#so i’m going to put it off until my day of wednesday so i can just… build | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iammattswife · 1 month

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20 year olds playing with kids toys (Matt’s daughter joins)

DadMatt DadMatt DadMatt !!!

I haven't written in so fucking long please excuse how terrible this is.

Also I named the daughter Kiara cus I like the name and wanna name my kid that, was literally so close to naming his wife after me.

“This is the Fairy-Corn Princess Surprise, I didn’t think we needed this. This was one of the last things we grabbed but Matt thought we needed it because it has over 35 princess surprises inside” Nick states as he puts the egg-shaped toy down on the counter, prepared to start opening up their first toy.

“Well, I also thought Kiara would like it- she’s been obsessed with fairies recently, figured why not get it for the video then give it to her”

As they’re opening the egg, commenting on the unicorn inside Matt notices something on the instructions paper, excitedly, he gasps. “You can wear the wings!” he exclaims

“Okay hold on this is important- How do you get the wings off!?”

“This is about to get real. Hold on I’m getting Kiara”

“Sweetheart!” Matt can be heard in the background of the camera, calling out for his daughter as he’s walking towards the living room where his 3-year-old daughter is sitting on the carpet having a tea party with her mom, Ella (her soft, adorable, stuffed bear) and Ivy (the family’s cat).

“Hey cutie I have something for you” Kiara jolted up, excitedly, her dad always had the best gifts. She jumped up into his arms, him catching her with ease, used to her liking to be held. She had her legs wrapped around his waist and her face in his neck as he softly rubbed her back with his right hand, holding her up with his left.

He turned around going back to the kitchen but before getting in front of the camera he softly asked, “Are you okay with being in the video baby?” she nodded, excited for what her dad had for her. “You sure? I need words, princess, if you don’t want to be in it, I can show you after we’re done. There’s no pressure I want you to be comfortable”

“I’m sure daddy” she nodded her head to him. “I’m always comfortable with you” she added, making his heart melt and his smile widen, his eyes gleaming with content. “I’m glad baby, want nothing more but for you to be happy and comfortable” he says, kissing her head as he walks towards the counter where his brothers are waiting for him.

Usually, Matt and his brothers would film their Wednesday video earlier in the morning so Kiara would be in preschool at the time. However, she recently fell victim to the flu which resulted in her parents keeping her home for a few days. It was now getting later in the night and Kiara had gotten out of the bathtub a few hours ago, While she was getting dressed in her favourite pyjama set- long sleeve pink top with “princess” written on it with a cute sparkly crown and pants with the same design on the right leg, she had made both her mama and dada promise to have a sleepover in her room that night- as she always does when she’s sick.

Matt was not going to break that promise. So, although it was late, and an hour past the girls' bedtime, they let her stay awake until they finished filming.

“Hey pretty girl” Chris says to Kiara looking at her in Matt’s arms as he sits back down next to him, putting Kiara on his lap. “FAIRY WINGS!” Kiara exclaims, her eyes widening as she looks on the counter quickly snatching them as if a robber was going to come for them.

“Jesus Christ girl no one’s stealing them from you” Nick states as Matt laughs at his daughter’s excitement and possessiveness over the wings.

“You want me to put them on you?”

“Yes! Please I want to be a princess fairy” She quickly replies, dragging out the words. “Alright come on”

Matt grabs her from her hips and sets her up on the counter, her fuzzy socks keeping her warm from the cold. She turns around facing her dad ready for him to put the wings on her, so she could be a real princess fairy, with real fairy wings.

“Arms up” Matt tells her as he sees his wife leaning on the entry to the kitchen, watching her favourite people in amusement.

Kiara quickly puts her arms up causing her shirt to slide up with her- “you’re getting taller baby we need to get you big girl pyjamas” Matt says as he puts her shirt back down knowing the weirdos that are on the internet.

He’s careful with his words, most people would say “bigger” but he did not want his daughter to overthink his wording, even if she was only an innocent 3-year-old unaware of society’s criticism on “bigger” people.

“No I like these want to wear em’ foever’ and ever” she replies, absolutely shocked by the idea of getting rid of her super special perfect princess pyjamas

“We could get you similar ones baby just a size up since you’re growing up- you’ve had those for over a year baby you’re getting older” Matt says as he ties the string of the fairy wings around his daughter's chest, already planning the new pyjamas he’s going to get her.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to tie behind her, isn’t it?”

“Nick it’s wings dude”

“Yeah dude”

They all chuckle at Kiara’s agreement with her uncle Chris.

Matt ties a bow with the strings. “Is that good? Not too tight right?” He asks not wanting the pressure tied around her to hurt his baby girl.

Kiara grabs the stuffed unicorn from the counter hugging it tightly around her chest as she jumps back onto her dad's lap. “Wait Kia here” her mama says handing her the tiara and wand, going to stand behind Matt with her arms on his shoulders “Thankyou mommy, now I’m a true princess fairy” she gleams happily.

“Wait who did we get?” Matt says looking over the paper that came with the toy as he leans back into his wife while another arm is wrapped around his daughter, making sure she doesn’t fall off his lap.

“That’s Ruby”

“That’s clearly Ruby, Matt”

“Is it Ruby?” he says as he looks at the unicorn in his daughter's grip.

“Oh then they want you to collect them all so it’s a scam”

“There’s more? I want them all! Can I have more please?” Kiara asks hopefully giving her dad those eyes that he can never say no to. “I don’t think we can get them all sweetheart, there's too many but we can get another one next time we go to Target” Matt’s wife replies before he manages to, knowing he would’ve said yes and bought her thousands of dollars’ worth of these toys if she didn’t step in.

As the boys look over the next toy Kiara plays around with Ivy in the kitchen, getting bored from the lack of princess toys and wings. She can still hear her dad and uncles talking and looking over toys, when another toy comes up and her dad says, “Oh you got to turn her on” they all erupt in laughter.

She looks up, confused about what’s so funny about turning on a toy so you can play with it. “I meant like on the bottom dude, the actual power button- you guys are sick” Matt says as the laughter calms down, Kiara, confused, asks her dad “What other way would you turn her on?”

“Oh sweetie I think your dad knows plenty of ways to turn a woman on especially your mum” Chris gets slapped in the back of his head. “Don’t say that Chris” Matt says in shock, not wanting to explain to his daughter what they’re talking about. “Why?” Kiara asks, still confused.

“See Kiara when two people love each other very much” Chris starts only to be stopped by Matt once again. “Like my mommy and daddy?” she questions, Chris is unable to answer as Matt’s hands are over his mouth, blocking out his words.

“Exactly like your mommy and daddy”

“Nick!” Matt exclaims in shock.

“I’m confused” Kiara states looking at them annoyed.

“Don’t worry about it baby, Uncle Chris and Uncle Nick are being stupid as usual, ignore them” Matt replies hoping she’ll let it go.

“Do you turn mommy on?” She wonders trying to get to the bottom of this. Loud laughter erupts from the girls’ uncles. “Uhm- well you know when me and mommy kiss?” Matt says to her, trying to get around it without having to lie or keep something from his daughter, after all, it’s a normal thing. As she nods, he continues “Well- It has to do with that, okay? It’s only done when two people are in love and married” Matt is obviously aware that two people do not have to be in love or married to kiss or "turn eachother on" but he didnt want his baby knowing that.

“Oh okay” Kiara replies, pleased with the answer of knowing more about love.

She’s always loved love, especially when it has to do with her parents, she loves knowing they are in love, she loves watching them kiss, laugh and hold each other. She believes she got lucky to have parents so in love.

“Pretend this is my second kid, okay? You guys are uncles again and Kiara has a sibling” Matt says as he starts feeding the toy lamb its bottle.

He starts having déjà vu of when Kiara still drank out of the bottle, he misses those times but is so happy to see her grow up.

He starts to picture himself feeding their second kid, knowing the “pretend” would soon be real as the married couple found out the night before that they’re 6 weeks pregnant and expecting their second. He was so excited and couldn’t wait to start telling people he was going to have another baby, especially couldn’t wait to tell Kiara she was getting a baby sister- or brother, but he secretly wished it would be another girl.

As Matt is playing around with the Barbie doll he and his brothers opened he feels a tug on his pant leg, he looks down and sees his daughter who previously left to go potty back in the kitchen, he notices she has taken off her tiara and tried to tie her hair up, she always had issues with turning the hair tie, but she’s trying hard to learn to do her hair and he’s proud of that. “Yeah baby?” He asked her as he looked down at her as his brothers continued to play with the doll.

“Can you put my hair up please” she mumbles, getting tired.

“Yeah, baby of course” He lifts her, setting her down on his lap

“What do you want sweetie? Ponytail?” He asks her as he starts gently leading her curly hair back and grabbing it all together, untying some strands that got stuck on her fairy wings.

“Can you do a braid please”

“Yep” He replies, gently stroking his hand over her head as he kisses the back of her head, starting to separate the hair pieces for the braid.

He can notice she’s getting tired, it’s well past her bedtime now but what worries him is when he hears a sniffle “Are you okay sweetheart?” he asks in worry that she’s crying as he finishes up the braid. She wipes her nose with her long sleeve “Yeah daddy, just have to blow my nose” Matt sighs in relief, knowing she’s not upset just sick.

He grabs a hair tie from his wrist where he always keeps extras in case she or his wife needs one.

He ties the end of her hair, makeing sure to keep the braid secure.

He grabs a small packet of tissues that he stored in his pants in case she needed to blow, knowing how annoying a runny nose could be, he opens one up for her and holds it in front of her nose as she blows on it, he scrunches it up and puts it away on the counter to throw away later.

Matt continues with the video keeping Kiara snuggled up on his lap as she too starts to play with the Barbie dolls.

Kiara is now softly held in her mom’s arms as she walks back into the kitchen, “Hey you guys almost done? She doesn’t want to sleep without you there Matt”

He looks up, eyes gleaming as he sees his two favourite girls walk in the room “Yeah we’re practically done just have to do the outro” Nick replies as Matt leans closer to his girls, pretending to knock on both of their heads with the toy hammer, making both of them giggle.

“Daddy is like Bob the builder with the belt” Kiara states, laughing at her dad.

“Oh yeah?” Matt replies, starting to tickle her which causes her to laugh and her mom to giggle at them.

Matt grabs her out of her mama's arms and tightly hugs her close to him, grabbing his wife’s hand and pulling her into the hug as well.

“Family hug” he exclaims giggly, as he kisses his daughter's head, then his wife, and pretends to kiss his wife's belly knowing he can’t do that without striking suspicion.

“Also, just in case you guys are wondering we’re not throwing all of this away, my mom’s going to donate it to some little kids she knows” Nick tells the camera.

“Kids in need” Matt adds.

“Except unicorn and wings” Kiara chimes in.

They all laugh at her eagerness for the unicorn and its wings, “Except for the unicorn and its wings, Kiara wants to keep them” Nick adds to his previous statement.

“I want to keep everything, but I can share” The girl adds.

“So kids will have fun with these toys” Nick starts to continue talking directly to the camera but Kiara interrupts.

“Can we give the kids my old toys too? And the ones I don’t play with? I think some of them would like my toys”

“I think some kids will love your toys sweetie” Her mom adds, proud of her daughter for wanting to donate,

“Yeah Kia that’s great”

“That’s so sweet of you Kiara I’m sure they’ll appreciate it”

Matt gleams brightly at his daughter “I’m glad you want to donate Kiara that’s really good” He says proudly

“You’re so sweet and kind” he kisses her cheek.

“Sweetest girl in the world” her mama continues, kissing her other cheek.

Matt leans closer to his wife, pressing a kiss on her lips.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Did that turn mommy on?" She asks referring to their previous conversation.

Lond laughter erupts from all of the boys.

"What!?" Matt's wife exclaims confused as they all continue laughing

“Okay, we’ll see you guys next Friday!”

“Bye!” Kiara says as she continues to drag out the word, waving goodbye to the camera.

Comments:

Fan1: OMG KIARA!!! MISSED SEEING HER IN VIDEOS

Fan2: came for the triplets, stayed for kiara

Fan3: MATTS SUCH A GOOD DAD?? AND HE KNOWS HOW TO BRAID???

Fan4: the way he holds her and is so gentle with her 😭😭😭 wish i had a dad

Fan5: the facr that he made sure zhe was okay being on camera is so so cute and adorable and hot and sexy

^iammattswife: so real for that comment

Fan6: Need more kiara content please

Fan7: THE TURNING HER ON JOKES LMAOSOO

Fan8: Kiara is so sweet u can tell shes being raised right

Tags: @cindylcuwho @keerahsturn

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshots #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick s

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 29 days

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#399

“Oh man, Fuck!... Oh sorry you had to hear that call. Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew. It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off…. Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig. I am about to head home for four days of rest. That’s a 7-hour drive, each way. So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us. My days of relaxing are shot to shit. And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy. I probably won’t even get head. Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry. I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field. All they talk about is pussy. Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head. You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body. That doesn’t even include blowing your wad. You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again. Sorry if I’m telling too much.... I do that when I start drinking. Do you care if I talk about getting blown?... Good. Thought so. What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard?

“…Here’s to blowjobs! Cheers!

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer…. Nah! Put your money away. I got this.

“So your car broke down?... We are one of two taverns for twenty miles. The other is by the interstate one mile away. At this time of day it’s quite deserted. We typically only get locals in here. That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage. There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek. Was I right? Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod. So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend. You are here until Monday? …Again, that nod tells me everything. Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles. This is what this hellhole has to offer.

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud. And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up. I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday. She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?...

“…Huh! Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single. But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained. She gives great head though. She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat. I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size. It takes her a long time to throat me. Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth. Eventually it ends in her throat. She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch. The part she really hates is me dick slapping her. As I said, I have a gigantic dick. Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance. So does a face slap with my hand.

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive. I am only after one thing, to bust my nut. If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up. If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole. I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it. I’m so fucking horny. I would use any woman right now. I can’t have a weekend of jerking off. Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way.

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home. No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer. Don’t we? So this is what is going to happen. I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet. You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in. Don’t say a word. Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth.

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss. If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck. I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it. But OK.

“I really have to piss. While I do that get in the stall and on your knees. Be ready for me. I swear, the beers just pour right through me. Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck? I’m not done pissing…. Oh? So, you are one of those kinds of faggots. Nasty piss drinking faggot! Oh fuck, your mouth feels good. You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog. That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is? You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck! Right to the root with no problem! Holy shit. You faggots know what you are doing. Oh man. This is… fuck! Oh my god!

“Bob up and down. Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root. Fuck! This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life. Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off. I said, ‘Pull off!’ Look up at me. Hold still….

“…What? Nothing? I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it…. Wait, what did you just say? Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up. Get your faggot-ty ass up. Let’s go. Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge. You are going to spend your night with me.

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip. Meet me outside… A fifty? You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot. I have never used a fag before. But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out.

“Over here. I’m the last room. The lodge is free for us roughnecks. The company pays for our housing. My room is at the end. It’s a glorified motel room. I have tons of beer. You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first. Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days. You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat. You probably take it up your ass. I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up. I have no interest in you or your dick. I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you. You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you. Understand me?... Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’ I like the sound of that. Here we are. Faggot this is all new for me. But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far. I’m so ready to do this. My cock has not lost it’s hard on. I may never go back. Faggot get inside and strip!”

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mangosrar · 3 months

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call it what you want part9

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

MY TAGLIST STILL ISNT WORKING 🫠🫠🫠

6 days. it has been 6 days since you had spoken to matt. he had turned up at your house on monday morning to take you to school. but you had decided on sunday night you weren’t going. you couldn’t face him. you didn’t want to.

he showed up again tuesday. and when you didn’t even tell him to leave, he knocked on your door to be met with nothing. he stood out there for a whole 17 minutes before accepting defeat and leaving.

wednesday, the same story. he showed up, you didn’t come out. he knocked. no answer. he left.

thursday he even went as far as knocking, getting no answer and then sitting outside, repeatedly pressing the horn for almost 4 minutes straight, and then eventually giving up.

but when friday rolled around, matt sent an alliance to your door.

“y/n. it’s me open up” you heard him say. his voice was muffled from the thick wooden barrier between you both.

you stood staring at the door, contemplating wether to open it or not, like you had every day this week. you knew matt would turn up but this wasn’t his fault. he didn’t deserve to be shut out because of his piece of shit brother.

you sighed before reluctantly opening the door, coming face to face with the one person who knows you best. chris sturniolo.

“oh y/n” he breathed, frowning at your state as he stepped inside.

your hair was a mess, and dark circles donned your eyes. your face was pale, like you were sick.

“how you feeling?” he questioned looking down at you. it was a really stupid question. he could tell you were doing terribly just by looking at you, but he would never admit that out loud.

you just shrugged and looked down at your feet. chewing on your lip. there was no way to even put into words how you’ve been feeling. so for a lack of a better term, fucking horrible.

“i don’t know exactly what happened… but matts doing terrible too” he stated.

“i bet he is chris” you replied sarcastically. rolling your eyes.

“he’s been asking about you every day, he even tried talking to caden at school. he’s a mess y/n” chris sighed. looking at you with pleading eyes.

“you can go back to hating him, but i think you should just talk to eachother, it would be a waste for things to end like this” he told you.

there was an internal battle going on inside your head. part of you was a little warm inside over the fact he was worried and asking after you, the other part was enraged over the fact he had the audacity to be upset over his own actions. he deserved to dwell in your absence. why should you forgive him. he had hurt you and he had to live with that.

chris stood there, watching the cogs turn in your head. he knew you were stubborn, but he also knew his brother was 10 times more stubborn, so the fact that he was willing to admit he was wrong and do everything in his power to get you to listen, was shocking.

“is he outside?” pointless question. you knew he was.

chris nodded, standing infront of you with his arms by his sides.

you took in a breath before muttering.

“give me 15 minutes”.

the whole car ride was uncomfortable. chris had forced you into the passenger seat and it made you want to grab the wheel and run the car off the road, but you decided against it.

luckily for you, matt had used his common sense. he look one look at you and kept his mouth shut, just offering a small smile to witch you did not return.

he didn’t deserve it. he did not deserve the satisfaction of thinking there was any chance you were ever going to forgive him. because as far as you were aware, you weren’t going to.

up until 2 weeks ago you and matt couldn’t stand the sight of each other, so after 14 days of slightly less hatred, going back to your old ways wouldn’t harm anyone.

“i’m gonna give you two time to talk” chris muttered, opening the car door and stepping out.

you hadn’t even realised you had arrived at school. the whole way there you had been aimlessly gorming out the window, trying to stop yourself from screaming.

you wanted to get out of the car and sprint in the opposite direction. there was no way matt could justify himself, but you at least wanted to hear whatever sorry excuse he would come up with, so you stayed put.

there was an abundant pause, the both of you just sitting there. you couldn’t even look at him out of fear you might just slap him across the face there and then, but you could feel matts eyes burning into the side of your head as you stared out of the front window with your arms crossed.

matt turned his body towards you, opening his mouth to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, he didn’t even know what he would say. he sighed before dropping his head.

“i’m sorry” he mumbled.

his eyes wandered back up to your face, and when you didn’t even flinch, he continued.

“there’s no excuse for what i said. it was so fucked up. and i don’t think what i said is true y/n. i don’t think you’re damaged and i don’t think you’re weak. i was just something i said out of anger, but that isn’t an excuse. angry or not i shouldn’t have said it” he stated softly. like the distinct tone of his voice would determine how this was going to go.

“i showed up every day this week trying to get you out of the house y/n, does that not show you how sorry i am?” he added.

“oh so you showing up, and banging on my door for 15 minutes every morning makes it okay?” you spat at him. still not looking at his face.

