in turn you would treat him with extra cup of coffee on random days 
Any little time you spent together felt like an escape from reality and everything it offered. There was no toxicity, just pure, innocent and effortless conversations along with different flavors of pancakes.  
Sarah admired Joel showing interest in your company. She wasn’t young enough to see how happy you both looked, and she was genuinely glad about that. She would even make excuses for Joel to come to the cafe,  
Hey dad, can you please bring my notebook, I forgot it on the table and we’re discussing something 
And boy would he be beyond happy whenever he gets the opportunity to show up at the cafe. 
But like waking up from a really good dream,  
Joel had just entered the cafe, standing on the counter, chatting with you (not blocking the way of customers) while you received orders when your eyes went wide at the figure entering through the door,  
“What is it?” Joel asked casually 
You ducked your head, “its dad” you whispered and saw how Joel’s face fell. You both knew you weren’t allowed to hang out with Joel, let alone be around him.  
Suddenly his demeanor changed as he cleared his throat, looking down at the menu card, feeling your dad approaching. You managed to keep a serious and bothered face as you saw your dad stopping deadly in his tracks as he saw Joel. oh boy  
“There are other cafes in the town” your dad grunted, indirectly referring to Joel, who only rolled his eyes in response.  
You bit a smile at his reaction, “hey dad! Didn’t know you were coming” you tried to alleviate the thick tension.  
Your dad gave you a tight nod, “yeah, get me two blueberry pastries; your mom called”  
Never the friendly face, annoyance etched on his face like it was there since he was born. Your father was exactly the kind of customers you hated. Acting like a boss, like you owe a million dollars.   
You looked between two of them before you left to get the box. On your return, you didn’t spot Joel. You frowned, wondering if your dad had said something to him. Your thoughts were cut short by your dad; 
“No need to serve him, tell him to go any other cafe, there are plenty of them,”  
You were speechless, he was being absolutely ridiculous.  
“Wha- dad? He’s just a customer, you can't bring your years’ old absurd beef in this-”  
“Do as i tell you, and if you can’t, then leave the job, you can do better anyway” he threatened in low voice, pointing his finger at you, before leaving 
You knew your dad was overreacting but you kept your mouth shut because you knew he wouldn’t care about the people and just shout on you if you disagreed with him 
It was midnight, your mind was running a hundred thoughts a minute since your dad showed up today. You had no idea how to tell Joel to stop coming to the café, like how could you stop him when it made you the happiest? 
 “Hey, you awake?” you texted joel  
He didn’t reply for 10 minutes, then your phone chimed, you quickly turned it on to see his text,  
J- “Yeah, I'm up, why aren’t you asleep yet?” he replied 
“Wondering what dad told you today at the cafe” there was no filtering when you were with Joel, sharing every piece of your mind and not regretting it 
J- “Except telling me to not ‘roam around you’ he didn't really say anything”  
You were embarrassed, why did your dad have to be like that? you felt bad for Joel 
“I’m sorry” you sent before typing “I just wish he wouldn’t stop you from the cafe, your presence feels natural there”  
J- “Don't be sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mind it at all. He’s only looking out for you; we'll figure it out. plus, I think I can sneak in when I get the chance ;)”  
You scoffed at his text, looking out for me? More like suffocating me from things that I actually like. But you felt affection for him in the way he was willing to be with you.  
It had been a week, he showed up two times. Two times. A day apart. Then he disappeared for the rest of the week. 
After the 3rd long day of him not showing up, you started to worry. Two hours of constant contemplating later, you decided to text him, 
“Hey, Joel” 
It's Sunday afternoon, 2pm. Not that Joel would have something to do so you wait for his text. You toss and twist in bed, smoking cigarettes, reading old magazines, scrolling on your phone, an hour later, there was no reply. 
4 hours; nothing.  
8 hours; nothing.  
Next day, beginning of next week. You passed by his house, praying to get at least a glimpse of him but there was nothing.  
You didn’t even see him on the streets, not with Sarah, just nowhere. As if he didn't even exist.  
  Still your ears pricked up every time you heard the door to the café ring, desperately hoping it was Joel, but it was never him.  
Sarah and her friends were seated at their accustomed table. It distressed you to see Sarah, not knowing how to go and ask her about her dad.  
It upset you even more when Gina asked you about him every other day, and more hurt when you had to lie, like “oh he’s just busy,”  
But Gina knew better when she saw you with pity in her eyes, that look that told you, I'm sorry he ghosted you.   
  You had to hold back your tears to keep her from knowing that she was right.  
But you broke down the second you locked the room to your room, lighting a cigarette, you placed it between your puffy red lips as the tears streamed down your cheeks,  
“Where the hell are you, Joel?” you hit send and threw your phone as you sat on the windowsill, watching the cars go buy,  
You got out of the bathroom when you heard your phone ding, you all but ran to the bed, grabbing and swiping it on,  
J- “Yeah, just around. How’s everything?”  
You were taken aback by the carelessness. As if it wasn't bothering him, as much it was bothering you. As if he didn’t miss you at all like you did. As if it all didn’t matter. As if you didn't matter 
“Really? You ghosted me for two weeks and now you're acting all chill?” you replied 
Frustration getting the best of you, you wanted to cry again.  
J- “Look, I think it’s best for the both of us”  
“Fuck what you think, fuck you” you sent   
You could feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You threw your phone on the table before falling on the bed, face first.  
The next thing you know is you're sobbing, muffling the sounds with the pillow on your face. You didn't realize how much you were attached to him until now, you didn't know how much you wanted to be with him until now.  
You got up to smoke a cigarette to release the stress, but you cried while exhaling puffs of smoke in the air  
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him 
The next two days were a blur. You avoided spending extra time in the cafe, avoided conversations with your coworkers because they ended up asking about Joel. Your father picked a fight with a random guy just because he took longer to deliver some equipment that he ordered online; it was stupid really. You avoided Sarah too, because she painfully reminded you of Joel  
I'm only giving it time, I'll get back to normal eventually, you’d tell yourself  
The third day, you were brewing coffee when your phone vibrated, turning it on, your heart dropped to the stomach as you read Joel’s name on it 
Quickly you swiped to view the message,  
J- “Can we talk?” you felt anxiety rising up. A part of you was excited that he texted while the other part of you was furious, he can't just come and go as he pleases 
You were lost in your thoughts when you received another message, J- “please?”  
You decided to let things be, he ghosted me for a week, now he wants to talk, he can't expect me to go back running  
Putting your phone down, you carried on with your work until it was night. 
You closed the cafe as you stepped out, you saw a familiar truck parked beside your car.  
Unmistakably Joel. 
He stood there leaning against his truck, cigarette smoke around him like a halo. He pushed himself up as he spotted you and he made his way to you.  
You stood there frozen. Resisting the strong urge to go and hug him and never let go. But you stood there and waited,  
He came close but didn't stop until he was only a few inches away from you. Looking at your face, examining it, eyes running all over your features,  
“Sarah said you looked horrible, but God you look worse,” he whispered. Scared if he talks loudly, this all would shatter,  
“Like you care?” you retorted.  
That's when you saw in his eyes. Regret. Remorse. Before he hung his head down, 
Slowly he reached for your hands, hanging on your sides, silently interlacing your fingers. You didn't stop him. You couldn’t  
“Please, can we talk?” his voice was small as he looked at you 
You nodded  
He released a breath, that even he didn’t know he was holding, as he nodded too 
With your fingers still interlaced, he tugged you toward his truck. You both walked the distance, hand in hand as you felt droplets of water kissing your skin.  
You went rigid making Joel turn and face you, watching you wipe away the water beads from your face. A few more drops on both of you before the rain lashes down. 
Joel instinctively became your human shield, as you both ran towards his truck, even though that wouldn’t keep you from drenching, but the action was so Joel. Reaching there, he quickly opened the door for you before getting himself inside from the other side.  
Both of your breaths were ragged as you sat in silence.  
He ignited the engine bringing his truck to life,  
“Where are we going?” you broke the silence  
He sighed, “I- uh, had tis place in mind but,” he looked out the window, at the rain, “‘s rainin’ so we can stay in the truck, I guess,”  
“What place?” you were confused,  
“Y’gonna love it, trus’ me” a small smirk growing in the corner of his lips 
--------------------------------------------------------------
Part: 1 2 3 
Tags: @strawberri-blonde
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bangtanflirt · 7 months
Text
(Un)natural Instincts (Part 5)
*Series taglist is closed.
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angst, fluff, smut
Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.
Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6
General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)
Specific Warnings: brief mention of the lasting effects of performing sexual acts under the influence of the synthetic hormones (aka dubcon), slight daddy issues
____
Yoongi wakes up to the sound of his phone alarm blaring in his ear. It takes him a moment to remember he’s not in his room, the chandelier on the ceiling making that evident. No matter how many times he sleeps in this room, the extravagance of it will always startle him. You really were not one for subtlety when it came to home décor (or at least, twenty-one-year-old you wasn’t).
He looks at the door and remembers the reason he’s here…how there’s six wolf hybrids on the other side. Sure, they’re about as docile as a box of puppies at the moment, but it’s only a handful of more days until that changes. And worst of all, he still has to go to work and leave you alone with them for hours—especially now that you’ve paused housekeeping and chef visits. Even if you didn’t pause them, they’d stop coming on their own; no one sane would take a chance around a 40% wolf pack slowly remembering their natural instincts. Hell, the security services he’s looked at won’t even take that risk. No matter how many times he tells you how insane of a decision this is, your stubbornness will always win out in the end. He’s never been able to stop you when you’re determined to do something.
Yoongi wishes he could stay here with you, but he knows there’s no way you’d rest easy without him keeping you updated on business. He’s always been your right-hand, and while others might find the role burdensome, he prides himself on it. You don’t keep people close often, having your guard set up higher than the Great Wall of China, and it feels nice knowing he can see a side of you others don’t. Yes, it’s probably the feelings talking—feelings he’s tried to shoo away for a long time now—but that doesn’t make it any less true. He likes this job, and being by your side every day, far too much to risk it by trying anything. And he sure as hell won’t be put in the box of men who constantly hit on you during work, knowing far too well how much you hate their gazes and remarks.
It's when he’s making his way to the kitchen for his morning coffee does he lock eyes with Jimin, who’s already bright-eyed and making pancakes.
“Good morning, Sir! Would you like some pancakes and bacon?”
Yoongi doesn’t normally eat breakfast, but he does not have it in him to say no to the cheery wolf.
“Um…sure, thank you.”
“My pleasure. Anything else I can get you? Juice? Coffee?”
“I can make my own coffee but thank you for offering.”
“No please, I insist!”
He doesn’t leave any room for objections as he races over to the coffee machine, keeping a skillful eye on the pancake on the stove while brewing a new pot.
Yoongi watches awkwardly, not really knowing what to do in this situation. He’s never really talked to a hybrid before.
Do I just talk like I would to another person? Should I howl? No, dumbass, don’t howl. That’s weird.
He opts to stay silent as Jimin prepares his meal.
The wolf is in a visibly cheery mood, as evident by the soft whistling he does while making his way around the kitchen. The cause of this mood is simple: his hyung was still not in the room when he woke up. If you’re using Hoseok’s services, then that’s one step closer to getting you to use the whole pack. Which means they have a chance at staying here. Hoseok hyung did his part, now it’s Jimin’s turn. So he woke up early, memorized where everything in the kitchen was, and started working his magic.
And the fruit—or pancake—of his labor is sitting pretty on a plate, served with a cup of hot coffee on the side. He waits eagerly for Yoongi to take his first bite, which the man does quickly under the expecting gaze.
“This is really good, thank you.” He mumbles between mouthfuls, making the younger man break into a wide grin.
“Thank you for enjoying it Sir! I can make it again for breakfast tomorrow, or eggs, or toas—”
“Just Yoongi is fine. ‘Sir’ isn’t necessary. And thank you again for the food, but there’s no need to cook every morning. I usually prefer to make my own coffee and head out.”
“Oh…then I’ll just prepare the coffee for you! It’ll be in your hand right when you walk out your room!”
Yoongi waves his hand dismissively,
“No need. I’ll make it myself.”
Jimin looks for any sign of a trick. He remembers things like this from the lab, where they’d give him trick scenarios to see if he was smart enough to catch on. But Yoongi’s face doesn’t indicate anything.
He seems awkward, so maybe he just doesn’t know how to use a hybrid yet? I should let him know how to use me.
“But I’m here to serve y/n, and you’re y/n’s guest. This is what I’m made to do.”
Yoongi takes a deep breath, it’s too damn early in the morning for a conversation like this.
“Neither y/n nor I are expecting any services from you or the others. This house is a place for you to recover and rest.”
Now the wolf looks even more perplexed.
“But y/n is using our services. She let Jin hyung do the dishes yesterday, Jungkook helped move furniture around, and Hoseok hyung was with her all night. So why can’t I make you a cup of coffee every morning?”
Yoongi halts his motions, replaying what he just heard in his head.
Hoseok hyung was with her all night.
Hoseok…the “romantic” hybrid?
No. It couldn’t be.
You wouldn’t do something like that.
“What do you mean he was with her all night?”
“Hyung went over last night. He’s still in the room with her now.” He says if it’s most casual thing in the world.
Yoongi’s legs work faster than his brain at that moment, as he’s already rushing to your door in an instant, leaving an oblivious Jimin to clean up in the kitchen.
He knocks but you don’t answer, so he knocks louder. It’s Hoseok who delicately opens the door, making Yoongi feel like he’s about to vomit the entire breakfast he’s just had.
He practically bulldozes his way in, looking around for you before hearing the water running from the bathroom.
“Y-y/n is in the shower. D-did you need anything, Sir?”
“Don’t call me Sir.” He snaps.
Hoseok doesn’t know what to do. This is his first time talking to this man, and it’s clear he’s already in his bad graces. It feels as if his feet are stuck in one place.
“What happened last night, between the two of you?”
Hoseok knows it’s wrong to lie, especially to a guest brought by his owner. He knows he should say what really happened: how you and him slept on opposite sides of the bed and didn’t even touch the entire night, how he didn’t even have a single thought of touching you nor the desire to have sex with anyone anymore—but how could he, a romantic, trained to do just that, admit this? How could he admit it to himself, let alone Yoongi?
So he doesn’t.
“I-I w-was g-good for her the whole n-night. She was happy with my s-service.”
What the fuck y/n.
Yoongi’s seeing red, leaving the house as soon as possible and not sparing Jimin a single glance as the wolf exclaims a “Have a good day at work!” on his way out.
___
Something feels off when you text Yoongi this morning. He’s usually not the most expressive texter, but his tone feels cold even for him. So you ask if he’s free for a call, which he says he’s too busy for. That’s the second red flag. Yoongi never declines your calls unless he’s with his mother in the hospital.
Maybe there’s problems with her health again? Maybe it’s got him distracted at work?
Your worries keep you too occupied to realize how eagerly Jimin is standing there, waiting for praise for his creation. It’s only when the wolf’s nervous fidgeting becomes unavoidable do you look up and get the cue.
“Thank you so much for breakfast Jimin. It was delicious.”
His heart swells at the compliment.
“Did Yoongi eat this before he left?”
He nods.
“How did he seem? His mood, I mean.”
Jimin stares up for a moment, recalling the interaction.
“He seemed okay? He said he liked the food, but then he got up really quickly to go somewhere…back to his room I think? I’m not sure. Then he left the house really fast.”
“I see.”
You wrack your brain, trying to think of what could have happened in the morning. But you have to remind yourself that it’s Yoongi, and one thing about Yoongi is that he opens up on his own terms—something you both have in common—so all you can really do is wait until he’s ready to talk about whatever’s on his mind. Hopefully it’s something you can help out with.
“Is everyone else awake? Have they already had breakfast?”
“We’re allowed to have breakfast too?” His pupils dilate at the thought. No one thought breakfast would be on the table when you were already being so generous with lunch and dinner. He’s been staring at each pancake he’s flipped, desire in his eyes as thick as the maple syrup he drizzled.
“Yes Jimin, breakfast is for everyone here.”
“I’ll get the others right now! Thank you so much!”
You watch fondly as he does a half-walk half-skip out of sight.
“Guys! Y/n said we can eat breakfast, come on out!” It doesn’t take long until the four from the hybrid room come out, and Hoseok makes his way out from your room, instantly receiving proud looks and pats on the back from his packmates.
“What did she say about last night?!” Taehyung wastes no time in inquiring from his hyung.
Hoseok chuckles nervously, wanting nothing to get the five pairs of eyes off of him.
“She was very satisfied.” The words are bitter as they leave his mouth.
“I knew it! No one can resist our Hobi! Good job hyung!”
Namjoon is simultaneously relieved yet disappointed. Relieved that there’s a chance to stay, but disappointed with himself that he couldn’t step up and be the reason. He can’t help but feel like he let Hoseok down by relying on him. He’s the Alpha. He’s supposed to be the reliable one.
“Come on guys, let’s go eat.”
___
“Thank you so much for the meal y/n. We’ll wash up first then assist you in any way you need.”
“You can use the other three vacant bathrooms if you don’t want to wait on each other. There’s fresh towels under each sink.”
“Oh just one bathroom is enough. We’re used to showering together.”
You don’t miss the way Jungkook recoils at the mention of a shower.
“Jungkook doesn’t like showers. He prefers baths.” You state matter-of-factly, surprising Namjoon.
Has his pup been going around demanding things from you? He knows better than to do that.
Jungkook writhes under his Alpha’s gaze, unable to handle disappointing him.
He knows he’ll have to go back to showers with the others now, but there’s a selfish voice in the back of his head wishing he didn’t.
“He’s fine with showers, aren’t you Koo?”
Jungkook nods quick, but you’re not buying it.
“Jungkook, don’t lie to me. Are you sure you’re okay with taking a shower?”
His throat goes dry. He can’t lie to you but he also knows what he’s about to say will disappoint his packmates—make him look like a spoiled brat.
“N-not really. I-I’d like to take a bath please—if that’s allowed.”
“Jungkook. We are not going to waste y/n’s water by washing up separately. You know better.” Namjoon’s voice is low and solemn, making the other hybrids watch with bated breaths. He feels bad, knowing why Jungkook is so afraid. The labs used to only let them have freezing cold showers. The researchers didn’t like how he would shiver in the stall, something the rest were much better at controlling. They called it misbehaving and made him stay behind to hose him down with even colder water.
So, no one really blames Jungkook for not wanting to take a shower here, but it’s about principle. Sure, it seemed you were lenient enough to let Jungkook have his way on some matters, but that was when it was just the two of you. What if the others follow his example and start asking for special treatment? There’s only so much you’d allow before getting fed up with them. No, he has to snip it off at the bud, make sure everyone is behaving perfectly for you.
Jungkook’s floundering, looking for any way out, but thankfully you step in.
“It’s okay Namjoon, really. Everyone’s free to use either one, and please feel free to take individual showers. You could each take twelve hour showers and I’d still have more than enough money for the water bill, I promise.”
Namjoon examines your face carefully, seeing nothing but sincerity.
“Are you sure?”
“One thousand percent.”
The atmosphere lightens up enough for Taehyung to speak up from the back.
“W-what about warm water? Is that okay?”
“More than okay.”
Namjoon looks at you with a sliver of solace, but still on guard for the slightest hint of a trap.
___
The rest of the day goes by with the hybrids focusing on little tasks you’ve allocated.
Jungkook’s still making his way through Extraordinary Woo, Hoseok joining in with his own little notebook. You still can’t look the older one in the eye after last night, feeling like shit for even considering what he was offering you. Thank god you snapped out of it quick, or you could never forgive yourself. You still need to find a good time to sit them around and tell them nothing happened; as dumb of a decision you made to let him sleep over, the last thing you want is for anyone to actually think you did anything more than just sleeping. Every time you tried to bring up the topic at breakfast, however, Hoseok asked you some other question to distract you, never quite letting you get the words out.
Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung are tucked away in an abandoned study room, organizing your extensive book collection. It was Jin who suggested it, having his hands itching to clean the moment you showed the room during last night’s tour. It’s not hard labor, so you agree to appease them.
Namjoon prefers to keep by your side in your home office, working on a rather difficult puzzle you laid out for him. It’s endearing to watch his chin protrude as he scans the image on the box and the 250 pieces scattered on the table.
