#and if tommy turns out to be that person then i can absolutely grow to love him (almost) as much as i do eddie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eclectickss · 6 days

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Taste the Tango

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SoftTop(switch if you squint)!Reader, age gap (reader is of age), reader's best friend is Wanda's son, Tommy is graduating high school? (a choice that I don't think I've seen before, so let me know if you like?), Wanda is reader's former teacher, slight alcohol use, smut (fingering, oral)... I think that's everything?

Summary: You are in your hometown the summer before your senior year of college hanging out with your best friend. Unexpectedly, you also get some quality with his mom (and your former teacher).

Note: This took me an annoyingly long time to write... I just kept adding stuff... and it kept growing... and... here ya go? I probably should have separated this into multiple parts... oh well. I happily welcome comments, thoughts and questions! - Elliot

WC: 10,350 words?!?! (a record for me)

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

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"Hey Y/N!" Your gaze shot up from the pavement to the open door ahead, smiling as you saw your best friend standing in the frame.

"Hey Tommy!" You jogged up to hug him, seeing as he and his twin brother just returned from a week long beach trip. You normally wouldn't be this excited to see him, but with complicated summer schedules and school across the country, it had been almost 6 months since the two of you had spent time together.

"This is crazy, I missed you so much!" He backs up and you immediately spot the sparkle in his eye that is easily recognized in the rest of his family.

"I know, me too!" You shook his shoulders and hugged him one more time. "So, you said you had something planned for today?" The two of you walked into the house and towards the kitchen. Your eyes secretly darted around the space for a certain someone, but you are slightly disappointed when you don't see the person you're looking for.

You feel guilty for hoping she would be there, since you were there to spend time with her son, but you couldn't silence your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried.

"Well I know it's kind of silly, but I picked up some rocks we could paint?" He scrunched up his face. "I don't know, I just wanted something mindless we could do while we caught up."

"Are you kidding, that sounds great!" You smiled.

"Alright, awesome! I've gotta head out by six so I can meet Ruby for dinner, but we have plenty of time," he said as you followed him back to his room. Ruby was his girlfriend of six months, so it prided you to know that hanging out with you was his priority.

The two of you made it to his room and he encouraged you to sit down as he left to get art supplies. Just before you were able to sit though, a voice reached into the depths of your mind.

"I knew I heard a familiar voice!" You turned around and there she was, as breathtaking as ever. Wanda Maximoff. The way her soft eyes met yours and her red wavy hair sat just above her shoulders made you melt. You prayed the moment would last forever, but the passing seconds were inevitable.

"Hi!" You excitedly walked over to your former teacher to give her a hug, painfully ignoring all other emotions you were feeling.

"How are you, Y/N?" She moved out of the hug, cheeks grazing, making you briefly look away.

"I'm absolutely wonderful, how about you?"

"I'm alright," she spoke as she softly smiled. "Are you excited for your last year of college?" She leaned up against the doorframe.

"I guess so? I love California, but I can hardly wait until I'm done with school already so that I can come home. Are you ready to become an empty nester?"

Billy and Tommy were three years younger than you, so they were just about to begin their college journey as you were ready to bring yours to a close. Tommy was only going to university an hour away and Billy five hours, but you imagined it would still be a lot for both boys to be leaving the house at once.

"Oh hush, dear." Ms. Maximoff playfully shoved your shoulder, a gesture you struggled to not linger on. "I don't wanna hear that talk. Let me soak in my boys being home while I can. And you being here while I can." She smiled with a small glint in her eye, but you knew she was dreading the boys' absence.

"Oh well, two more semesters and you won't be able to get rid of me."

"Perhaps it's selfish to say that we can't wait to have you back either, but I know you'll accomplish wonderful things in your last year there." She placed a hand on your shoulder and instinctively you placed your own on top of hers.

You internally panicked, worried that you were being too affectionate for a teacher/student/best friend's mother relationship, but she just moved to gently caress your cheek and proceeded to walk away.

You could hardly process your thoughts as your brain replayed the previous moment over and over, but this torturous habit is nothing you weren't unfamiliar with.

Every day that went by with Ms. Maximoff in your presence was a day to strenuously remember. You mentally recorded her words, her movements and her reactions. Time slowed with her around as you soaked in every detail about her possible.

Every day that went by without her was filled with daydreaming and guilt. You always wondered how she would react to something, or how she would respond in a private conversation. You tried to picture her thoughts and envision her smile before you. You hated how much you thought about her, yet craved to dream of her.