“no, no of course not but… i’m trying y/n, i’m really trying” he sighed.

you just shook your head, keeping your eyes trained forward.

matt swallowed, eyes darting across the side of your face, frantically trying to read your mind.

“if i could go back in time and change what i said i promise i would” he whispered, leaning over the centre console slightly.

he didn’t know why he was beating himself up so much. he’s said stuff like this before with out even batting an eyelid, so why now?

his heartbeat quickened when you slowly craned your neck to face him.

there was a blank look spread across your features that he couldn’t place.

you took in a breath, and blinked at him, pursing your lips before speaking.

“go fuck your self” and with that you were shoving the car door open and getting out.

you could hear him calling after you but you didn’t care. you continued marching across the parking lot towards the school doors. leaving him there once again to wallow in the knowledge that he had hurt you to an extent that was fucking unforgivable.

“nope. not happening” chris said.

“why chris? this is a good way for me to stay calm” you whined.

“turning to drugs and getting high is a bad way to deal with your emotions y/n” he tutted.

“you do it. so what you’re saying is that you are bad at dealing with your emotions?” you quirked. coming to a stop when chris got to his locker.

“deflecting is not gonna get you what you want” he spoke, looking at you briefly with a flat expression before turning back to his locker.

“ughhh, look, i’m dealing with my emotions. i’m sad and i’m angry at your brother. i know how i feel. i just wanna smoke so i can take the edge off” you said shrugging.

he shook his head slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line, standing his ground.

“come on chris” you whispered, looking up at him with big round eyes.

he sighed before closing his locker and turning to you.

“i’ll let you smoke under one condition” he stated.

you nodded your head excitedly and grinned waiting for him to continue.

“you have to come to that party on sunset” he smiled sarcastically.

you hated parties and chris knew that, so if he asked you to go, he knew you would refuse, and that would be his get out of jail free card as to not let you get high.

he blinked at you with a smirk on his face, because in his head neither of you were gonna get what you wanted.

“okay” you shrugged.

“‘okay’?” he exclaimed, “you’ll go?”

“yeah why not, maybe i’ll find another dark tattood, handsome man to sweep me off my feet” you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“so what you’re saying is that you think matt is handsome and he swept you off your feet?” he giggled, wiggling his eyebrows back.

your face dropped and you swatted his arm, trying to hide your smile, he just dodged you, carrying on laughing as he walked down the hall with you trailing behind.

“ok but if i wear the black one the shoes won’t match” you ranted holding the shirt up to your chest in the mirror.

this had been going on for about an hour. nick ans chris had been sat on your bed, waiting for you to get ready.

at first you were all listening to music, talking and laughing, but by the time you had re applied your makeup for the second time, and re curled your hair for the third time, chris had gotten bored and fallen asleep, and nick had just simply lost interest and started staring at the wall.

“i don’t wanna wear these shoes”

“the white shirt is so cute though”

“but the sleeves are weird”

“i’m not going”

“y/n!” nick yelled, snapping you out of your frenzy and waking chris up.

you turned to him with wide eyes at his sudden outburst.

“we were supposed to leave an hour ago, wear the black shirt with the white shoes” he breathed, closing his eyes, briefly before opening them and looking at you with a hard stare.

“fine” you replied, rolling your eyes and stomping over to your bathroom to change.

“what if matts there?” you yelled through the door, pulling your shirt over your head.

“he won’t be” chris yelled back.

you didn’t say anything else as you straightened the top out and fixed your hair. there was a small tiny microscopic piece of you that wished he would be there. not so you could talk or anything. just so he could see you enjoying yourself, but the way this night was going. you highly doubted you would.

the strong smell of alcohol and weed wafted through the air as you made your way through the house, chris close on your tail.

there were people everywhere some of wich you recognised, some you didn’t, all sandwiched together, and it only made you question why people enjoyed parties more.

you had been here for almost an hour now and you hadn’t left chris’s side once. he had been catching up with some old friends who moved town when they were younger, but you just stood quietly scoping the area.

so far you we’re safe. no matt. no elijah. and you hoped it would stay that way, partially.

“hey i’m gonna go grab a drink” you said, pulling on chris’s arm to get his attention.

he nodded, and started saying his goodbyes to his friends, telling them he would see them later, indicating he was coming with you.

there was a large table in the middle of the kitchen, full of alcoholic drinks and right now, to you, it looked like it was glowing.

“you’re drinking?” chris questioned with his eyebrows pinched together.

“yeah why not?” you shrugged, reaching for the vodka bottle and a red solo cup.

“whatever just….don’t get too drunk” chris laughed, but his voice carried a warning tone.

you just rolled your eyes before pouring both you and Chris a shot, and handing him the cup.

“here’s to, handsome dark tattooed men, aka matt” Chris laughed before bringing the cup up to his mouth.

you just shook your head, smiling before also taking the shot.

your face scrunched up at the taste in your mouth, it was horrible. but the feel of it burning in your chest was thrilling.

you never really drank. sure you’d had alcohol before, but always in an environment where you were comfortable, like you’re own house while your parents were asleep, or nicks room while his parents were away for the weekend, never in the heat of a raging house party.

“hey, i’m gonna use the bathroom i’ll be right back” chris said, raising his voice slightly over the music.

you just hummed a reply before watching him walk away, and then turning back to the table of drinks.

fireball.

you poured the shot and downed it instantly. better than vodka, still gross.

one more couldn’t hurt.

you poured the shot again, bringing it to your lips, and just as the hot liquid entered your mouth. a voice appeared behind you.

“thirsty?”

fuck.

you ignored him completely, bringing the cup back down and placing it on the table.

“didn’t think i’d see you here, this isn’t really your scene” he told you, coming around to the side of you and leaning on the table.

you ignored him again, pouring yet another shot.

“then again, matt sturniolo isn’t really your scene, somehow you’re all over him” he muttered in a low voice, and from the corner of your eye, you saw him looking around.

he was just as paranoid as you were.

“who i’m all over is none of your business anymore elijah” you sighed, turning to him and smiling sarcastically. but someone else caught your eye.

a dark, tattooed, handsome man who could easily sweep you off your feet.

he was watching you. his gaze strong and jaw clenched. and suddenly elijahs voice became a ringing in your ears.

you could have crumbled there and then, he looked good. his tattoos on full display, slight stubble growing, that you had noticed this morning but you were too fucking angry to register it.

his eyes stayed locked on yours, daring you to look away, and when you didn’t, he pushed off the wall he was leaning on, and sauntered over to you.

“….and as far as i’m awar-“

“hey baby” matt cooed, cutting elijah off and wrapping an arm around your waist.

you wanted to pull away. you were still angry at him, but for the sake of the act, you stayed put.

elijah scoffed, looking matt up and down like he was scum of the earth.

your eyes darted between the two, waiting in expectancy for one of them to talk.

“you gotta tell me how you do it sturniolo, you’re always there, you know? waiting to pounce every time i talk to her. maybe i should be concerned. are you stalking me?” elijah questioned. he was trying to get under matts skin, and the way he squeezed your waist slightly, told you it was working.

matt laughed slightly, looking off to the side before bringing his eyes back to elijah.

“well if you wasn’t always bothering my girlfriend, i wouldn’t have to be there every time you talk to her” he shrugged, smiling sarcastically at your ex.

matt turned to you, pulling his eyebrows together.

“is he bothering you sweetheart?” he asked.

you just looked at him with wide eyes. silently begging him not to do anything.

yes you and matt hated each other, but you knew him well enough to know he would use any excuse to punch someone. and elijahs face had been served to him on a silver platter.

“i think you’re bothering her Whitlock” he stated, removing his arm from your waist and stepping in front of you.

“matt” you mumbled. he ignored you.

elijah laughed and dropped his head, standing up fully, like he was trying to intimidate matt but the odds were even. there was no turning back now.

when elijah brought his eyes back up, they landed on yours, his gaze was cold and unsettling, but the words that came out of his mouth, didn’t mean half as much to you as they did matt.

“considering she’s such a slut, i don’t think she minds who bothers her”.

oh shit.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @biplrbtch @ukyos @eyelessdemon00 @iheart2021chris @hearts4chris @leah-loves-lilies @whicked-hazlatwhore @1201pm-blog @yourmom-123456789 @mattnchrisworld @leoloveeeee @jazab3lla @martyniukpl @ilovemattstromboli @obsessedwithyou @breeloveschris @skyteller143 @innocentfsin @thatcrazybitch-69 @ihateeveryone357474 @shmophsturniolo @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 @sturnisposts @jenna0rtegaswife @jeffbuckleylvr27 @sara2233445 @sturniolos4lifee @kasiaslayuje @cosmicmistake42069 @24kmar @ikeryn @sleepdeprivedandinsane @lvr444life @travelintheworld @aubreyswift13 @sturniololol @starziick @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes @sstvrnioloo

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Wednesday x reader - what to call you

Anything where everyone just refers to y/n as Wednesday’s girl? Like they don’t call her by her name just ‘Wednesday’s girl’ Like ‘have y’all seen Y/n’ ‘who’ Y/n’ ‘Y/n?…ooh you mean Wednesday’s girl’? - Anon💜

You had promised your best friend Enid that you would help her study for some upcoming tests.

But she couldn’t find you anywhere, you weren’t in the dorm with Wednesday reading, you weren’t in the library, the quad or with Principle Weems.

So where were you?

Sighing, she trudged back into the quad and dropped herself next to the small ground sat by the fountain.

“What’s wrong?” Ajax asked quietly.

“I can’t find (Y/N), have you seen her?”

Everyone shared a look, and Xavier put his sketch book down as he tilted his head a little in confusion at the werewolf.

“Who?”

“(Y/N), you know, werewolf, always reading, kinda quiet, also has earphones in.” Enid said.

Everyone shook their heads giving small shrugs.

Enid sighed and ran a hand down her face, you hung out with them all the time, how did no one know your name.

“She went to the Rave’N with Wednesday?”

Ajax clapped his hands together with a huge grin on his face as he nodded his head.

“You mean Wednesday girl?!” He rushed out.

“Oh! Wednesdays girl! Yeah she has counselling.”

Enid chocked on her drink at the name they had for you and grinned from ear to ear.

“Wednesdays girl?” She asked.

“Yeah, well we tried asking her out, same with Tyler apparently but she turned all of us down. And Wednesday has a murderous look whenever we get close to her.” Xavier explained.

“Yeah, she shortly after Wednesday agreed to go to the dance with her we started calling her Wednesdays girl and I guess we forget her name.” Ajax grinned sheepishly.

“Wow, kinda rude.“

Ajax and Enid let out a small scream as they turned around to find you stood behind them.

Putting your bag on the floor you sat between the two boys and crossed your legs, pulling one of your earphones out.

“Sorry…” Xavier and Ajax mumbled.

You shrugged a little bit as you started to pull some books from your bag, handing one of them over to Enid.

“But I’m not Wednesdays girl. We went to the dance, that’s it, she hasn’t really said anything to me since.”

“Seriously? You can’t believe there’s nothing there.” Ajax said.

You gave another small shrug and opened a text book, handing it over to Enid.

“That’s my notebook, this is the first page you need to study, I’ll explain anything you’re confused on.“

“Thanks!” She beamed.

You began reading a novel, laying your head on Xavier as he picked his sketch book once more to carry on drawing.

“So you haven’t tried asking Wednesday what you guys are?” Ajax asked.

“Yeah, I think it would be a good idea!” Enid beamed.

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Whatever we are is up to her.” You mumbled.

They nodded their heads and dropped the subject, but they were sticking by the nickname.

Wednesday walked into the quad just in time to overhear the last part of the conversation and she furrowed her brows lightly.

You looked so comfortable laid over Xavier, you looked relaxed and the soft smile on your lips told her that you were.

She stood there just watching, unsure of what to do.

She didn’t like the fact you were laid on the boy, but she also had no reason to stop you.

You weren’t dating her, and she hated the fact that she hated you being so close to the trio, always with them but barely spending time with her.

When you did you were quiet, hardly speaking.

Yes, she enjoyed silence, but she wanted you to talk to, she just didn’t want to admit it, so she let it carry on.

She didn’t see you until the next day, you were getting ready to head into Jericho.

“Can you get me some candy?” Enid beamed.

“Yeah and me!” Ajax nodded.

You chuckled softly and nodded your head, tossing your bag into the back of the car.

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks Wednesdays girl!” Ajax grinned.

He jogged away while Enid stood there to see you off, and without realising Wednesday appeared next to her.

“Where are you going?”

Enid screamed a little and placed a hand over her heart.

“Jesus Christ Wednesday.” She huffed.

“I’m going to therapy, then to do some shopping. Principle Weems is taking them.”

“I see. I’m coming.”

Wednesday climbed into the car and sat next to you, and when Weems got in she nearly screamed when she noticed the gothic girl.

“Wednesday Addams out.”

“I’m coming, I require a few things.”

“Then (Y/N) will get them for you, out of the car.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything but the pair of them had a silent staring contest for a few minutes.

Finally, the older woman sighed and turned to you.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

Weems sighed and finally she nodded her head, driving the pair of you into the town.

You attended your session first, Wednesday simply stood outside waiting, arms crossed over her chest.

She ignored the whispers and cruel comments from people passing, her eyes fixated on the doors as she waited for you to come out, and half an hour later you did.

Giving her a gentle smile, you tossed your bag into the back of the car and waved to Weems as she drove away, saying she’d be back in a few hours and go behave.

“Where do you need to go?” You asked quietly.

“Nowhere, I need to to you?”

“Oh, okay.”

You guys began to wonder, and you waited for Wednesday to speak first.

“Why did Ajax call you Wednesdays girl?” She asked.

You froze for a moment before you carried on walking, stuffing your hands into your pockets and burying your nose into your hoodie.

Wednesday looked at you, she could see the embarrassment on your face at the question.

“I think it’s because we went to the dance… they all do it… I’ll tell them to stop.”

Wednesday stopped walking this time, and so did you, turning around to face her, giving her a small look of confusion.

“Wednesdays girl…” she mumbled out.

You averted your gaze.

“I don’t like it.”

“I’m really sorry.. they’re just messing…”

Wednesday looked up, connecting her eyes with yours in a gaze you just couldn’t look away from.

It was one of those gazes that she showed rarely, not full of boredom, or hate, or annoyance, full of though, slight wonder and compassion.

“I would prefer to call you Amore mio if that is okay?”

You titled your head a tiny bit, pulling both your earphones out as you looked at her.

“What does that mean?”

Wednesday said nothing, but she walked closer and out your earphones back in.

“Your hearing in sensitive, don’t be stupid. Keep them in.”

You nodded and watched as she walked away.

You were still confused but you decided to drop it and carried on shopping.

The moment you both got back to Nevermore she was gone, and you sat with Ajax as you gave him the candy he asked for.

“Hey can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He asked.

“What does Amore mio mean?”

Ajax shrugged and typed it into his phone, showing you the results.

“Why?”

You smiled softly and shook your head as you stood back up.

“No reason, I’ve got to go.”

“See you later Wednesdays girl!”

You ignored this and headed up to Ophelia hall, lightly knocking on the dorm door as you waited.

“Yes?” Wednesday asked.

“Is Enid here?”

She shook her head and stepped back, allowing you to come in before closing the door.

“You can wait.”

“Actually… I wanted to see you…”

Wednesday turned back around and walked back over, staring at you intently.

“What?”

You leant forward a little, lips brushing the corner of her mouth before you pulled away.

“I’d like for you to call me Amore mio, only if I can call myself yours…?”

Wednesday didn’t need to think before she replied.

“Yes.”

You beamed, casting your gaze to the window to watch the moon start to rise and you smiled at her.

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Kissing her cheek, you rushed away, and Wednesday couldn’t help the small twitch of her lips as she watched you leave.

You were hers now, now when people called you her girl, they were going to know you really were

#wednesday addams #netflix wednesday #wednesday x y/n #Wednesday x reader #Wednesday x you #Wednesday imagine #Wednesday Addams x reader #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams imagine

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acowardinmordor · 8 months

Text

You Left Me - You Miss Me - 4

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Hi, time for more, arguably making things better, but also arguably making things much worse.

----

There was a diner a block and a half from their apartment. Steve found it when the sky opened up during his jog one morning. Snow, he could have handled, he was dressed for it. Slushy sleet mixed with hail was another matter. He ducked inside to hide until it passed, chatted with the owner for a bit, and brought Robin with him the next day because they had an amazing spread of waffle toppings, including crumbled bacon, and Steve knew she’d go crazy about it.

He was correct, and it was their go to spot, not just for breakfast.

At the end of January, Rebecca sat down to join them, and handed Steve an application.

Steve was already working at a JC Penny in the stock room, and picked up a few hours at a roller rink filling in when someone called out. They had enough money to live. Not decadently, but they could cover all their bills, and keep gas in the car, and buy supplies for Robin’s classes.

“Uh, Rebecca, I’m- thank you? But. My memory sucks, and my hearing isn’t great, and if someone starts getting rude, I’m going to get rude back to them, and --”

“This is a diner, hun,” she stopped him, “You write the orders down, you can always tell someone to say it again, and the fact you can shut down anyone that gives you lip is why I think you’ll be good at it. Like I said, it’s a diner. We don’t have to be all sunshine and daisies here.”

“I’m working at another--”

“Over at the mall and the rink, I know. And I know you’re free Monday through Wednesday mornings. And,” she stressed, “staff gets free meals and first dibs on the day olds.”

“Dingus!" Robin gasped and grabbed his arm. "Do it, do it. Stevie. Please, oh my god, please, you have to take it. You can bring me the brioche buns. And that apple butter. And that thing with the nuts! Steeevveee, don’t you love your soulmate? Please? I cou--”

So Steve took the job, and worked a few mornings a week. By the third week of February, he stopped feeling like he was going to fuck up any second. He understood why Rebecca liked his ability to get bitchy in the face of difficult customers, and he and Robin had cupboards well stocked with random take homes.

He liked it. Starting at five in the morning took some getting used to, but he was done by one, and traded off with a middle aged mom named Susan after the lunch rush settled down. Was it a ton of money? No. But he got more tips than he expected to, and the brioche really was delicious.

The last week of February, he was working alone on a Tuesday, at the start of the lunch rush, expecting Susan to arrive soon, and an easy day.

“Be with you in a minute,” he called to whoever just came inside, bussing half a dozen empty plates from table two after dropping off more creamer at table four. He looped back, ducking behind the counter to put the plates on the pass through for Nick to grab.

He dropped the entire stack before he got there.

His hands clenched down, his muscles locked, and even though it should have made him hold harder, everything slipped, and either shattered on the tiles or banged into his feet.

Jim Hopper winced from his seat at the counter. “Sorry, kid.”

The couple of other diners glanced up to check on him, and John looked around the window from the kitchen. Steve didn’t move. Couldn't. Could barely breathe.

“Is it back?”

“No.”

His exhale shook out of him before he shoved down the panic.

“Then whatever this is can wait.”

“I’m just here to talk.”

“And I said it can wait.”

He swept up the broken dishes, shrugged off John’s silent offer to throw Hopper out, and reminded himself there was no reason to think that the Upside Down was back. That meant this was going to be more awkward and less dangerous, and he was going to hate it, but it was still the better version of the day.

“What’ll you have?”

“Kid, I’m here to talk cause I didn’t think you’d want me at your place.”

“And I’m at work, and this is a diner, so what’ll you have?”

“Steve--”

“I’ll bring you coffee. I’m not talking about this while I’m working.”

“Coffee’s good. When are you off?”

Steve gave his bitchiest smile, didn’t answer, and went to seat the couple that just walked in.

The lunch rush was a mercy. Susan handled Hopper, and gave him the iciest service anyone had ever gotten under that roof. Hopper took it gracefully, but he didn’t shift, or push, or give any indication that he wasn’t willing to sit there til midnight if he had to.