Even though you’re technically on vacation, work never really stops, as evident by the documents that need your approval piling in the database. Yoongi texts you updates of a couple of ventures, but it’s with the same stand-offish tone. It makes you more upset than you care to admit, not receiving his little sarcastic quips throughout the day.
You’re scanning through some current market trends when you receive the call you’ve been dreading: your father. You clear your throat before answering, trying to come off as confident as you can.
“Hello father.”
Namjoon’s ears perk up at that. He knows he shouldn’t use his hybrid hearing right now, keep everything filtered to his immediate surroundings like they taught at the lab (no one likes a nosy pet), but his curiosity gets the best of him. He almost jumps at the yelling on the other side of the phone, your father clearly not happy with you at the moment. He doesn’t make it obvious that he’s listening in, only sparing the shortest glances your way in between the puzzle. Your face is aloof through it all, showing no indication that you’re being so harshly berated at the moment; it’s an expression he’s all too familiar with. It’s one that was trained into him perfectly at the lab; stoic, statue-esque features to never show you’re scared—never show weakness. Namjoon, who’s had it beaten and drugged into him, can’t help but wonder what circumstances made you have the same expression.
You hang up just as calmly as you picked up, only indication of your actual mood being your nervously tapping foot.
“Is everything alright? Anything I can help with?”
He knows nothing is alright, considering you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes with your father telling you how spineless you’re being.
“The people at my company don’t like me right now. If you know how to change that, I’m very much all ears.”
He’s surprised to receive a real answer, expecting you to give him an unconvincing “Everything’s fine” at the best and a “None of your fucking business” at the worst. Not many people actually answer hybrids, he’s learned since entering captivity. In the wild, where no one would dare dismiss a wolf hybrid, he was used to having his thoughts valued at the highest regard. However, the human world taught him quickly that hybrids weren’t meant to be talked to as equals—it will always be a master/pet relationship.
It's been a while since someone other than his packmates have earnestly asked for his opinion.
“Can’t you fire them if they don’t agree with you?”
You smile at him, but not the mocking “that’s a stupid idea” smile he’s used to with humans, but rather a sad “I wish it was that simple” smile.
“As much as it is my company on paper, my father still impacts a lot of the decisions I make. I can’t really fire them for stuff he doesn’t think 'important'. If I do, he’ll fly out to the next shareholder meeting at literal superspeed, I’m sure. If they don’t violate any major laws or policies, I basically have my hands tied. Just have to pretend everything is okay.”
The wolf’s features soften, weirdly understanding where you’re coming from. He feels the same, with his “Alpha” position holding no real value anymore. He’s only the leader of his pack on paper, but it’s you who provides for them. It’s you who they follow.
“That sounds really rough, especially having to pretend you’re okay when you’re not.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He wishes he could give you some genius solution that would prove to you how useful he is, but that’s all that comes out.
“We both do that well, don’t we? I think that’s why I’m drawn to you the most.”
It’s evident on Namjoon’s face that that’s the last thing he was expecting to hear from you—or from anyone really. If you should be drawn to anyone it should be Jungkook with his doe eyes and unadulterated innocence, or Hoseok with his irresistible charisma, or Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung with their soft and loving temperaments. Not him. Not him who’s rough and rigid and the least fun. Not him who does nothing but worry all day yet put up a front that he’s strong and in-charge.
“You seem surprised to hear that.”
“I’m usually not what people are drawn to.”
“People like us never are, are we? I wouldn’t tell my worries so candidly to most people you know, but I see so much of myself in you.”
People like us. Not pet and owner…both people.
Again, he doesn’t know what the right thing to say is.
____
A/N: Hope you are liking the story so far! Please interact if you can 💞 have a great rest of your day!! 🫶🏽
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novalizinpeace · 19 days
Text
okay, time to talk about the cartoon critters
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I finally finished the scripts of the first 10 episodes of the Smiling Critters Series, this batch called ''Spring Season''.
What they're about? Come find out, there's something important at the end!
List of episodes
1-Sunny pancakes and Bitter coffee
Synopsis: The day just started in Orion Town, and Dogday is ready to start with it!
2-A magical world
Synopsis: Is game night in Crafty’s house, and the unicorn had decided to introduce Dogday and Catnap in her crusade.
3-A sad sunflower
Synopsis: Bubba is keeping his garden on point, but there one plant of his that is worrying him: His beloved Sunflower.
4-Flower Boy
Synopsis: Picky is looking for the perfect theme for her room during spring, but her thought process are disturbed by the flower shop owner.
5-The Soul Snatcher
Synopsis: While looking for berries in the forest Dogday find a injured critter, but his good intentions could put all town in a big trouble.
6-Cool delivery
Synopsis: Kickin work is to deliver the Piggy’s orders to all the critters in town, a work more easy to say that make.
7-Sweet little tooth
Synopsis: Bobby loose her first tooth, and while the other critters are excited for her, she’s not really happy of the idea of giving her tooth to the tooth fairy.
8-Plant a wish
Synopsis: A day helping Bubba with his garden end up with some problems for the critters after mistaking the regular seed with some magics seed from crafty.
9-Sleepy sounds
Synopsis: Catnap wake up in the middle of the night by a strong, annoying sound. Say sound came from no other that Dogday, that had started to snore.
10-Underground race
Synopsis: Hoppy had finally finish her underground maze, and had dare all her friends to see who can get to the center first.
-------
In my Au (aka in the game universe), this first 10 episodes worked as a season test for Play.Co to see if the critters could be a good money cow for them, and the results? Really positive! So they asked the marketing area (that was the one that communicate with the company that made the cartoon) for a full season of 44 episodes (incluying this ones) that where divided in Spring-Summer-Autumn-Winter, with 10 normal episodes for each season and 1 special episode.
The special episode for Spring is the Flower festival, but it was released as a season finale in hope to restart the seasons with new 44 episodes, but by then Play.Co didn't wanted more episodes, so the story was left with a cliffhander...
BUT, let not think so ahead, theres now 10 episodes available, but what to see first?
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'm really indecisive in what episode draw first, so 'm going to let you all choose wich one would you like to see.
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joejoequinnquinn · 8 months
Text
Faint of Heart
(Part One)
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Pairing: Eddie x fem! Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: You don’t know his name, but Eddie becomes a regular at your diner. Scared you’ll run like everyone else, he can’t bring himself to tell you how he feels, until…
Warnings: Some angst, brief appearance by an unwanted ex, mild threat and violence, 18+ in later parts, strangers to lovers, smut to come…
A/N: disclaimer - I started writing this in the midst of a week long migraine. I was really high and off my face on pain pills and strong migraine medication, so I’m so sorry if this sucks.
SERIES MASTERLIST
•••
“In this moment together
Though we feel worlds apart
Can you lend me your hand
I’m a little too faint of heart”
It’s always 3:18am when he arrives. So punctual and set in stone that you don’t even need to glance up at the old clock on the wall anymore.
You don’t know his name, but you call him Sunny, because that’s how he likes his eggs when he orders every day (except, it seems, on Wednesdays - although you haven’t figured out why, yet).
It’s definitely not a description of his demeanour - Sunny is anything but bright and breezy. He slinks in each early morning with a constant frown set on his brow, shoulders slightly hunched over as if they’re straining under the weight of whatever emotional burden he’s lugging around. Heavy boots clunk across the black and white diner tiles as he heads to the far end of the counter. You could set your watch by the jangle of his chains as he hoists himself onto the very last worn leather stool of the row.
Wordlessly, he’ll go through the motions of reaching for a menu, holding it open in his hands but never really looking at the options. You play along with the charade of giving him a moment to decide on his order before walking over with a small smile and cheerful tone to ask “what can I get you?” whilst reaching for the little pencil tucked behind your ear and writing down his order before Sunny even starts talking: two eggs (sunny side up), bacon, and a short stack of pancakes with extra syrup. You don’t need to ask your usual follow up question, instead just reaching behind for a coffee cup, filling it to the brim with hot, black liquid and sliding it softly towards him.
His leather jacket squeaks when he reaches to take several large gulps from the mug, and you always wonder if his throat is lined with asbestos because he barely seems to register the heat of the drink.
Every morning you offer sugar, but his heavily ringed hands wave you off with a little grunt. If he were anyone else, you’d have stopped offering and being so polite a long time ago - but there’s something about Sunny that draws you back in. The gentle tug of a string in your chest urging you in his direction, despite the complete lack of interaction.
One time he’d glanced up as you placed his plate in front of him. Eyes dark and still as the sky outside, but you saw something buried in them the second your gaze connected. A flash between you so instantaneous, it was gone before you’d registered the way your heart stuttered in its rhythm.
Like the bite of a venomous animal, you returned to the cash register that day knowing something new and foreign was in your veins. You felt it coursing through your bloodstream - changing the make up of your cells with a heat so intense, you’d never recover.
•••
You’re always in the same spot of the diner when he arrives, Eddie could set his watch by your shift routine these days. It’s 3:18am and you’re refilling the napkin holders. Hands working methodically without your eyes really having to follow what’s going on, such is the depth of your muscle memory.
He keeps his head down as he passes, knowing you never seem to look up when he arrives anymore. Eddie hears his footsteps echo through the mostly empty diner, taking his favoured stool at the end of the row - within reaching distance of the old jukebox he loves so much. He puts in a couple of quarters and picks the same songs like clockwork.
You come over to politely take his order, but Eddie sees you write it down from memory before he speaks. Although he keeps his head ducked low, if you were to glimpse beneath his mane of unruly curls, you’d see the way he can’t help but smile at this little act the two of you go through every morning. It’s become his favourite part of the day, not that he’ll ever tell you that.
Eddie doesn’t know your name, but he calls you Sugar in his mind for several reasons. It started because of the adorable way you ask him each day if he’d like sugar in his coffee, despite him never taking it.
By far his favourite reason, though, is the way you hum along faultlessly when Eddie plays Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ from the jukebox. You never seem to realise the way your hips sway to the beat as you’re standing at the cash register, yet Eddie finds the movement utterly mesmerising. Can’t tear his eyes away, even at the risk of you catching him staring.
He finds most of what you do hypnotising, if he’s honest. The way your fingers tap on the counter when you’re bored between customers, or that habit you have of tucking your pencil behind your ear, or how your head tips back in laughter at Old Ken in his booth when he cracks the same crazy jokes - a noise bursting free from your chest and brightening his world like fireworks lighting up the night sky. Eddie feels drawn to you like a moth to a flame, has done since the first time he came to this diner.
If this was the Eddie of a few years ago, he’d have worked up the courage to ask you out by now, but a lot changed for him after that night. People look the other way when they see his scars, kids cross the street. He wants so desperately to tell you how you’re all he’s thought about for the past few months, but the words die on his tongue the minute you’re stood in front of him.
He braved a glance up at you once, as you’d laid his plate down on the counter. Eddie felt the lightning bolt through his chest the second your eyes met. The heat of your gaze, even in that fleeting moment, burned into his soul like being branded with a hot poker.
•••
Sunny hadn’t arrived as usual this morning. At 3:49am, his stool is still painfully empty. A feeling of unease squirms its way up from your stomach, crawling between the gaps of your ribs and settling in your chest.
You have plenty to keep yourself busy with - the cook has called out sick, and despite ringing him several hours ago, your boss clearly thinks leaving you high and dry to run the diner by yourself in the middle of the night is acceptable.
Walking over to Old Ken, you take his payment from the table top, sliding over a paper bag containing an extra portion of his meal. What your boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him. The grin on Ken’s face as he shuffles home is worth the risk a hundred times over.
Your other customers so far had been a small group of college girls grabbing burgers to soak up the booze they’d overindulged in, an older couple on a road trip who sat in silence for the entire meal, and a trucker who had the appetite of a horse but the tipping etiquette of a rat.
When they’d all finally left, you take a moment to rest, loosening the ties of your apron, stretching out the ache of your stiff neck muscles with a tired groan while turning to wipe down the back counter. When the bell above the door jingles to signal the arrival of a patron, it echoes loudly into the now empty diner. An unexpected wave of relief crashes down your spine. That must be Sunny, finally. You hadn’t realised until that moment quite how much you’d come to enjoy seeing him each morning.
The excitement is short lived, however - and as you turn to greet him, the smile falls from your face, stomach plummeting to your feet.
“Aiden” You manage to croak out, mouth now painfully dry “W-What are you doing here?”
Your ex-boyfriend lands his hands on the counter and grins, obnoxious gold tooth glinting beneath the strip lighting.
“Didn’t think you’d be seeing me again so soon, did ya?”
No. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but part of you had really hoped you would.
•••
“C’mon, y’stubborn old woman!
Eddie swipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his grease covered hand, a smear of black oil staining his pale skin like ink on white paper. With a final twist of the wrench, he straightens his back a little too quickly, thwacking the back of his skull on the underside of the hood.
“Motherfu_” He catches himself, seething through his teeth with a grunt of pain.
Slamming the hood closed, he hops into the open drivers door and turns his keys, saying a silent prayer to whatever deity was awake and listening at this godforsaken hour.
“Come on. Come on. Come on…”
The van engine miraculously splutters into life, plume of dark smoke billowing from the exhaust. Eddie knows he can’t keep his trusty van going forever - her days are surely numbered, but damn if he isn’t still very much attached to his beloved vehicle. He won’t let her go without a fight.
A glance at the clock on his dash confirms his post-shift breakfast is very overdue. There’s a moment of contemplation, Eddie considers driving straight home. There’s a food stop much closer to the trailer park he could grab something from. Turning the radio up, his fingers tap a beat against the steering wheel, bottom lip protruding in thought. With a shake of his head, Eddie throws the van into gear and grins at the screech of his tires on asphalt as he barrels towards his diner of choice.
Towards you.
•••
•••
PART 2
Thanks for reading 🫶🏻 Reblogs keep fic writers thriving 🥰 special thanks to my dearest @joesquinns for giving me the push to post this and not be scared 💛
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eddiesghxst · 3 months
Text
PRICE OF FAME (PART 11/12)
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gasp she's finally here !!!
18+ — MINORS DNI
pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader
summary: the last day of tour has arrived and you're pushed to make a difficult choice
contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, sexual themes, mentions of oral, angst, and more glimpses of eddie being boyfriend coded <3
word count: 6k
| previous part | next part |
| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |
song inspo for this chappy, thx to my stink @mmunson86 ily hehe:
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Sunday mornings are meant for being lazy.
You wake up, you toss around in bed for a bit, maybe turn on the TV, and order food if you’re at a nice hotel like you are now— which had been your plan. You had wanted to try the strawberry crepes here for ages, and you planned to finally order it to start the last day of your short-lived tour on the right foot— but apparently, someone doesn’t believe in the mainstream concept of Sunday morning.
It’s seven in the morning when you get a knock on your door. You want to ignore it— and you have every intention to do so— except the person at the door is incessant and apparently doesn’t get the hint of silence.
It makes sense, though, when you open the door to see who is banging on your door like a madman. Eddie, of course. 
“Housekeeping!”
He’s got a cute, wide smile and damp curls that make your chest flutter even though you still have one foot in a dream. Although, you think the dream might be the man standing before you, clad in jeans and a graphic tee, and beaming at you.
“Eddie, it’s seven in the morning.” You grumble.
Eddie’s smile widens, “I know. Perfect time for a walk in the park.” He says before pushing past you and walking into your room. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him walk over to your window and open the blinds. You rapidly blink at the sunlight, “I– what? A walk?”
Eddie turns to you, smiling still as he nods, “Yes. Down at Central Park. They’ve always got cute dogs down there, and I know a place with pancakes to die for.”
You’re too tired to even wrap your mind around how cute of an image Eddie with dogs would be, “Woah… woah, woah, wait— Eddie, I— I would love to,” you blink hard, “But I’m still half asleep, and I only got to bed like four hours ago, so I think I’d pass out on a walk right now.” You softly laugh.
You feel a twinge of guilt stir in your gut, so you step forward to Eddie, reaching out to rest a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, “Why don’t we order coffee up and sit on the balcony until my mind warms up a bit?” You offer.
Which, now that you think of it, was a perfect idea because there’s a cool breeze this morning that gives you an excuse to press up against Eddie’s side and curl into the heat of him as you sip on warm coffee and watch Eddie burn through cigarettes. Eddie was bold enough to drag your legs to rest across his lap, and you decide to blame your compliance on lack of sleep rather than desire.
“Are you nervous for tonight?” You wonder aloud, watching as the morning sun cracks through his fluttering eyelashes. Eddie’s lips pull into a smile, “No.” He leans into you, “Are you?”
You snort, pressing your fingers into the warm ceramic mug, “Why would I be nervous?”
Eddie shrugs, “Maybe I’ve got a surprise up my sleeve or something.” He teases. His fingers are warm and send goosebumps across your skin as they dance across your leg, inching up your thigh until you slightly squirm. Eddie doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips.
You ignore his wandering hands as best as you can, although the lick of heat that runs up your spine when he fiddles with the hem of your baggy shirt sends your mind spinning, a dull throb of your center when his knuckles brush the crease of your hip. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him and cocking your head to the side, “Well, do you?”
Eddie glances at you, busy drawing stars inside your thighs, “No.”
You roll your eyes, shoving your foot into his jean-clad thigh as he barks out a laugh, hands squeezing your bare calves. “That’s not funny, Munson. You’re on probation, you know?”
Eddie tilts his head, dreamy gaze in his eyes as he gently squeezes your calves, “I know. I’m working on it, though… which reminds me—” You take a deep breath, slinking your legs out of his grip and sitting up straight to stretch, “Think I’m in the mood for those pancakes now.” You hum.
Eddie gazes at you, jaw loose as he watches you stand up and completely dodge what he’s been spinning out about for the last twenty-four hours. “Birdie—” “Yeah, I’m starving now that I think of it. Let’s go.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him up, ignoring his grumbles of protest.
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It should be studied, the pull Eddie has on you, because here you both are in a booth at an old breakfast diner, and all you can think about is how you want nothing more than to slink over to the other side and burrow yourself in the warmth of his embrace.
But Eddie’s friends are here.
The entire ensemble: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Gareth, Jeff, and even Eric, who you hardly even see because he’s the busiest with groupies out of the Corroded Coffin band.
They caught you and Eddie on your way down to the lobby, and well… they just tagged along. Eddie wasn’t so happy about it, mumbling about how he can never shake these assholes, but you just snickered and told him to be nice.
So, now, you’re sitting across from Eddie in a diner with the smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafting through the air and a friendly chatter ringing throughout the table.
You try your hardest to pay attention to the conversations, but it’s hard when Eddie is glancing at you with these eyes that melt your insides. It doesn’t help when he leans forward on the table, shoulders pressing into the edge as his fingers skim your knee beneath it. You raise an eyebrow when he takes a menu, opens it, and stands it up to block the view of his friends as he beckons you forward. You lean forward, chest fluttering at the sight of Eddie’s pretty eyes so up close, pouty lips and curly hair that you want to reach out and card your fingers through. He’s a dream, no doubt about it.
“Let’s ditch them.”
You snort, rolling your eyes, “You can’t ditch your friends, Eddie.”
Eddie makes a face, “Why not? They crashed, and I have work to do.”
You tilt your head in confusion, “Work?”
Eddie grumbles, his voice carrying an obvious tone, “Yeah, I’ve only got until tonight to pay my dues.” He reminds you. You hum with a teasing glint, “I reckon that’s a fault on your part, Munson.”
Before Eddie can respond, the menu is torn out of his hands to reveal Gareth and Jeff snickering, “You do know we can still see you two, right?” Eric teases.
Eddie rolls his eyes, “I don’t know if you dipshits got the memo, but you definitely weren’t invited to this.”
You giggle, nudging your foot against his shin, “Don’t be rude,” You mumble. “Yeah, Eddie, don’t be rude.” Robin teases. 
Eddie grumbles, ignoring his snickering friends as he stands up, “All of you can fuck right off.” He sticks up a decorated middle finger to his table of friends, and you smile as you slide out of the booth, warmth spreading through your body when he reaches around to grab your sweater. 
“Oh, come on, we were just joking, Eds!”
Eddie waves them off, slinking an arm around your body to rest a hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you toward the exit as his friends create a scene.
“Hey, don’t be late to soundcheck, asshole, we won’t hear the end of it from Richie!” Jeff calls out, but Eddie doesn’t answer because he’s walking you both outside of the diner and muttering something about them being a pain in his ass.