She was your high school english teacher, your best friend's mother, and your go-to mentor in any sticky situation.

She has already given you so much, and you despised the fact that you wanted more. You knew it was wrong, but she was your addiction.

"Earth to Y/N," A hand waved in front of your face and you quickly realized that Tommy had returned with the rocks and art supplies.

"Oh, hey Tommy!" You rubbed your eyes in shock.

"Where'd you go there?" He laughed and sat down on the floor.

"I uhh... can't remember." You lied, joining him on the floor, not letting him see the guilty emotions written across your face.

---

Hours pass as the two of you work on your rocks and talk.

You tell him all about your travels while he fills you in on everything that happened at the beach and on his trips prior.

You love listening to all his little stories, especially those where his mom is involved. One of your favorite stories was when he talked about her affliction with the terrible kitchen at the beach house. She wouldn't stop complaining about the quality of the stove, which you ended up finding rather funny.

You asked him if she even actually used the stove, and he said no, which made you laugh out loud. Supposedly she apologized at the end of the trip for making such a big deal out of it.

He thought it was stupid, but you found it cute.

Of course that was something that she would do.

"What else crazy did she do on the trip?" You couldn't stop yourself from inquiring about her. Tommy never caught onto your special interest as he laughed it off and launched into the next story.

"So it was movie time, right?" He starts and you nod. "Well mom and I were advocating for She's Funny That Way since we're both madly in love with Kathryn Hahn."

You cackle and quickly agree with their side. "Of course."

"But Billy and Auntie Nat wanted to watch Knives Out!"

"I thought you liked that movie..."

"Ok yes, but Kathryn Hahn or Chris Evans?"

You thought about it for a moment. "Fair Enough." This made you wonder though about Ms. Maximoff's interest in Kathryn Hahn. There's no way she's.... attracted to her, right?

If Ms. Maximoff actually liked women, the hole you've dug for yourself would become infinitely deeper.

"Anyways, so mom, out of nowhere, says, 'You wanna watch Knives Out? Well guess what, Chris Evans is the villain and Ana de Armas gets the estate and money,' and Nat and Billy were furious."

"Oh my gosh!" You laughed with your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "So did you guys end up watching She's Funny That Way?"

"Well mom and I did. Billy and Nat went off to watch something else."

"Wow! That was vile!"

"It really was intense." He laughed and the conversation paused as both of you returned your attention to your rocks. Right before your paintbrush hit the surface though, his phone alarm went off.

"Aw, shoot. That's my timer for Ruby. We gotta clean up."

"That's alright." You gave him a soft smile. "We do have the last two weeks to hang out before I go, and I understand I'm not the only important person in your life."

He looked at you and smiled. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too, you dork. Now let's clean these brushes and get these rocks outside to dry."

The two of you were cutting it real close to six once everything was cleaned, but before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Tommy in the driveway just as Ruby had pulled in to pick him up.

"Alright, Y/N, we'll hang out soon!" He hugged you and stepped back.

"Oh you know it."

He followed you to your car, but you quickly realized you had left your keys inside.

"You know, I think I left my keys on your floor, but don't bother waiting for me to drive away. Go have fun with Ruby."

"Alright. My mom will let you in if it's locked." He hugged you one more time and joined his girlfriend in her car. You released a breath of air and headed back to the house, happy to see that the kitchen door was still unlocked.

Ms. Maximoff was standing in the room though when you walked in.

"Oh, hey Y/N/N! Did you forget something?" She looked up from the cutting board and veggies on the counter.

"Yeah. My keys are somewhere in Tommy's room," you said as you headed in that direction.

"Oh, so you're not back because you forgot to say 'goodbye' to me?" She teased.

"You read my mind!" You yelled from down the hall, embarrassed by how quickly you turned red.

Your keys were rather easy to find, but you took a bit longer to collect yourself before exiting Tommy's room.

"So," she said as you re-entered the kitchen. "What are you doing with your last two weeks before heading back to California?"

You were caught off guard with her conversation starter, but you were overjoyed that she wanted to talk. You leaned back onto the counter to face her.

"Well, it's all just trying to hang out with friends, even though most of them are off doing internships or traveling. I'm honestly just hanging around home a bunch," you shrugged.

"What, you didn't want to travel or anything?" She said as she continued to work on the cutting board at her fingertips.

"You know me, Ms. Maximoff, I love home just a little too much." You smiled and looked at your feet.

"Wanda, dear." She stopped her chopping and looked directly at you. "I was Ms. Maximoff to you because I was your teacher, but we've been over this, darling. Wanda, please."