Normally, Steve would get some lunch to go and head home. If the weather was bad, he ate at the booth in the corner to wait it out. With the way his stomach was twisting, unable to separate Hopper from what his arrival could mean, he wasn’t going to keep food down. He filled a glass of water, then silently gestured Hop to follow.

“Good to see you, Steve,” he said when they sat. “You and Robin doing okay up here?”

“We’re fine. Why are you here? If it isn’t something to do with, you know, then why are you here?”

“Maybe I just came up to check on you.”

“Did you?” Steve snorted into his drink when that question made Hopper’s face twist up. “So what is this?”

“I am here to check on you. There’s something else, but I came here because I’m checking on you. Me and you weren’t all that close, but you had Mrs Buckley give me your info so I’d know where you were.”

“Yeah, in case of an emergency. And you said there wasn’t any emergency. Plus, you had my phone number, so you could have called, which would be way less weird than showing up while I’m at work, you know?”

Hopper scratched at his cheek. “It’s not an emergency compared to all the reasons you wanted me to be able to find you, but if you ask those kids, this may as well be the end of the world again.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, well. Henderson is gonna get himself arrested if he keeps trying to steal the mail and find something addressed to you. Max keeps pushing El to try and find you. The only reason they haven’t gone completely crazy is because of the Buckleys telling them that you’re fine. She gave me your address and number, and she talked for a little bit about the kids.”

Steve smiled at that. Mrs Buckley had never talked a ‘little bit’ about anything in her life. Either she was holding the line on being rude to anyone that might bother them, or Hop was pretending he hadn’t listened to a solid hour of rambling.

“Still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Want to ask if I can -- shit, I don’t know. I can route mail back and forth so they never have your address or something. I’d rather give them your info so I don’t have to be involved, but I already know you won’t agree to that.”

Steve ignored the pause that Hopper left there. Conversation and good manners said he should concede to something so he wouldn’t inconvenience the man too much. The last month with Robin supporting his choice kept his mouth shut. She’d be pissed at him if he folded, and worse, she’d help him get through all the pain it caused if he did talk to the kids again. Then he’d feel guilty and sad.

“Alright,” Hopper grumbled, “Didn’t think you would, but you know how those kids can be. Can’t fault me for trying.”

“So, we’re done? You sat here all this time just to talk for three minutes?”

“Almost.”

“So….” At least Steve could enjoy the fact that neither of them were enjoying this. Hopper winced a bit before he spoke.

“I didn’t tell any of the kids I was coming up to see you. None of them knew, and none of them are gonna know. Didn’t even tell Joyce why, just that I was driving up to Indy. Already had a plan in case they tried to tail me up here. So, had a surprise this morning when I got to my truck. it might change your answer.”

“Didn’t know you were so dramatic about stuff.”

“Side effect of two hours with that surprise, I guess. Eddie Munson came up with me.”

Any of the kids would have hurt.

Henderson might have made him cry.

Eddie Munson? That didn’t make sense.

They weren’t friends, never had been. The Upside Down meant they were connected, but they were never more than acquaintances, even when Steve was desperately trying to keep them all close. Sure, he’d taken over as the chauffeur for the kids, and everyone’s new best friend, but that didn’t explain why he’d bother to come up to talk to Steve.

“What the hell? Why?”

“He asked.”

“And you said yes.”

“He said please.”

That was not the whole story. There was something getting skipped over, left out. Hopper tolerated Munson, but he wouldn’t do him a favor if there wasn’t some kind of monster involved.

“Wait, you’ve been here for two hours.”

“Yep.”

“Did you just leave him in your truck this whole time? That front came through overnight. The high is thirty four today.”

“Yeah, I did,” Hopper said flatly. “He told me he wanted to come up so he could talk to you. Told me a little bit about why. And I said yes and I let him come, but I told him that I was gonna talk to you first. If you said no, he was gonna stay in that seat clear back to Hawkins, and keep his mouth shut about this whole thing.”

“How’d he know what you were doing?”

“No clue.”

“What does he want to talk about?”

“Not gonna say it for him.” Hopper shifted towards the edge of the booth. “So, want me to tell him to buckle back up, or tell him to get his ass in here?”

A quick consult with the imaginary Robin in his head left him just as confused, but curious as hell. He agreed, and fidgeted with a napkin, struggling to think of any reason why Eddie Munson would want to talk to him, or what the hell he said that the kids hadn’t that convinced Hopper to drive him up.

Stuck in his head, Steve jumped when a mess of a man in denim and leather slid shivering into the seat opposite. The scars on his face and hands were less vivid than they were last time they saw each other, but they still worked as a thermometer. Steve's did the same.

“Why the hell were you sitting in the cold, man?”

Eddie blinked, and froze where he was rubbing his hands together trying to get feeling back. “Hopper took the keys.”

Steve’s turn to blink. This was the guy taking care of his kids.

“Susan?” He called, gesturing for two when she lifted the coffee carafe in a question.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here or why you care or what the hell is happening, but I’m not gonna let you sit there shaking cause you’re a dumbass who doesn’t know what gloves are.”

Steve watched packet after packet of sugar pour into Eddie’s, while he stirred a splash of half and half into his own cup. Eddie took a gulp, hissed at the heat, and clutched at the mug, eyes glued to the nicked surface of the table.

“I’m sorry.”

“For rotting your teeth out? That’s your choice, Munson.”

“No,” Eddie insisted, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry about the kids.”

Steve took a breath, took a sip, took another breath. “Look, man, that’s not on you. You play D&D with them, and you like all their nerdy shit. I was -- They grew up. We got through everything, all of that, we won, and they grew up. It’s not your fault that they like you more than they liked me. So, thanks, I guess, but--”

“Steve. No. They didn’t. They -- those kids did not suddenly grow up and decide they didn’t like you anymore. You are their favorite person anywhere, ever, you will be for the rest of eternity, and they don’t understand why no one will tell them how to reach you. They put on a really good show about being mad about it, but, come on, you know what they’re like. They want to apologize cause they know they hurt you, and they want to fix it, and just, you gotta let them try, Steve. You gotta let them talk to you. They miss you so fucking much.”

“Look, I know how they get, and I know how dramatic they are, but it’s still not your fault--”

“It is. Steve. It is my fault. That’s - That’s why you have to talk to them. Cause they didn’t grow up and get over you or decide they didn’t care about you. Those kids are crazy about you, and they never stopped, and they’re hurt right now cause they don’t understand why you left them, and you gotta fix it with them, please.”

Something pinged weird in his ear when he heard the way Munson’s voice cracked. Not just worry, not just helping, not just caring about the kids. Guilt. He was taking the blame for it, even though that didn’t make any sense. The kids were - brats, gremlins, terrors, the most stubborn people he’d ever met, and he knew Nancy Wheeler. If they wanted to be around him, they would be around him.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, or anyone’s fault. It hurt like hell, and Steve wished it wasn’t true, but this was just life. Kids grew up, their interests moved. Friendships changed and ended.

But that crack of guilt…

“How is it your fault and not theirs that they stopped wanting to ever see me?”

Eddie’s hands stopped shaking from the cold before he got the coffee.

His hands were shaking again.

Trembled in the time between Steve asking, and Eddie managing to respond.

“I, uh, I asked them to.”

----

Don't be too mad at him yet. He has a lot more to say.

Part Five >>>

#You Left Me - You Miss Me #my writing #steddie eventually #focus on the eventually today

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callsign-rogueone · 3 months

Text

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall.

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor.

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

---------------------------------------------------

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.”

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.”

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

---------------------------------------------------

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?”

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”

#fourth wing #liam mairi #liam mairi x reader #fourth wing fanfic #reader insert #x reader #mine

161 notes · View notes

spectres-n-soap · 9 days

Text

A Soft Breeze - Ghost x Reader x Soap

Content Warnings - Therapy, pregnancy, afab!fem!reader, angst with comfort

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Why do you lash out at others?” Dr. Miller asks. The session had been going relatively normal, he had started out with the usual base questions he did every time.

“How are you?”

“I’m doing my best.”

“How’s the pregnancy?”

“Healthy for the most part.”

And it felt he was coming out of left field with that question. It must have been obvious how much of a divergence from the norm it was because he tries to back track but you stop him.

“It's easy.” You admit. Admission feels like poison or acid, eating up at you now that you’ve spoken it to life. It was easy, it is easy, to lash out at those around you then to confront the source. You scream and yell, throw things and break down instead of admitting the truth that no one deserves your anger. No one deserves the grief that eats you up and that you refuse to acknowledge until now. “It’s easy to lash out at others then take a moment to reflect.”

“Do you feel bad afterwards?” He asks as he writes down something of note and you cringe a little. Just another thing to add to the ever growing list of things wrong with you. That’s what you’ve concluded that means, that whenever he writes something down after you say something, that it's another thing wrong with you. You won’t dare to ask him if it's true; he’ll probably lie about it for propriety.

“Yes.” You still beat yourself up over the baby shower and every time you’ve yelled at Simon. “I feel awful afterwards because I know they didn’t deserve it.”

“So why do you take it out on Simon specifically?” Dr. Miller asks and you stiffen. What a loaded question, you thought. “Just off the top of your head, why?”

“Because it feels like he’s trying to replace him.” You say, throat becoming tight at the thought, horrible and malicious. “And I know that he isn’t and that it's not right for me to think like that.” Dr. Miller takes notes, his hand moving quickly over the lined paper in front of him as you speak and it takes everything in you not to stop or call him out on it. “It should be Johnny here. Not him.”

“You know that Johnny is dead.”

“Yes I know he’s dead.” You snap, “I know he is, alright? But it doesn’t stop me from wishing he wasn’t.” You put your face into the palms of your hands and sigh. “I’m a terrible person.” You whisper.

“No, you’re just a person.” Dr. Miller says, “There is no such thing as a good or bad person, just people who do good and bad things. Sometimes more of one than the other.” He sets down his clipboard and leans forward, “It's good that you are able to find what the reason is, now we just have to work on finding ways of expressing those feelings without hurting those around us.” You nod slowly.

Simon is waiting for you in the parking lot, a surprise for you. “Hey, I was thinking we could eat out tonight, to celebrate another therapy session.” You scrunch your face up and before you can retort anything he says, “Just accept the free food.” You truly cannot debate with that logic or offer and you get into the vehicle with him.

It’s not a fancy restaurant but to be honest, you might’ve tried to strangle him if he had. Just a simple sandwich place, the food is good and the restaurant surprisingly serves other things than just sandwiches and drinks. You opt for an italian sandwich and some tomato bisque on the side with crackers.

The silence between the two of you is natural, especially as you eat and therefore become unable to speak without being rude. The restaurant isn’t bustling with tons of other people, in fact it's rather quiet for the time of day. You think it's because of the fact it's Wednesday. “I’m sorry.” You say after finishing your soup.

“What’re you apologizin’ for?” He asks and your cheeks warm.

“I’m sorry for being awful to you all the time.” You say, “It's not okay for me to treat you like that and I don’t know why you stuck around after everything.”

“Because you’re Johnny’s bird.” He says, “I’m doing right by him, I’m making sure the person he cared for and the baby he never knew existed are safe.” He states and you shake your head.

“I don’t get it.” You mutter and he chuckles softly, the sound warms your belly more than the soup did.

“You don’t have to.”

You get a call from Mrs. MacTavish the next day, “I was thinking about what you said the other day, about not feeling prepared for motherhood and I did some looking.” You vaguely hear some mouse clicking and she starts again, “I’m gonna send you some links to places holding parenting classes.” You glance at your phone and see the links copy and pasted into the text chat. “You should attend them, I think they would be very useful. Have a good rest of your day dear.” You say your goodbyes and tap on one of the links.

Just as Mrs. MacTavish said, it is for a place holding parenting classes throughout the week, you look at the next available one and feel your heart rate pick up. Two days from now, it will be held at a nearby library in the afternoon. Simon glances over your shoulder and asks, “Thinking about going?”

“It would be smart for me to go.”

“But do you want to?” He asks as he sets down his dirty mug into the sink to wash later. He leans against the counter and you shrug.

“Wouldn’t hurt to go, just to see if I like it.” Your thumb hovers over the register link before you finally tap it and send in your information. Putting down just how far along you are in your pregnancy feels surreal. Seven months along and nearly at your eighth. How did the time pass by so quickly?

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap #call of duty #cod #ghost x reader #mw3 spoilers #simon ghost riley #thyh #thoyh #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x you

81 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

change your mind

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6,575

Read on AO3

Summary:

Five times Eddie Munson asks you to marry him, and the one time you say yes.

Author’s Note: This is meant to be read after “nothing else matters”, but can be read as a stand alone.

Additional tags: rockstar Eddie Munson, high school sweethearts, marriage proposal, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, semi-public sex, idiots in love

— 1 —

It’s the summer of 1984 when you first really meet Eddie Munson.

Sure, you’ve seen him around school. You’ve heard his cafeteria monologues. You’ve even seen him and his band perform at the talent show. But he’s always been just beyond your orbit. The crowd you hang out with the most in school, while not the most popular kids by any means, didn’t typically leave much opportunity for getting to know the leather wearing metal head.

You’re in your backyard, reading a book under the porch light. After a long, hot day at the pool working as a lifeguard, the mild chill of the summer evening is a welcome reprieve. When you look out over the yard, dots of light come and go as fireflies flit about the grass.

It’s perfect.

That is, until you hear a scrambling noise near your fence line, followed by a loud thump and a pained groan. Startled, you jump from your seat and tug open the screen door to the house, reaching in and grabbing the shotgun your dad keeps there.

Gun held in both hands, just like your dad taught you, you tiptoe out into the yard to investigate.

You spot the source of the noise quickly. A lump in the grass, barely illuminated by the light of the moon and your distant porch lights. The lump shifts, rolling over and you catch a glimpse of curly brown hair and pale skin.

When he finally opens his eyes and notices you standing there, gun aimed at him, he scrambles to his knees and holds his hands up, brown eyes wide in panic as he says, “Hey, hey, hey, let’s put the gun down, yeah?”

You roll your eyes, flicking the safety back on and setting it down. “Care to explain why you’re in my yard, then? You gave me a heart attack, Eddie!”

“Hopper caught me spray painting the old mill down the road. Had to lose him somehow.” He stands, brushing the grass off of his black jeans. He eyes you curiously. “You know my name?”

“We go to school together. Of course I know your name.”

“Ah, my infamy precedes me.”

“It’s not infamy, it's your loud mouth in the cafeteria yelling about how ABBA is an affront to music.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Dancing Queen is a good song.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, princess, did I personally offend you?” He asks, voice teasing. “Bet if you listened to the lyrical mastermind that is Ozzy, you would forget all about ABBA.”

“I think Paranoid was better than Master of Reality, ” you reply.

“Marry me,” he says, making you laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles at you, and not for the first time, you think, Huh, Eddie Munson is kinda cute.

“Not a chance, Munson.”

— 2 —

In the fall of 1984, you began your junior year. It had started out just the same as any other year - new classes, same faces. But one face in the crowd caught your eye more regularly.

And you caught his right back.

Sometimes, when you were spacing out during lunch listening to your friends talk about their weekend plans, your eyes would seek out that head of messy curls. And sometimes, you would find that he was already staring back at you.

And that distraction is what leads to him standing from his table without looking and slamming straight into Jason Carver, his lunch tray spilling the Wednesday Spaghetti special all over his precious letterman jacket.

“Watch where you’re going, freak,” Jason shouts, shoving Eddie by the shoulders.

Eddie, being the little shit that he is, just smiles. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, King Jason,” he replies with a sarcastic little bow. “Baking soda should take care of those stains.”

You can practically see the steam coming out of Jason’s ears. Eddie turns to leave, eyes finding yours again, but Jason reaches out and grabs his shoulder, turning him back to face him and throwing a fist right into his jaw.

You’re out of your seat before you can even think about it. Kids crowd around the two boys, chanting their encouragement to fight. Eddie stands back up, ducking another punch from Jason.

You shove your way through the crowd, planting yourself in front of Eddie just as Jason throws another swing that narrowly misses you. “Cut it out,” you shout above the noise.

“Move,” Jason demands, an angry gaze still fixed on Eddie. “What, you need a girl to defend you, Munson?”

And that comment pisses you off. Your dad didn’t spend hours every weekend when you were a young girl teaching you how to throw a punch for no reason. Your arm winds back, fingers curled tight in a fist that you let fly right into his nose. He stumbles back, hands flying to his face and coming away covered in blood.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says behind you. “That was awesome.”

Principal Higgins charges through the crowd. He takes in Jason’s bloody face, and turns to you and Eddie. “Detention. This afternoon.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off with a hand and a sigh of your name. “I will deal with you two later. Mr. Carver needs to see the nurse.” With that, he leads the school golden boy out of the cafeteria by the arm.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie says. You turn to face him as the students disperse back to their seats. You can feel their uncertain glances bouncing off your back.

“Yeah, well. Jason’s a dick,” you mutter. You don’t give him a chance to reply, heading back to your table to grab your backpack and head to class before the bell rings.

___

After an hour of staring at a chalkboard in silence, Mr. Clark, the hefty P.E. teacher with the shiny bald spot, finally dismisses you and Eddie from the classroom.

You’re out of your seat like a rocket and halfway down the hall before you hear Eddie’s voice call out behind you.

When you turn to face him, he’s grinning ear to ear. You can’t imagine why - you’d just spent an hour being tortured by silence. He holds a hand out, and you look down at the twisted piece of straw wrapper pinched between his fingers in confusion.

“Marry me?” Eddie asks, reminding you of the night that he’d fallen into your backyard and asked the same question.

With a laugh, you take the ring and slip it onto your ring finger. “Not a chance, Munson,” you say with a wink, turning on your heel to leave.

“I’ll change your mind!” He calls out after you.

— 3 —

It’s February in 1985 when Eddie Munson first asks you out.

He’s been leaving you notes in your locker every week for the last few months. Sometimes it's an actual note, his messy handwriting detailing some crazy story he’d come up with for his Dungeons and Dragons club, or asking you a series of questions that you’d reply to with a note of your own, slipped into his locker in between classes.

Other times, it's a drawing. While his handwriting leaves a lot to be desired, his artistry is impressive. One such drawing was a vase of sunflowers, which you had off-handedly mentioned as your favorite. You’d stuck that one to your locker door with a matching magnet the same day.

One day, however, you approach your locker at the end of the day to find a crumpled brown paper bag stuck to the metal door with duct tape. Opening it, you find a cassette tape in a plastic cover, the track list scribbled in familiar handwriting.

It takes you all of three seconds to realize most of the songs are off of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid album, which makes you smile like a fool.

Later, in the privacy of your room, you play the songs on a low enough volume to not wake your dad, sitting near your speaker to catch the lyrics. It’s a little after 11 p.m. when you hear a tap at your window.

You push the curtain aside and jump slightly in surprise when Eddie’s grinning face stares back from the other side of the glass. You lift the window open to whisper, “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, I got something to show you,” he says, his whole body moving with barely contained excitement. “But we gotta go, like, now.”

“Eddie, it’s almost midnight,” you say by way of protest.

“Exactly, come on, we don’t have a lot of time.” He leans through your open window, looking you head to toe. “Put on a sweater and get your shoes on.”

Confused, but intrigued, you do as he says. He helps you through the window before you slowly close it, careful not to make too much noise. You follow him to his van that he’s parked a little ways down from your house.

“Where are we going?” You ask, stepping quickly to keep up with his longer strides. He opens the passenger door for you, shutting it as you sit in the seat without responding. His van smells like weed and cigarette smoke, but not overwhelmingly. It’s almost comforting.