“We could just take a flight out somewhere far away from them, princess. Say the word, and I’ll book it.” Eddie jokingly offers. You smile as you take your sweater from him with a small thanks, “They love you. That’s a good thing to have.” You remind him. Eddie rolls his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck as you begin walking down the street, “Sure, except not when I have important things to do. Which, when are you gonna put me out of my misery and tell me what you think?”
You hum, feing ignorance as you blink up at Eddie, “Think about what, Eddie?” 
Eddie stares at you, blinking once before his lips spread into a smile, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He teasingly says through gritted teeth, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in as he jokingly presses his palm to your face, laughing as you squeal and squirm in his hold. “Eddie Munson thinks I’m pretty. How cute.” You mock as you grapple at his wrist, prying his hand from your face, “Only took him a month to figure that out.”
Eddie laughs, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” He drawls, “I always knew you were pretty. I never thought you weren’t pretty. Who told you that?” “Nobody told me that; you just,” you shrug, “Kind of hated my guts, so it went hand in hand.”
Eddie’s eyes soften at that, and your cheeks warm as his gaze zones in on you. You clear your throat, glancing away, “Are we going to eat or what, Munson? I told you I’m starving, and you just dragged me out of that diner, so.” 
Eddie nods, “Yeah, yeah,” He waves before lacing his fingers with yours to drag you along, “I got a place in mind; let’s go.”
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“If you wanted strawberries on your pancakes, then you should’ve asked for them.”
Eddie, you are learning, has sticky fingers. Sticky in the metaphorical sense where he just takes things without asking and sticky in the literal sense where he keeps reaching over to steal strawberries from your plate and ends up dipping his fingers in your maple syrup as well.
He’s like a child for fucks sake! Touching things he shouldn’t be touching and grinning at you with a ‘you can’t do anything about it because I’m cute’ glint in his eyes.
You watch as Eddie sucks the syrup off his thumb and smirks at you as he says, “Sharing is caring, you know?”
You look at his plate, tilting your head with a smirk before asking, “Yeah? Then can I have your hash browns?” Eddie glances at his plate, a frown spreading across his lips as he looks at you, “But there’s barely any left.” He points out.
Your eyebrows raise, and he sighs in defeat, cutting into his hash browns to give you half of it. You snicker as he carefully reaches over to put the side dish on your plate, pursing your lips to hold a laugh when you look up at him. “What’s so funny?” He grumbles, stabbing into his food and shoving a fork full into his mouth.
“Nothing. I just, like, hate hash browns.”
Eddie stops midchew, looking up at you for a brief moment. He’s silent as he resumes chewing his food and swallowing, quietly eyeing you for a moment before clearing his throat. “You hate hash browns?” He asks.
You nod as you take a bite of your eggs, and Eddie looks at you like you just told him something concerning. “I—... what do you mean you hate hash browns? Do you like potatoes?”
You shrug, taking a sip of your drink, “Sure.”
“Do you like fries?”
“I love fries.”
“Tater tots?”
“I like them every now and then,” You shrug.
Eddie’s head cocks in confusion, eyes narrowing, “So what’s the problem with hash browns?”
Your eyebrows raise, and an amused smile spreads across your lips, “Holy shit. I’m getting the sense that you might, I don’t know… love hash browns or something?”
Eddie scoffs, “Of course I fucking love hash browns. Are you fucking kidding me? Who doesn’t like hash browns?”
“Tommy Lommi.”
“Well then, they’re fucking weird— wait…” Eddie blinks at you and stares like you’ve just discovered time travel. “What do you mean, Tommy Lommi? How do you know Tommy Lommi hates hash browns?”
You shrug, “Ate breakfast with the band a few years ago. They gave him hash browns, and he returned the entire plate. A lot of people hate hash browns, Eddie.”
Eddie waves a hand in dismissal, scooting closer to the table as he responds in a hurried and amused tone, “You had breakfast with Black fucking Sabbath?” He exclaims.
You hold back a smile as you blink at the man before you, his brown eyes wide and blown from adrenaline, “Yeah, it— it was, like, a work thing. I was doing a short piece on them, so Anna and I had lunch with them and their manager.” At the mention of your manager's name, you make a mental note to call and update her on your piece.
Eddie raises two hands to his head, grasping his hair like he’s in distress, as he lets out a loud sound, drawing attention. You giggle, reaching out to grab his wrist and lower him back down to the table, “Eddie, you’re making a scene—” “You met Ozzy, and you just, like, casually forgot to mention that to me? Like he’s not my idol? Like he’s not my literal lord and savior? Do you even care about me?” He exclaims in a loud voice. 
Your eyes widen in amusement as the man practically spins out right in front of you. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think it— wait, haven’t you met him before? Like on a red carpet or something?”
Eddie scoffs, leaning back into the booth and pulling a face like the words you’ve just said are rubbish. “Yeah, right. Like Ozzy Osborne would willingly surround himself with a bunch of untrained nuts like the boys of Corroded Coffin. He’s a professional, Birdie. That’s an insult.”
You giggle, gently nudging your plate away, taking a deep breath from feeling so full as you shrug, “Maybe if you cleaned up your act, it would happen.” You teasingly say.
Eddie looks at you, runs his eyes over your face, and smirks as he folds his arms over his chest, reaching up with one hand to twirl a piece of his hair between his fingers. “Yeah? And how do you suggest we do that?” He slinks his feet forward, gently tapping his shoe against yours before hooking an ankle around yours.
You hum, “I don’t know. Maybe cut back on the parties. Less reckless act and more calculated rockstar. Less groupies… none, if that.” You mutter the last part, and Eddie snickers. He hums as well, tipping his head side to side as if he’s thinking, “And would you say maybe,” He clears his throat, “Like, a girlfriend would do good as well?”
You huff out a laugh, “Nice try, Munson.” You snicker. “You’re far from girlfriend status with me.” 
Eddie lowly hums, taking a deep breath as he shifts in his seat, “Yeah, well, I intend on changing that, so, are you done eating?”
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Eddie’s sure that Richie will chew him out.
It’s the last day of tour before the next leg starts in a month, and Eddie is almost an hour late to soundcheck. Richie was adamant about being on schedule for today because it’s the last show, and Richie’s a goddamn perfectionist (who would take on the job of managing a group of rowdy rockstars if they have the personality of a fucking sergeant?). But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have a single bone in him that cares because— well, why would he care when he’s spent all day with you practically pressed into his side? 
You’re Eddie’s every dream compacted into the cutest, kindest, prettiest human he’s ever fucking known, and Eddie keeps having these moments where he wants to smash his head through a brick wall for ever letting a cruel word form on his tongue towards you. He would pay an endless amount of money to rewind time and do it over again, do it right, and give you the respect you deserve.
Then maybe you would stop dodging his kisses.
“Come on, just one?” He begs, watching as you walk a few steps ahead of him. Eddie won’t lie; it’s a great view he’s got from behind. You’re wearing these black ripped jeans that hug your ass and thighs so perfectly Eddie wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you.
You shake your head, “Nope. A kiss has never been a kiss with you, and I’m not too keen on giving Richie more reasons to put me in time-out. You’re also definitely still on probation.”
Eddie grunts, “This is just cruel, sweetheart.”
He jogs a bit to catch up to speed with you, “While we’re on the topic, what’d he say to you?”
You glance at Eddie, brows furrowing, “Who? Richie?”
Eddie nods, and you shrug. “I assume the same thing he told you. Told me to hold off on it until the magazine blows over in the fanbase.”
Eddie hums because, well, that’s not what Richie told Eddie. Actually, Richie told Eddie to just forget it, don’t even attempt to do anything with that woman because when you fuck up, I’m gonna be the one left to clean it up. And isn’t that Richie’s fucking job? Isn’t that precisely why Richie was hired? To clean up the boys’ mess and make their appearance seem squeaky clean. 
“I don’t blame him, though.” 
Eddie’s neck practically snaps in your direction, and he has to stop you from walking any further down the backstage hallways because what the fuck are you saying right now?
“What do you mean?”
You shrug, glancing up at Eddie, “I mean, he’s just doing his job, Eddie. He’s trying to protect your image, and, honestly, I didn’t understand where he was coming from until he pointed out that I’m still practically press in the eyes of the industry, so.”
“Well, that’s bullshit.” Eddie snaps. Doesn’t mean to snap, really. Doesn’t mean to have a harsh tone or sound upset with you because he’s not. He’s upset with the situation and the absolute mess he’s created from having his head up his ass for so long. He’s upset because he doesn’t want to wait until the magazine blows over. He’s upset because he’s finally admitting to what he wants, and you’re right there, and he wants to work on getting you but fucking Richie— jesus christ, Eddie’s going to choke that bastard.
“That doesn’t even fucking make sense,” Eddie exclaims, “I already fucked up. There’s not much to fuck up at this rate.”
“It’s different when there’s feelings involved, Eddie.” And Eddie doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you sound as if you’re siding with Richie, and he doesn’t like that you’re using your hot ass journalist tone with him. “What difference does it make?” Eddie stresses.
“Because shit could hit the fan. Things could go bad again, and, in Richie’s eyes, I could easily become an enemy. It’s a rational call to make.”
No.
No, no, no, this isn’t what Eddie wants, and it’s not how Eddie wants you picturing what you two could be— a disaster. 
Eddie blinks, heart pounding in his chest because god, he wants you and he’s scared he’s lost you before even getting the chance to fix things. “So… is that— is that what you want? To wait?”
You gaze up at Eddie, “I— no?”
Eddie frowns, stomach churning as you look away to avoid his gaze, “That didn’t sound confident. You don’t want to do this?”
“It’s… That’s not what I’m saying. I just— I’m not quite sure where this is aiming.”
“What do you mean? I told you how I feel.”
You make an exasperated noise, stepping out from the wall Eddie had you caged against, “No, you haven’t told me how you feel. You’ve told me what you want. That’s not enough.”
And you’re looking at Eddie with these eyes that make him want to crack open his chest and let you see it for yourself because fuck, the only time Eddie has ever confessed his feelings to someone, she ended up breaking his heart without a single care in the world.
And for this entire month, you’ve been slipping from Eddie’s hands, but this is the time that he’s actually felt it. He feels dizzy and sick and so angry with himself.
“I— well, how do you feel?” Eddie asks.
It’s like time slows as you gaze up at Eddie, eyes filled with so many words and uncertainty that Eddie has only himself to blame for. “I don’t know.” You softly reply.
Eddie says nothing as he stares back, gently nodding as you slink your arms around yourself, “I don’t know, Eddie. I’m… I don’t know this side of you— and that’s not to say I don’t like or want it, but— but what happens when we get bored without the chase?” 
Eddie’s heart breaks. 
“When?”
Your eyes fall shut, and you shake your head, “That’s not what I meant–” “But that’s what you said.”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You know what I mean, Eddie.”
Eddie scoffs as he steps back, “No, Birdie, honestly, I don’t. I’m actually, like, really fucking confused right now.”
Your face twists in defense and your eyes glint with something that Eddie can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes him want to scream. “You seriously can’t be upset with me for being hesitant on this, Eddie.”
Eddie looks at you, pauses, and holds his breath before shaking his head, “No, I’m—” He steps forward, “I’m sorry. I’m not upset.”
Your lips are pulled into a frown as Eddie reaches out to softly skim his knuckles across your elbow, silently asking for you to stay open for him. “I’m not upset with you.” He repeats. 
You don’t step closer or move away, and Eddie takes that as a win either way. But before either of you can say anything else, Eddie is being whisked away with his assistant and promising to finish the conversation afterward.
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You don’t see Eddie for the rest of the day, and for the first time, it’s not Eddie’s fault but yours.
You regret to admit that the small dispute you and Eddie had caused you to spiral within your thoughts, and you spent most of the day holed up in your room packing, writing, pacing, and thinking until you exhausted yourself. On a good note, though, the day passes quickly, and before you know it, you’re making your way down the Madison Square Garden backstage halls.
You’ve walked these halls enough to know your way around by heart now, so you don’t have trouble finding the dressing room. The usual small group of ladies that stand outside are there in their Sunday best for the show finale, passing a blunt between each other— and you don’t even notice the missing leader of the group until she’s storming out of the room.
“Fuck you, Eddie!” She turns to yell into the room. You watch from a few feet away, stunned and slightly terrified. She’s beautiful, even as mad as she is now; her red hair is styled in bouncy curls that jump and jolt with each wave of her hand, her heeled boots clicking on the ground with each stomp of her heel. She steps into the room, pointing at someone who you can only assume to be Eddie, but the door obstructs your view, “I knew you before you had a single fucking dime! If you think for one second she’s gonna stick with you through all of your bullshit rock and roll facade, then you’re wrong!” She snaps.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Kenny, please get rid of her.” You hear the familiar grumble of Eddie’s voice. Kenny, the security guard by the door, steps forward and ushers the angry woman away from the threshold. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She snatches her arm from his hold, and Kenny lifts a hand in surrender, “Look, I’m gonna have to get you banned from the building if you don’t leave. Make my job easier, please.” Kenny replies in a bored tone.
The girl scoffs with a roll of her eyes before turning around and storming down the hall, her posse quickly trotting behind.
You don’t hear the usual chatter in the dressing room, so you’re slightly suspicious as you walk up, kindly smiling towards Kenny as he lets you in. The door shuts behind you, and you take in the empty room, void of the usual hustle of band members and staff. 
“Kenny, I swear to god, if it’s another groupie, I’m gonna fire you.” You hear Eddie say from the ensuite restroom. Eddie doesn’t notice you as he walks into the room, busy ruffling his hair up for the show and walking toward the vanity, “I already told you who to let in.” 
Finally, Eddie lifts his head, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his eyes brighten when he sees you through the vanity mirror. You smile, shifting in your spot as Eddie whips around to look at you, “Hi.”
Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes in the view, eyes raking over your body as he blindly snuffs out his cigarette on the wooden vanity, face stunned as he walks over to you, “What the fuck?” He lowly says.
He’s reaching out to loop his fingers around your wrist and bring you closer, eyes traveling further and further down your frame, “What the fuck?” He repeats.
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“Eddie,” You groan. “Where the fuck have you been hiding this, princess?” He exclaims.
“It’s nothing. Stop.” You grumble, but Eddie only shakes his head, “Nothing? Are you insane?” He steps back, hand wrapped in yours as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, “Let me look at you, come on.”
Your dress is black, tight, and form-fitting, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a puffy lace hem matching the long sleeves' scrunchie endings. Two thin black straps hug your shoulders, tauntingly digging into your collarbones. The dress stops just above the middle of your thigh, leaving little to the imagination—- much in Eddie’s favor. Below the dress peeks out a black garter belt, two shiny silver clips winking at Eddie as they hold up your black thigh-high stockings. Your feet are held in shiny black stilettos. Sex.
Eddie nearly whimpers.
Eddie wants to sink to his knees, push up the skirt of your dress, and stuff his face between your legs. He wants to make you cum on his tongue until you’re pushing him away and begging for a break. Wants to feel the nylon stretch of your stockings scratching up against his ears as your legs clamp around his head. God, Eddie wants it, he wants it so fucking bad.
You smell sweet and taste even sweeter when Eddie presses his lips to yours, practically swallowing you whole— he would if he had the choice. Your lips split into a smile against Eddie’s, breathily laughing as he blindly leads you to the vanity, walking until he feels your body softly thud against the counter.
“Jesus. I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it,” Eddie grumbles against your lips, sloppy and wet, as he trails down to your jaw, neck, and collarbones. His hands are greedy as they grapple at your hips, squeezing the thicker parts to tilt you towards him, groaning when your pelvis drags against his quickly hardening length. You pant his name, one hand dropping to steady yourself against the counter as the other hand sinks into his damp, curly strands. Eddie groans, stuffing his face into your neck, licking and biting as he grinds you against him. You’re all whiney breaths and moans, and Eddie just can’t help himself when he nudges his nose against the strap of your dress before sticking his tongue out and dragging it up the length of the flimsy black piece.
Your head drops back, chest rising and falling with a sinful glisten under the vanity lights as Eddie drags his tongue all the way from your shoulder to your chin before smashing his lips back onto yours, fingers curled around the base of your neck. Wet, hot, and heavy.
Your lips curl against Eddie’s mouth, hips grinding against him, “S-should I be concerned about the angry woman that just stormed out of here?” You lowly ask.
Eddie laughs, smearing his lips against yours, teasingly flicking his tongue into your mouth, “Definitely not. Good fucking riddance.” Eddie can’t wait to tell you all about how he learned about Lany’s money-greedy actions that led him to the page of every tabloid with a false girlfriend.
You fail terribly to hold the snort that rises in your throat, and Eddie cuts it off with his mouth, swallowing your hums as he presses his body into yours. 
“Want you.” Eddie needily whispers. You whine, fingers curling against Eddie’s roots to draw a throaty groan from him. “Need to have you, baby—” “I— wait, wait, wait.” Your hands are pressing against Eddie’s shoulders, and god, Eddie feels lightheaded as he pulls away, blown-out eyes blinking down at you.
You huff, squirming against the counter, breath heavy and bated as you reach down to tug your dress down, “We need to talk.” 
Eddie swallows, running a hand through his hair as he gazes at you— and fuck, he’s so hard, and you’re so pretty, and Eddie thinks he might bust just looking at you.
Still, Eddie blinks through the thick fog of arousal and nods, taking a moment to not-so-discreetly adjust himself within his pants. 
Ever the gentleman, Eddie offers you the seat at the vanity, but you only shake your head, and well— fuck, Eddie just wants to get back to kissing you so he doesn’t fight it. He hops up onto the chair and gazes at you as you lean back against the vanity, fingers fidgeting with one another.
You’re avoiding Eddie’s gaze, and Eddie doesn’t like it very much, so he distracts himself by lighting a cigarette, but it does little to aid him in distraction when the words slip from your mouth.
“I think we need time away from each other.”
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Eddie’s looking at you like you just told him you killed his dog, and you hate that you start feeling as if you’re wrecking everything when you know— when you both know— this is the best thing for the future.
The unlit cigarette between Eddie’s lips is removed and tossed to the side as he blinks at you, shaking his head with a confused and hurt expression, “W–what do you mean?”
You slink your arms across your body from instinct, mentally pushing yourself to stand on the rocky island you’ve built— because even though you want nothing more than to cave and throw yourself into Eddie’s arms and start over, it’s not right. You didn’t start on a good note, and it’s unfair to yourself or Eddie to avoid fully acknowledging that just because of your intense pull toward one another. You both need time.
“I don’t understand.”
“Just so we can have the space to figure out what we want and need from each other, you know?”
Eddie runs a hand over his face, “Is this about what happened earlier? Because I was being an asshole, I know, and I’m sorry, but just give me a chance–” You shake your head, stepping closer to Eddie and running your fingers over his wrists, “No. No, that’s not what this is about— I mean, it might’ve spurred it on, but it was on my mind before that.”
Eddie’s face twists in defeat, “I want to fix what I did, baby, just give me a chance.” 
You push his long bangs from his eyes, “I am, Eddie. I promise I am. But I need space— we need space.”
Eddie doesn’t even look at you, and your heart aches. “Everything’s been so quick, Eddie. It’s only been a month, and there’s been so many emotions—”
“That’s bullshit, Birdie, and you know it.”
You tense at his harsh tone, “Excuse me?”
“You said when,” He reminds you, “When you get bored. You really expect me to believe you ‘just want space’? You’re scared.” 
Your eyebrows dip in anger then, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you as your chest tightens, “And you’re not?”
“Yes!” He exclaims, ringed hands flailing in exasperation. “Yes, I’m fucking scared, obviously. I never would’ve fucked up this bad if I wasn’t scared.”
Your eyes are brimmed with tears, and you’re beginning to think maybe you shouldn’t have even come tonight. Maybe you should’ve just left without a single word and made Eddie hate you all over again. At least the foundations of your relationship were solid and clearly stated then.
How could everything have gotten so confusing in such little time?
Eddie notices your shifting demeanor and breathes, rubbing his eyes and smudging his eyeliner. You fight the instinct to reach out and fix it for him. “Okay, so… you want time apart.”
You nod, fingers twisting amongst themselves. Eddie turns his rings around his knuckles as silence cracks down on you both. Eddie swallows, eyes catching yours for a split moment, “Okay.” He nods.
You want to sink your hands into his and tell him you’re hurting just as much, wanting him just as much, but if you touch him now, you’re afraid you’ll never let go.
“It’ll be good, Eds.” You softly say.