You sighed. "It just... feels weird!"

"Ok, well you know what we do when things feel weird, Y/N?"

You looked at her questioningly.

"We practice, dear." She stepped around the kitchen island to lean on the counter across from you, and your thoughts started to get louder. "Say it. Say my name." She openly challenged you, so you had to accept.

"W- Wanda?" Your insides were burning.

"With confidence, dear."

You took a breath. "Wanda." You exclaimed, meeting her gaze from a few feet away.

"Good girl. Now use it in a sentence."

You blushed, knowing she saw it, but hoping she assumed it was from your discomfort. "Like... what?"

"Well, I don't know! A compliment, a question, a simple statement? I don't care, just say something. Anything." She commanded as your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I think your eyes are gorgeous, Wanda." Fuck. That wasn't supposed to come out. The woman across from you seemed to freeze briefly. "I mean- your eyes, Tommy and Billy's eyes... you all have the same eyes. I think... I think they're pretty. Wanda." FUCK.

Wanda still hadn't moved, her gaze digging into your soul. She finally took a breath, leaving a long pause in the conversation.

"What do you think of me, Y/N?"

"What?" Disbelief dripping from your reply as the intonation behind her question became lost on you.

"How do you process my image? My persona?" Wanda playfully smirked. "It must at least be slightly askew since I was your teacher, but what role do I play in your life?" She moved some cooking items away from the edge of the counter, proving to you that you had her full attention.

"Do you want me to be honest or uncomfortably honest?"

"I want to know why you chose me. Why you always turned in my homework but nobody else's. Why you wrote me thank you notes and asked me to write your college recommendation letters... why you confide in me and why you respect me so much..."

You stood in shock, feeling your body start to shake from the nerves. Your shoes all of a sudden became really interesting.

"Uncomfortably honest it is, then." You gave a long sigh and glanced back up to see her eyebrows raise in anticipation.

"It was one of the first lectures you gave me in 11th grade. I had started to realize that I was more introverted than I wanted to be, so I challenged myself to break out of that shell. I started doing that by speaking up in class. You had asked a question about our summer reading, and because I already knew you through Tommy, I felt comfortable to answer.

"To my surprise, you started a debate with me... and I didn't back down... and then you applauded me for standing up for something I believed in. That made me want to pay a lot more attention to you." You paused to take a breath, making sure the other woman was still paying attention. Wanda nodded in acknowledgement, but stayed silent to let you continue. "I started to listen to every word that came out of your mouth. I memorized every piece of information you shared, I watched what candy you picked out of the bag first, I payed attention to what music you were listening to, what books you were reading." You paused. "And so I started to notice things.

"You work to understand every single story in the room. You want to help as many people as possible, and you don't let their faults get in your way. You have a passion for what you teach and you want to share it with the world. You have good and bad days just like the rest of us, and you allowed me to see that. You are kind, empathetic, beautiful, and I have a great deal of respect for the way you carry yourself, Wanda."

Your heart raced as the two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. You had just poured your heart out to the one person who was never supposed to know anything. Wanda was speechless, which made you nervous. You continued to ramble.

"And- and its tricky because Tommy is genuinely my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him... but if you're wondering what I think of you, I don't know what I'd do without you either. This family has made me who I am today. And it's all very complicated and confusing and difficult to navigate."

Wanda's eyes still stood stagnant, but you couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"Why do you ask?" You quietly gulped, praying some sound would exit her mouth.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? Billy is with friends tonight and Tommy is with Ruby, as you know, so I fear I have nobody to eat with." Wanda returned her attention to the preparations. The change of subject caught you off guard, but the opportunity to spend time with her was never something you wanted to turn down.

"Uh... sure! Let me just tell my mom I won't be home for our frozen pizza dinner." You made a goofy face that Wanda found hilarious after you commented on your other dinner option.

"Wonderful." A beautiful smile spread across her face as she pulled another plate out of the cupboard and set it on the dining table. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" The offer felt odd coming from the older woman, but it's easy to forget that you're legally allowed to accept alcoholic beverages now.

"That would be nice." You gave her a soft smile.

"I can't believe you're old enough to drink now... better for me so I won't be drinking alone," You both laughed. "Red or white, darling?"

"Whatever you're having." Wanda practically waltzed around the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?" You asked as she handed you a glass of red.

Wanda paused her movements and looked at you with a silly yet impressed smile. "Well... have you ever made paprikash darling?" She asked and you shook your head. "Would you like to learn?"