He turns the van on, pulling away from the curb and heading north, towards the dense woods surrounding Hawkins. He’s got the radio turned low, a Metallica sound filling the silence around you. His fingers tap to the beat on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything.

You drive like that for a while, heading further out from Hawkins to where the town gives way to dense forest and the inky black sky lights up with more stars than you get to see back at home. Eddie pulls off to the side of the road, near a field that borders the roadway before it disappears into towering pine.

He hops out of the van and runs around the hood to open your door, holding a hand out to you. It’s so dark you can barely see anything as you drop down from the passenger seat, clinging to his hand. He brings you to the back and opens the van doors, revealing a pile of blankets that you hadn’t noticed during the drive.

He turns to you, a hand running through his hair as he says, “There’s a meteor shower tonight. It starts in-,” he checks his watch, “-thirty minutes. I thought, maybe, we could…watch it. I got us some Red Vines, too.”

You blink rapidly, your brain trying to catch up. “A meteor shower?”

“Yeah. Heard about it on the radio. This should be a pretty clear place to watch it,” he says. “You said your favorite book is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy because you like the idea of traveling through space. I don’t have a starship, so the meteor shower is the compromise.”

“I can’t believe you remember I said that,” you tell him. You’d mentioned it off-handedly in one of your replies to his notes.

“I remember everything you tell me,” he replies easily, shrugging like it's no big deal.

“This is….so sweet, Eddie,” you tell him honestly. He lets out a breath, like he’d been nervous about how you would respond. You can’t imagine why.

Doesn’t he know you’ve been halfway in love with him since pointing a shotgun at him for interrupting your reading?

He grins, bright and happy before hopping up into the pile of blankets and situating himself. He pulls out the aforementioned bag of Red Vines and pats the space beside him. You clamber up into the spot, sitting cross legged with your knee touching his and sending sparks across your skin at the contact.

He holds a bright red rope out to you and you take it happily, munching on it as you stare up at the sky. A streak of lights moves in your periphery and you jump in excitement. “I think I saw one!”

Your eyes are glued to the sky as the intermittent streaks of meteors slash through the darkness, but Eddie watches you instead.

He pulls another Red Vine from the pack, tying it in a knot with a small loop at the end.

“Marry me?” He asks, holding the makeshift ring out to you.

“Not a chance, Munson,” you reply, making him laugh. You bite the candy from his fingers with a grin.

“I’ll change your mind,” he promises for the second time.

— 4 —

It’s the summer of 1986. You’ve graduated high school and Eddie finally has as well, by the skin of his teeth and maybe with a little help from you on his homework.

College wasn’t really in your cards financially, so you’re working at The Hideout as a bartender on the weekends and at a record store throughout the week. Eddie, on the other hand, has been focusing on making music for Corroded Coffin between shifts at the factory where his Uncle Wayne also works. You still live with your dad, but you don’t mind it. He gives you enough privacy and is often away on construction jobs around the state for long periods of time.

On one such occasion, blessed with an empty house, you ask Eddie to come stay with you.

You’ve been dating since he took you to watch the meteor shower. It’s your first relationship, your first boyfriend, your first everything, really. Eddie is sweet, attentive, caring, and hasn’t once pressured you into anything you’re not yet ready for.

But tonight, you’re ready. You are so, so ready.

The pizza has already been delivered. You’ve rented Back to the Future for the third time, which means neither of you would be missing out if you happened to be busy with…other activities. You’ve got a box of condoms stashed in the couch cushions, just in case.

There’s a knock at your door and you swipe your sweaty palms on the fabric of your dress, the cute red sundress that’s been known to make Eddie’s brain short circuit.

You pull the door open to Eddie’s smiling face. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I got that wine you like. Don’t know how it’s going to pair with pizza.” He leans forward to kiss you, a soft peck to your lips in greeting that already lights up your nerves.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the bottle from him. You move aside to let him in, shutting the door behind you. He turns, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you until you're pressed tightly to him.

“This dress,” he murmurs, running his nose along your neck, nipping at the juncture of your shoulder. “This dress drives me crazy.”

You hold back the whimper of need lodged in your throat as he peppers you with little kisses, fingers curling against your ribs. He pulls away before it gets too far, just as he always does, and you mourn the loss.

You follow him to the kitchen and set the wine next to the pizza box. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Your dad got any beer?” He asks, taking a seat at the table and flipping the box open. “Oh, pineapple!”

You grab a beer from the fridge for him and a glass for the wine. As you’re walking past, Eddie grabs your hand and gives it a little tug, guiding you until you’re sitting on his lap.

“You okay?” He asks, one hand on your back and the other just above your knee, his calloused fingers lightly gripping the bare skin of your thigh.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re okay. You’re acting a little funny.” His brow furrows in concern as he searches your face. “Do you not want me to stay over anymore?”

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I want you to stay.” You take a breath. “Do you want to eat the pizza in the living room? We can start the movie.”

He regards you for a moment longer before shrugging and saying, “Sure. Lead the way.”

He grabs the pizza box while you get plates. In the living room, you press play on the VCR before taking a seat beside Eddie, leaving a few inches between your bodies out of nervousness, hoping he doesn’t notice.

But he does.

He frowns at the space before glancing at you, while you resolutely stare into the pizza box like it holds all the answers in the universe.

Look, the fact of the matter is, Eddie is more experienced than you and the knowledge of that leaves you torn. On one hand, you’re glad to (hopefully) be going into this with someone who knows what he’s doing so that you’re not just fumbling in the dark.

On the other hand, you’re scared to death he’s going to think you’re some boring virgin. You don’t think he would. It would be wildly out of character for him to be cruel like that. But there’s still a tiny part of your stupid brain telling you otherwise.

And you know he’s into some heavy stuff. You’ve snooped through his room before, found the copies of Heavy Metal magazine that featured women bound, gagged, blindfolded. Bent over with red hand prints blooming on their asses. Knelt on the ground in front of some faceless man, doe eyed expressions tilted up in submission. Seeing all of it had made you squirm, skin going hot at the thought of Eddie doing any number of those things to you.

Until you remembered that you’ve never even had sex yet and can’t possibly live up to that sort of expectation. You stare blankly at the TV as you have your internal struggle, the images of Doc and Matt McFly on their wacky adventure not even registering as you bite into your pizza.

“Alright,” Eddie says, snatching the pizza out of your hands and tossing it back into the box sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey!” You protest, gaping at him. He lifts you by the waist until you’re in his lap for the second time that night, legs spread on either side of him. It’s not an unfamiliar position - you’ve had plenty of heated make out sessions sitting just like this. The edges of his belt buckle press into your belly as he grips your hips.

“Come on, spill it. What’s the matter?” He asks, face serious as his brown eyes search yours. His fingers inch up, digging into your ribs, making you giggle and squirm over him. “What’s got you so tense, baby?”

Rather than answer, you grip his face in your palms and tug his lips to yours. He’s soft at first, tentative like he’s unsure this is the right course of action to take when he’d been trying to get to the bottom of why you were acting weird. But he’s only human, after all, and when your lips part to allow his tongue to tangle with yours, his reservations fly out the window.

You’ve kissed boys before, but it’s never been like this. Never been all consuming, like you can feel him with every cell of your being. You shift in his lap, pressing as close as possible. Eddie’s hands land on your hips, stilling your movement as he pants against you.

“Christ, you gotta slow down,” he bites out, teeth gritted. His eyes are dark and half-lidded with lust, a look you’ve seen only in flashes before one of you pulled back for a breath.

“I don’t want to slow down anymore,” you whisper.

His eyes go comically wide. “Are you sure?”

In response, you grip the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head and dropping it to the floor behind you. You fight the urge to cover yourself, feeling more exposed than you ever have as his gaze roams your body, taking in your breasts in a simple cotton bra and the high cut panties to match.

“Ed—“

Your voice cuts off in a yelp as Eddie flips you onto your back on the couch cushions, his body wedged between your thighs as he looks down on you with a smirk. He licks his lips as he trails a hand from your neck, between the valley of your chest, over your tummy. Your muscles clench and you feel the pinch of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, voice deeper than you’ve ever heard. He plants a kiss to the spot near your ear that’s extra sensitive. “How’d I get so lucky, huh? Pretty thing,” he coos. Your eyes go wide and your mouth goes dry at his words, and you try to lift your hips for some friction to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

He continues to plant kisses down your neck, nipping the thin skin with his teeth. The pain makes you bite out a labored curse that makes him chuckle.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he says. “I’ll give you everything your sweet little brain can come up with.”

“I want…I want you to touch me.”

“I'm already doing that. Try again.” One of his hands slides under your back, nimble fingers popping the hook of your bra. “And be very specific.”

Your cheeks burn as he gazes at you expectantly. “I want you…to touch me down there.”

“Oh? Here?” He runs his thumb over your clit, the sudden sensation making you cry out. “You want me to touch your pretty pussy?”

You feel like you’re in danger of spontaneously combusting with how hot you feel all over. All you can do is nod vigorously as Eddie curls his hands into the waist of your panties and tugs them down and off your legs.

“Hold your legs up for me,” Eddie says, grabbing your hands and positioning them beneath your knees. “Let me get a good look at you.”

He leans back, down exactly that, staring down at your exposed body with reverence. You try to close your legs, but his hands on your thighs stop you as he makes a disapproving noise with his tongue.

“Good girls do as they’re told, princess. You wanna be a good girl for me right?” He asks, tone condescending in a way that makes a new wave of lust wash over you. With a whimper, you nod in reply. “Words,” he demands.

“Y-yeah. I wanna be a good girl,” you whisper.

“You wanna be my good girl,” he clarifies.

“I wanna be your good girl.”

“Christ.” He leans forward, grasping your face in his hand and kissing you senseless. He pulls away all too quickly, planting frantic kisses to your neck, shoving your bra out of the way to palm your tits, alternating between circling one hardened nipple with his thumb or his tongue. Your back arches and you squirm beneath him.

“You’re a little sensitive, aren’t you?” He asks, that mean tone back in his words.

He doesn’t wait for your reply as he moves on, those lips trailing down your tummy until they’re nipping and kissing at your inner thighs. He brings his thumbs to your wet heat, using them to spread you open before dragging his tongue through your folds.

“Eddie!”

“Fuck ,” he groans, tongue circling your clit in a maddening rhythm. He alternates between the sensitive nub and dipping the tip of his tongue into your entrance.

You’re pretty sure you’re having an out of body experience. His mouth feels so good, pulling every drop of pleasure possible from your body. All the blood rushes from your head and you writhe beneath him in desperation.

There’s a firm pressure at your slick hole and your eyes pop open, your head lifting from the couch to watch as he slides one finger into you until his ring is biting against your hot flesh. Your mouth drops open and his eyes lift to yours, his face damn near unrecognizable as he thrusts the digit in and out of you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he bites out. “I’m going to add another finger, and you’re gonna come all over my hand and my face before I give you my cock.”

“Oh my god,” you say, the words breathless and needy as he slips another finger in, the stretch a slight burn that subsides quickly. His fingers curl and drag against something that makes you cry out. And when you do, he smirks, lowering his face to tongue your clit in tandem with the thrust of his hand.

You come with a shout, the noises of his hand lewd and wet as he works you through it. Your hands slip from your legs, unable to hold up the dead weight of them as you shake beneath him.

Eddie leans back, standing from the couch and scrambling out of his clothes in a way that would be comical if your brain wasn’t turned to mush. But as he tugs his pants down his thighs, your brain suddenly catches up with the program and you drink in the sight of him greedily.

The lines of compact muscle, the contrast of his tattoos against his pale skin, the light dusting of hair at the top of his chest and the matching trail that leads to…

Holy shit.

His cock is hard, an angry red at the head that looks almost painful. You have nothing to compare him to besides your own fingers but you know damn well that he’s thick and long enough to make you nervous.

He joins you on the couch, one knee planted to the cushions between your legs. He fists his length, giving it a leisurely pump as he stares down at your boneless body.

“There’s, uh, condoms. Behind the cushion,” you tell him, the words making you blush for what feels like the millionth time that evening.

“Oh? Did my sweet, innocent little princess prepare for this? Did my little slut want my cock so bad tonight?” He asks. Your eyes go wide and a moan claws up your throat. “Ah, she likes that, huh?”

You nod vigorously. He reaches a hand behind the back cushions, fishing for the box. He pulls a foil package out of the box and tears it open. “Eyes on me,” he says as he rolls the latex over his cock.

He plants a palm beside your head, his other hand gripping his cock and guiding it until the head is positioned at your weeping entrance. “This might hurt a little, baby. You gotta tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft. With a sweet kiss to your lips, a juxtaposition to the man who’d just called you a little slut. He presses forward, the blunt head of him slipping inside you with little resistance.

There’s a bite of pressure as he moves forward, your body giving way to the intrusion with a slight sting that subsides a delicious fullness. He pauses once his hips are flush to yours, a hand coming up to brush across your forehead, moving the sweat slick strands of hair from your face.

“You okay?” He asks. You nod, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, smiling into it in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Eddie holds himself like that for a while, kissing you and letting you adjust. When the burn subsides and you’re just left with a slight ache and a new sensation of fullness, you shift your hips slightly under him.

He draws back slightly, the drag of his cock making you gasp and all the breath leaving your lungs as he drives back in. He sets a pace of short, hard thrusts that have you digging your nails into his back, dragging them down and leaving blooming red trails in the skin.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you mark me up however you want,” Eddie grunts. His thrusts become longer, deeper, more of a roll of his hips than a pound. A hand circles your throat, the grip gentle as his fingers press into the sides. “Sweet little angel, gripping my cock so tight.”

“Oh god,” you cry. Eddie leans back, the angle growing deeper. He brings his other hand to your lips, three of his fingers slipping inside your mouth. You run your tongue over the familiar calluses and he groans low in his throat.

Those spit slick fingers leave your mouth and he circles them over your clit roughly. “I want this little cunt to give me everything.”

With a whimper, the tightening of your belly releases in a wave, surprising you with its ferocity. The sensation is so unlike any of the times you’ve spent in the dark, your own hands exploring your body.

Eddie thrusts a few more times, his tempo stuttering as he chases his own release. He stills against you, hips pressed tightly to yours as he moans your name.

He pulls out of you, twisting to the side so that he’s lying sandwiched between your body and the couch so as not to crush you. He throws an arm over your waist, burying his head against your neck with a satisfied sigh.

“You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Munson,” you say. He laughs against your cooling skin.

“Would show you a good time for the rest of our lives if you’ll marry me,” he replies.

You huff out a little laugh before saying, “Not a chance.”

“I’ll change your mind.”

And not for the first time, you realize he’s right.

— 5 —

It’s the summer of 1990, and Corroded Coffin has a top hit on the radio and their first big gig out on the road tonight in Chicago.

You’re backstage at the venue, sitting in the green room and watching Eddie pace nervously. He looks especially fuckable, to the point you’re having trouble concentrating on his anxious monologue.

Denim battle vest, the same one that’s served him since high school, draped over his bare shoulders and exposing the muscle of his biceps and tantalizing peeks of his abs and chest. His hair is the longest it’s been but still the messy curls you love to run your hands through. He’s applied a smudge of eyeliner around his eyes, making his brown eyes larger and more hypnotizing.

Dear god, you’re going to combust.

“Are you even listening?” He asks, stopping dead in his tracks with his hands on his hips.

You smirk at him. “Not really. I already know you’re worrying about nothing. I’m just thinking about how fast I can make you come before you go on stage.”

His mouth drops open in surprise, but his eyes go dark. “Get in the bathroom. Now.”

You hop up from the ratty couch, sliding your hand over his stomach as you pass and throwing him a wink. He follows in behind you, shutting the door forcefully and flipping the lock.

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and pulling you into a bruising kiss. On a breath he murmurs, “I love you.”

“Love you more, Munson.”

“Now get on your fucking knees.”

You drop like a rock, the linoleum cold against your knees, the fabric of your fishnets uncomfortable ywhere it presses against your skin. Eddie unbuttons his fly, pulling his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans. He grips the bottom of your jaw in one hand and growls out, “Open your mouth.”

You do as you’re told, sticking your tongue out and waiting for him to slide his length into your waiting mouth. He taps the tip against your tongue, teasing you, before he slips it past your lips and into the wet heat.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie whispers. “Just like that.”

You let Eddie set the pace he needs, both of his hands digging into your hair in a tight hold as he uses your mouth. You’ve got spit leaking out of the corners of your lips and your eyes are watering from the lack of air, but you just look up at him through your lashes and moan.

“Christ, you have no idea, no idea , what you do to me, princess,” he groans, his head dropping back, hips moving faster but more shallowly.

There’s a hard knock at the door and the band’s new manager, Steven, calls through the flimsy wood, “You better get your ass out here, Munson, you’re on in five.”

But Eddie just keeps going, ignoring the man that holds the power to make or break his career in his hands, growling out, “Eyes on me.”

Your lashes are sticky with tears and mascara as you look up and watch him unravel, the ecstasy running across his features making your core clench. His release hits the back of your throat and you swallow around him.

When he’s done, he pulls you up by the hair, gripping your chin and hauling you into a rough kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth even as it tastes of him.

He pulls away, his thumbs swiping beneath your eyes to clean up the black streaks left by your mascara. “Marry me?” Eddie asks, and you smile at him.

Another knock sounds at the door. “Alright, lovebirds. Two minutes.”

“You better get out there and knock ‘em dead, Eds,” you murmur, leaning your forehead against his.

“Just for you,” he tells you with a wink, pulling back to right himself in his pants. He flips the lock on the door and pulls it open, the dark bathroom flooding with light.

The rest of the guys are crowded in the green room and Steve looks at Eddie and rolls his eyes. “Finally. Alright, boys, let’s show ‘em what you’ve got.”

He leads them out of the room and to the stage and you trail behind, finding a spot stage right to watch from the wings. Your face hurts from smiling so hard, watching the same boys who used to play in a garage playing on a stage in front of a crowd screaming along with them, for them.

“You’ve been an amazing crowd, Chicago!” Eddie screams into the mic. The answering roar is deafening. “We’ve got one more song and it’s a brand new one.”

A melody you don’t recognize fills the concert hall. The intro is heavy on Eddie and Jeff’s guitars and as Eddie begins to sing, Frankie and Gareth join in.

I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy

I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need

I love you more with every breath truly, madly, deeply do

I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on

A new beginnin'

A reason for livin'

A deeper meaning, yeah

Eddie’s face is tilted in your direction as he sings, eyes finding yours as he starts in on the chorus.

I wanna stand with you on a mountain

I wanna bathe with you in the sea

I wanna lay like this forever

Until the sky falls down on me

You smile at him, your eyes stinging at the emotion welling in them.

And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky

I'll make a wish, send it to heaven and make you want to cry

The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty

That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection

Of the highest powers

In lonely hours

The tears devour you

And devour you they do.

— +1 —

Eddie’s got one hand on the wheel and the other in the pocket of his leather jacket, fingers running along the sharp corners of the box he's hidden away in there.

You’re beside him in the passenger seat, practically bouncing in excitement. It’s 1991, one year to the day of the release of Corroded Coffin’s first hit record. They’ve been on one tour already, but he’s home for a three month stretch and now that you’re both in a good place financially, you’re looking at houses to buy to get out of the little two bedroom apartment you’d been renting.

“This is so exciting,” you say for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, Eddie grins at you. “Our first house!”

“I feel like we did this backwards. Should we have bought a house before buying a dive bar? Is that the normal order?” You’d used a portion of your savings to buy The Hideout from Hank, who finally retired to Florida content in the knowledge that the bar was in the safe hands of the girl he’d begrudgingly hired fresh out of high school and couldn’t shake himself loose from.