The curtain of his hair obstructs Eddie’s face, but through the tiny windows, you can see the twitch of pain that flashes across his features. “Are you staying for the show?” He asks, eyes trained on his busy fingers, rings glistening in the lights. God, you want to give in to him so badly.
You shift in your spot, clearing your throat and blinking away tears, “I’ll never leave if I do…”
As if on cue, Kenny opens the door and pokes his head into the room, calling for Eddie to notify him of the running clock. You and Eddie only speak through gazes for a split moment, and you both know if he stays any longer, neither will leave this room. You only have enough strength to nod towards the door.
You can’t even watch Eddie leave. Because watching Eddie go seems to be the recurring theme of the month— but now, you’re sending him away— and it hurts. You were so close yet so far away from justice.
The dressing room is vast and holds Eddie's phantom presence and smell, and you can’t seem to hold the silent tears that end up soaking your cheeks. You can hear the distant screaming of fans, the loud booming of the opening to a song, and deep down, you understand that if you don’t leave now, you’ll end up in the crowd, there’s no doubt.
You don’t recognize the opening song for tonight, but you hear the words and Eddie’s voice crystal clear— tugging you back with every step you take towards the arena's door.
My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost
I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home
Cross your heart and hope to die
Promise me you'll never leave my side
…..
So, you can drag me through hell
If it meant I could hold your hand
I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell
And you can throw me to the flames
I will follow you, I will follow you
The song echoes in your mind from the time the door slams shut to the moment you step into your cold apartment in Michigan, and it never stops.
————
part twelve
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a/n: OHHH PLS DONT HATE ME IT HAD TO BE DONE AND IM SORRY THIS IS ON NEW YEARS EVE !!! these two will be back for one more round of fun in 2024. ok let me shut up before i start saying all my sob shit
as always, thank u for reading if you've made it this far and i appreciate any feedback, ILY AND I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NEW YEARS, STAY SAFE PLS <3
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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2
@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking
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harrysmimi · 1 year
Text
Coffee And Pancakes
Series Masterlist
More of my work | Read on Wattpad
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A series (which originally was meant to be a Oneshot) where Harry meets someone at a cafe, with whom he falls he love. *Requests open*
CW: Mentions of chronic pain, mentions of troubled parents, mentions of smut and smut.
Coffee And Pancakes Harry visits this cafe everyday for this one person he likes (WC 5852)
Puppy Face Harry gets his second promised date (WC 7547)
My Missus Harry admits to have a girlfriend on a talk show (WC 8144)
New York Harry finally convinces his girl to come to see him play in New York (WC 7845)
Baby Talk Harry wants to try for a baby but is hesitant to tell his girlfriend (WC 7256)
Disrespect Harry walks in to see YN being mistreated by his fans at her work (WC 3032)
Italy YN and Harry's weekend trip to Italy (WC4305)
Sweet Memories Harry walks in on YN jamming to his old songs whilst making lunch (WC 1703)
Grocery Shopping Harry and YN being domestic (WC 2724)
The Missing Co-writer Harry doesn't feel to hide anymore (WC 2233)
Cheeky Monkey YN's got a good surprise for Harry (WC 600+)
Princess Jasmine Harry hangs out at the cafe his fiance works at by the closing time (WC 1193)
......................................................................
Gotchu! YN pranks Harry after he's returned home from the gym (WV 1648)
After Show Harry and YN finds some alone time after one of his shows to catch up (WC 4248)
Tag list:
@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @supersanelyromantic Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
Text
Pancakes
Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4
Mafia - Baker AU
Masterlist                        Series Masterlist
Previous Part
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst 
Word count - 5.9k
a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :) 
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(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader) 
"y/n, y/n!"
Wanda's voice and her brisking past you to switch off the coffee machine brought you off the hole you were glaring into the wall with your stare.
Your feet walked on your own as you picked up the cup and walked towards the elderly woman, handing over the cup, a smile plastered on your face.
"Are you okay, dear?" The elderly woman, Mrs. Hudson, asked in a gentle voice.
You nodded your head and with a more convincing smile at her concern, replied, "Yeah, yeah, I am totally fine, Mrs Hudson. Just a lot on my mind right now."
"You have to take care of yourself, child. How else will I get the best coffee in the world?"
You chuckled before replying, "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson. You and this town aren't going to get rid of me this easily."
She gives you a wider smile and with small steps, carries her cup and box outside. You wanted to help her and make sure she reached home safely, but after all these months, you just know how stubborn she can be.
"Y/n, you seriously need to take care of yourself. You look tired."
You dismiss Wanda with a shake of your hand, you knew you were tired. You felt tired. But it had nothing to do with the bakery or your chores, you knew it and if nothing else, they were a pretty good distraction from what had been plaguing your mind for what felt like forever now. "I am fine, Wan. Don't you worry about me? You have got enough on your plate." And you meant it. Ever since Wanda gave birth to the twin boys, she had been super busy and the both of you hardly got any time to hang out together, but you understood. She was a mom now. She would eventually take out some time for the both of you, and she did. If the shopping bags and the skip in both of your steps were any indications, she came back for a wonderful girls' day out after all.
"I am never going to stop worrying about you, y/n. It's kind of my birthright." She noted before picking up a cupcake from the shelf.
After a moment of comfortable silence and a couple of customers, when you found yourself lost in your thoughts once again, Wanda spoke up. "Come on, y/n. I know it's been a month and that's a pretty long time, but you need to stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios. Maybe he is safe and sound, and you are just worrying yourself over nothing."
You sighed. You knew she was right but there was absolutely nothing that could calm down your nerves. "I - I don't know, Wan. That day, Steve said it was an emergency. They sounded so worried. And I have got no damn idea about what it even was about."
"What emergencies would mechanics have that could take a month?" Wanda asks with a furrow. The first time she had met James, flashed back into her eyes. She knew something had not been right about him. She just couldn't pin out what. She didn't want to tell you and worry you about it if it was nothing.
"I - I think something is not right, Wan. I think there is something huge he isn't telling me." Your throat contracted as the words left your mind. You had been thinking that for quite some time now. But giving voice to your suspicions and putting them out there, was a different deal altogether. It wasn't just a thought running into your mind anymore.
"You think he has been lying to you?" Wanda whispers, her heart sinking in her chest at your dejected expression. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve lies or even half-baked truths and it hurt her so much that she could do nothing about this.
"I don't know. I mean, he could lie to me, right? It's not like he owes me anything. He could straight up one day decide to never show up at the bakery again and there is absolutely nothing I could do about it."
"But he wouldn't do that. You know it." She puts her hand ahead to try to comfort you.
"Then where is he, Wan? Where has he gone for one month without a single word? And hell, I can't even ask around if someone has seen him, because guess what, he is supposed to be nothing to me." You half screamed with exasperation. You wished it wasn't this way. You wished that he hadn't just gone without any contact for a month and you wished that it didn't hurt this much. You wish you could just care less.
"But is he? Is he nothing to you, y/n?" She asks, knowing the answer all too well, but she needs to hear it from you. But your silence and the slight tears brimming in the corner of your eyes are an answer enough for her.
She puts her hand around you to comfort you before stating what has been obvious to her for a long time now. " You're in love with him. "
You suddenly take a step back, running your palm on your face, before replying, "What? No, no, no. That's not true."
There is a pang in your chest that tells you otherwise. The way the bakery hasn't just been the same since he left tells you otherwise. The way your smiles haven't truly reached your eyes for the past week says otherwise. The way your eyes always instantly look at the door at the voice of the bell, hoping with everything you have that it's him, tells you otherwise.
But you wish to stay in denial for a little longer. You wish to ignore all the feelings James Barnes has ignited inside you locked up a little longer. Because for some reason, you knew that it could only lead to inevitable hurt, and you wish you could live in this blissful ignorance a little longer.
Wanda just puts her arms around you and engulfs you in a hug, muttering comforting words into your hair.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚
It was a dead silent night.
The only thing illuminating his path were the few streetlights and lights of the shop that were still open.
Bucky flinches slightly as the wound on his face makes its presence known.
He knows he shouldn't be here. Maybe at work, informing everybody of the long mission, celebrating the fact that one of his biggest enemies is gone for good now, or maybe getting some medical care, but definitely not here.
But it has been too long, and if he doesn't see you right now, make sure that you're okay, even though he's the one who has been in near-death situations more times than he can count, he is not sure he will be able to breathe.
Maybe he should have stopped for a moment and thought about what he would tell you about the scars and the wounds, but right now, he was a desperate man.
As the bakery comes into view, he lets out a sigh of relief when he notices that the light is on.
You would be cleaning up after the day right now. Maybe, if he was lucky, you would let him just sit there for some time and not send him away from the door. After the radio silence he has given you for more than a month, he will deserve that, but he is not sure if he will be able to live with it.
When he reaches the bakery, he stops for a moment and looks inside.
There, you are. In all your glory, wiping the counter with a determined look on your face.
Bucky is stopped in his tracks. Just like the first night he had met you, he needs a moment to catch his breath, to look at you for a moment longer to convince himself that this is real. You are real.
To him, you get even more beautiful every time he looks at you.
As if on instinct, you look up from the counter towards the door, and your movements halt when your eyes meet the blue ones you had missed more than anything.
You stand there, staring at him for a minute, to make sure that this is actually true, that he was here and it was not just your mind playing games.
When you are finally able to get your feet to move, you walk towards the door to the bakery and pull the door open.
Bucky looks at you with a small smile on his face. Even after he had fought through literal hell the past month, the mere sight of you made it all better. It was like he had been lost into the sea for far too long and you were the first sight of civilization, of peace, of life.
But there is a slight fear in his eyes. He knows you had all the right in the world to just ask him to get lost, that after the radio silence he had put you through, he would deserve everything you had to say to him.
But he couldn't have expected what you did next.
You took hurried steps toward him and before he knew it, you brought your hands around his neck, engulfing him into a tight hug.
"James" You breathed his name as you held onto him tighter. You wanted to be angry with him, to let him know just how much he had worried you, to give him a chance to silence all your worries, but the second you saw him, all you could get yourself to care about was that he was here, and he was fine.
After the initial shock, Bucky brought his arms around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer and burying his face into your hair, letting your smell and the feeling of you pressed against him, engulf his senses.
He doesn't know what peace felt like, but he is pretty sure it feels a lot like this.
The both of you stay like that for a moment longer before anger comes sweeping back to you and you pull away.
"Where the hell was - " Your words die on your tongue at the sight in front of you. James' face is bruised and he looks like he has been through hell. He looks tired, and all the shine that you had started to associate with his eyes is completely gone now.
"Holy shit." You almost shout before bringing your hand towards his face to gently run your fingers over his bruises.
He flinches first before closing his eyes and leaning into your touch and you can't help but feel guilty for being angry with him when he has clearly been going through something.
"How did you get hurt?"
He bites his lip and slowly opens his eyes, but doesn't look at you, instead choosing to focus on your palm that's still resting on his face. "I - I got into an accident." He says, cringing at the way he hesitates. He used to be able to lie like a breeze. It was the easiest thing in the world for him. But there is something in your eyes and something inside him that's begging him to stop this. To just come clean and face the consequences. But he knows for a fact that once he does that, your hand wouldn't gently rest on his face like it's doing now, healing wounds that he didn't even know existed and you wouldn't be looking at him like that. Like he could ever in this lifetime be deserving of the affection of someone like you. And he realizes he needs it, maybe just for tonight, but he needs to live in a false lie.
You bring your hand away as his words settle in. There is a hesitation in his voice and a pang in your chest that tells you he's lying, even though you desperately want to believe him. You search for something in his eyes, anything that could convince you that he was telling you the truth, but you find nothing.
You look down, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill.
You shake your head and then look up only to be met by his battered face and you take a deep breath before reaching out for his hand.
You needed to help him right now. If you knew something about James that was not a lie, it was that he could be extremely stubborn and he would never take care of the bruises himself. You could either wallow in self-pity or demand the truth later. For now, you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the stairs leading to your apartment.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩
Bucky very slightly flinches in pain as you put the tweezers down on the plate, his bare minimum reaction to everything you were doing would have been a concern to you but you knew just how strong he could be.
You look up at his face and feel relieved at what you see. The wounds weren't very severe and you were thankful for the first aid box you always kept tucked inside your washroom.
It had been almost an hour since the both of you stepped into the apartment. His wounds were all catered to now, including the ones on his chest and back.
He sat there, shirtless, in the kitchen of your apartment as you slowly looked after the bruises one by one, using everything you had not to stare at his bare chest. It really should be illegal for someone to be this good-looking.
You could see the scars where metal met skin and you couldn't help the pain that swept into your chest. You had gently run your fingers across them as if that would somehow relieve his pain and Bucky would never say it out loud, but it somehow did.
Not a single word had been uttered between the both of you since you stepped into the apartment. James had tried talking, anything that would make you look at him even for a fleeting moment but your sheer reluctance to meet his eyes made his words die on his tongue.
When you are finally done mending all the wounds, you keep the first aid box to the side and take a seat in front of him, still refusing to look at him.
James looks at you but is met with complete ignorance from you. He knows he deserves this, but he would apologize if you just gave him the chance. He finally decides to fill the silence that has surrounded the apartment for so long. "Sweets - "
"How did you get hurt, James?" You cut him off, looking up to look directly into his eyes for the first time that night, begging him through your eyes to be honest for this once. To just cease your fears and tell you whatever he is so adamant about hiding.
Please, please, be honest with me, James.
I want to be able to believe you, to be able to trust you, to love you.
Please, don't lie to me.
"I told you, sweets. It was an accident."
You feel the worry and hurt morph into anger. "And where were you the past month? Preparing for the accident?"
You watched as he shook his head, unable to meet your eyes and you could feel your stomach drop. You didn't want to do this, not right now. He was hurt, and tired and your heart was begging you to stop and save the little shred of hope left between the both of you, but you had to know.
James let out a sigh and closed his eyes before muttering, "Sweets, I told you. It's nothing."
You let out an involuntary humorless chuckle, before closing your eyes shut, "Why is it so difficult for you to be honest with me, James?"
Bucky closed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, anything to stop him from spilling out everything to you. You sounded broken, hurt and he mentally berated himself for making you feel this way. There's nothing more he wanted than to let it all out, to lay the pieces of his soul bare in front of you.
But he instead leans his head closer, his forehead brushing against yours, willing you with everything he has to Munster and everything he couldn't put into words.
You let a silent sob as your lips quivered and a tear rolled down your cheek. "I - I don't know, James. You were gone for more than a month and I had absolutely no idea where you were. I was worried, but I shouldn't be. You don't owe it to me to tell you where you were, you don't owe me anything - "
"That's not true." He interrupted, voice pleading, something that felt so foreign to him, but for you, he would do it. For you, he would get down on his knees if it meant you would stop hurting.  "I need you to know that that's not true, sweets. You have no idea how sorry I am that I couldn't reach out to you, but please, believe me when I say this, I would have if I could, 'cause it was killing me. Every single moment not spent with you, not knowing how you are is torture, a torture I am not sure I will be able to survive for long."
You let out a broken sob as he brought his hand behind your neck, gently pushing you towards him, your foreheads now completely leaning on each other, your breaths mingling and you involuntarily close your eyes.
The whole world ceased to exist at that moment. The both of you comfort each other with your mere presence. There were a lot of things unsaid, a lot of things unvisited, for that small moment right there, all that mattered was that you had found each other.
After what felt like an eternity, you let out your worst fear. Something that has plagued your mind for a long time now. "Sometimes, I - I feel like I don't even know you, James like all of this is a huge lie, a front that would fall apart someday."
You don't let him answer as you pull back and stand up quickly to turn away. You had to get away from there. The intimacy of it all, and how real it felt, filled you with dread now.
But before you can walk away from him, James's hand shoots up and grabs hold of your wrist. His hold is gentle, but firm, keeping you with him. He looks up and you see in his eyes how vulnerable he is. How important this conversation is for him, too.
He gets up and takes a step forward and your heart begins beating so fast, you are pretty sure he would be able to hear it.
You take a step back if only to save your heart from getting away, a meek attempt at postponing getting it broken by the man in front of you, the man who had held your heart for a long time now, only for your back to hit the counter.
As James took another step ahead and with nowhere to go, you saw in his eyes as several different emotions pooled through his blue orbs. The intensity of his gaze makes you look away.
He slowly brings his hand under your chin and makes you look up at him and you realize there is hardly a few inches of distance between the both of you. Your thoughts turn frantic and it becomes impossible to focus on your breathing.
"You know me, sweets. You know me in ways nobody has ever before."
He whispers the sentence as if it was something to be kept just between you two, his voice dripping with conviction and honesty. His eyes determined to make you believe every single word falling from his lips, which were now mere inches from yours.
He knows it's true. In all those times when everything became a little too much and he wasn't himself, even when he didn't even realize it, you did. You could read him like a book and it would have scared him if it wasn't for what came after. Your comforting words, your slight touches that made him believe that this world hadn't gone to shit just yet, that everything could still be okay. You didn't have to know what troubled his mind and plagued his nightmares but you made it all better and silenced the whisperings of his troubled mind nonetheless.
You know it's stupid, but you believe him. You believe every single word that falls from his mouth, and you realize the man in front of you was always going to hold a piece of your heart, even if he had no idea. Because he might have lied about something that you didn't know, but it didn't have to matter. Nothing else in the world had to matter if he kept looking at you like this.
His intense gaze falls from your eyes to your lips for a fleeting second and you would have missed it, if not for your sheer inability to focus on anything else but him at that moment.
Your breath mingles as he leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours.
The world stops spinning when his lips finally touch yours.
The silence around you explodes and a world of colors appears from behind your closed eyes.
Every thought in your mind is stripped out and replaced with him.
Just him
The kiss is gentle, soft, almost tender. All the things that have been missing from his life for as long as he could remember.
He doesn't just feel the kiss on his lips, he feels it in every fiber of his being.
The way his bones feel like they are on fire. Like his soul has finally found water.
Like every part of him that came from a dead star is alive again.
It is everything he has ever wanted. You are everything he has ever wanted.
he slides his hand to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if even an inch of distance between the both of you was too much for him.
You encircle your arms around his neck, your fingers gently running through his hair.
You taste like coffee and cookies, and it's all exceptionally sweet and he wants to taste it all like a man who has been devoid of air for a long time.
When the necessity to breathe arises, you pull away. But James doesn't let you get too far, as he walks you toward the counter, trapping you between his arms.
Your lips are parted, still breathing heavily, when he leans in again. Now that he knew how your lips felt, he never wanted to be away from them for even a second.
This kiss is passionate and desperate, hands wandering, tongues desperately exploring each other's mouth, your back pushing against the counter.
James' hands get lower towards your thighs and he picks you up effortlessly placing you comfortably on the counter, stepping between your legs, not breaking up the kiss for even a moment.
He bites your lower lip and you let out a sinful moan, making all his blood run south.
He breaks up the kiss before bringing his attention to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your exposed skin.
"James" You hiss out when he kisses that particular spot.
James suddenly stops and looks at you. You would think he didn't want to take this further had it not been for the desperate hold he had on your waist.
He looks into your eyes, not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes, before saying, "Tell me to stop."
You frown before he continues. "Tell me to stop, sweets and I swear I will, 'cause if you don't," He swallows before continuing. "I can't promise you that you will be able to walk tomorrow."
You are soaking wet, which is proof enough that you want this as much as he does, so you don't ask him to stop. Instead, you pull him towards you by his collar and press your lips to his in a passionate kiss giving him all the permission he needed.
He brings his hand under your thighs before picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, encircling his neck with your arms, holding onto him for dear life.
He walks the both of you towards your bedroom without breaking the kiss.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**
The warmth of sun rays falls on your face as you slowly open your eyes.
The feeling of an arm splayed on your stomach makes your heart stop for a second before the memories of last night come sweeping back to you.
It all felt like a dream and considering just how good last night was, you would have actually considered it a dream if it wasn't for James' hand laying gently on your stomach while also effectively pinning you to the bed and the feeling of soreness between your legs.
But you didn't mind. Not when he had taken you apart more times than you could count last night, leaving you a mumbling mess every single time.
You look to your side and your eyes land on his sleeping form.
With gentle hues of the sunlight sweeping its away through the window and onto his face, he looked dreamy, ethereal and you couldn't help but stare at him.
It was still early into the morning but you knew you would have to get up soon enough, so, in a desperate attempt to engrave this memory into your head, you brought your fingers to his face, gently touching his cheek, his stubble a little rough under your touch.