"Absolutley." You grinned and Wanda took a sip of her wine.

"Wonderful." She held out her hand for you to join her at the cutting board. "We've got to dice two onions, one tomato and one pepper, as well as mince two cloves of garlic." She placed the kitchen knife in front of you. "I like to use four cloves of garlic though," she nearly whispered in your ear.

"Do you know your way around a cutting board?"

"Uhh... not really?"

"A teaching opportunity then! You can never get away from me, can you?" Wanda's words were spinning in your head even though you knew they were not intended to be. The older woman stepped behind you, moving the knife to your left hand.

"How did you know I was left handed?"

"I pay attention, dear." She casually replied. "Now curl your fingers on your right hand like this-" She placed her palm on top of the back of your hand. "And hold the knife like..." She adjusted the positioning of your thumb and pointer finger. "Good. This is the best way to avoid chopping an extremity off." Your eyes widened, thankful Wanda couldn't see the fear written on your face.

"All that's left to do is slice." She grabbed the readied onion and placed it in the center of the board. Before you knew it, she was guiding your hand through the vegetable while pressing you into the counter from behind. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed as the slice of onion fell onto the board. "Now you keep going!" She stepped out behind you and you tried your hardest to not sulk at her absence.

You missed Wanda's warmth, but nevertheless, you continued slicing and she continued watching.

"Good girl." She spoke the words again, nearly making you loose focus with a dangerous object in your hand. "Now you cut in the opposite direction. I was never good with onions so as long as the pieces look somewhat like cubes, you will have done a wonderful job." That made you laugh and you continued working.

"So tell me more about college! I love having you here but we never get one-on-one time like this. How is your degree path, your teachers, friends? Are you seeing anyone?" The last question was delivered in a goofy, sultry manner as Wanda pulled raw chicken out of the fridge.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. "To get the most pressing question out of the way, I am not seeing anyone. I was slightly interested in a graduate student but we decided it would be better to stay friends. Plus, who gets lucky enough to date a graduate student?"

"A graduate student, eh? How did the two of y'all meet anyways?"

"Well she used to live in the rental where I am now, so I received some old mail of hers. Who woulda thought that the nearly outdated postal service of America almost brought two women together?"

Your joke made Wanda cackle as she turned on the stove to heat the pot.

"Well, at least you have the opportunity to date women on campus, dear. That would have been so much more complicated in my day." She stirred the melting butter in the pan.

"Oh Wanda, don't say 'in my day', that makes you sound like a dinosaur!" You laughed.

"Well, honey, I am a dinosaur!"

"Oh shut up, no you're not. I am shocked every day that there aren't sad little high school boys making rude comments to your face or handsome men on your tail." The room oddly fell silent and you immediately started reflecting on what you had said. You put down the knife even though you were nearly done with the tomato. "When you made the comment about back in your day... - did you... do you wish you had the opportunity to date women?"

An all-telling silence came from Wanda.

"You'd rather have beautiful women on your tail? Is that it?" You smiled at her a little bit, just to make sure she knew that you understood.

"Well... I guess so. The whole 'men' thing only did me one good and that is my boys. Their dad, Vision, was just a good friend and it took me a really long time to realize that."

"That makes perfect sense Wanda." You almost hesitate with your next question, but it feels natural to ask. "Is there any woman that you've ever been particularly curious about?"

Immediately, you could tell Wanda had an answer, but her various facial expressions made it difficult to decipher if she was going to tell you or not. Finally, a glimmer of playfulness lit in her eye.

"Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Tommy."

"So we both know this person then! She must be from school!" You exclaimed, getting excited.

"SHHH!" She looked at you seriously. "I always wondered how I really felt about Carol but she got herself a partner back in May."

It took you a moment to figure out who Wanda was talking about. "Wait- Carol as in Ms. Danvers Carol Danvers?!?" Wanda sheepishly nodded and you smiled wide. "Wanda, I can't blame you at all. Carol was hot at hell." You returned to your tomato, smirking.

"Excuse me!" Wanda was shocked at your remark.

"Oh, c'mon, Wanda. You must know that students talk about a few teachers. Mostly the boys... but they still talk. Danvers was a popular topic in my graduating class! Even I added a comment occaisonally..." You mumbled as you watched Wanda return her eyes to the stove with a scoff.

"Unbelievable." Fake disgust dripped from Wanda's voice as you held back your laugh. She pulled the chicken out of the pot and grabbed the onions from your board, tossing them into the oil. "You said a few teachers..." She whipped back around. "Who else was on the hot commodity list?"