You smack him in the arm. “Shut up. Who cares. You’ve always done things your own way. Why stop now?”

“You’re right.” He grabs your hand, planting a kiss to your knuckles.

“I hope this one is nice,” you comment, staring out the window. Eddie smiles to himself.

He’d picked this one to go see. In fact, he’s already been to it and immediately placed an offer on it. You think you’re meeting up with a realtor, but the keys dangle from his key ring already.

Eddie pulls up to the little three bedroom, two bathroom ranch situated about five miles north of The Hideout. The lots are large, the homes bordered in the back by thick woods. The one he’s purchased is a deep navy blue with a bright red door and he watches your eyes take it in.

“Oh, it’s adorable,” you say wistfully. You jump from the passenger seat, looking around. “Where’s the realtor? You told him noon, didn’t you?”

“Oh, we don’t need a realtor,” Eddie says. You tilt your head at him, brow furrowed. “I bought it.”

“You bought it?”

“Yep.”

“You bought a house?”

“Yep.”

“You bought this house?”

“Sure did.” He holds the key up to you. “Go ahead.”

You snatch it from his hand and run up the front walk, shouldering your way in. Eddie trails it behind you and watches as you run from room to room, your smile growing bigger and brighter with each pass.

“This closet!” He hears you shout from the master bedroom. “It’s bigger than our bedroom at the apartment!”

He chuckles as he goes to the living room and stands in the center, lowering himself to one knee and pulling the ring box from his pocket. He settles in to wait for you to find him.

It doesn’t take long. You tear into the room, speaking a mile a minute about how you want to decorate, but you stop short when you see him there.

Eddie swallows nervously. He’s asked you to marry him since the first time he’s met you, and you’d always told him, “Not a chance.”

Over time, the exchange became more synonymous with any other couple saying “I love you” and “I love you, too”, just with your own flair.

But now, he means it. And he lifts the lid of the box to show the plain silver band sitting in the velvet. “Hey, princess. You ready to change your mind?”

You rush towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and toppling the two of you to the ground in a heap. You grab his face, kissing him deeply.

“That a yes?” He asks when you break apart, breathless and panting.

“It’s most definitely a yes, Munson.” You grin at him as he lifts your left hand and slips the ring onto it.

Right where it belongs.

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #no use of y/n #5+1 fic

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myperfectfatdads · 19 days

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The Job

I’ve been looking for a job for over a year now. I’m desperate for one, i’m not even picky about it anymore. I just need a job someway to earn money. It was looking pretty hopeless until this company Lyon wanted me to do an advertisement for the new hotel that there opening. The pay was good so I signed up instantly with no hesitation. They’ll probably want a fit guy like me to model in the advertisement I think to myself. They make me sign a contract to make sure I follow all the rules. Damn this thing is long why is there so much stuff to read it’s like a terms and conditions I mean who reads all of it anyways. I mostly just click through it. I only pay attention towards the end of all of it. It states at the bottom that they’re really looking for a man who can represent a lion someone perfect to contribute to the new Lyon hotel. I guess I fall under that category I figured. Clicking it off I sent in my application form.

Monday, they got back to me saying that I’m the perfect candidate for this position. And they ask me again are you sure you wanna go through with this? Not thinking much of it I select yes. Perfect the advertisement will take place a week from now. Great I think to myself as I shut my computer and head to my car to go to the gym. This is gonna be great it think my first real job. On my way to the gym I get a text from my dad inviting me over for dinner. I take up his offer as he’s making his killer buttered chicken tonight. At the gym I do my normal sets but it’s feels a little bit harder tonight. Arriving at my parent’s house the smell of the food made me feel right at home. It was nice to see my parents and to tell them the good news of course. I tell them at the table while eating my food, damn this food is amazing I guess I do really miss my dad’s cooking. Now normally I only have one plate and maybe go up for seconds but tonight something was different I was already on my fifth plate and still stuffing my face. After I was done I give my slightly bloated stomach a pat and wave my parents goodbye. Arriving at home I crash right in bed and drift to sleep.

Tuesday, ah a new day only six more days tell the big, and damn i’m really hungry luckily I brought home leftovers from my dad’s dinner last night. I serve it up and get ready to dive in and dive in I do all of the leftovers are gone within minutes. I can’t hold back can I now. Going to put on my clothes I notice that my shirt feels a little bit tighter as my tummy is poking out a little. I look in the mirror damn my cheeks look chubby I say while rubbing my beard that also needs to be shaved. I gotta take batter care of myself so think as I need to look really good for the job on Sunday. This day goes by in a flash and dinner time already rolls around. This man’s gotta eat I say but nothing in the fridge looks appealing, it’s all to healthy I think. A nice juicy hamburger sounds really good and that’s exactly what I order. 20 minutes later the food arrives. I’m so hungry I can barely resist I tear open the bag and grab a mouthful of fries and shove them into my mouth. I peel open the rapper to the burger and take a nice juicy bite, while drops of ketchup drip onto my shirt. I dive into my second burger my stomach howling at how much food I just consumed, but I didn’t stop there I wanted more I grab the chocolate milkshake I ordered and slurp it down sipping every last drop. I let out a huge burp in relief of finishing that meal my head resting on my newly formed double chin and hands resting on my stomach pushing out trying to escape. I felt like I was in a food coma I couldn’t even move and I didn’t as I slowly drifted asleep right there on my sofa chair.

Wednesday, I jolted awake, shocked at the mess around me what the hell happened as if I was almost unaware of what happened last night. I picked up all of the rappers finding it harder to even more around from my increase in size. I can’t do this anymore I say as I fall into the couch, checking my watch I notice it’s already 4 in the afternoon what the hell happened there’s no way I slept in this late I jolted up as there was still stuff to do one of them being ordering me some new clothes. As my old ones were starting to become quite a tight fit, damn clothes are expensive these days especially for bigger people I think. Grabbing my gut I know that I need to go to the gym but meh i’ll just do it tomorrow as I walk to the kitchen the grab a bag of chips and order an extra large pizza on my phone with bread sticks. When the food arrives I dive in again eating everything in my sight it’s only takes a minute to eat a meal made for a family of four. I’ll just got to the gym tomorrow it’ll be fine.

Thursday, damn this commercial is coming faster then I thought and I am in no need ready for it. I look terrible, I have no more clothes that fit me. Just letting my belly hang freely I notice that it’s gotten a lot hairier; yep it’s definitely time to shave I think but not before breakfast. I whip out some donuts I bought from the store a few days ago. Still fresh I take a bite feeling the creamy feeling touch my tongue. I finish the first one within seconds but I don't mind I still have over 10 left to eat. And that’s exactly what I did shoving them down my throat I didn’t even notice my stomach start to expand even more forming love handles and my pecs starting to soften out becoming my moobs resting on my stomach. My face was getting chubbier by the second and the hair on my body just kept growing. After finishing my dozen donuts I let out a massive burp and rub my gut watching it jiggle up and down.

Friday, waking up in the morning was hard I felt sluggish and tired but I pulled through as the new clothes that I ordered arrived. There was only one problem with them, they didn’t even fit me they looked super small on my and my gut was totally peeking out, I brush it aside as I had more important stuff to do today like making a cake. That’s right i’m going to make a 3 layer cake, i’ve been craving it so much, and I already had all the ingredients to make it. I waddled to the kitchen getting all of the stuff ready as this was going to take up almost my whole day. Making the batter is the longest part, wait or is it letting it cook in the oven ah whatever it doesn’t matter I just can’t wait to dig in I think to myself. The cake takes all day but I couldn’t be happier down it, snaking off little bits of it. I plop myself in bed after a long day of work satisfied as the cake will be ready tomorrow.

Saturday, it really hit me in the morning that the big day is tomorrow. But first of all the cake is ready. Okay normally I stress eat but i’ve never stress eaten this mush I ate the whole 3 layer cake in one sitting, shoving that cake in my face like there was no tomorrow, even though tomorrow was the most important day of my life. After I was finished I waddled over to the bathroom to clean up, in there I realize now much hairier i’ve gotten my whole stomach was full of hair and my beard was super thick. My stomach and legs were huge taking up a lot of free space. Trying to find a nice outfit for the job tomorrow I couldn't seem to find anything that fit all my clothes wouldn’t fit over my gapping stomach. I sign in failure and plopped myself onto the bed getting rest for the big day tomorrow I probably a good idea I say as I drift asleep.

Sunday, today is the big day and I couldn’t be less prepared I was a mess nothing fit me and I look nothing like the guy that they hired to do the photo shoot there gonna think that i’m a catfish or something like that. I sign not being able to come up with something in time I waddle out to my car in defeat and somehow manage to squeeze myself in to the car barely being able to fit. Arriving at the hotel it get out of my car in just my underwear as it’s the only thing that still fits me. I walk in and the guy at the front say you must be Ryan here come up here i’ll show you where the magic happens. Huh he knew who I was right away even by seeing how I look now, they take me to one of the hotel rooms where the photographer is. “You must be Ryan I’m Chace what a pleasure to meet you, seems like the procedure went just great you’ll make the perfect lion, I mean just look at you main.” he says while rubbing my beard. “Now just sit down on the bed so we can start.” Procedure, I have no idea what he’s talking about, plopping my self on the bed I can finally relax knowing that my job is almost over with. The mascot of the Lyon hotel.

#dad bod #weight gain #balding #beer belly #beer bloat #burping #fat belly #hairy belly #fatty

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deadlynavigation · 1 month

Text

Pretty & Pink

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: request from @cecebabs !! school has been kicking my ass lately so just bear with me yall 🥲

Navigation

**gif is not meant to be a representation of what reader looks like**

Opposites attract—or at least, that’s what they said. Wednesday had never put any stock into the saying until he met you.

You were a bright little thing, full of happiness and hope and all the other disgusting emotions. But Wednesday endured, because at the end of the day, you held his heart in your manicured hand.

Every once in a while, though, he’ll question what he’s doing. Like tonight, for instance. It had been a long day. The errands that had been piling up over the week were finally accomplished a few hours ago, and it was exhausting. So exhausting that all he wanted to do was collapse in the nearest bed, no matter the owner or location. And since you didn’t want your partner to end up in some alleyway mattress, you dragged him over to your apartment, where he was currently camped out on your bed.

“You doing okay in there, sweetie?” You call to him from your bathroom, hands dripping with water as you rinse your cleanser off.

“Yes, my love. Are you done yet?” Wednesday calls back. He knows his question is in vain, though. Your skincare routine is a long ordeal, and you’ve only just started.

He hears your soft laughter float through the air. “I’ll be right out.” You respond, picking up a serum.

Wednesday decides he can’t wait, heading into the bathroom and settling behind where you stand. You greet him with a smile, picking up the next step of your routine to show to him.

“It’s a new moisturizer I got today,” You explain. “It’s supposed to be good for dry skin, and with all the nasty weather lately…”

Wednesday doesn’t hear the rest of your rant, focusing instead on those pretty eyes of yours. Oh, how he longs to drown in them. To sink into their depths, seeing the world from your hopeful view. Unpacking all your thoughts, understanding and empathizing.

Listen to him. He’s practically a puddle of mush. What have you done to him?

“...Wednesday, baby?” You tilt your head as Wednesday snaps back into reality. “Were you even listening?”

He takes one more second to stare at you before sheepishly shaking his head. “Deepest apologies, cara mia. There are simply too many pretty parts to you, I cannot focus on every one of them at once.”

You giggle, a blush tinting your cheeks. “Maybe I should turn away, then. Stop distracting you with my wiles.”

Wednesday smirks. “Turning away from me would entice me even more, Y/n. You really want to play that game?”

“Oh my god. Ok, I’m not facing you anymore. You’ve lost that privilege.” Your cheeks are on fire now, and if you maintain eye contact any longer, you’re worried you might burst into flames. True to your word, you pivot to face the mirror. Then, using your arms, you hop up onto the counter, climbing into the sink for an optimal view.

Wednesday nearly has a heart attack as you jump. His hands fall into place, ready to catch you or save your head from a nasty bang should your acrobatics go wrong, but once you’re in place, he sighs loudly.

“Must you do that, my love?” His seriousness is ruined by a smile creeping onto his face.

“Sorry, can’t hear you. This moisturizer requires my full attention.” It’s hard tamping down your own smile, but the teasing seems to be worth it as Wednesday’s stare darkens.

“The moisturizer gets your attention, hm? That’s a dangerous game, cara mia.”

You don’t respond, instead dipping your finger into the container and dotting it on your cheeks.

“Come down from that sink so we can see who really has your attention right now.” Wednesday taunts you. After a couple seconds, you give in, closing up the product and carefully setting it down before jumping back down onto the floor. Within seconds, Wednesday takes a step and sits on the edge of the bathtub, grabbing your hands and gently tugging you along at the same time. Before you know it, you’re sat on his lap, a smirk on his face and a shocked look on yours.

“Attention still on skincare, love?” Wednesday teases.

You give up on the facade. “No,” You breathe, leaning in. “But what if I share my attention with it?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows furrow as you get up, reaching into the bottom drawer of the counter and coming back to him with a small package. You sit back down, ripping it open and tossing the top in the trash.

“Want a face mask?” You ask.

“Is that one of those grotesque concoctions that spreads all over your face? The one that looks like a death mask?” Wednesday questions, but you’re already reaching into the package.

“Exactly, baby. Want one?”

“...Sure.” What’s the worst that could happen?

Twenty minutes later, and Wednesday is set up on your bed with no intention of moving. A green substance covers the majority of his face, making him question why he doesn’t let you do this more often. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks, settled in amongst your many pink throw pillows and cherry blossom sheets. You’re settled in too, resting your head on his chest while trying to sync your breaths with the steady thumps of his heart. Your manicured fingers etch random shapes into his skin, tracing the hard lines of muscle and adding a heart or two every so often.

Eventually, though, the both of you become restless.

‘Wanna start a movie?” Wednesday asks, looking down at your comfy self with adoration.

You look up, meeting his eyes with the same love. “Can I choose?”

“Of course, Y/n. Anything for you.”

An hour later, and Wednesday is ready to commit homicide. Of all the movies you could have picked, you went with Mean Girls. Your defense? “It’s the feminist movement at its finest, Wednesday.”

“It’s… very pink.”

“Yeah, that’s the best part! All the decorations and outfits are amazing. They were actually part of what inspired this room’s decor.”

Wednesday looks around at the brightly colored walls, the pastel curtains, the cute pillows, and even the pink pens scattered across your desk. “I never would’ve guessed, my love.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re just jealous.”

Wednesday chuckles. “Yes, very.” He agrees sarcastically. You don’t dignify him with a response, instead choosing to lay back down on his chest and go back to watching the movie. You don’t get to stay there for very long, though, because a minute later, the timer on your phone goes off.

“Mkay. Time to take this off, babe.” You poke his face mask. Wednesday rises without complaint, heading to the bathroom while you grab some water and a cloth. Internally, though, he’s begging you not to. It feels so nice, and having you apply it was one of the best feelings in the world.

As you start working through the layers of the mask with water and a gentle hand, though, Wednesday revises his thoughts—never mind the application. This was the best feeling in the world.

As you work, Wednesday leans into your hands. He would have fallen asleep if it weren’t for your whispered promises of comfy beds and pillows and cuddles.

*****

The next morning, Wednesday gets up much earlier than usual. The sun is just barely up, peeking through your pastel curtains and coating the bed in a buttery yellow. You’re burrowed into his arms, tucked safely into his chest with the messy blankets surrounding you. He takes a minute to absorb your cuteness, smiling down at you as he slowly wakes up.

“Good morning, Y/n.” He whispers, not yet wanting to wake you. You’ve reminded him time and time again that the blinking digits on the clock right now are not digits you ever want to be awake to see, and he’s taken that to heart. But he still has to kill time until you wake–maybe a run? He could drop by the gym just down the street that he really likes. Or maybe a chore? The dishwasher still needs to be unloaded.

But those all sound like too much work for this early in the day, so Wednesday settles on just getting you a coffee. A nice five-minute walk and your drowsy smile to greet him when he gets back. Perfect.

Within minutes, Wednesday is up and out. He strolls down the street, taking his time to enjoy the soft sunlight. That’s new, he suddenly realizes–and probably your doing, as well. You’re a fan of tilting your face to the sun, soaking in the warmth, and claiming the rays cheer you up. Maybe you’ve passed that onto him.

A couple more minutes tick by, and Wednesday reaches your regular coffee shop. He enters the place with a little jingle as the door opens, and is immediately greeted with the scent of dark coffee and light chatter.

“What can I get for you this morning, sir?” A too-happy employee asks him as he walks up to the counter.

Damn, what was that drink you really liked? Something with pink in it, he’s sure of it.

“Just two medium coffees, one black and one with that pink flavor, please.” Manners with normies–that’s another thing you’ve unknowingly reinforced with him.

“Our pink velvet flavoring?” That sounds right.

“Yes, that’s it. Thanks.” Wednesday pulls out his card, handing it to the guy.

“Awesome. Name?”

“Addams.”

“We’ll have those coffees right out for you, sir.”

“Brilliant.” With that, Wednesday finds an isolated corner to haunt until his name is called, quickly grabbing the coffees and exiting the building. It’s an even quicker walk back with the warm drinks providing some heat on this chilly morning.

It’s a bit of a struggle, but Wednesday manages to buzz into the building, climb the stairs to your apartment, and work the keys until your door clicks open, all with his hands full. He’s greeted with the sight of you half-asleep on the couch, the news playing softly in the background.

“What are you doing up, love?” He questions, setting the coffees down on the coffee table and kneeling on the floor.

“Wanted to see you,” you mumble, grabbing for his hand and interlocking it with yours. “Was cold in the bed without you.”

Wednesday practically melts. How can one girl be so sweet and caring? So happy?

“I’m sorry, my love. But look, I got you that coffee you like to make up for it.” He gestures to the beverages with his free hand before resting it on your head. He goes about stroking your hair, lulling you back into a dreamlike state.

“Don’t do that, I’ll fall back asleep,” you bat at his hand, trying to get it out of your hair. You were up to see him, not to fall asleep on him.

“And I will still be here when you wake up, cara mia. Go back to sleep. You’re safe here. I love you.”

#wednesday addams #male!wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x reader #male wednesday addams x reader #male!wednesday addams #the addams family #male!wednesday #the addams family x you #requests open #requests

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in-my-shifting-era · 6 months

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Not In The Mood

(Draco Malfoy Angsty but ends Fluffy)

Summery: Having a playful academic rivalry with Draco Malfoy results in some mainly playful banter. What happens when reader has a bad week and Draco is the only person to try and fix it.

Warning: Some mature language. Maybe some strong language. Draco is kinda a softie in this.

Authors note: Draco won my poll! This is my first blurb of him for let me know what we think.

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You’ve been having a bad week. On Monday you got detention for being late to class because your alarm didn’t go off. Tuesday you spilt ink on your brand new uniform shirt. On Wednesday you snapped at your best friend and she’s giving you space. Then on Thursday you lost 15 house points for laughing at a prank pulled on Snape during class. When Friday came around you prayed it would be a good day. All was good throughout the day. That was until you got back your Transfigurations test from the last class and getting a bad mark.

To get away from the week you’ve had you decided to hide away in the Hogwarts library to try an escape into your new book. This plan didn’t last very long because a smug laugh interrupted your peaceful moment. “How did I know I’d find you here? A bore like you would spend their Friday evening in the library.” You looked up from your book to see Draco with his signature smirk as he leaned against the shelf you were sat by. You gave him and exhausted sigh and closed your book. “I’m not in the mood for your shit Malfoy; I’ve had a bad week.”