It is a tender moment for you. One in which you can engulf in your feelings for him a little longer, before facing reality, a reality in which he might never feel the same way.
You watch as his eyes slowly flutter open, immediately turning into a warm look when they land on you and you can feel your cheeks turning warm.
He smirks before saying, "I could get used to this."
You chuckle and take your hand away before he holds it in his and brings it to his chest. "Good morning to you too, James."
"Good morning, sweets." He leans in and places a light feathery kiss on your lips and it's already the best start to a morning you've ever had.
When he leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, you attempt to get out from under his hand to get the day started, but he doesn't move his arm an inch, effectively keeping you in the same spot.
"We both have got work to do, James." You tried your hardest to be stern but the way he looked with his bed hair and a carefree smile on his face made your insides melt.
"Nope, it's too early." He mutters, closing his eyes and pressing his face on your neck, his breath on your exposed skin making your skin tingle.
You chuckle before wrapping your hands around him, already drifting toward sleep and you feel him smile.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩
The sound of footsteps brings you out of your stupor and you flutter your eyes open.
The bed beside you is empty and before you could think much about it, a voice from the door brings a smile to your face.
"Good morning, sweets."
You turn your head towards James who is leaning at the doorway his arms crossed. He isn't wearing a shirt and even after last night, it doesn't stop amazing you just how perfect he is. Your eyes drift over his form, noticing how his sweatpants hang low. You shook your head, willing yourself to not let your mind go there.
"Like what you see?" He says, a smirk is evident in his voice.
You shrug before blatantly lying, "I have seen better."
He pushes himself from the doorway. He knew you were lying. The goofy smile on your face, and the blissful look you adorned told him everything he had to know.
When you hang your legs from the bed, about to get up, he told you to sit right there, before walking out of the room. Even when he was gone, you couldn't help the smile on your face. Your sheets smelled like him.
He came back a couple of minutes later, a mini table in his hand.
When he kept it in front of you, you gasped as you saw what was on it. There was a plate full of pancakes, a warm cup of coffee, and your living room flowers in a mug beside it.
You looked up and whispered under your breath, "James, you didn't have to do this."
"Are you kidding, sweets? God knows how many sweet meals I owe you. There are a little too many, but this is a good start.
You chuckled before leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a brief kiss.
You took a piece of the pancake and tasted it, doing everything in yourself to not let the grimace show on your face.
James was good at a lot of things. Intimidating people, physical strength, reading, shooting (apparently), knowing exactly what you wanted, and definitely sex. But cooking wasn't one of those things.  
"So?" He asked, squinting his eyes trying to gauge your reaction.
You smiled at him before shoving the piece down your throat. "It's amazing."
His smile widened before he leaned towards the plate. "yeah, I knew it. Let me taste it."
"No, no, you don't - "
You were too late as he took a bite of the pancake and gagged before spitting it out. "It's terrible."
He leaned again and took the plate away from you. "No human should be subjected to this."
You chuckled. "It isn't that bad, James."
He shook his head in disapproval.
The both of you had coffee (which was pretty good) with you telling him everything you had planned for the bakery that day.
Bucky looked at you talking and sipping coffee and couldn't help the grin on his face. Your messy bed hair, sitting in an oversized shirt, talking so passionately about something you loved, filled his heart with warmth.
It was all so peaceful. So serene.
And he might not accept it right now, but if he got to start his day exactly like this for the rest of his life, he wouldn't mind one bit.
Unable to help himself, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss.
You taste like fresh coffee and terribly baked pancakes, it's his favorite taste in the world.
You reciprocate the kiss with equal fever before realizing you were involuntarily slipping into his lap.
It took everything in you to break the kiss. "Nope, we both have got work to do."
You get up from the bed, walking away from him.
"Maybe I could convince you to spend the day in bed?" James said with a voice that made walking away almost impossible.
"It's not gonna be that easy, James." You said with a smirk before reaching the doorway and turning to look at him.
"Your underestimation of me hurts me, sweets." He said before getting up and walking towards you.
You took off from the doorway and ran towards the living room, giggling.
You hadn't even reached the sofas when you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around you.
James picked you up from the ground, his bare chest pressing to your back before giving you a twirl and turning you towards him.
"Knew I'd catch you, sweets."
Your lips were parted breathing heavily as he brought his lips to yours, entering his tongue into your mouth. His hands pulled you by your waist bringing you closer, before reaching towards the buttons on your shirt.
You gasped as you felt his clothed length against your core, all your resolve fading.
The ringing of his phone became a background noise initially before jolting the both of you out of your haze and you reluctantly pulled back, pointing towards the kitchen counter he had kept his phone on the previous night.
James growled before stepping towards you again, choosing to ignore whoever it was who wanted his attention so badly.
But you leaned back, adamant about him picking up the phone. It could be important.
He stepped towards his phone, pressing it to his ears without checking the caller id.
Steve's voice bellowed against his ear and Bucky knew he was pissed. "Where the hell have you been, Buck? I have tried reaching you since last night."
"I was - I was in the middle of something, punk. Is this important?" He deliberately doesn't tell him where he is, wanting to keep everything between you for as long as he could.
"Of course it's important. We have a meeting with Stark in 15 minutes and you are not even here. This deal is important, Buck and you know, he doesn't like to wait."
"I don't give a shit about Stark, Steve. Why can't you or Sam handle this?"
"Because you know about these weapons more than any of us. I don't understand, you spent months trying to get this deal. What is something so important now?" Bucky could hear the suspicion rising in his tone.
"Fine." He sighed. "I will be there in 10."
He cuts the call before turning back and walking towards the kitchen, where you'd sneak off to give him some space to talk on the phone.
"Sweets, Steve called. I have to go."  He sounded disappointed and regretful.
You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice before saying, "I told you we both have work to get to."
A moment of silence passed between the both of you, slightly awkward before he walked towards the bedroom to get dressed.
He walked back into the kitchen 5 minutes later, bid you goodbye, and walked towards the door.
He hastily turned back and took hurried steps towards the kitchen.
You looked up from the counter and frowned when you saw he had come back. But before you could utter a word, he pressed his lips against yours for a brief yet firm kiss.
"I was wrong, sweets. You are the best damn thing I have ever had."  He spoke with a smirk before walking back towards the door.
You felt red creep up to your neck and you were stuck in place for a moment before shaking yourself out of your thoughts.
For the rest of the day, you felt giddy, happiness settling inside you, making you feel like you were flying.
But here's the thing.
Flying felt a lot like falling till you hit the ground.
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chanandlersstuff · 9 months
Text
Bubble and Moose.
Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.
Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.
Word count: 8.124
Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and a slow burn. If you squint, there's a "steamy" part.
Author’s note: Hello again, thanks for the paitence. My life has been a little ecthic lately and I'm sorry this took this long. There's still a second part to this part and a final part. With that being said, hope you like it and have a nice day.
gif credit @hayden-christensen
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May 2020, definitely not a coworker's relationship.
After their birthday gifts were exchanged an invisible barrier seemed to be taken down, they started to talk more frequently, it didn’t matter who called who, the other answered right away. 
In the beginning, it started with her brainstorming with him about Anakin’s journey to Darth Vader because according to her, who better to tell me what seemed right than the guy you portrayed him? , but he certainly didn’t mind if he got to listen to her rambling sweet voice asking and answering herself in the span of seconds. For the process, they leant a little in their favourite episodes of The Clone Wars Series and it was funny seeing two grown ups discussing over facetime a child series but they had fun and spent days. 
At some point the brainstorm stepped into the background and movies, plays, books, series, and all kinds of things started to be recommended. His favourite moments of those facetimes were when she got passionate about what she would have done in the movies they saw, when she did all that technical talk and her face lit up, started gesticulating more and talked quickly, sometimes too quickly for his fascinated-by-her brain to comprehend. Fascinated in professional terms, not at all in the sentimental.
If someone would have been looking at him while he looked at her, they could have witnessed the soft smile on his lips, how slowly he blinked and how attentive he listened to every word that left her mouth, as if she was telling him the answer to cure world hunger. 
But it was just the two of them talking for hours by a phone screen, while in reality they were dying to be next to the other in the sofa talking face to face, close enough to touch but without really doing it for fear of being too much.
It was a normal day, which meant that their breakfast routine remained but with the little twist of being in quarantine. Her phone was resting on something and he, from his sofa with the cup she gifted him in hand, had the clear view of her moving around her kitchen making coffee and pancakes. It was intimate, so intimate that it overwhelmed him a little but at the same time made him happy. 
“How’s canada?” She was mixing her ingredients.
It took him a few seconds to answer, too distracted with the flour in her cheek and the need to pass the screen to wipe it himself. “I wouldn’t know,” He took a sip of his tea “I'm not there.”
She looked at him frowning, the mixing stopped. “What? I thought you were quarantined in your house.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t know you, I would think that you were one of those people acting as if all this mess is a sick joke.”
He laughed at her irritated face. How can I take that face seriously when it’s too damn cute and, on top of it, had flour on it? “I would never, you know that.”
“I know, that’s why I said If I didn’t know you.” Add ‘duh’ to the phrase and she was calling him dumb. “Are you paying attention to me, Starboy?” She asked with her hand on her waist, like a mom when she’s mad at something.
Yes, I can only focus on you when you are present and even when you are not, you are the only thing I can think about. “Yes, Little Miss, so drop that tone.” He was about to take a sip of tea but smiled, giggled, when he saw her rolling his eyes at him. “Don’t do that either.” And just to infuriate him, she rolled them more exaggeratedly. It’s too early in the morning to go to that place, Hayden, so don’t do it. Plus you would not be able to come back. Keep it professional. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I'm here in LA.”
The bowl almost fell from her hands and her mouth was opened in surprise. “You’ve been here this whole time?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Bri and her mom live here so I’m staying here to be with her and not see her over a screen. It’s tedious.” It’s tedious seeing you over a screen too, but it would be more tedious to not see you at all.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” She nodded while pouring the mix in the pan. “But that’s sweet of you. You are a great dad, Hayden.” It came to his notice that she said his name only in important/serious matters and when she wanted him to know she was telling the truth.
And oh how he loved when his name rolled out her lips, how he would like to hear it in the most unprofessional, not pg-13, scenarios and tones. Drop it, Hayden.
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Mid May 2020, clearing doubts and new beginnings.
He was alone in his house, Briar was with her mom and although he tried to read, watch a series and even designed something for his patio, nothing could take his mind out of her. She plagued his mind more frequently at that point and the last time they facetimed was a couple of days ago.
Fuck it. He was calling her. Her contact name ‘Little Miss’ staring back at him, no picture. It rang for a few and when he was about to hang up her face came up. 
She was looking at the side, her profile in clear view. Airpods, messy hair falling into her face, eyebrows frowned, mouth a little agape and his eyes got lost in how she licked her lips before talking. What would they taste like? Was she talking to him? Was she talking with someone else? Was he interrupting? Was she with someone else? 
“Hey.”  Her tone was cheerful. “How are you?”
“Good, good.” He nodded, still with his eyes locked on her lips. “You?” She was looking at something away from her phone, making funny faces. “I called at a bad time? I can call you later.”
This time she looked at him with a tiny smile on her lips. “Not that your calls bother me at any time,” he smiled at her words. “but  can I call you in twenty?”
With the smile you are giving me, how can I ever deny you? “Yeah, of course. Take your time.” He nodded with a smile on his lips
“Thank you, I’ll call you right back.” She blew him a kiss and hung up before he could even react.
Was that a kiss or I’m hallucinating? Her lips looked more beautiful than normally or it was just that I haven’t seen her in person for such a long time? He went to the kitchen to get something to drink and watch the sky to clear his mind because all that he thought about were those lips.
Time seemed to fly while he admired the sky, from the outside, but in reality he was comparing the feeling of her lips to the sensation of touching clouds. Both foreign to and, yet, Hayden could bet all the money in his bank account that they were soft, heavenly like, addictive and like nothing he ever experienced in all his years of living. Not very professional of you, Hayden, thinking about your coworker’s lips.
The sound of his phone ringing brought him back to the real world and with a smile he answered. “Hello.” 
“Hi.” Her hair still messy but with no frown. He tried to not look at her lips to be able to focus on her. “Sorry about earlier.”
An apologetic smile appeared on her lips but he shook his head. “Not at all, you were occupied?”
“Yeah,” she lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, “the kids arrived like two seconds before you called so they were all over the place.” While she was moving around the place, he caught a few glimpses here and there about her house.
“Kids?” He had one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to the side. 
“Yeah.” A smile appeared on her lips. “Not mine but something like that.” Okay that confused him as hell and she seemed to notice it. “My niece and nephew.” 
He nodded remembering. “I’m sorry, I assume you had kids and-
He was quick to apologise but it was her turn to shake her head. Laughing. “It’s okay, Hayden.” Hearing his name coming from her lips made him smile widely. “I talk about them as if they were mine, so the confusion is expected.”
He looked unsure but she smiled at him. “So they stay with you?” She was looking up from the screen from time to time.
“Yeah, my sister and brother in law are doctors,” he listened attentively to her words, cheering for her trust in him “so, the kids stay with me to be safe.” and nodded. “Besides I’m the fun cool single aunt with a big house that lets them get a little wild from time to time.” She laughed at her own words.
And he did too, tilting his head back. His Adam apple bobbing up and down in full display for her to see. When he looked back at her, he caught her just in time licking her lips and her eyes a little lost. What’s she looking at? Lost something? Her cheeks have always been that red or it happened now? The thoughts started clouding him so he cleared his throat and her eyes travelled back to his. “It’s nice that you are taking care of them.”
“Huh?” He smirked, she giggled and he did too. The laughter of one made the other laugh harder, as if they were little kids again. Five minutes passed before it died down and it wasn’t even that funny. “Oh God.” She cleared a tear from the corner of her eyes, while he chuckled. “What did you say?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “That is nice what you are doing.”
She smiled at his words. “They are the closest I have to my own kids, it’s not like I’m adopting orphans or donating piles of money to the health of my country.”  In the last part she gave him a knowing look and before he could say something she kept talking. “It’s the least I can do while their parents are saving people and risking their lives.” He nodded understandingly.
They kept talking for a little while until she had to hang up, but this time there was no kiss blown in his direction. Which made him a little sad, if he was honest. Why would you? You two are nothing except coworkers.
A few weeks passed where they didn’t facetime as much as before, because he didn’t want to interrupt her time with the kids, he knew how handful one kid was, let alone two. Plus he was trying to keep his emotions at bay, they were starting to get wild and he couldn't let that happen. But, they texted frequently, small things here and there to stay in touch, although he preferred a thousand times more seeing her face. A little contradictory, don’t you think Hayden?
He and Briar were cooking together, more like the little girl was sitting in the island while he did all the work, when a facetime came in. "How hard can it be to build a kid's playground?" Her desperate voice reached his ears, making him laugh.
"Hello to you too." He teased her.
"Hi." It came all muffled by the groan that left her lips. 
His eyes founded Briar's, who was giggling, and he did it too. "Now, tell me. What are you building?"
She exhaled loudly while he kept making lunch. "I bought a small kind of playground, or something like that." He nodded, a little confused. "Thinking it couldn't be that hard to put together and surprise! IT IS." The pair, father and daughter, laughed again. She lifted her head from the papers in her hands for the first time and looked at him with a frown on her forehead. "Am I interrupting something?" 
He shook his head and Briar, with the curious nature of a five year old, moved her head to see his phone. "Hello." 
"Oh hi!" She looked surprised but with a smile on her face.
"I'm Briar Rose, and you?" The little girl introduced herself and she did too, still with a smile on her lips and a cheerful tone. "Where are you friends with my daddy?" She asked innocently. "Briar Rose!" Hayden said in his dad tone.
But she laughed, a genuine laugh. Not like the ones he heard her give when she was nervous or uncomfortable, so he relaxed. "From work, we are working together." See?! COWORKERS! She said it herself.
The little girl nodded. "Bri, you helped me choose a present for her a few months ago, remember?" She seemed to think about it and then nodded.
"Oh you helped him?" Briar nodded eagerly and she smiled. "I loved the flowers, they were so pretty. Thank you." She bowed her head and the little girl blushed a little.
He couldn't see her face directly, because Bri's head was in the way while she got comfortable in front of the phone, making him smile. "Really?" 
"Yeah." Just by her tone he could see her, in his brain, smiling. "I put them on a desk in the centre of my office so everyone could see them." Those little blue eyes open wide in surprise "Every person that entered my office that day, loved them. You picked right." and a big happy smile appeared on her face.
Hayden saw how closely Briar was looking at her, how she tilted her head to the side from time to time while they talked. "Why are you building a playground?" He looked at them from the corner of his eyes.
"My niece and nephew, Brianna and Daniel, are 6 and staying still is not their thing." He laughed, picturing himself as a little boy and understood what she was saying. "The other day they told me they missed the park."
"I missed it too, but daddy has a swing in the patio for me." Briar told her and she opened her eyes in surprise, following along. "So I don't miss it that much."
"Well, I had a similar thinking to your Daddy's" What? Come again? "and since I cannot watch them being sad, I bought a small playground for our patio." The little girl nodded.
"In a cool, fun aunt way." He added. 
"Exactly." She laughed and the little girl did it too. "Besides, I don't want Daniel jumping out the balcony ‘cause he's bored out of his mind.” He raised his eyebrows. “I swear to you, that kid is wild.”
They laughed, the three of them. "So you bought a playground for them?" Hayden asked in disbelief.
"Kind of?" She sounded unsure and Briar laughed.
He looked at the two of them with a smile on his lips. "Do you even have the tools to set it up?"
They looked at eachother and she had that irritated face that he found so cute, so endearing. A big smile appeared on his lips, unwittingly, naturally. "I'm not silly, I bought everything at once."
"Of course you did." He said under his breath found it funny. You and your like for order.  
She nodded, putting a wild strand of hair behind her ear. "In my defence," she held her finger up and he raised an eyebrow, ready to hear her excuse "it seemed like a great idea."  She sounded so sure, so convinced.
"How?!" He was frowning, his deep tone a little higher than normal.
She got comfortable behind the screen and they did too, their lunch almost ready. "I ordered it the next day they told me that, and with the protocols and everything, it arrived a day after they left, which is today." They nodded. "I thought of building it myself so when they came back, in like a week give or take, they would be surprised." 
"That's nice." Briar said.
"I know. Thank you, Briar." She winked at the little girl and she tried to mimic but failed, making the two adults laugh. "But I didn't think it was that hard to build it!”
The little girl giggled, making her father, and her, laugh. “It didn't come with instructions?” 
“Yes.” She shook the papers in her hand for him to see. “and I saw a few YouTube tutorials but it's not as easy as it seems.” They laughed again. “So I was this close” she put her pointer finger and thumb a little close to measure “to a mental breakdown, when a lightbulb went on in my head so I say ‘hey, I have a friend” Friend?! That’s an improvement from coworkers. “who's really into design and architecture and has a beautiful daughter” she winked at Briar, making her giggled “so he would know how to help me’ and that’s how we are here.” She finished with a big smile on her lips and batting her eyelashes, as if that was necessary for him to help her.
The little girl looked at him with a smile, fully engrossed with all that was happening. “What do you say, Bri, should we help her?” He looked around, thinking, tapping his chin with his finger, acting as if he was weighing his options, but his beloved daughter tugged his shirt, impatient. “Yeah, daddy, help her.” Hayden looked at her, at that smile on her lips, then at Briar who was mimicking the face she did moments ago. “Okay, we will help her.”
They both celebrated, even high five through the screen, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips, the warm feeling that ran through his body and the hope. Hope? Hope of what? Keep it professional Hayden. 
After she sent them photos of the instructions, at his request, they had lunch, over facetime, while he looked at everything from his tablet and they, Briar Rose and she, chatted. Scratch that, Bri did all the talking while she listened closely. 
She told her about her classes, about his dad’s farm and all the animals, asked about her niece and nephew, all kinds of topics they did. All that, while Hayden half listened to them, looked at them interact with a smile on his lips, and half daydream, but never once reading at the papers in his tablet, always acting as if he was. 
Stop it, Hayden, you are working together. You already went down that road and the only good thing that came out of it’s Briar, so don’t even think about it.
"Isn't that right, daddy?" Briar was looking at him but he frowned, a little lost. “She looks like Bubble.”
“As in The Powerpuff girls?” But the little girl shook his head.