Your voice was flat. You didn’t really sound annoyed or rude with your words. To the blonde you just sounded numb. He wasn’t getting the rise out if you that he wanted. He shifts himself off the shelf to stand closer as his playful gaze softens. “Yeah I’ve kinda noticed you’ve been in a mood all week. I even heard you called Granger a stick in the mud. I actually want to talk about what happened their?” He’s pushing at your buttons but you won’t give him the satisfaction of his comment getting you to talk back to him.

Rolling your eyes at his comment you look at him fully now “Seriously Draco leave me alone. I’m on a streak of saying things I regret and I’d refuse to apologize to you if I hurt your feelings.” Your tone was playful this time making Draco’s lips turn up into the slightest smile. You take this moment of neutrality to get up and put your book back into your bag. You start to walk around him. You’re stopped when You from walking past him by stepping in your way.

“Go for a walk with me. Going for a walk always helps me clear my head” A look of uncertainty falls onto your face not knowing what to think of Draco’s offer. Draco notices your hesitation and sighs softly. “Don’t be a stick in the mud now. I promise to play nice.”

A smirk finds its way back to Draco’s face as you roll your eyes and give him a playful glair. You push your shoulder against him playfully as you walk past him towards the door. “ Can you do something nice for someone without making a snarky comment Malfoy?” He smiles to himself seeing your attitude return and follows behind you. “What would be the fun in that? My snarky comments are part of my charm darling.” You roll you eyes at him and let out a small laugh as you walk out of the library with him.

The comfortable silence that followed as you two walked the empty corridors brought you a small moment of peace. You look at the blonde and see his usually tense and guarded demeanor is replaced with an comforting presence. His eyes scan the many paintings that line the halls of Hogwarts. He turns his head having felt you staring into him and cover yourself by asking him a question.

“How did you know about my test score? We don’t have Transfigurations together so I know you didn’t see it some how.” Draco looks down lightly and let’s out an awkward laugh. “Uh Blaise actually told me. He sits near you and he told me you looked disappointed when you got your test back.” You give him shocked look. “Do you have your friend keeping tabs on me Draco?”

Draco scoffs lightly and rolls his eyes. “ No I don’t. He knows about our academic banter and he was telling me to leave you alone on this one. I had to still poke my fun but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Failing a test is not like you at all so I figured something more was going on.” He gave you a sympathetic smile as he says this. Something you’ve never seen often from the tough Slytherin.

Your demeanor softens and you smile up at him. “You’re the only person to notice I was struggling this week so thanks Draco.” A soft smile fall onto his face Draco’s face. He hold your gaze with his gray eyes staring into yours. “I may like to get under you skin sometimes but never aim to intentionally be cruel do you.”

In this moment you’re seeing a side of Draco you’ve never seen before. The burning blush that hides on your cheeks as you both bicker back an fourth if fully dusting your cheeks a rosey red. Talking like this with Draco feels nice. You like seeing this side of Draco. Truly you bring it out of him. Through he would never admit that.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco fluff #draco angst #draco x female reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #multifandom writer #draco x you #draco x y/n

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callsign-magnolia · 11 months

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Undiagnosed // Ch. 9

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 8 | Masterlist

I eventually fell back asleep on the couch before waking up and making breakfast. I changed out of my pajamas and into some yoga pants Kelly convinced me to buy and a soft shirt. I attempted to watch a movie, but without glasses or contacts I couldn’t see clearly. I had to stand smack in front of the tv to see and it was annoying so I gave up. Once the movies were over I got bored and the thoughts crept in. What if my dad knew and confronted Jake at work? What if something happens to his jet and he crashes? What if I didn’t cut the stove off and catch the house on fire? At that thought I jumped up, going into the kitchen and making sure I did in fact, cut the oven off. I sighed in relief when I did and walked away, but suddenly stopped, turning back around and looking again because I forgot what I just saw. I huffed, turning back into the living room. I tapped my foot, and looked at my phone seeing it was only noon. I huffed, laying my head back. You’re nothing without us. My mother’s voice echoed in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to go away. I decided to distract myself by looking for eye doctors in the area. I looked through reviews finding a handful that I would consider until I finally found one. I stared at the number, it practically glared at me. Maybe I could have Jake call? God no. I need to do this myself. I’m a grown woman, I can do this myself. I dialed the number and it rang twice before a friendly voice answered. “How can I help you?” She asked. “Hi um… my name is Katie Blair and I need to make an appointment.” I heard typing on the other end and she hummed. “Have you been with us before?” I shook my head. “No.” More typing. “Okay, the next opening we have is Wednesday at four-thirty.” I nodded. “That works.” I agreed. “Great. We’ll see you Wednesday. Have a nice day.” She said and hung up. Once that was done, my mothers voice crept back into my head. You’re an ungrateful little shit. You’ll die out there on your own. You’re hard to love. Tears welled in my eyes and I grabbed my phone, pulling up Bradley’s number.

Can we talk when your free?

I text him, hoping he would respond eventually. I laid back on the couch, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind. Eventually my breathing evened out and I slipped into unconsciousness. “Darlin’.” I jumped awake, startled by the voice and the hand on my arm. “Hm.” I sat up as Jake sat next to me. “How long have you been asleep?” He asked and I glanced at the clock. “Shit. Four hours.” I said, face planting the soft couch. He chuckled, rubbing my back. “Must’ve been tired.” He said and I scoffed. “Something like that.” I said. “Well, I’m gonna go shower. I’m thinking steak for dinner? I put some in the fridge to thaw this morning.” He said as he got up, heading to his room to shower. “I can start it." I said as I sat up. "You sure?" He called down the stairs as I nodded, stretching. "Yeah." He's letting me live here rent free, the least I can do is make him dinner. I went into the kitchen, pulling out the steaks, then rifling through his freezer for sides. I found some asparagus and some potatoes in the pantry. I was halfway through cooking the steaks when he came in, shirtless. He didn't notice but it took me a second to avert my eyes. "Is it just us tonight?" I asked and he hummed. "Yeah, Kelly is working late tonight." I nodded as I finished the steaks, letting them rest as I tossed the asparagus into the same pan with some garlic.

"Damn that smells good." He said, coming to stand next to me. I smiled, practically keeping over the compliment. "My mom wasn't completely useless." I remarked and he laughed. "Guess not. Anything I can do?" He asked. "You can go ahead and cut the potatoes open. Give them a chance to cool a little before I burn the shit out of my fingers." He just chuckled and sliced them open. Soon dinner was done and I made him go sit down. "I can make my own plate." He said. "I can make my own plate." I mimicked. "No shit. But I'll bring it to you." I said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not winning this one Jake. Go sit down." I said with a more stern tone and after a second he did as I asked. I smirked, plating everything and walking it out. "See. Not that hard." I remarked and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah." I waited patiently with a smirk on my face as he took the first bite and his eyes went wide. "You're telling me that we ate out the past two nights and you can cook like this?" I laughed as he ate more. "And it's even medium rare! How did you know?" I shrugged. "It's the only way my parents eat it, so it's the only way I know how to cook it." I said, starting in on my food. "Yours medium rare too?" I nodded. "That's the only way I've ever eaten it. Mom would make steak and she refused to cook it differently for me."

Dinner was great and we talked about our day, but once we were done the mood changed. "I have something to tell you, but I need you to not freak out." He said, sitting up in his chair. My heart started racing a million miles a second. What could he possibly have to say? "We overheard your dad talking to Cyclone." Why would he be talking to Admiral Simpson? He doesn't like him. "He's going around asking everyone to keep an eye out for you. Apparently when they came home and saw that you were gone, they called the police and tried to say that you were kidnapped." My chest started heaving and I was trying to calm down. But now not only were the police looking for me, so was practically everyone on base. "Oh my god." I said as tears built in my eyes. "Hey, no darlin'." Jake said as he took my hand, squeezing it in his. "The police say you probably just left. You packed a bag and took your purse, so they think you just walked out of there. They aren't looking for you." I sighed in relief, feeling better about that. "But you should lay low for a while. If anyone from base sees you, then your dad will know." I nodded, taking deep breaths. "I can do that. I can lay low." I muttered. "Good. I'll clean the kitchen." He said, grabbing my plate and standing. "I can help Jake." I said as I stood. "You cooked, I'll clean. Go do something." He joked and I huffed but did as he said. I went up to my room to plug my phone in, setting it on the small white bedside table. But something light blue caught my attention. It was in my suitcase, wadded up at the very bottom. I grabbed it, feeling the soft material in my hands but even in the dark I knew what this was. My favorite Tiffany blue dress, and the one Blake ripped. I could still see the droplets of blood that fell on it.

Do you have any idea how this makes us look?

Sometimes giving people what they want makes life a lot easier.

The words flooded my brain, remembering every moment of that night. Including the way his hands felt on me, the way they practically slithered under my dress. I felt disgusted with myself. I should've done more than punch him and I should've walked out of that house no matter what. But I couldn't. I was a coward and I fell right back into their trap like an idiot. Tears filled my eyes as anger grew within me like a fire being fed oxygen. The rip in the dress reminding me just how close I came to having my own choices ripped away from me. I turned rushing down the stairs, stomping on the way down. Hard enough I probably shook the house. "Katie?" Jake asked from behind the couch. I attempted to blow past him, but he caught my arm and I stopped. "Jake. Let me go." I said calmly, trying not to have a breakdown. I was so tired of crying, I wanted to be done with my emotions. "Darlin', let me see it." I shook my head. I couldn't let him see it, he'd absolutely lose it. "No. Just let me throw it away." He shook his head. "Trash wouldn't have you this upset." We stood in silence for a moment, me not looking at him, when he suddenly yanked me towards him and he snatched the dress from my hands. "Jake!" I yelled and he held the dress up, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What is this?” He asked, he looked close at the blood stains, his jaw clicking in anger. “Is this yours?” He asked lowly. I shook my head. “No, it’s Blake’s.” He looked at me for a second. “When you broke his nose.” He said in realization. “But the rip…”

“That was when I managed to get out from under him and he grabbed the neck line. It ripped when I got out of his truck.” I muttered. “What?” His eyes flashed to me and I could tell he was angry. I opened my mouth to respond but he stopped me. “What do you mean, ‘Get out from under him’?” He asked. “When my dad forced me on that date, he stopped just before taking me home. He stuck his hand under my dress and I smacked it away. He said that Coop told him I could be difficult and then he yanked me down in the seat and-” I took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “He pushed my dress up…” I was trying not to sob and took another deep breath and suddenly my face was grabbed. This was different from any other time my face was grabbed. Jake’s hands were gentle as he held my face, making me look at him. “Did he hurt you?” I wanted to shake my head no, but he kind of did. “Sort of.” He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, sort of?” He growled. “When he grabbed my leg, he left some bruises.” I muttered, not meeting his eye. “So he didn’t force you into anything?” He asked. “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t give him the chance.” I saw his lips twitch, as if he wanted to smile but he didn’t. “Can I please throw the dress away?” He looked at the dress in his hand and smiled. “I have a better idea.”

So he dragged me outside and off the back deck to a small fire pit in the yard. He handed me the dress and started up the fire. Once it was roaring he stepped back, looking over at me. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded, looking down at the dress in my hands. I took a step closer, stopping just in front of the fire before tossing it in. I watched as it went up in flames, burning away until it started turning to ash. Jake’s arm went around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “How you feel, darlin’?” He asked and I took a deep breath. “A little better. But it’s gonna take some time.” He hummed, catching me off guard as he once again kissed my head. “Take all the time you need, darlin’.” We stood in silence until a thought crossed my mind. “Fuck.” I muttered and Jake looked down at me again. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “There are some pictures on my old phone that I need. If I access my old iCloud do you think my parents could get my new number or track me?” I asked and he shrugged. “You have a new email and everything so personally I’d delete the old one. One less thing your parents have to track you down with.” I nodded and rushed upstairs, grabbing my phone. I quickly got into my old account and grabbed the pictures I needed from storage and saved it to my phone before deleting it. I was sitting in a chair not far from the fire, looking at the pictures when I felt a presence behind me. I looked up to see Jake looking at my phone. “Is this after?” I nodded, allowing him to see the pictures. “I took them, just in case. I didn’t think about it when I left my phone at my parents.” He hummed, swiping over one. The bruises on my thigh glared at me. They weren’t bad but they were noticeably finger shaped.

Jake inhaled deeply before disappearing inside. I felt bad, these pictures seemed to bother him a lot and I didn’t want anyone worrying about me. I stared into the fire, my eyes locking on to the last piece of the dress burning. The beautiful blue color turning black from the immense heat, but I was brought out of my thoughts by something cold and wet. I looked over to see Jake offering me a bottle. I took it with furrowed brows, looking at the label. “Decided I needed one, so I thought I’d offer you one too.” He said as he pulled the other chair closer to me, sitting back in it as we watched the fire. He twisted the cap off, and set it on the arm of his chair, taking a sip. I looked down at my own bottle, attempting to twist the cap off but to no avail. “Oh, sorry.” He said taking the bottle from me. Irritation built in me at the action. I could’ve done it if he gave me another chance. “Kelly always needs me to take hers off. Didn’t think about you possibly needing it too.” I huffed. “I almost had it.” I muttered. His head snapped to me and his brows furrowed. “You okay?” Don’t let him know you’re mad, it never ends well. I looked at him with a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I asked and he leaned back in his chair again. “You just sounded mad.” I shook my head. “Oh, no I’m good.” I took a sip of the beer immediately spitting it out. “Oh my god! How do you drink that shit?” I asked and he laughed, attempting not to spit his own beer out. “Do you not like it?” I shook my head, handing him the bottle. “God no!” He set the bottle down next to him as I attempted to get the taste out of my mouth. “Have you ever drank before?” I nodded. “A few times but it’s only ever been wine. Mom doesn't drink anything else so that’s really all I’ve ever had.” I said and he nodded. “I’ll get you some when I go to the store next time. What’s your favorite?” He asked. “Chardonnay.” He chuckled. “Fancy.” He said in a posh tone, making me laugh.

The next day Rooster agreed to talk to me and came over once him and Jake were done for the day. I slipped on a square neck floral dress and opted for some of the white platform sandals Kelly bought for me on Sunday. It was weird to put on shoes that were flat but they were so comfortable. I grabbed my purse just as the doorbell rang and rushed downstairs. “Rooster? What are you doing here?” Jake had been home all of twenty minutes and I had been getting ready so I hadn’t even spoken to him yet. “He’s here for me.” I said as I walked over. “You?” Jake asked, looking at me and I nodded. “I asked if we could talk and he agreed.” Jake nodded, motioning Bradley in. “Oh, then come on in, I'm cooking and Kelly will be here soon.” I bit my lip, wondering how to tell him we were leaving. “Uh, Jake?” I asked and he turned to me. He looked at me with a wide smile. “It’s a private conversation.” I said, pointing out the door. “Oh, then y’all can sit out front, I don’t care. I have a porch for a reason-” “We’re leaving.” I said and he stopped again, looking at me once more. “Leaving?” I nodded. “Bradley thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the house so we’re going for a drive.” Bradley nodded. “Figured we’d stop for dinner too.” He said with a wide grin. “But I’m cooking.” He said and I immediately felt bad. “Well… you and Kelly haven’t had much alone time since I got here!” I suggested. “We’ll probably be gone for a few hours so that’ll be good and if there’s leftovers I’ll eat them tomorrow for lunch.” I suggested. “Uh yeah. Yeah, that works. Um, Rooster? Can I talk to you for a second?” He nodded and stepped inside. “I’ll wait out here.” I said and stepped outside, closing the door.

After a few minutes Bradley and Jake came outside. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded. “I’ll see you later.” Jake said, kissing my temple and dipping back inside. The door shut and I stared at it for a second. “You have quite the protector there.” Bradley said as we walked out to his car. “I’ve come to see that.” I said. “Oh, I love your truck.” I said as he opened the passenger door for me. “Thanks.” He helped me in and he shut the door as I buckled the seatbelt. He got into the driver's side, smiling at me. “Jake was going on and on about how I had to be careful that no one from base saw you, as if I haven’t been hearing the same things he has.” He said as he started the truck. Once we started down the road, the wind picked up and it felt nice. He had the top off, allowing the sea breeze to blow by as we drove along the coast. The sun blinded me as we drove, my hand resting on my forehead to shield them. Rooster reached into the glove box in front of me and produced a pair of raybans identical to his. “You sure?” I asked and he nodded. “They’re my spares.” I smiled, taking them from him and putting them on my face, getting instant relief. “So what’d you wanna talk about?” He asked as he pulled up to a red light. “Um…” I said, not knowing how to start. “Shit, this is harder than I thought.” He chuckled, looking at me. “Lay it on me.” He said, his smile making me feel more comfortable. “I hear my mom’s voice in my head.”

He nodded slowly. “I do too.” I was a little shocked at his statement, looking at him from across the bench seat. “What does she say?” I asked and he smiled. “That she loves me. If I'm struggling she reminds me I can get through it.” I nodded, just wishing those were the things I heard my mother say. “What does yours say?” He asked, glancing over to me as if he already knew. “Basically that I’m a fuck up. On Sunday I thought I pissed off Kelly and I heard her voice in my head saying, ‘you probably did. you’re good at that.’.” I huffed, playing with my fingers in my lap. “Katie, I’m sorry.” He said and I shook my head. “I’m used to it.” I said and he shook his head. “But you shouldn’t be.” He was completely right. I shouldn’t be used to it, but I am. “Jake suggested therapy. He said his was mostly work related, but you have experience with personal things.” He hummed, nodding. “I do. My dad died when I was two in a training accident here at Top Gun. Mom died when I was seventeen. Brain tumor.” My heart broke for him. “I wish I could trade with you.” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. He didn’t say anything, but a part of me felt like he agreed. “When was your first time?” I asked and he was quiet for a moment. “I was six. Dad had been gone four years at that point. I got off the school bus and mom met me on the porch. She had on one of his naval academy jackets. It still smelled like him because she never washed it and when I hugged her, I had a panic attack. She decided at that point I should see a therapist.” I nodded. “Did you ever stop going?” He nodded. “Around high school. But I started again when mom died.” I nodded. “Did you know Mav is my godfather?” I looked at him wide eyed. “Really?” He nodded. “My dad was his RIO and they were best friends. Mav was there the day I was born and he was there the day mom died. We had a falling out when he pulled my papers for the naval academy.” I frowned. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Bradley.” He chuckled. “But I wanted to, plus it’s easy to open up to you.” I smiled at him, happy he felt comfortable enough to share this with me. “I used to be so angry at the world, people around me, for things they had no control over. Being in therapy has made me a better person. I used to be hot headed and I can still be occasionally, but I’ve learned I don’t have to be mad anymore.”