The brunette was thinking of any recent character his daughter saw that could resemble her. She was wearing a green flannel shirt, too big for her, that matched her skin tone, her hair held up in a messy way, made it seem like she had a pixie cut and lighter, by the light that was hitting on it, and glasses, he noticed she was wearing them more frequently. I like how they look on you. Really? Not very professional of you.
“Bubble like the fairies movies, daddy. The one we watched the other day, remember?” He was really trying to remember what movie she was talking about, because they watched too many. 
But she seemed to realise what she was talking about. “Tinkerbell?” Briar nodded eagerly.
“The one with big glasses, wearing green, that's always building something and it's funny." She explained. "Bubble!"
If he remembered correctly it was a male fairy and his name wasn't Bubble. "Ohhh, the one that was in love with Tinkerbell?" Briar nodded again. "Bobble.”
"Bubble." The little girl corrected, but even though it was wrong, she nodded.
Haydey found it extremely cute, and funny, the resemblance his daughter found in her. A little magical, mythical, figure a little bit clumsy, extremely passionate about his work and artistic. Briar Rose wasn't that far from reality, they were similar but at the same time, she was like no one he ever knew. 
"Bubble." He tasted it on his tongue and it suited her just fine. 
She laughed, shaking her head "I'll take it" and arranged her glasses. "But, if I'm Bubble, you, my friend" Again with it. she pointed at him "are going to be Moose." A smug smile appeared on her lips, his little girl laughed and he did too, amaze at the name.
"Moose?" He asked in disbelief.
She nodded. "You are Canadian and tall as a door. It suits you just fine."
"Fair enough, Bubble." She smiled, proud, with her chin held high. "And me?" Briar asked, not wanting to be left out, looking at both of them.
"Can I?"  She mouthed, her eyes connected with his, asking for permission, and he nodded. "What you say about 'Princess'?”
Hayden knew she would love it. "Yes! I love it!" The little girl danced in her seat. They looked at each other, she was frowning but he gave her a smile, to reassure her it was alright and she nodded.
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June 2020, planning dates and weird texts.
Saying their relationship was becoming something more was an understatement and that put him in a tough spot. They were more than coworkers, that much was for sure. They were friends? Probably from her part, but Hyaden had feelings he felt he should not have. Feelings? I know nothing about that. That’s very unprofessional. Feelings he would not speak about. Feelings he would deny and bury deep inside him because it was unprofessional. So, the only rational reaction he came up with was to distance himself a little, but not too much. They still talked over text and facetime, but the last ones were from time to time, weeks in between them, not as often as they used to. 
He and Briar were watching some movie, comfortably lying on the sofa, his little girl with her feet on his lap really engrossed in the movie ‘Anastasia’. A recommendation the little girl got as soon as ‘Bubble, what movie should we watch now?’ left her lips. When she found out that her daddy’s friend made movies, she was over the moon, asking for movie recommendations left and right, almost like Hayden did on one of their facetimes at the beginning. 
This was one of those times where they were texting about God knows what. Sometimes they had separate conversations while texting each other, like they were having their own monologues on the same chat. 
I've never understood why people in movies used to send boxes with people inside as gift
He frowned at the text, tilting his head to the side. 
Huh?
WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Type or what?
The three dots appeared and seconds later the response came. 
Not that gore
But you know, like when someone jumps out of a cake
Like a surprise 
His frown deepened.
What movie are you watching?
Singing in the rain
A smile appeared on his lips. 
You have something for musicals, don’t you?
Shut up, Moose
He couldn't contain his laugh and Briar shushed him. “I’m watching the movie, daddy.” The little girl complained. 
“Sorry, sweetie.” He smiled at her, not that she paid attention to him, and looked back to his phone. 
You definitely have something with them, because I’m watching Anastasia and that’s on you
It’s a great movie, Bri is going to love it
He nodded, watching how invested his little girl was with the movie. 
She already does
And you are not even trying to deny the musical part
They are my guilty pleasure, shut up
He chuckled, tilting his head back. Who would have thought? 
So……
People jumping out of boxes/cakes are not your thing I gather
Of course not, like that's scary as hell. 
He laughed, again. 
Don't laugh
A frown emerged on his face, a little surprised.
How did you know I was laughing? 
‘Cause I know you
Those words made him smile, proud of such thing.
And people laugh when I tell them about my unusual fear
For some reason, it didn’t seem right to him that someone laughs at her fears, no matter how small or foolish they seemed. 
I promise not to laugh
Tell me about it
It was true, he wanted to know about it. About her. 
Why would someone do something like that? 
Why would someone want the birthday person to have a heart attack for the scare?
Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?
No, it’s common sense
Sure, Bubble, whatever let you sleep at night
Certainly not that idea 
Call me when that happens, we will take care of it together
The together part put a smile on his lips. In a friendly context, nothing more.
I will
To put your mind at ease, I promise to never send you those kind of things 
Thank u
He could see her with a smile on her lips, that kind, sweet, smile so characteristic of her. 
A couple of days later they were facetiming, he called because he missed her voice but he was trying to mentally keep his distance. It was like a battle was being held inside him. I miss your voice, but saying it out loud may be too much. It may change everything and I don’t want that. I’m not prepared for that.
“Are you okay?” Her voice brought him back to reality.
The brunette nodded “Yeah, why?” with a frown on his forehead.
She shrugged, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, I-” She seemed to think about her next words and he raised his eyebrows, curious about them. “It’s gonna sound lame, but I feel like we don’t talk as much as we did before.”
The sadness Hayden saw in her eyes, even through his screen, made his heart ache, but he knew she was right. That wasn’t what I wanted. No, don’t look at me like that. Please. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He was quickly to apologise but she shook her head. “I have lots of things in my mind.”
“Hey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. It wasn’t at all my intention.” His eyes could see her manicured hand on her chest and a little frown on her eyebrows. “I meant it as, I know this whole staying at home thing is taking a toll on people and their mental health, so if you want to talk about it, or don’t , just know I’m here, Hayden.” The sincerity in her tone took him aback, but it shouldn’t have. 
One time, he made a fleeting comment about his mental health after finishing Star Wars in 2005, trying to make his advice more clear for her. Hayden didn’t think that she would remember it, but it seemed he was mistaken. She remembered everything that came out his mouth. The donations to Canada, his love for architecture, an embarrassing story about his childhood, his birthday, every little detail. So why wouldn’t she remember that little comment? 
The sudden trainwreck of emotions inside him almost made him choke. “Thank you, Bubble.” There weren’t need for words, his eyes told her everything with how shiny they were and the smile on his lips was so soft, so sweet.
A sincere smile appeared on her lips, but she shrugged again. Taking a little off the emotion and seriousness of the moment before it became too much. “You would do the same for me.”
“Of course.” He said not missing a beat.
“So you don’t need to thank me.” She winked at him and that simple gesture made him feel lighter.
They stayed like that, talking for hours, making up for the lost time, enjoying seeing the other face and hearing their voices. He moved from his studio to the kitchen, ready to start dinner for one, while she was still seated in her patio with her book on the same page she was when he called. 
As she watched him move around his large kitchen, she couldn't help but become entranced by his movements. The allure of his every gesture left her feeling a little lost in the moment. “What are you cooking?”
He scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “Pizza.” She giggled when she saw that the tip of his nose was full of flour. “What are you laughing at?”
“You look cute with your nose full of flour.” She said in between laughs. 
He rolled his eyes but blushed at the compliment. "Well I can't clean it right now so, focus on something else other than my handsome face." He teased her.
"It's going to be a very hard task focusing on something else." She followed his lead. "Your beauty is very distracting." Was she teasing me back? Or was she telling the truth?
"Haha, very funny, Bubble." He kept his face down, looking at what he was doing for her to not notice the blush that started creeping to his cheeks.
"I'm hilarious, I know." She moved her hair back, with a smug face. And he laughed, but rolled his eyes. "Back to the pizza."
"Yeah, back to the pizza."
"You pick a few skills from Little Italy, I see." She got closer to the screen to watch what he was doing.
"First of all," he raised a finger full of flour "I was a very good pizza aficionado before the movie-"
"Show-off" She faked a cough.
He rolled his eyes again, trying not to laugh. "But, yes. I picked a few things up." He mixed the sauce.
"I wouldn't know, I have never tasted it." She had a tiny smile on her lips and her eyes had a particular shine. Or maybe it's the light from my house playing tricks with me.
"Maybe when all this pandemic is over, I can cook for you." He said looking at her, what he was doing was long forgotten, his attention solemnly on her.
The smile on her lips was breathtaking mixed with the warm light of the sun on her patio made the image burn in his brain. "I will like that very much." 
His heart was beating furiously inside his chest. "It's a date then? I'm having a heart attack, surely. There's no other explanation.
She nodded, with a tiny blush on her cheeks. "It's a date." A bright smile, teeth and all.
Well, so much for keeping it professional Hayden.
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July 2020, seeing you shine. 
The night was darker than normal and more humid than usual in July. Not a sound could be heard in his house, beside the one caused by the weather. The hot summer weather was starting to bother him a little so the storm that was rising outside made him happy.
Miss Bubble
You up?
Confused as hell, he looked at the hour. What was she doing up at three in the morning? Was she alright? Something happened to her? Was she in danger? All the possible bad scenarios were occurring in his head, so he called her. 
Pick up, Bubble, pick up. Not long past before she answered him. 
“Are you alright?” Those were the first words that left his mouth when her face came into view. 
She nodded “Yeah, you?” confused.
The brunette frowned. “Yeah. Something happened?”
“No. Why?”
“Cause you texted me at three in the morning and I thought that something had happened to you, so I got scared.” He explained. 
She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. “Sorry about that, I truly didn’t mean to.” An apologetic smile appeared on her lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, it’s really sweet.”
“Are you okay?” His heart was still beating furiously. 
“A little guilty but 100% fine.” She gave him a tight smile. Hearing she was alright relaxed him, all the muscles in his body loosen. “Did I wake you up?”
“Nono, I was already up.” He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his feet on the little table there and resting his phone on the thigh, cigarette in the other hand. “Why are you in the dark, though?” He squinted his eyes to look at her better.
The sound of her sitting comfortably could be heard. “I love thunderstorms and being in the dark makes them more beautiful.” You are beautiful, even in the dark. “What about you?”
He smiled at her “I'm enjoying the peaceful silence and the sound of the rain.” and took a drag of his cigarette.
“I can call you back some other time, at a decent hour.” She quickly said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
She could see him shaking his head, thanks to the warm light that was illuminating his face. “No, no. It's okay.” He reassured her with a smile. “We can enjoy this together.” Again with the ‘together’. “you, your thunderstorm and me, my silence.”
A massive thunder illuminated the sky and he saw the big smile on those lips. “I would love that.” She was smiling because of me or because of the thunder?
“Great.” He smiled, getting comfortable.
Who knows how long it passed where his gaze took turns looking at her and then at the water falling against his big window. Her doe eyes looking at the distance, her lips curving in a smile every time a thunder made everything tremble. The light it provided made her, in his eyes, illuminated, shine. A few times their eyes connected and a tiny smile appeared on her lips. 
Unknowing to him, she looked at him every time she felt his eyes move from the screen. Fascinated by how the cigarette smoke danced around him with the warm light that was reflecting on his face and making his hair look golden-like and his eyes had a particular shine. The artistic part of her wanted to be there, on her knees in front of him, in the angle she was from her phone, with her precious video camera in hand recording every second of him smoking that damn cigarette. 
It dangled over his large fingers, but it never quite felt, on the way to his lips. Oh those lips. They wrapped around the filter part and he hollowed his cheeks, making his bone structure more prominent. How would it feel to trace his face with the tip of my fingers? Maybe, just maybe, to finish off killing her, he exhaled the smoke through his nose tilting his head back. How can he make something so deadly as smoking, so hot, so alluring? Her eyes traced his neck, the veins there. Where is his weak spot? Can I find it with my lips? 
Hayden felt her stare on him, how she was tilting her head from side to side the whole time he took a drag, slowly, just to tease her. When he moved his head, just a little bit to see her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating normally and started a fucking race. Her cheeks were flushed, even in the dark he could see it. Her lower lip caged by her teeth and the need to free it made his hands itch. When he finally reached her eyes, oh those eyes, pupils dark and intense, lost in him, lost in desire.
If her eyes were dark, the blue in his was long gone too but that didn’t stop him from looking her up and down. The grip she had in the blanket around her was so tight that her knuckles were losing colour. The fine strip of her pyjama top was falling from her shoulder, leaving him free access for his eyes to trace the journey from her clavicle, to her neck to the jaw. He gulped at such a display of skin, feeling like a horny thirteen year old, Will I ever have the privilege to feel her skin with my lips?, like he travelled back in time and was one of those men that get horny by a glimpse of an ankle.
Their eyes finally met and it was like someone left hell and heaven gates opened. They were on facetime but the tension, the burning sensation, around them was real. They both felt it. But at the same time they were sure that giving in would be like touching the sky. It would be a sin I would be glad to commit.
Hayden said her name in a low and husky tone. His tone is going to be the death of me.
"Hayden." she replied, trying to keep her own voice steady, but failing miserably. Whisper my name in my ear with your soft tone. Shout it at the top of your lungs too. 
That simple gesture of saying the other’s name made the tension grow stronger. Their hearts were racing, they were heavily breathing.
He leant closer, and brought her closer, more like his phone screen, to say something. What are you going to say Hayden? That you want to cross the line so far with her so damn much it would look like a fucking dot if you look back? That you know it’s unprofessional the feelings you have for her? That those eleven years between you two are going to be the death of you? 
She swallowed hard, ready for whatever he was going to say. Are you ready to admit that you have been dying to kiss him, tangling your fingers in his hair, since the first day you saw him? Are you going to tell him that only by looking at you he makes you weak on the knees and that you have to mentally restrain yourself to not giggle and twirl your hair?
There was only one thing that was running around in their minds. Not physical, because there were plenty of those in their heads. God, I wish you were here with me, I wish I had you right here in front of me so I could kiss you. Show you all the things I feel for you but that I’m too cowardly to tell. 
A very loud thunder broke the bubble they were wrapped in, brought them back from the tunnel they were getting themselves into. He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling of his house, taking a deep breath, while she arranged her hair and sat straight. “Look at the time.” What, Hayden? Are you an idiot?
“Yeah, it’s-” She cleared her throat too because her voice sounded breathless “it’s getting late.”
The brunette nodded, agreeing with her. “Yeah, yeah.” Truth be told, it was like five thirty in the morning. 
The two fools bid goodbye, saying that they will be heading to bed and that they would call some other time. But instead they stayed sitting in their respectives houses. Going over and over again what happened. How they almost gave in in the heat of the moment.
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September 2020, you never cease to amaze me.
If the sweets moments were too much before, the sexual tension of that July night was something that went out of their hands. 
Since that call, Hayden’s brain has been playing tricks with him almost every night. Dreaming all sorts of things with her, it was divided between the nastiest of them and the most domestic too. Railing her watching the eiffel tower, leaving love bites all over the visible, just for him, parts of her body and then taking a walk on the french streets hand in hand, or having coffee in the morning and cleaning the foam off the tip of her nose and then kissing it.
Dreaming of her never failed to leave him wishing for more, praying for more. After a very vivid, specific, hot dream where he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the eyes for a good couple of days, he had to put space between them. So the facetimes were a big no, because the dream kept repeating in the back of his mind, every day, and looking her in the eye would make a mess of him.
But now, after nearly two months, he was more than happy to look at her beautiful face. Eager even. Why? Curiosity got the best of him and he had googled her, just to see her work and ended up watching a movie of hers. To say he was fascinated, amazed, was understandable. Hayden always knew she was incredible, but the way he ended up at the edge of his seat, wanting more of her art, was something that didn’t happen every time he watched a movie. 
 She answered right away, her glasses on the bright of her nose. “Hi.” 
“You…you…” she looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “you are a work of art.” Coming up strong I see. The truth in his voice, in his eyes, came from his heart.
Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips “What?” and a little laugh escaped them.
“I just watched one of your movies and…and…” she looked like a deer caught in headlights “and it’s amazing.” A smile adorned his lips. “You are amazing.” 
She dropped what she was doing and looked directly at him. “You really think that?” 
“Of course.” Sincerity laced in his tone. “I think that since I met you, sorry if I never told you, Bubble.” The way she looked down, hiding her cute smile, made his hands itch to lift her chin to be able to see it in person.
“A little reminder from time to time, wouldn’t harm you know.” She joked, making him laugh.
“Sure, I’ll remind it to you.” He winked. “But not all the time, we wouldn’t want you to be a show off.” It was her turn to laugh about it. Her sweet laugh was music to his ears.
Hayden turned into a fan of hers, bombarding her with questions left and right about what inspired her, why things were how they were in the movie, every little detail about it. And she happily answered it, giving him her complete attention.
The title ‘Little Miss Director’ was too small for her, actually, it didn’t fit her at all. In his eyes, and surely in the eyes of everyone that met her, she was a great director, a splendid artist worthy of awards. It didn’t matter that she was young. The brunette was eager to see her in her element, in the field guiding the team so that the vision she had for the script, which she was putting sweat and tears to make, would come true.
“Ewan’s words did not make you justice, nor to your work.” 
She frowned. “What did he say?”
“Basically, that you were amazing.” She giggled, nervously, blush creeping to her cheeks. “But nothing more, I tried to pry details away but he didn’t slip, not even once.” He joked and a true laugh escaped her lips. A proud smile plastered in his face by the fact of being able to make her laugh.
She nodded. “At this point, I think he’s as proud of me as my dad.” They laughed.
“He is!” The brunette reassured her. “Crazy proud.” 
“I adored him.” She confessed and he nodded, feeling the same for the scottish.
She opened her eyes big, “Yes, I have a few.” and mumbled.
You adore me too?  “And he always said that you are a well deserved award winner.”
At that point he was comfortably seated on his sofa, hand supporting his head and his attention fully on her. “I know.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I may or may not have googled you.” He admitted hiding his face, a little ashamed. Perfect, now she would think I'm some creep stalking her. But her sweet laugh reached his ears.
“Please tell me how unflattering the pictures are?” She asked, still laughing. “I’ve never googled myself.”
He shook his head. “There’s no pictures of you.” She frowned. “Which I found odd for someone who has three Spirit Awards under her belt, one feature film nominated in Cannes and one Caméra d’Or.” He had a proud smile on his lips and she blushed but with a smile so big it closed her eyes. “Absolutely amazing.” He clapped at her and she blushed harder. “I’m crazy proud of you too.” While I’m at it, why don’t I tell her that I have a 13 year old boy crush on her? Make myself 100% embarrassed.
Maybe it was the lighting in her house, maybe it was his imagination, but Hayden could swear she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Hayden.” The brunette nodded. 
They talked a little more about the awards and the technical aspects of the movies she made. “One thing I still don’t understand is” she raised an eyebrow, curiously “how a face like yours isn’t plastered all over the place?”
“Is that a compliment?” Her head tilted to the side. 
“Of course it is,” he said, nodding. “You are absolutely beautiful.” Subtlety is not my thing, clearly.
It was like he was trying to see how many times he could make her blush in a single conversation. Because those words made her red like a tomato, to the point she could feel how warm her cheeks were. “Thank you.” And he bowed his head again, happy to compliment her. “The photo thing is because I try to blend in as much as possible,” he frowned, “which is easy, when what all the people are most interested in is taking photos of the young models and big actresses there.”
He tried to rack his brain thinking of what young models or actresses had that she hadn't? And the answer was nothing. She was beautiful, like a breath of fresh air, fashionable and had a smile that could light up any room. But behind everything physical, she was funny, artistic and intelligent like no other. Hayden was pretty sure his words came up short if he tried to describe her. 
“Besides,” her voice brought him back, “I wanted to be taken seriously at that time for future works, so if there wasn’t a picture of me it was better.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to be judged by my age, which people tend to do.” She pursed her lips. “No one would hire me to do a movie if they found out I was that young when I started. Not that the no pictures stopped them, because when they saw me in person a few backed down from the offer, but I fought tooth and nail for my art, my work.”
The scene in the first reading table came to his mind. “You still do.” She nodded. “That’s why you ran after standing your ground in the incident with the writer that time?”