“What’s therapy like?” I asked. “A lot of talking. In my case a lot of yelling, a lot of tears but I always feel a hundred times better coming out than I did going in.” I nodded. We drove a little longer till we got to this pier and he pulled into a parking spot. “What are we doing here?” I asked. “Getting dinner.” He said with a smirk before he got out. “Oh.” I unbuckled and opened my door. “Woah.” Rooster said, coming over and helping me out. “I can do it myself.” I said and he chuckled. “I know. But my mom is probably rolling in her grave because I didn’t open your door.” He said and I giggled. “She seems great. I wish I could’ve met her.” I said as he placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the pier. “She would’ve loved you,” He said, making me blush. “I can hear her now, ‘Oh, Bradley! She’s just adorable!” I laughed at his imitation. We quietly walked over to this little shack and we stopped outside of it. “This place has the best burgers.” He said as he looked at the menu. “What do you want?” He asked and I looked at the menu. Everything looked good, but I stuck with the safe bet and got a burger and fries. The conversation was light and fun while we ate, but as I was finishing my fries it took a turn. “So, when you hear your mom in your head, what’s the most common thing she says?” He asked. You’re so hard to love, Katie. I took a deep breath, wiping my hands on the napkin. “The night I went on that stupid date with Blake,” His hand tightened around his cup, practically squishing it. “I attempted to leave. But my mom forced me to sit down and was telling me they did the things they did because they loved me.” I scoffed at my own words. “Just after that she told me I was hard to love.” I said, my eyes falling to my lap as tears formed in my eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying about this.” I said as I wiped my tears. Bradley got up, coming around and sitting next to me. “They’re still your parents, Katie. A part of you is always going to want their love.” I sighed shakily. “I don’t want to want it.” He sighed, pulling me into a hug. “Trust me, I wish you didn’t either.” He held me for a moment until I calmed down. “You done?” He asked and I nodded. “Come on. I got something that’ll make you feel better.” I stood and we went back up to the window and he ordered two chocolate milkshakes. “Glad I like chocolate.” I said and he laughed. “I had a feeling.” We walked back over to the bronco and he stopped, taking my milkshake. “Take your shoes off.” I furrowed my brows at him. “What?” He motioned to my shoes. “Take them off.” I knew there was no point in arguing, so I did it anyway. He handed me my milkshake and took his off before we tossed them into the bronco. "Come on." We made our way to the hill that the parking lot was perched on and he started down. I followed behind very slowly and very cautiously. "Need help?" He asked, holding out his hand for me and I lunged for it as I tripped. I grabbed it and he helped me steady myself as we continued down. "Don't let me fall." He just chuckled. "I won't." Once we were on flat ground he let go of my hand, chuckling at me. “You’re not gonna trip over your own feet are you?” I shook my head as we started walking down the beach. “It’s so nice out here.” I said as we walked along the beach. The sun was setting, there weren’t many people and the breeze was warm. “I like coming out here when I’ve had a hard day, or if I’m missing my mom.” I smiled at him. “And when you're missing your dad?” I asked and he chuckled. “I spend every day doing what he loved. I get up in that jet and I feel close to him.” It was nice knowing he had some way of feeling close to his parents.

We spent the next few hours sipping our milkshakes and walking along the beach. My parents never brought me to the beach the few times we’ve lived close to one so this was really my first experience. “So where did you grow up?” He asked and I shrugged. “Everywhere. We moved almost every year it seems like.” He nodded. “I never really got the chance to make friends, but we moved out here when I was sixteen and we’ve been here since.” He hummed. “Where were you born?” I chuckled. “Coincidentally, here. My dad was stationed here for a while and my mom went into labor with me.” I sighed. “She called it the worst twenty one hours of her life.” He scoffed. “She deserved the pain. But I’m happy you’re here.” He said, nudging me with his elbow. We made our way back up the hill and Bradley dropped the tailgate on the bronco. “Sit up here.” He said and I placed my hands on the tailgate behind me. As I jumped he grabbed my waist, making sure I got up and seated. “What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled a black bag closer to him, looting around in it. “Aha!” He said, pulling out a container of baby powder. “Baby powder?” I asked with a quirked brow. “Yep, helps get the sand off.” He sprinkled some on my legs and his before grabbing a towel and wiping them off. Once he was done there was no sand to be found on my skin. “Remind me to get some of that if I go to the beach.” I said, hopping down from the tailgate. Once he closed the tailgate, Bradley helped me into the car and shut my door before we took off down the road. It was dark now but the wind was still warm. It blew my hair around as we drove in silence, nothing but the radio on. But a few miles before we got back he turned to me. “So… gonna go to therapy?” He asked, looking over at me. “I think I’m going to try. I’m just scared.” I said and he smiled, grabbing my hand and holding it up. “You’ll be okay. It may take a few tries to find the right therapist for you, but when you do, it makes a world of difference.” Once we got to the house I noticed the lights were still on, which was odd. Jake seems strict about his sleep schedule and he should be heading upstairs by now. Kelly’s car wasn’t in the driveway so I assume she went home. Bradley helped me out, taking my hand in hopes I wouldn’t fall out.

The bang of the front door made me jump as Jake threw the front door open. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!” He yelled as he stormed off the porch and towards us. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I whispered, quickly moving behind Bradley to shield myself. “I’VE BEEN PACING FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS!” He yelled and Bradley held his hands up. “Jake-” “I have tried calling and got no answer! I had no idea where the fuck she was, if she was still with you!” My hand gripped Bradley’s shirt as my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. “Hangman-” “No! Do you know how stressed I have been? I had no idea if someone saw you, if you ran into her parents-” “Hangman!” Bradley yelled and I became light headed, my adrenaline flooding my body. “She doesn’t need someone controlling her life! What she does need is someone who lets her have her freedom!” Bradley yelled back. Jake’s eyes shifted to me and immediately a look of guilt crosses his face. He sighed deeply, as if letting go of all the tension he’s felt. “Fuck.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair. “You’re right.” He said and it was like all the anger disappeared. “You can’t spend all your time worrying about her. She’s an adult.” He nodded, smiling at me. “I’ll be inside.” He said, motioning to the door before walking that way. “You okay?” Bradley asked, turning around to face me. “Yeah… he just really scared me.” He hummed. “I could tell. If your grip on my shirt was anything to go by.” he joked and a blush covered my cheeks. “Sorry.” He laughed before pulling me into a hug. “Don’t worry about it.” As if he could sense my emotions, he squeezed me tightly and immediate relief washed over me as I squeezed back. After a few seconds he let go and I felt a little better. “Something else your mom taught you?” He beamed with pride at my words. “Yeah, it’s something she did to me when I was stressed or overwhelmed.”

“Well, I’m tired so I’m gonna go in and go to bed.” I said and he nodded, yawning. “I’m gonna go crash in my bed.” He said, walking around the bronco. “Goodnight, Katie.” He smiled at me and I waved as I walked towards the porch. “Goodnight, Bradley.” I replied. He got in the bronco and started it, but waited until I was inside to leave. I triple checked that the door was locked before making my way through the dark house and into the guest room. I immediately stripped out of my clothes and grabbed some of the pajamas I packed when I left. It was a tank top and shorts combo. They were emerald green and satin and so comfortable. The little ruffles on the hem on the shorts made it cute, not that that really mattered. Once I changed I sat on my bed, pulling out some of the lotion I bought and started putting it on my legs. I thought back to Jake out in the driveway. He scared me so bad with all the yelling and when he rushed over, it was like my dad was stalking towards me and I just wanted to bolt in the other direction. Tears streaked my cheeks and my chest constricted. I sniffled, trying to stop my tears, but of course I couldn't. So I sat there on the bed, rubbing lotion in my legs as tears dripped onto the white sheets. “Katie?” Jake’s voice caught my attention as he knocked on my open door, breaking my dead stare from the chipping polish on my toes. I quickly wiped my tears, not wanting him to see me upset. “Oh, darlin’.” He said, coming over and sitting next to me on the bed. “Katie.” I didn’t want to look at him. I knew if he did I would just start crying again. “Katie. Please look at me.” He said and I didn't move. I was startled as his hand gently touched my face, turning me to face him. “Katie, darlin’. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, turning away from him. “No, it’s my fault. I should have looked at my phone and called you back.”

“No, Katie. It wasn’t your fault. I was just so worried and when I saw you get out of the car I was so… relieved. Then I was angry at Rooster.” I furrowed my brows. “Rooster?” He nodded. “Why Rooster?” I was the one that asked if we could talk, not him. “I know you’re safe with him, I know that.” He said, flopping back onto the pillows. “But just the thought of something happening to you, and I’m not there to…protect you? It kills me.” I chuckled. “Aw, do you care about me Jake?” I joked and I felt him grip my tank top, tugging on it to catch my attention. “It’s not a joke, Katie. Of course I care. I worry about leaving you here alone, when you left the house with Rooster.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “When I woke up that morning, and you were gone, it was like pure panic took over. I was ready to go over to your parents house and kick the door in.” A feeling swelled in my chest at his words as I looked back at him. Having someone who cared for me was a new feeling and it’s gonna take some getting used to. I sighed, flopping back next to him, resting my hands on my stomach. “I wish you did.” I muttered and he turned to face me as I continued to look up at the ceiling. “I was stupid to think anything would change. But they played the part of loving parents so well.” I said as anger swirled inside me. “That’s one of the first times I remember my mother hugging me. I know damn well it was the first time my father did.” I started pulling on my thumbs, wondering if I would pull one out of socket.

“They apologized for everything. For the first time in my life they told me they loved me.” I said through gritted teeth. Jake sat up, leaning on the wooden bedframe. “Then I wake up the next morning with a lock on my door, my mother telling me i'm an awful daughter and that they could no longer handle me.” Tears filled my eyes again, but this time out of anger. “That feeling of hopelessness when I pulled and pulled on that door. I finally stopped beating on it when my hands started to bleed.” I wiped the tears, not wanting them to fall. “I begged and begged them to let me out. I leaned against that door for three days, hoping they would change their minds. I gave up on hoping it was a dream, I knew better. It didn't matter how much I begged and pleaded, all it got me was a day without food.” I felt his fingers thread through my hair, and it felt so good. “Katie.” I looked up at him through my lashes and he stared down at me in silence for a moment. “You didn’t deserve that. You know that right?” His words made my bottom lip quiver and I started to sit up when he stopped me, pulling me into him. I had never been held like this, but it was so comforting and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his waist. “What’s so wrong with me, that they couldn’t love me?” I asked as the tears flowed freely now, soaking his t-shirt. “Nothing, darlin’. Absolutely nothing.” He said. His words soothing me until I drifted off to sleep.

The next day when Jake got off work, he was swinging by to pick me up for my eye doctor appointment. But I was so distracted watching a show that I was running late, that being signaled by the sound of Jake’s horn on his truck. “Dammit!” I yelled, grabbing my shoes and hopping to slip one on before putting the other on at the bottom of the stairs. I rushed towards the door, purse in hand and I barely remembered to lock the door on my way out. I ran through the yard, yanking open the door and climbing in. “What’s going on? We’re gonna be late.” He said as we back out of the driveway. “I know we’re gonna be late.” I snapped, buckling and sitting back in the seat. “Gee what’s got you in a mood?” He asked and I scoffed. I wanted to snap at him again, but I thought better of it. He might just leave me on the side of the road, I joked to myself. We were silent the rest of the car ride, which was nice. I just couldn’t get it together today, which was odd for me. My hair was up in a bun with my bangs hanging loose, I didn’t put on any makeup or jewelry, not having any time. I just managed to slip on a sundress and sandals. Once we were there, I didn’t even wait for Jake. I just got out and walked up towards the door. “Katie. Katie!” He hissed and I stopped, turning to him. “Wait, let me go in first.” He said. “Why?” I asked in an irritated tone. “What if someone from base is in there?” He asked, walking in with me on his heels, ignoring his words. We went in and I pushed past him, going up to the front desk. “Katie Blair.” She immediately pulled up my info and I looked around. There was no one in the waiting room, making me feel a little better. “Hi, you must be Katie.” I looked over to see a very tall, very built man about my fathers age standing before me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, the fear settling in the pit of my stomach. “H-hi. yes… I’m Katie.” He just smiled at me as he shook his hand. “Well, if you’ll follow me.” I immediately turned to Jake, hoping he wasn’t so mad he wouldn’t come with me. “Would it be okay if my friend came with me?” I asked and Dr.Sparkman smiled.

“Of course.” We went into an exam room and I sat in the chair, Jake taking the chair beside me. We went through the usual motions of testing my eyesight, including dilating my eyes. “Well Miss Blair. It looks like from the last prescription you brought me, your eyesight has in fact gotten worse, and that goes for your astigmatism as well.” I sighed, hating that it got worse. “Do you want contacts and glasses?” I immediately shook my head. “Glasses only.” He nodded. “Very well, if you go out here we can get you set up with frames.” I grabbed my bag and Jake held my hand as we walked out, seeing as my eyes were still dilated and I felt unsteady on my feet. “Can you even see these?” He asked and I nodded. “Up close I can.” I said, grabbing a set of frames and holding them close to look at them. He chuckled as I looked around, holding each set close. I quickly noticed a pair of Kate Spade ones. They were a metal frame and the lenses were back and mostly rounded and rimless on the bottom. The stems were gold in color and the tips were black on the outside, but white on the inside with black polka dots. I looked at the price before quickly putting them away and moving on, but nothing caught my interest like they did. “See anything you like?” Jake asked from behind me, startling me. I sighed, setting another pair back on the rack. “No. I can get the prescription and order some online.” I said and he hummed, nodding. When I didn’t find anything I got my prescription, and we headed out. “Anything else you want to do while we’re out?” I smirked, rolling my head to look over at him. “Yeah, actually. Can we go to the bookstore?” He just smiled at me before busting out laughing. “Anything you want, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#undiagnosed #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin top gun #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin #ADHD OC #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 5 days

Text

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 4

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN LESS THAN A WEEK. BRING ON THE GRINDDDDDD. I will warn that my motiviation for each of my fics comes in waves, so you'll probably get chapters in random chunks ngl. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

PART 1: Chapter 4

Unconditional Violence.

Bambsquabbled (Definition): A 19th Century American slang word essentially meaning stupefied or confounded. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 18th December, 1929.

You had expected the additional Tuesday Mr LeBlanc had given you off to prepare yourself for the radio company to consist of you sleeping in until 11am. But dreams are short lived when you have an aunt who insists the ass-crack of dawn is prime time for everything.

You guessed it was fun to climb onto the roof of your relative’s vast home to collect the crystals you had both put out under the full moon, before the energy given to them was whisked away by the rays of the early golden hour. But when nerves settle in like the green spirals of nausea the night before, sleep takes the hand of another, leaving you to lay there with your over-active mind as it drags you through every possibility and event that could end up with you looking like an idiot in front of your new colleagues, or worse. Can’t think of much worse. But the universe will find a way.

It always does.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, it was barely 6am and you already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Your cousins had found you curled up on the bench swing, having dragged your duvet outside as you balled yourself up like a worm, sipping on the iced tea Agnes had bought you the day before in an attempt to settle your nerves. It did. A little.

And now here you were, the first half of your new workday having gone as smoothly as your awkward self could do.

Ethel, who’s desk was closest to yours, had dubbed you the quiet one after spending an hour running her mouth at you with barely a break for you to chime in. You had also already created quite a commotion on the third floor, a few people intrigued by the new ‘foreigner’. Well – as foreign as you can get when you’re from another English-speaking country, in the biggest cultural melting pot of a city had ever seen in your rural life. But they found you interesting enough.

The oddest thing you had experienced that day, however, was a strange request from your new boss – Mr Durham himself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pull off a local accent?” he had asked when showing you the phone on your desk.

All you could do was blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured to the phone. “Since you’re my assistant, you’re gonna be filtering through the calls I get before passing them onto me. Now, there might be an issue if someone calls expecting to hear me, but instead find themselves speaking to a British girl on the other end. Some can be impatient and might end up putting the phone down before you explain.”

Memories of that one very unpleasant phone call flooded your mind. “Even if I answer: ‘Hello W.A.D Radio, this is Mr Durham’s assistant speaking’??” you replied monotonously.

“You’d be surprised.” He sighed. “But do you know how to anyway?”

Frowning, you recalled your time in the cities further in the North. “I guess..? A girl I rented a room from in New York insisted on teaching me for when we went into town, but I struggle to see how it’s important?”

The man put his hands together, pointing them at you in a prayer motion. “Just.. try it out? Talk like your colleagues when you see them, to see if you can get a hang of it – I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Please?”

You gave him a wavering look, but sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, but they can’t make fun of me.”

He beamed, patting you on the back in satisfaction. “I’m sure they won’t! I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

And with that, you sat in your new chair, trying to pointedly ignore the sign at the other end of the room that pointed you to the fifth floor, and began your attempt to settle in.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 8th January, 1930.

There wasn’t much to celebrate when the new decade rolled around. Gone were the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’, when you would join your parents at the parties and balls they were invited to – when it was acceptable, of course; those higher up in the class hierarchy still grasped to the dwindling standard that children should be seen, not heard. The year you turned eighteen ended up being quite interesting, when the older women who had turned snooty at the sight of your teenage self wandering around their stately homes, tried to attempt a 180°, as they congratulated you reaching adulthood with strained smiles. But you paid them no mind, too busy staring at the paintings or statues that lined their corridors – a stark contrast to the more barren and plain wallpaper that coated the walls you grew up in.

But now that was far behind you, the English garden parties in the spring and summer that you adored so much were now a mere echo in the distances of your mind. The noises of tiny forks clinking on fine china as the little birds twittered in the trees now replaced by the sputtering and groaning of automobiles as you gripped the pole of the tram, your arms tight against your chest as you tried your best to not let the swaying of the vehicle toss you about into the crowd of packed bodies around you.

Making sure the scarf was tucked safely around your neck, you grasped the small briefcase in your hand – mentally preparing yourself for you first day back at the radio station after the new year. Unfortunately for Mr Durham, a small hurricane had passed over during the holiday, and radio stations across the city were temporarily silenced as their mechanics desperately attempted to repair the damaged towers. And also unfortunately for you, only the hosts were offered a couple days off as things got back up and running, though some still showed to prepare for their shows; you, on the other hand, were still expected to show up like any other day.

So here you were, pushing open the (now familiar) double doors, giving a small wave to the receptionist, who’s name turned out to be Diana, and the woman barely raised her hand in response as she continued to tiredly shift through the concerningly large stack of papers on her desk.

You were just about to climb the wide staircase when you heard her call your name (something you were very surprised she knew, considering her tendency to ‘accidentally’ throw paperwork in the bin on the daily), and your wedge heels clacked against the tile flooring as you stumbled slightly, turning to face her as her nasally voice echoed around the large lobby.

“It’s best you stay in the shadows today.” She warned cryptically. “Trouble’s in, and the mechanic’s not happy about the damages – Durham’s getting the brunt of it, but you’ll end up in the crossfire unless you hide out during breaktimes.”

All you could do for a moment was stand and stare, a million thoughts running through your mind. Mostly about who ‘Trouble’ was, and why Diana thought you couldn’t handle the guy and the other mechanic. You did handle the radio man at the repair shop after all, and speaking of the radio, you were quite proud to say you had finished the it in time for Christmas, and had shipped it off with a very passive-aggressive note that hinted for the man to basically never return. Luckily, Mr Boudreaux hadn’t replied to any of your letters since you had begrudgingly accepted the object, but you had suspected he had called the shop once or twice, and you had left Mr LeBlanc to deal with it, mostly because he was quite terrified you would call another customer every name under the sun the second they tried to give you trouble.

Glancing back and forth between Diana and the stairs, you mumbled a slow “Oookay…” before nodding your head and turning on your heel to hurry up the steps. Reaching the third floor, you didn’t stop in your path as you neared your desk, instead dropping your briefcase onto the wooden surface as you dashed by, striding towards the door that had the golden plaque engraved with ‘Mr B. Durham’ onto it. Grasping the handle, you turned the knob, swinging the door open, only to stop in your tracks as you were met with a very empty office.

You frowned. It must be really bad if your boss was no where to be seen. Whipping around, you scanned the main room for him, but only saw a few of your colleagues, the rest still yet to arrive – you were normally expected to be in early to handle Durham’s work as soon as he began.

Throwing your coat and scarf on your chair, you strode back towards the stairs, readjusting the suspenders of your wide-legged trousers as you practically jogged up the steps, and ended up rolling the sleeves of your loose blouse to your elbows as you tried to catch your breath.

On the fourth floor, you spent a couple minutes checking all of your boss’s usual haunts or hiding places, even going as far as interrogating a couple of the workers there for his whereabouts. It wasn’t until some blonde guy that came wandering down the steps from the fifth floor that you got your answer, the man looking up to take in your slightly dishevelled and feral appearance with wide eyes as he stammered out that he was in one of the radio booths. To his further horror, you patted him on the cheek with a thanks as you rounded him, ready to take another flight of stairs to reach your – apparently – floundering boss.