She nodded. “He was rude as hell, not the first time that a male writer was rude at me, but the condescendent way he said it boiled my blood.” She remembered, shaking her head. “I had to get away from that room before I lost my mind.” That was why he hadn’t found her when he looked for her. “But, back on topic, I like having a low profile”
He nodded, “Yeah that’s a feeling I can resemble.” She raised her eyebrows for a few seconds. “I like my private life.”
“I totally agree, like I will not make my life a circus for all the media to pick apart.” They were both nodding eagerly, happy to be thinking the same thing. “I mean, I'll pose if it's strictly necessary, otherwise I'll avoid it like the plague.” She said laughing.
He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What you mean?”
She shrugged. “All the flashes and screams, being the centre of attention, the madness, I don't know, it gives me anxiety.” He knew what she was talking about. “And I like being behind the camera, I’m much more comfortable there.”
It was a little criminal to him that something as beautiful as her liked to be hidden from the lenses, away from the world to witness, but a tiny part of him, the selfish part, loved being one of the few who really knew her, or was starting to do. 
At that point, the list of things Hayden noticed about her turned into a notepad. The things he kept learning about her day after day, text after text, facetime after facetime, meant a lot to him. The trust she had on him made him feel special.
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TAGLIST: @frommywindow27 // @lillianacristina // @shyartisanvoidwagon // @watersquirtpewpewboomm // @yomommaandyogranny // @shqwqrma // @florence-vikander // @bryjohn98 // @its-sappho-biotch // @mysardencut // @fan-goddess // @weallhaveadestiny // @hueanhdang // @ittybitty-rt // @fromasgardandback // @mmb-09 // @elisamoons // @harryisacuties // @little-diable // @angie2274
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lethalchiralium · 1 year
Text
Will Never Be Enough | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader
a/n: i am so sorry, but i’m trying to make this series as realistic as possible so that would include natural things that happen. :( it wouldn’t be a lethalchiralium series if there wasn’t angst… also the 141 are ride or die for you and the kids. it’s just canon i have nothing else to say 🤷‍♀️
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of blood, miscarriages, vague descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of babies and children.
summary: "Simon, I need you." The Lieutenant dropped the papers he was holding, they flew across the office floor. "I'm on my way." OR, Simon comes home to find you in a puddle of blood.
PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST
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It had been a couple weeks since the appointment, and he didn’t expect you to feel sick for this long after. It worried him, but you assured him that it was fine; you had been sick for a while with Mellie, that you would be better soon. He took your word for it and let you rest.
He had made Winnie her breakfast of strawberry pancakes and sat her in front of the television, he held Mellie against his chest. She was sated, little belly full of formula and snoring away on his shoulder. He had made you food and was waiting for you to come down to eat, but he wasn’t worried about when you did. He was satisfied knowing that you would have had something to eat, that he would hopefully beg Price nice enough to come home early. His one arm that held Mellie kept her snug against his chest, he was putting up plates in the cabinets from washing them the night before. He made the mental note to get more baby spoons because Mellie had no longer liked most of them.
“Dad! Done!” Winnie called from the coffee table, he looked over his shoulder to her. She was holding up her clean purple plate so he could see, strawberry stained the front of her face. He closed the cabinet and grabbed a tea towel, moving from the kitchen and into the living room. The chestnut haired girl bounced on her feet to meet him in the middle, he kneeled and gently wiped her face.
“Is Mama still sick?” Winnie moved her face away from the tea towel, but he still cleaned her face as she moved awkwardly to miss his massive hand.
“Yeah, duckling.” He nodded and stood, walking back into the kitchen while his small daughter followed. He tossed the tea towel onto the counter, making a note to put it in the laundry later, before moving towards the fridge. “You still hungry?” He opened it, glancing over the leftovers he had for you last night, beverages, and jars of baby food to look for those little oranges Winnie liked.
“Nuh-uh.”
He closed the fridge when he didn’t see them, glancing down to the baby in his arm before he looked to his oldest daughter. “Get your bag, love, gonna go check on Mum.”
The girl in pigtails her father had put in earlier bounced on her feet, disappearing back into the living room. Simon turned towards the counter across from the fridge, grabbing the plate of food with a fork on it before making his way upstairs.
Mellie’s little hand gripped onto his t-shirt when he nudged his bedroom door open, making his way to your side of the bed in the light that seeped through from the hallway. He quietly settled your plate of food on your nightstand before moving back out of the room, towards Mellie’s room. He opened the door and quickly moved towards her crib, peeling his little one from his chest before placing her delicately on her back on the small mattress. Her crib creaked when Simon leaned forwards to kiss her forehead, he was quick to move away and out her room - when the door closed, it was silent. He slipped back into his bedroom and to your side, he could see your silhouette in the middle of the bed underneath the plush duvet.
He leaned a knee onto the side of the bed, a hand settled on your cheek as he spoke, “Sweetheart.”
You grunted in annoyance. “Don’t wake me unless someone is dying or the house is on fire.”
Simon chuckled, petting your hair. “Put your food on your nightstand, I’m takin’ Wins to school soon.”
Your arms moved to stretch over your head as he leaned forwards, his lips meeting yours. A smile on your lips, your hands now found his chest to gently pull him off. “Baby, I’m still sick.”
“Don’t care.” He mumbled, pressing another kiss to your lips before his hands began to tug down the duvet. He moved himself down the bed, quickly tugging up his old t-shirt on you to press his lips to the small swell of your stomach, where that little baby was growing. His little baby, half of him and half of you. “Quit makin’ your mum sick, all she’s doin’ is lovin’ ya.”
With a final kiss to his unborn son, he moved back to place his lips on your forehead, feeling the skin a lot warmer than he had expected. He leaned back into his knees, nodding towards the food on the nightstand. “‘m takin’ Duckling to school, Mel’s asleep. You need to eat.”
You nodded, your hand reached for his and he instantly took it. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, you smiled at him.
“I won’t be long, tryin’ to get Price to let me off early.”
You shook your head, dismissing it. “I’ll be fine, baby. I’ll call you if I need you.”
He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, a promise that he would be home soon.
Ghost desperately wanted it to be a slow day, but no. Active drills and testing on soldiers, Laswell was in for a debrief this morning, and a mention of a new deployment soon. He wasn’t very happy about it, but he said nothing. He would discuss it with you when he got home.
He had papers in his hand as he marched down to Price’s office; sergeants and privates diving out of his way to avoid his so-called ‘wrath’. All it was was a stare or the occasional pin onto the wall, nothing serious. In his hands were training reports on seasoned soldiers, descriptions of how their skills have improved and all that bullshit.
The man was tired, all he wanted to do was go home and lay in his bed underneath the dog pile of his daughters and wife. Maybe eat a sandwich or go for a run, but he had to be on base. He didn’t even have the time to look at Price this morning, this report was his saving grace to go home and make sure you were okay. He was itching to leave right this moment, but you’d never tell from his mask.
He knocked on Price’s door, not even waiting for permission to enter before he swung open the door. He shut the door behind him, moving to stand in front of Price.
“Got the reports-“
Ghost’s phone rang in his pocket, papers in his clutch as Price‘s voice died in his throat. His captain gave him a nod, letting Simon fish his phone out. He saw your pretty face on his screen and pressed the phone to his ear, concerned why you were calling him at one in the afternoon. He was about to get Price to let him leave earlier so he could take care of you and the girls.
“Hi, are you okay?”
“Simon, Simon-“ Your sobs were loud. “I need you.”
He dropped the papers he had onto the floor of Price’s office and booked it. “Baby, hey, I’m on my way.” He said, shoving past privates and his friends, who called after him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Ever-Everything, there’s- There’s so much blood- I think-“ A loud sob. “I think I’m losing the baby.”
He felt like throwing up.
His hand went to his pocket, ripping out his keys but dropping them onto the concrete. He didn’t even have the time to pick them up before someone else did, he looked up to see Price.
He couldn’t see how badly he was shaking, all he could do was listen to you say, “It hurts so much.” Price moved around to the other side of his car, getting into the driver’s seat while he got into the passenger seat. He felt the car move as the back doors opened, he knew it was Soap and Gaz. Price didn’t even wait for them to close their doors before he pressed the pedal to the metal.
“I’m comin’, baby. Hold on.” He answered. “Talk to me, sweet girl.”
“Please,” Your voice cracked, sobs followed after. “Simon.”
His hand was shaking so bad, he could feel it now. His brain shut off, he could only feel fear as it tore through his entire being like fire. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t ever dare to - not when it took so long to find you.
The fifteen minute drive home was made in seven, flat. Simon was out of the car before Price even put it in park. He ran. He sprinted into the house, not caring that the front door slammed against the wall. He’d fix it later. He took the stairs three at a time, hearing his daughter crying in your en-suite bathroom. He frantically ran down the hall, opening the bedroom door. The light from the bathroom lit up the room, he didn’t stop running until he almost went face first into the door frame. He was breathing hard, eyes now fixated on you.
Blood stained the floor of the bathroom and the bottom of the shirt of his you were wearing. Mellie was sat in your arms, tears stained her cheeks as she cried loudly. Your face looked paler, tears dripping down onto the crown of your daughter’s head. Your face was contorted into one in pain, one hand on the small bump of your belly.
“LT!” He heard Soap call, he turned his head towards the doorway of his bedroom.
“Up here!”
He then came to your side, kneeling beside you as the rumble of boots against the hardwood stairs were loud, making Mellie cry harder. Your hand reached for him, gripping onto his uniform as his own hand settled on your cheek. He glanced down at the blood that pooled around your legs. “What happened?”
“I-I felt sick and-and I got up and- there was-“ Sobs kept falling from your mouth, chest trembling and making the eight month old screech. “I can’t-“ Your face went to your daughter, pressing a kiss to her head as she kept crying. “Mels, please, baby-“
He was quick to remove his hand from your face, taking his daughter in his grasp before turning towards the bedroom. Gaz and Soap stood in it, Price behind them, all of them gazing through the doorway. Every single one of his friends’ faces had concern written all over them.
“Gaz.”
The Sergeant immediately came forwards, taking the little one in his grasp and leaving the bathroom. Simon turned back to you, grabbing your other hand and squeezing. You tried to take a deep breath, but hiccuped harshly. “It hurts, Simon. It hurts, it hurts.“ Your eyes screwed shut, he felt your knuckles pop as you kept squeezing his hand.
“I know.” He murmured, moving one arm to go underneath your knees. Your body was shaking, he was shaking, he didn’t know how to stop it, he wanted to stop it.
Your voice was nothing but a whisper, body trembling as he picked you up. “My baby.”
“Simon, what’s happened?” Price spoke, he probably noticed the blood on the floor that had seeped through your underwear. Simon felt his skin grow cold when he felt the blood against his forearm, moving into the bedroom before grabbing a blanket from the chair next to the dresser. He did his best to cover you, Soap immediately came to his aid. He pulled the blanket up to your neck while Simon awkwardly wrapped you in the gray blanket.
As soon as Soap had moved away, Simon was gone. Down the steps, through the hallway while hearing his infant daughter screeching in the kitchen. He kept his eyes on you, your eyes screwed so tight and hollow sobs echoed from your lips.
He didn’t hear Price tell Soap to go get Winnie from school, he didn’t listen when Price told Gaz to stay with Mellie, that he was going with Simon.
It was like the world was in slow motion when he stepped down the front porch, but it zipped by when Price’s hand landed on his shoulder. Simon didn’t even turn to look at Price.
“She’s miscarrying.”
———
hi. simon is great dad and you can’t convince me otherwise, he’s the best husband he can be so part 2 will be soon i promise :(
———
Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.
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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months
Text
"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART IV
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Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+
CHAPTER WARNINGS: major character death (?), more plot-driven smut, strong language, anxiety-inducing themes, panic attacks, co-dependency, hot n heavy but low-key emotional s*x. MINORS, DNI. 18+
⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
When you do manage to get yourself out of bed and dressed for the day, which consists of an oversized long sleeved shirt that you stole from your uncle (because you liked it) along with some leggings and long white socks, you tell yourself to take a deep breath and accept whatever fate awaits you.
You've made your bed (literally, and figuratively speaking) so now you have to... well, not lie in it...
Anyway.
You walk downstairs to smell Steve at work in the kitchen, cooking up something delicious. Eddie sees you first, on the couch.
He grins and waves. "Mornin’, princess.”  
You smile and give him a little wave. "Howdy."
Robin walks in with a first aid kit to give him fresh bandages, visibly sagging with relief when she sees you.
“Oh thank God, you’re up. These kids are already on one...”
You can’t help but snort a laugh at that, taking in her frazzled state, and you ask her what you can do to help but she just says in a desperate voice, “Coffee, please, I love you.”  You grin and nod, hearing her and Eddie fussing over his dressing as you make for a hot cup of coffee.
You can hear the kids all around the corner, chirping lively from the kitchen. Even El is in there participating. Hopper’s voice is in the mix somewhere, grunting something about “indoor voices.”  Your uncle is arguing over something with Erica, balls deep in a heated debate.
When you round the corner, your eyes first land on Nancy. She’s sitting at the bar with Jonathan. She smiles at you shyly. Jonathan greets you out loud.
“Bauman Squared is up.”
The kids all get in a tizzy of excitement. Erica’s excitement is short-lived, given her intense debate with your uncle. But Dustin is rushing over to you, blabbering about something pertaining to the lifespan of canned goods, and Mike is chiming in from the table saying, “No, Dustin, hold up, okay?  So, Bauman, this is actually how it started.”
But your uncle cuts him off, asking them why they call you that when you both share the same last name. Joyce teasingly points out that he’s Murray and you’re Bauman.
Hopper adds to that, “yeah man, get with the program. Your niece is our favorite.” He shoots you a wink, and you give him a finger gun of approval.
Your uncle is rolling his eyes, but shoots you a desperate look — “Coffee. Black. Strong. Gracias.”   Erica resumes her debate with him.
You grin as you move to go get your uncle a much needed cup of coffee, finding that Steve has stopped flipping the pancakes to look at you with a soft smile and scooting over a hot mug of coffee to you. 
But it’s not for your uncle. It’s for you.
“Two sugar, light cream, right?”   
The way that Steve murmurs the question to you makes you weak in the knees. You settle for giving him a tight-lipped grin and nod.
“Yeah, thank you,” you murmur back.
Steve moves to grab another mug, moving to pour another cup of straight black coffee for your uncle. You can’t help but notice the curve of his biceps as he does, secretly admiring his face while the coffee pours from the pot. The way his white t-shirt fits him just right, his gray sweatpants sitting at the jusssst right point of his hips.
You swallow. Fuck.
You get a hold of yourself before he’s handing it over to you. He winks. “It’s strong. I promise.”
You smirk back at him, raising the glass in thanks before walking it over to your uncle.
You don’t notice the way that Steve tries to hide the overwhelming thoughts in his brain, signaling his evolving feelings for you.
And you also don’t notice now Nancy catches it, or how it uncomfortably makes her heart seize...
But you do notice your uncle staring at you with those damn all-knowing-eyes, while Erica incessantly jabbers on about whatever the hell they’re debating. You and Murray exchange the quietest but most intense glares.
And Hopper's got half a donut hanging out of his mouth as he happens to catch the tail end of this. He wants to ask, but decides it’s best to hold off on that.
***
The day goes well. The house is always staying busy, so it keeps you all that way. Hopper is calling for a family meeting in the living room, which gets everyone in a tizzy.
The boys will always, at some point, try to take over. It takes both Joyce and Hopper to set them straight.
Your uncle makes sure to throw in his usual statement: “peanut gallery hours will follow the meeting, thank you.” 
This meeting is no exception, and it goes exactly like that.
Will makes great points, as always — and he is allowed to, along with El, given their ties to the supernatural.
Jonathan and Nancy always listen the best. One of them takes notes.
Normally, you sit next to your uncle or Eddie while Steve always takes a seat next to Robin. 
But this time, as you sit next to Murray at the end of the couch listening to Hopper try to push through his conference lecture while Dustin interjects like crazy, your heart flutters as Steve moves from the staircase over to sit on the arm of the couch -- next to you.
You sit still, not letting yourself react or look up at him. But you also forget to breathe. Thankfully, he’s too busy telling Dustin to can it so he doesn’t notice.
Robin is slowly shifting back in her seated position in the large loveseat, having been prepared to make room for Steve. She’s too grateful to have it to herself to feel suspicious yet.
Eddie, however, clocks it. What “it” is, necessarily? He doesn’t know.  Like honestly, he’s not even in the ballpark.  But still, he notices so yay gold star.
Nancy does know what “it” is, though, when she catches it.  Or at least she has an inkling.  She’s not the note taker today, so she’s able to catch it. She wonders to herself if maybe she is just overthinking it, given her conflicted feelings for Steve while still with Jonathan.
Steve is actively participating in the conversation with the adults, and you chime in as well. Once you’ve gotten a grip on yourself.
Something is being said about needing to go on a supply run, but also how they need to get over to the main field and see what is happening at the lab — which is now squared off with all electric fencing. The kids are LOUD, demanding it be them. Hopper shuts that down real fast.
“So help me Goddddd, listentome.” — Hopper
“Kids, shh, calm down…” — Joyce
“FETUSES, SILENCIO.”  — Murray
The kids relent with rolled eyes and groans of displeasure. Hopper rubs his temples, resetting.  Then speaking —
“I will be assigning roles. You will hear them, and you will accept them.  Deal?”
Everyone nods, agreeing. Even the kids. Great, you think, so they’ve learned to know better than push their luck that far…
Hopper is assigning 4 separate groups to 4 separate tasks. 
In one group: Robin, Nancy, Will and Joyce. They will be making the supply run.
In the 2nd group: Dustin, Erica and Murray will be staying here to run the command center. Murray’s the boss. He grins, but also wants to jump off a cliff for the fact he has been assigned the responsibility of managing the two loudest kids in the group. Lucas will also stay with Max, while on lookout at base.
In the 3rd group: Hopper, El, Mike and Argyle as the driver. They’ll be assessing the damage done, pertaining to the gate re-opening. They’re on Vecna patrol.
In the 4th group: Jonathan, Steve, you and Eddie. You’ll all be venturing over the fence to spy on the lab and get a look at what is happening over there, while reporting back to Group 2.
This sends Dustin to a fit of determination, as he insists that he joins your group so that he can help with the walkie-talkie communication since Lucas and Erica can man the fort. (Murray definitely takes offense to that.)
Hopper huffs but doesn’t disagree with the suggestion. “Don’t let this give you any sort of false pretenses, kid. This is the one suggestion you’ve made that is sensible.”
Dustin just grins like a dopey idiot. Then he looks at Steve. “Yay!”
Steve rolls his eyes but honestly, he’s cool with having his buddy.
The plan is to go into effect early tomorrow morning. Meaning, everyone needs to get some good ass sleep and tuck in early.
You’re in your room now, having just showered and put on your pajamas with freshly brushed teeth. You’re putting together your combat outfit for tomorrow when there’s a knock at your door.
You expect it to be your uncle, since earlier he was going over strategies with you for an obscenely long time — which is his very awkward way of indirectly saying, “hey, you’re my niece and I love you and I’m worried about you because that’s what family does.” So you figure he’s drawn up another 10 plans to run by you, and you're happy to humor him on them.
But it’s Steve on the other side, looking shy and like he might’ve had to talk himself into doing this in fear of how you might react.
You give him a surprised but pleasant smile. He stands there, returning it timidly. There is a silence that falls over both of you. Then finally —
“Can I sleep in here tonight?”
You have to literally restrain yourself from jumping at that question with a way-too-eager oh thank god, yes. Instead, you just give him a polite grin.
“Yeah, of course,” you say.
Steve lets himself in, and he looks over to see your outfit set aside for tomorrow. He nods at it as he sits on the edge of the bed.
“Tryna look badass?”
You smirk. “I am a badass. I’m a Bauman.”
You expect Steve to scoff. To roll his eyes. Make some snide remark. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, with that same look on his face that he had this morning while you two laid in bed together. You can’t break away your gaze for a moment, almost hypnotized.
God, he is so beautiful. Why the fuck is he so beautiful?
Finally, you break the stare down by moving to get your combat boots out from the closet and place them beside the clothes.
And that’s when you feel it. His fingers brushing the edge of your t-shirt, hooking onto it so that you turn around. You do, letting him turn you to face him. He’s looking at you intently, and slowly he pulls you towards him to cage you between his spread legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. It’s half shy, half confident. Gentle but assertive. You stare down into his doe eyes, and you hold your breath when his fingers splay across your hips as they grip onto you. You’re so close to him now, too close yet somehow not close enough. You can’t breathe.