Ignoring the embarrassed sputtering of the man behind you, you eye the sign nailed to the wall, the painted hand pointing upwards with a very bold ‘FIFTH FLOOR’ next to it.

“Don’t go up there until I say you’re ready, okay?” Mr Durham’s words echoed through your mind.

Buuuuut, he did say he wanted to discuss the stuff you brought in your briefcase ASAP.

Yea that’ll be your excuse. You can deal with his complaining later.

Reaching your heel-clad foot out, you took the first step, almost like you were expecting an axe to come swing down and impale your forehead. But when nothing happened, you shrugged, and simply continued up.

Recalling the path your boss had taken you on during the initial tour, you managed to find the dreaded corridor that supposedly housed your greatest nightmare.

Extroverted people.

Yeesh.

At that thought, you did consider turning around, but your urge to drag your boss’s arse back downstairs drowned that thought out, and you carried on.

Surprisingly, it was quiet, but at the same time not so much when you remembered that most of them were plating their somewhat wealthy behinds on their armchairs at home as the rest tried to fix the issues of the storm.

Reaching one of the lit rooms, you heard raised voices.

“–really expect me to know? –” “– supposed to be on in an hour! How is that –”

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to try and witness the potential fiasco. And what a fiasco it was.

Wires, cables, and any other random parts that were used for radio technology were strewn across desks, tables and even the floor. Amongst these were two men, and there was only one you recognised.

Just like you had seen him every day for the past month, Mr Durham was stood in his washed-out blue suit and concerningly shiny shoes, and at this point one hand was on his hip, whilst the other rubbed tiredly at his face as whom you assume was the mechanic, was blabbering the poor man’s ear off as he ranted on and on about random parts and problems and he gestured frantically at said random parts and problems. Wait – nevermind, you recognised one and a half.

The man from across the street was here, with his back to you. Again. For fuck’s sake.

This time he was back in the seat you first saw him in, this time with a few strands of dark-brown hair out of place, curling slightly as if to rebel against the intense styling he had put it through. Peeking your head out slightly further, you managed to get a good look at him.

Well for one, he was a triangle. Stupidly broad shoulders that narrowed into a stupidly small waist (triangle), with lanky legs long enough that you could probably chop them off and fashion them into skis. Despite his face not revealed, you could see the semi-light tan on his hands, that were busy turning knobs and dials as he listened in to whatever was coming through the headphones on his head. He was dressed to impress, to say the least, in smart, dark-grey trousers, who’s ironed out edges looked as if they could slice through skin. His high collared cream shirt was tucked away under a relatively tight looking reddish-tan waistcoat, and to top it all off, you could see the back of the black ribbon that was most likely tied in a stupidly even bow.

You didn’t want this guy to sense your staring, so you opted to look back at the other two men who were still chuntering on about god knows what. Stepping into the light that flooded through the glass, you wave slightly to try and get your boss’s attention. A couple seconds passed, and you watched as the mechanic kept glancing at you and Mr Durham, until eventually he nudged the other man on the shoulder, pointing you out.

Turning his head, Mr Durham’s eyes met with yours, and you raised your hand with a questionable thumbs up to see if all was good, only to watch in slight confusion as his eyes widened, and he whipped his head rapidly between you and the faceless man sat at his desk, before marching over to the door and pulling it open a crack, sticking his head out.

“Hey uh,” he half-whispered, surprisingly nervous at your presence. “what’re you doing here?”

You lowered your voice to match his. “You said to come find you as soon as possible this morning, you know, to go over those statistics from that other station?”

Realisation dawned on the man’s face, and he reached up to drag his hand down the side of it. “Shit I forgot,” he cursed, and glanced over his shoulder before facing you again. “I’ll – uh… I’ll be down as soon as I get this sorted. Marty’s givin’ me a run for his money right now and the second Al takes his headphones off I’m gonna feel like I’m entering an early grave.”

Surprised, you eyed the man sat at the desk, who looked far too calm to be threatening anyone right now. “Ok… I guess it can wait. I’ll bring you some coffee up!” you chirped, and Durham went to call out that it wasn’t necessary, but faltered with a frown as he realised you were already halfway down the corridor.

Balancing the tray of cups and steaming jug the best you could, you reached the final step, retracing your route to the radio booth that your boss was probably getting murdered in. Walking up, you waited patiently until Mr Durham noticed you, and watched as he reluctantly trudged over to open the door.

Taking your first step in, you were hit with the very potent smell of strong black coffee, as if someone had some brewing every day, and you figured you had made the right call of fetching the same beverage as you placed the tray down on one of the tables.

The mechanic was still going off on one, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as you slowly began pouring the coffee into the cups, listening to the greasy-looking man speak.

“– there’s literally no reason that I can find that’s causing the local outage!” he spouted at your frowning boss. “The boys have already fixed the aerial, and David’s currently on-air and that’s working perfectly fine, so it has to be something in this room!”

During the man’s tirade, you noticed the rustling of papers, and looked over to see the faceless man again, still at his desk, but his hands were fiddling with no purpose, and his head was turned to the left slightly, showing his high cheekbone and the edge of his thin circular glasses.

Looked like someone else was listening in too.

Biting your smile down, you turned back towards the cups in your hand, only to have a glint of light pierce the corner of your eye, and you looked in the opposite direction to a large wooden box, with one of the panels removed, displaying the endless wires and springs that coiled and wound in every direction. But you weren’t looking at that, you were instead looking at the screwdriver that was very prominently glinting in the shine of the ceiling light. This must be the painstakingly obvious problem that the mechanic had painstakingly missed.

Giving a quick glance over at the men, you waited until they faced away, scrapping about the wire pile on the floor, and you reached for the wooden teaspoon on your tray, and inched towards the box. Knowing wood doesn’t normally conduct electricity, you raised your hand, testing it anyway against the hanging wires to see if they were live. Seemingly not, you stuck your hand further in, and began nudging at the tool, slowly loosening the wires around it as you dragged it along the bottom of the box.

When they had deemed your silence as suspicious, the mechanic and Durham turned round, only to see you elbow deep in some very expensive equipment.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” the mechanic cried as he rushed over. “The hell are you doin’??”

Instead of jerking your arm back out and apologising to the man who was slowly turning purple, you gave the screwdriver one last flick, and the three of you watched as it dropped over the edge and fell to the floor with a clatter. Moments of silence passed as you all stared at it, until you decided to explain.

“It was tangled in the wires, which would’ve prevented the electricity flow,” you said plainly. “Plus, if you had tried to power it all up, it could’ve set the place on fire.”

All the mechanic could do was stare down at the tool, but Mr Durham had decided to approach, and bent down to pick up the tool.

“Nice one.” He complimented, turning the object in his hands. Though the warm smile he had put on for you quickly vanished, as his eyes set upon the name engraved on the wooden handle. He pointed at it. “This has your name on it Marty.” He said lowly, his blue eyes turning dark as he regarded the paling man with a look of thunder.

Seeing the outcome, you gestured nervously to the beverages on the table. “Coffee’s there, Mr Durham, I’ll see you downstairs.”

Just as you walked around him, he called your name. “Take ten minutes to yourself and grab some tea, whilst I deal with Marty here.”

Nodding, you curtly took your leave, swinging the door open as you power-walked out, failing to see the sharp pair of eyes following you from where they were sat at the desk.

You found the break room housed several curiosities that you were yet to explore in America. Apart from the atrocious fact that the tea station lacked the Yorkshire brand, you found yourself poking at what they called a teabag. Yes, surprise, surprise, the Americans invented something tea related before England or even China did, but you had to admit it was rather useful in helping you not gag at the slimy tea leaves that sat at the bottom of most of your beloved brews.

With the table to your right, you leant your hip against it, your back against the door as you rather noisily mixed the spoon around your large mug, making sure the sugar was dissolved properly before you went to strain the teabag. Lifting it carefully out of the boiling water, you gingerly held your other hand out below it to catch any stray drips from hitting the floor, scanning the room in front of you for a bin that you could chuck it into.

What you foolishly had failed to do however, was hear the footsteps that grew in volume from behind, and you hadn’t realised anything until a very uncomfortable prickle hit the side of your neck, as a very unwanted presence loomed over you. Though, that didn’t last long, as the presence decided to deafen you instead.

“So YOU’RE the new assistant!”

A banshee screech raised from your throat, the teabag flying through the air and onto the floor by your feet as you basically jumped three feet up. Instinctively, however, you didn’t realise what was happening until one elbow flew upwards, slamming into the nose of the man behind you, the other flying round to collide with his ribs. Teaspoon armed in hand, you spun around to face your assailant, only to step on the soggy teabag that was still on the floor, and you cried out again as you slipped and slammed into a very firm chest. Eyes screwed shut, you felt the two of you fall, though quickly broken by the table behind you.

Relieved that you were no longer falling, you swiftly blinked your eyes open, your dark brown ones meeting a pair of equally matching brown. Moments passed as you took in the scene in front of you, and you realised you finally had a face to put to the lanky man from earlier.

Said man was groaning as he rubbed at his nose, his lips twisted into a grimace as he checked for blood. What you noticed however, was the several poignant glances the man took to your right, and you followed, only to see you hand raised, teaspoon in hand, pointing down at him as if you had a machete, ready to stab the lights out of him.

A small gasp left your throat at the realisation, and you quickly pushed yourself off, pointedly ignoring the grunt the man let out as you knocked at his ribs. Taking several steps back, you distanced yourself from him. He had gotten close before, he wasn’t about to do so again.

You watched as he pushed himself up on his elbows, using the table as a support as he stood. To a disturbingly tall height might you add. Looks like you did just reach his nose after all.

“I’m uh,” you started as you eyed him, teaspoon machete still in hand, strangely, you instinctively used the southern accent you learnt – it was the one you used with strangers. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that.” Reaching over, you snatched up a napkin, offering it to him. “Y’haven’t got anything…?”

Dark eyes flitting between you and the outstretched napkin offering, you watched as something seemed to switch in his demeanour, and a natural smile fell across his tan face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He assured, and you blinked at his prominent transatlantic accent. “I figured that wasn’t the best way to say hello to a stranger!” he laughed as he smoothed down his crumpled waistcoat. Reaching his lanky arm out whilst tucking the other behind him, he offered his hand out in greeting. “The name’s Alastor, my dear. And who do I have the most entertaining pleasure to be speaking to?”

You stared at his hand, then flicked your eyes up to him, scanning his grinning face with vigour.

Where, oh where, had you heard that voice before?

Your silence seemed to confuse this Alastor guy, however, and his eyes darted around in confusion as you continued to stare. From what you could see, he had come to a very wrong conclusion about your silence, and leaned over at you slightly, bringing his face level with yours.

“Cat got your tongue, my darling?” His growing cheshire grin reminding you of two very similar people. “You clearly must find me that dashing if your this speechless, haha!” he chortled, the condescension rolling off him in waves.

Oh, you knew exactly where this guy was from.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinised him as you quietly muttered out a single word.

“Boudreaux.”

Alastor blinked, eyes darting around your face, before raising a hand to cup at his ear. “I hate to say but I didn’t quite catch that!” he exclaimed rather loudly.

You felt your brows begin to furrow, so you raise your voice slightly. “I said, Boudreaux.”

Oh you did it now. Sparkles seemed to glitter behind his chocolate eyes as he perked up with glee, straightening up to his full height. “So you do know me after all! I was starting to think you simply had nothing going on in that head of yours!” he simpered as he tilted his head to look down at you.

Despite his clear mocking, you remained quiet for a moment longer, until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“…You work in a radio station.” You stated flatly.

Alastor looked around, acting as if he had just realised as such. “Yes I am quite aware!” he affirmed in an obvious tone. “Did you want an award for that observation?”

You had to refrain from gaping at this man’s audacity. “… Couldn’t you have just fixed it yourself?”

The man blinked at you. “Fixed what now?”

Oh, this was it. Stepping forward, you didn’t stop until you face was a hand-lengths away from his, and you watched with satisfaction as he shifted at your invasion of his space – talk about a hypocrite as someone who clearly loved to invade the space of others. Staring at the man dead in the eye, you fully dropped the southern accent, your Yorkshire one coming back through full force.

“Your mum’s radio.” You stated simply, raising your brows to regard him with a condescending look that matched his.

You had expected him to brush it off, laughing when he realised who you were. What you hadn’t expected for his pupils to blow wide, his eyes darkening as they narrowed, scrutinising your gaze with his own, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Oh,” he said lowly. “It’s you.”

Keeping your gaze levelled, you gripped the spoon harder in your hands. That is, until your name was called.

The two of you straightened up, you leaning to look around Alastor as he spun on the spot, the both of you facing Mr Durham, who was looking between the two of you rather nervously. He called your name again.

“C’mon.” he said, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. “Let’s go over those papers you brought.”

Without a second thought, you darted for your mug of tea, grabbing it along with an almost empty bottle of milk to put in it as you strode around Alastor, feeling the hand of your boss as he put his arm around your shoulder as he quickly led you away, and the back of your head prickled, definitely feeling the sharp eyes on your retreating back this time around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALASTOR'S HERE RAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Watch me disappear from the face of the earth for a week cuz of my executive dysfunction lmao (Blame my adhd not me she's a seperate entity at this point.)

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 5!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Happy WIP Wednesday friends! Not a huge deal for you today, but I figured I’d drop the Flashback and give you the last piece in the “Bruce Puts His Head In His Butt” for the night!

(Bruce is tranq’ed by Alfred minutes after the call ends and is put to bed. In my heart. He might actually walk himself up but we all know it’s Alfred’s glare that makes it happen)

Just a taste of chapter 14 of Dead and Loving It, you can find the fic on AO3 or from my pinned post which is the latest chapter, but links to the first and all subsequent chapters are in each post!

———————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence

Jason was actually on his way to bed on time for once in his life, the early end to patrol and lack of crime lord duties giving him a chance to get a full five hours sleep.

He should have known he wouldn’t get lucky two nights in a row; Constantine wasn’t around to distract Bruce anymore.

He’d contemplated not answering. Contemplated trying not to shoot Bruce in half an hour if the fucker showed up at his window.

The pit growled.

It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. The worst thing he’d ever felt. And he did feel it, vibrating in his very bones.

It sent shivers creeping up and down, muscles tensing as if to run away from something inside him.

He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t show in his voice.

“What.” Flat, unfriendly. Not encouraging conversation.

“You didn’t come to the cave.” B’s voice was equally flat, but in his case it sounded like a condemnation. An accusation.

Jason gritted his teeth.

“I have shit to do in the morning. Make it quick,” he snapped, giving his bed a glare it definitely didn’t deserve.

His pillows had never done anything to hurt him.

There was a momentary pause before B audibly decided not to push it.

Good.

Jason was in a mood to bite.

“We have intel on the Infinite Realms. I’ve sent the report. You need to stay away from Danny Fenton, for your health,” B said, still cold, still clinical.

Like he didn’t care. Like what Jason wanted didn’t matter.

Jason’s grip tightened and the phone case cracked.

“Yeah, no. Fuck off.” He spat the words, adding “get new phone” to his list of chores for the morning.

He’d been doing so well with this one. Of course Bruce had to ruin it.

At least the old man didn’t seem surprised by his reaction.

“Jason. It… he. His abilities may affect your condition,” he said slowly, sounding tired. Old.

The pit snarled, sensing weakness, and Jason kinda wished he was still lost in its rage. Back when he was, it was easy just to hate those moments.

B showing signs of humanity fucking hurt.

“He is. He’s making it better,” he shot back, brooking no argument.

“We don’t know that, Jason. Please, just… just for a few days. Until we can talk to the League, understand what he’s doing to you.”

Was.

Was that Bruce begging?

It froze something small and soft in Jason’s chest, stuck him in place. And did nothing to stop the flood of icy rage from filling him up.

Filling his chest, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because of course, anyone and everyone else’s judgement was worth more to the man than Jason’s.

Begging Jason to listen to him, when he would never, ever, fucking ever listen to Jason. When it didn’t fucking matter if Jason begged.

“And why the fuck would the League know better than a doctor from the Realms?” He finally snapped, ignoring the way his throat tightened.

There was a long silence.

“A doctor?” Bruce asked softly, his voice still so flat and emotionless that only his kids could have read the confusion. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Danny brought me to a doctor. I’m gonna be fine,” he ground out reluctantly, part of him resenting Bruce’s constant insistence on knowing everything.

But… well. If it got the guy off his fucking back.

There was a long silence, one that Jason was fully aware B was likely spending working this new information into his latest paranoid fantasy.

Jason seriously considered just hanging up and going to bed. He was about to do it when Bruce spoke again.

“Would this doctor be willing to speak to the League?” And there it was again, Batman voice, clinical and distant and always, always fucking suspicious.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. With emphasis. Willing to be interrogated by first the Justice League and then separately also goddamn Batman.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure B wouldn’t get anywhere with Frostbite. Frostbite took his work seriously and was, yeah, king of a full realm of yetis.

None of Bruce’s pointed silences, menacing looming, or vague growls would bug the guy who got Danny through Fucked Up Ghost Puberty.

(And would probably be helping Jason through his own Fucked Up Ghost Puberty… joy of joys.)

It might actually be fun to see him try. If just being here wouldn’t put Frostbite in danger, because hell fucking no that wasn’t happening. The guy may not be his king but Jason would still die first.

But of course, in all his paranoid bullshit about the Realms influencing Gotham, B had somehow conveniently missed what America was doing to the Realms.

Like Jason hadn’t even done the full write up.

“Not while the fucking League are required to hand him right to the US government for torture and experimentation. Which, by the way, did you read my report on the Anti Ecto Acts?” Jason asked sarcastically, doing his very worst fake concern.

And again he was met with silence. Fuck, maybe Bruce hadn’t read it. Jason had dropped it in the day before all this gala bullshit had started, and it had been a busy two days since.

Maybe B deadass hadn’t put the pieces together. Might as well hammer it home for him.

“You know, the one that says you, me, Cass, and Damian are all non-sentient because we’ve been exposed to the pits?” Jason added, eyes narrowing.

Which wasn’t technically true, since it was the resulting liminality and ability to process ectoplasm that made them count, but Bruce didn’t need to know that yet.

Finally he spoke again, voice gruff and clipped.

“I’m looking into it. But for now, Jason, please-” he said again, the cover of Batman beginning to slip.

But Jason was done. No fucking chance Bruce was giving him orders when he hadn’t even bothered asking for Jason’s opinion.

He wanted to spout off about dangers of the Infinite Realms after talking to some wet paper bag of a man who hawked his soul like it was a pokemon card. Hard pass.

And even after hearing that Jason knew what was going on a damn sight better than Bruce did, he still wanted to push him around?

Fuck that.

“Sorry B, legally non-sentient, guess I can’t be blamed for my actions,” he drawled, then turned his phone off and dropped into bed.

He had a lot of shit to do before picking Danny up in the morning.

——————-

Jason will be using “legally non-sentient” as an excuse long after the laws themselves are repealed, and just you fucking wait until Damian hears he can try it too 😏

Sorry Bruce, Damian can’t socialize today, he’s legally non-sentient and can’t be blamed if he bites someone

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#danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #wip wednesday #chapter 14 for sure this time #probably #tentative title: a good excuse to be a bad influence #just a lil snack of angst from jason and bruce #the thing about requests is that sometimes the answer is ‘no’#and you have to just accept that #bruce may have forgotten harley is still in town but I HAVE NOT 😈😈😈#harley ain’t vlad we remember she exists

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