After soaking you in, Steve reaches one arm up to pull your neck down to his face so that he can brush the tip of his nose against yours, just like you did last night. Ever so slowly, be nuzzles. Eskimo kiss.
And then his lips are finding their way to be against yours.
Steve kisses you softly, taking his time and just breathing you in. Then he sighs into your mouth as he stands so that he can lift you up, making you swing your legs to wrap around his waist and hold yourself to him there. He turns you both around, effortlessly walking you over to sit on top of the chest of drawers. Damn, he's strong. Steve places you there, lips still on yours, before he finally pulls back.  His hands glide down to the bottom of your shirt. Please, his eyes ask. But this time, he wrenches your shirt off of you with more vigor than last night. It’s urgent, and it’s still urgent when his lips crash back into yours before wrenching himself back again so that you can tug his shirt over his own head. He grunts impatiently, wanting to not be apart from you yet needing to be skin to skin. He paws and grabs at you, needy and greedy, but something about it feels a whole lot more like love than lust.
Steve tastes like summer. Sunscreen, popsicles and June. He smells like pool water and boyfriend. And he looks like a dream. 
You wonder how in the world he would have felt if he’d been told during his King Steve era that one day, he’d be having sex with that one student who graduated a year early and didn’t belong to any niche crowd or group or clique. You wonder if he would scoff at that, wave it off. Say, nah, that girl? Never.
But the way that Steve keens into your neck right now, murmuring sinful names for you like angel and baby, makes you wonder if King Steve wouldn’t be able to understand that the new and improved Steve Harrington might just happen to be into things he never was into before. Maybe he’d gotten close with Nancy. Maybe you were a rebound. But he didn’t kiss you like that. Or treat you like that after your first time, for that matter...
And the second time was just as euphoric as the first time, just different. Steve was more in control, clinging to you and unafraid to go for it.
Before you know it, you’re up against the wall with your bare chest against it and your legs spread widely and his mouth on your ear. Tugging at your earlobe with his teeth and his shaky breathing, infused with his pleasured grunting humming inside of your eardrums. You pant and bite back the screams that you so fucking badly want to release. but you don't, not wanting to wake the entire household or get the attention anyone awake.  However, you made sure that he knew you were in pure fucking bliss with the way you arched your back into him and dripped all over his girth.
“Been wanting to be here inside you all day,” he rasped, thrusting against you. “Didn’t wanna leave this room.” His words break up as he pounds himself deeper into your guts. “Needed to — to — n-n-need you —”
You throw your head back against him, climaxing at his words for the second time in a row tonight. His arm linked around your waist tightens, gripping you like a lifeline, and he chokes into your ears — which only sends you into an orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. And Steve shares the exact same experience as you do when he ejaculates inside of you.
You both pant and gasp for air, your heart rates racing at lightning speed and trying to level out. You’re both slick with sweat and sex, and as Steve rests his head against your shoulder it sends chills up your arms when his hair flops and tickles your bare skin.
Steve pulls out of you, and you shiver as you feel him leave your body, inch by inch. The loss of him is overwhelming, and your legs shake. But before you can even move to catch yourself, Steve is already turning you to him with a steady grasp on you.
The way that Steve strokes your hair, moving it out of your face as he stares into your eyes again, is priceless. You can’t help it…
“You’re beautiful, Steve Harrington.” You breathe it against his face, still catching your breath. The corners of your lips twitch, almost like you want to laugh or smile. “I can’t stand you.”
Steve looks at you like you’re all that matters in this world. The pads of his thumbs stroke the skin under your eyes, softly, gingerly. He moves to press his lips to the corner of your mouth, breathing against it, “I can’t stand you either.”
Feather-like kisses are pressed to the corner of your mouth and cheek, and you revel in the glory of it, pressing your skull into the wall with your eyes fluttering shut.
Steve falls asleep first that night, with you tucked underneath his chin and with his arms holding you protectively. You let the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep.
***
The next morning comes sooner than you’d like.
You feel someone squeeze you tightly to them, pressing their lips to the crown of your hair before they roll out of bed. You watch as Steve’s back muscles flex while he tugs his sweatpants back over his boxers, then throws his shirt back on and heads to your little en-suite bathroom for a few minutes. You force yourself to sit up, knowing that it’s time and you’ll need to get ready.
Hopper would be so mad if he knew about the 5 hours of sleep you got, versus the 8.
You’re pulling out a pair of socks to go with your boots when Steve emerges from the bathroom, and before you can stand up and move to switch places — he’s cupping your cheeks to kiss your forehead in two lingering pecks. You smile under his touch.
You give him the shyest of looks before going to brush your teeth, re-shower and get changed.
Steve quietly murmurs to you the promise of coffee as he leaves. And he is all you think about in the shower.
You get changed into your army pants, combat boots, and fitted t-shirt. You grab yourself a windbreaker and throw your go-bag over your shoulder, ready to face the day.
Dustin is securing the command center with Murray and Erica, while Mike comes over to you carrying snacks.
“Here, I set extra aside so that you have plenty.”  Mike always treated you more like a sister than Nancy, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her. You ruffle his hair and give him a quick squeeze, grateful.
Lucas and Will are asking you questions about the trip, along with Mike, and you assure your kiddos that you’ll all be fine.
Hopper comes over to you with Murray, entrusting you with one of their guns. “You’re the group's team lead today, along with Steve.”
Steve’s got his nail bat, along with a pistol.
Murray is going over the inner workings of the lab’s field layout with you and your group.
“The break switch is in this building,' he's saying. "But thanks to Erica and Dustin, we’ve got a way of hacking into it at exactly this time. You’ll have this much time to mount the electric fence and get to the other side. Seize. Those. Minutes. Haul ass. Get to the other side.  No asking why the chicken crossed the road. Capiché?”
The way that Jonathan, Eddie and Steve repeat the word back to him makes you visibly bite back a laugh.
Joyce is giving everyone the nurturing mama bear talk, hugging everyone too many times — especially Jonathan. She has Will in her group, so she’ll be a little more sane in the head thankfully.
Nancy and Jonathan are giving each other an affectionate goodbye that Steve doesn’t even notice. Nancy wonders if he does. Silently, and selfishly, she hopes he does. But he doesn’t.
Robin is rambling about something having to do with a jump-ship plan in case the jump-ship plan doesn’t work, and if they need to establish not only a 2nd abort —
“— but maybe even a 3rd abort? and wait is there really enough backpacks that they’re taking to fit all the supplies and can goods that they — ”
“Oh my god, Robin, please breathe,” Steve cuts her off.
“Wait, what’s the jump ship plan?” Argyle’s question makes everyone whip their head in his direction with incredulous looks on their faces.
Hopper looks ready to slug someone but also like a nervous dad. After he goes back over the plan for everyone, giving the bullet points, he tells you all to eat your breakfasts and be by the front door within 30 minutes or else.
Lucas takes his plate up to sit with Max. El comes over to talk with you about the day, saying that she’ll send a signal if she sees anything dangerous headed your way at the lab. She gives you a tight hug, which tugs at Hopper’s heart. He and Murray share a very rare, quiet moment with an exchange in their eyes. Our girls.
Steve is telling the boys and Erica to follow him upstairs to Max’s room to join Lucas for a motherly pep talk, and they all follow him like chicks following a mother hen.
Eddie is being given strict instructions by Robin to follow orders and not rip his stitches that she’s worked hard at keeping in tact by mounting the wall --
...“and be on the damn lookout only so help me god or else I’ll rip them back open myself,” she threatens him.
Eddie visibly swallows and nods at that, believing her.
Suddenly Nancy is walking up to you, as you stand there still hugging El while looking over Murray’s shoulder at his computer system setup. She looks nervous as you turn to her.
“Hey, umm, keep an eye on them, will you?” she asks shyly, sheepishly. “I worry about them. Especially Dustin.”
You know she meant Steve. “Yeah. Of course.”
Nancy nods awkwardly, grateful you didn’t correct her and a little embarrassed. She points to the gun on your back, giving you a tight-lipped grin. “Glad it’s you handling that bad boy.”
She flashes the same one across her back. You chuckle lightly, agreeing with her. “Yeah, the last thing we need is for Eddie to get his hands on this or else he’ll murder the whole town.”
Nancy giggles.
Eddie snickers at the joke, appreciating your dark humor. He gives you a wry smile. “Thanks princess, but I only prefer bone crushing, eye sucking curses.”
You all eat some whole wheat eggos (even El) and some scrambled eggs. Plenty of water, plus some coffee.
Steve walks in to scoop up his plate during the last 10 minutes, and Hopper takes pity on him — given that he’s been with the kids.
“You get an extra 5,” Hopper tells him.
“Appreciate it, Hop.” 
Steve carries his plate over to the table, moving to sit by you and Murray — who does his best to just stare down at his coffee and ignore catching this in his peripheral vision. Sip, slurp.
It’s a quiet breakfast. Tense. Stiff. Everyone is nervous. This stuff never does get easier…
***
The kids all boom back down the stairs, loud as ever.
And everyone is out the door on time, minus the extra 5 minutes that Hopper secretly gave for Steve’s benefit. Thankfully, it goes unremarked but the kids.
You all put their hands in a circle because Dustin insisted a while back that you cannot all part ways without a group huddle. So it’s now become tradition. Everyone fist bumps in unison, and the four groups embark on their separate journeys.
Group 1 does well, making it into town. They have the bottom tier level of risk, which Hopper did intentionally for Joyce and Will's sakes because those are his hearts. He also adores the two girls, Nancy and Robin, of course. They carefully fill up Joyce’s car in doses, trying not to attract attention as everyone has a strict evacuation mandate that goes into place next week along with a food supply limit. They’re ahead of the game, doing everything not to give away what Dr. Owens warned them about.
Group 2 is in full swing, back at Casa Harrington. Erica and Murray bicker like a married couple, but they also high five. Lucas makes sure that Max is safely tucked in, giving her a kiss on the forehead and a promise to be back upstairs in a few hours.
Group 3 is cautious. They have to calculate every single move, given the risks. El uses her senses to tap in, blindfold on and static on the van's radio ringing throughout the car. Mike keeps watch, along with Argyle at the wheel — and Hopper navigates.
Group 4, your group, is en route. You have the longest journey to make on foot, making sure to keep their strength. Jonathan keeps watch of time, and Dustin hangs into the walkie-talkie to keep contact. You scan the area, and so does Steve, as you all walk. Eddie sings to himself to keep from wigging out, and it’s definitely giving mumbled panic.
You are telling everyone the ETA, using the compass. Steve tells the gang to keep the same pace so that they make sure they aren’t there too soon or too late, wanting to time it right with Group 2’s orders.
At some point, you gesture for everyone to pivot directions, and when Steve steps in your direction — he instinctively reaches out to brush the small of your back. It’s so subtle… yet so telling.
Eddie cocks an eyebrow mid-song, ceasing the mumbling altogether for about 2 solid seconds, before resuming as he walks. Even Jonathan raises an eyebrow, silently smirking.
Dustin misses it entirely.
Then Dustin starts communicating back and forth on the walkie-talkie with Erica, and as they start to bicker Steve interjects.
“Hey, dingus, cool it and listen to what she’s saying, please.”
Dustin huffs, whining, “but she’s wronnnng...” 
You squint in the sunlight as you look back at him, saying simply, “Listen to your mother.”
Steve doesn’t even flinch. You both just look back at your son expectantly. Dustin sighs but obeys.
Oh that definitely makes Eddie and Jonathan share a look.
Back at base, Murray is struggling to access the switch for the electric fence closest to where Group 4 (you guys) is approaching. He and Erica work hard at it, and Lucas helps as he keeps open the line of communication with Dustin via the walkie-talkie.
“This east side gate is a bitch,” Murray is griping over the channel.  “Hang tight, just pause when you guys make it there.”
Dustin and Lucas are going back and forth, while Jonathan tries to keep up with what they are all saying. 
You can see the fence up ahead, and so does Steve. 
Eddie’s singing gets louder.
Nancy speaks over the walkie-talkie channel: “Group 1, reporting.  Over.” 
Dustin speaks.  “Group 4, tuned in.  Over.” 
The other groups tune in, too.  Nancy continues in a hushed voice.  “Food supply is running low so we’re going to double up.  The mandate will be really strict.  Can’t take chances.  Over.” 
Jonathan tells her to keep them posted with the ETA.
El comes onto the walkie-talkie, asking for you. 
You take it, speaking: “Bauman squared, I copy.  Over.” 
Eleven tells you that she can see you all headed there to the lab, and that no one is nearby.  You’re safe. 
Hopper adds: “But Eddie, make sure that you stay tuned into this channel and relay it to Dustin just in case.  Over.”
Eddie’s song of woe dies on his lips with an anxious exhale.  “Roger that, over.”
Steve speaks up, “Alright guys, we’re here.” 
Dustin signals Murray, right on cue.  You all stare up at the looming electric fence in front of you.  It’s tall.  At least 30 feet up.  You gulp.  So does Jonathan.  For Steve, it’s easy.  For Dustin, well, it’s exciting.
Jonathan adds to the relayed info, addressing Murray, saying, “Yeah, uhhh, it’s pretty high up man?” 
Murray’s tone comes through, crisp.  “How high is high?” 
Jonathan visibly shrinks back as he squints in the sunlight. “Like...25-30 feet?”
Murray curses on the other side, frustrated.  “Alright, hold please.”
Steve turns over to face you all, starting with you.  “It’s gonna be a helluva climb.”
You nod.  “We’ll have to double up the speed, guys.  But for safety, let’s just do two at a time.”
Jonathan’s brow furrows.  “Why?”
You tell them it’s safest this way.  This way, two people can gauge the timing of it just in case.  Dustin immediately demands to go in the first group, which Steve shuts down promptly — like all good mothers would with their favorite child.  He starts to onboard Jonathan, but you’re already saying you’ll go as you tighten up your bag.  Steve looks at you, hesitant. 
You look back at him, giving him a nod.  “No arguments.”
Steve sighs through his nose.  “Yeah, I figured as much.” 
He’s so sexy when he isn't actually hating you, and instead just consistently miffed with you…
“Group 4, listen up,” Murray’s voice comes over the walkie-talkie.  “I’m signaling the switch now.  On my mark, it will take exactly 3 minutes for it to activate.  You’ll have 60 seconds to climb it.  Up and down.  That’s it.  Remember what I said: haul ass.”
Dustin responded back with a sigh, “Steve and Bauman Squared insist on going two at a time so…”  He dreads the next question, cringing before asking.  “Any chance you guys can…do it…twice?”
You turn around, waiting to hear your uncle’s reply and wondering if you’ll need to step in.  His befuddled response confirms, yes you will, and you walk over to take the walkie.
“Uncle Murray, it’s not very sturdy.  It’s too big a risk, four at a time.  If you can’t do it, then just me and Steve will go.  What can we do?  Over.” 
You speak matter-of-factly, which Steve appreciates.  He stands with his hands on his hips and tongue between his teeth, all hot and mom-like.  Even though for you...he’s giving daddy.
Eddie has been pacing a trough into the grass.  Please let me have company, he thinks.
Jonathan’s just quiet, wondering if now is a good time to tell everyone that he’s actually afraid of heights. 
Dustin just wants to fucking climb already.
“Workin’ on it.  Standby.”  Your uncle’s monotone voice makes you all wait. 
You stare up at the fence while you do.  Then, turning your face over in Steve’s direction, you find that he’s already gazing over at you.  That fondness in his eyes is back, and you feel your cheeks flush under the sun.  But it’s not the sun making you blush.  Steve's hands are still on his tips, and he gives you a tiny wink before turning to look back at Dustin with the walkie-talkie.  He tells his kid not to stress about it if they can’t come, which only starts a back-and-forth argument between mother and son.  But Erica’s voice cuts through it over the walkie.
“Group 4 nerds, listen up.  We found a way to do it.  Over.”
Dustin pumps his fist in glee.  Jonathan doesn’t.  Eddie realizes he’s doomed, back to being there all alone. 
Steve takes the walkie, asking, “Same timeframes, Murray?  Over?” 
Your uncle confirms it, but then Lucas is in the background saying, “Wait, are you sure this will give them 60 seconds?” 
Steve raises an eyebrow at that.  But you’re looking at the top of the fence.  The end of the other side of the line is quiet for a hot minute.  No doubt, Murray and the kids are beefing.  Re-calculating.  Beefing some more.  Getting attitudes.  Then finally —
“Erica to group 4, confirming.  Timeframes are exact.  Wait for us to signal the 2nd climb.  Standby and brace for 1st climb.  Over.”
You and Steve look at each other.  Here we go.  He fastens his backpack, reaching out a hand to you and telling you to hand over yours.  You go to protest, but he’s just insisting without budging and reaching anyway.  It isn’t until his hand starts to slide the strap down your shoulder that you huff and relent. 
“30 seconds to climb.”
“There’s a ledge up there, wide enough to stand on.”  You nod up at it as you tell Steve.  “If we run low on time, we hang there until the 2nd climb.” 
Steve nods at you, agreeing.  He turns and relays that to a very anxious Jonathan and a very antsy Dustin.  You gesture over to Dustin, telling him to toss you his backpack.  Steve goes to argue but you hold up a hand. 
“Better me than him," you say quickly. It’s a parental thing that he would insist on too, so he lets you win that one. 
Dustin obeys after seeing mom agree with…um…dad? Are you dad?
“10 seconds to climb.”
Steve talks fast, in position to pounce.  “Eddie, on go, toss that branch to hit the fence.  Double check for sparks.”  Eddie nods, picking up the large branch nearby.  You get in position with Steve.
“5…4…3…2…1…climb!”
Eddie tosses the branch.  No electric shock.  All systems go.
You and Steve hop as high as you can, climbing up like champs.  You both hustle, swiftly making the climb like pro climbers.  Steve is faster, planning to reach down and lift you the rest of the way if he gets to the top first.  But you’re almost right at the same level with him, almost at the top.
…until your bag catches.
The strap of Dustin’s bag pulls you back down.  Air catches in your throat, no scream escaping your mouth as it swings you around, unhooks and makes you fall back some feet.  But you latch back onto the wall, back down to midway.  Fuck. 
Dustin gasps, Jonathan shouts your name.  Eddie starts his shit-shit-shit chant. 
You look down, realizing that it’s way too far of a drop to just fall back down and start over.  You are literally back to the mid-way point. 
You make up your mind within a few seconds: keep going.
Steve is hoisting himself up onto the thick ledge as this is happening, and when he turns to see you lower his heart stops. 
“Bauman, what happened??"
But you keep climbing, shouting, “Steve, just keep going.” 
But Steve is not having that.  He’ll fucking wait.  Hell, he’ll wait for Dustin too.  He’s staying put.  He shakes his head, clapping his hands and reaching for you even though you still have another fourth of the wall to mount before you reach him.
“30 more seconds.”  Oh thank God, that’s plenty.
”You got this, Bauman, c’mon...” Steve’s ready to hold you again.  Anxious.  So fucking anxious.
Dustin is cheering too, along with Eddie and Jonathan.  You’re fine.  Almost there.
You look at Steve at the top, leaning over the side looking down at you. You can see the anxious anticipation in his brown eyed gaze.
“20 more seconds.  Group 2, don’t forget to wait for our signal.”
But right as Murray stops talking — the wall buzzes. 
Everything happens in slow motion.  One second feels like a whole minute for all 5 of you in your group.  Your ears perk up at the sound.  That wasn’t an insect.  That’s mechanic.  That’s —
“Was that —”  Eddie barely started to ask the question you were all wondering.
“Fuck, Bauman — !!! ”  Jonathan’s voice is panicked with realization.
Steve’s brow furrowed, alarm and horror sweeping across his entire face.
You feel a scorch so hot, fire itself couldn’t have burned as badly as the electric shock that shot through your entire body did. 
In that single second, you felt your brain short circuit.
You felt your hands get shoved away from the wall, throwing you off with blinding force.
You felt your throat snap, and you felt your heart rumble inside of your chest...
And then you felt it stop.
*****************************
:( im sorry, Steve.
author notes: I am sure that the fence thing might be weird and not accurate, but it helped my vision for how this chapter goes down. so I hope you all will be kind and not find it too "unrealistic." had to watch some stuff like the OG Jurassic Park, and get ideas for it.
tag list: @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @xprloki @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers
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