You playfully scoffed. "Well there was coach Wilson amongst the girls and also Ms. Hill with the guys."

"Interesting."

"Oh, and of course we can't forget you."

"EXCUSE ME?"

You let out an outrageous burst of laughter. "What?! All of the students fangirl over how nice you are if they aren't upset with their grades in your class! The boys love how mysterious and alluring you are and the girls think you're extremely personable, which is true."

Wanda let a brief silence fall on the conversation. "And you?"

You paused. "I already told you what I think of you Wanda." You smiled and handed her the rest of the chopped veggies. "Here you go." A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Wanda continued to work, claiming there was nothing else for you to do at the moment. Eventually, she covered the pot she had been focusing on and turned the kitchen timer on.

"We've got about thirty minutes of waiting before there will be anything else to do," she spoke as she finally poured more wine into the both of your empty glasses. "I hope you liked this red, darling. I don't know how experienced you are with alcohol yet... although i'm assuming it's more so than you should be for your age."

You giggled. "I have maybe had my fair share of underage drinking, just like any decent college kid might," you replied as you accepted the glass from Wanda and followed her to the nearby couch. You both got comfortable and you watched as the older woman pulled a blanket across her thighs. The absence of conversation began to feel a little overwhelming, but you weren't expecting Wanda to break it with the next sentence she spoke.

"You're actually the first person i've told about liking women," she began. You raised your eyebrows in shock. Not that she hasn't told anyone before, just that the first person she wants to confide in is you.

"Wow." You began. "I don't know if I'm the most appropriate person to offer this, but do you have any questions? I am comfortable answering anything as long as you are comfortable asking." You stared at Wanda as you sipped your wine, watching the gears turn in her head.

"Yes I-" Her hesitations finally diminished. "Have you ever dated a man?" You were not expecting that.

"Yes, I tried. I was in a similar situation where he was my best friend. This was in 9th grade, that is, but I still knew that I was supposed to feel more."

"How is it different?"

"Than women?" You watched as Wanda nodded. "Well there is an objective answer and a personal answer. The objective one goes to say that it comes down to the person and how you connect with them. How your life experiences tie together and whatnot. Objectively, I can't say that much because every individual is unique. Personally though, women are infinitely better."

This made Wanda laugh, which you were quickly realizing you would give anything to hear more and more of.

"They better understand your life experiences and how to navigate emotional situations, especially the mature ones. The way they display affection is usually more personable and caring, too. They also are more attentive to details, both mentally and physically."

"How so?"

You could feel the alcohol beginning to stir, making it harder for some thoughts and words to stay away from your brain. "Well mentally, women tend to catch onto social cues faster, like when their partner needs a break or needs to eat or needs cuddles or space. Physically, they pay more attention to how your lips move and how you like to be kissed, not just where." You noticed Wanda's eyes following the path of your lips and jawline, making you stammer for a moment.

"What else?"

You gulped, beginning to realize you had no idea how far this conversation would go. "Well, The body parts that they work to please are also the same parts they touch in their free time. They know how moving on something feels different than something moving on it... and so on."

Wanda tried to verbally confirm that she understood but you could tell she was a little lost in her head. She took a big sip of wine. And another.

"I was reading something the other day..." Wanda drew out and took a big breath. "Her tongue was on the...- and she had two fingers in-" Wanda stared at her hands, oblivious to the glaze over your eyes as your listened to your former teacher talk about fucking another woman. "Is that even possible?"

"Uh- um- yea- yes. It is. It takes a little bit of practice to figure out how to do it comfortably but - yes."

It was now your turn to take a big sip of wine.

"Oh I see."

"Do you have any other questions?" You know you shouldn't, but you wanted her to say yes. Your heart was racing and you could feel a velvety slick form in your pants.

"How are your classes going?" Her tone changed but she was still focused on her hands.

You let out a big gust of air from the tension you were feeling, semi relieved that the conversation had changed but also slightly confused. "Uh, classes are good. I've got most of the hard ones out of the way, so it's really just the fun ones left."

"Like what?"

"Well I have a science elective left so I'm taking intro to geology which is supposed to be wonderful. I've also signed up for a Shakespeare lecture that should be phenomenal too. It's being taught by my favorite professor, so I can't wait to have her again."

Wanda's eyes glanced up at that. "Again?"

"Yeah, I had her for my ethics class in freshman year and she was excellent. One of those teachers whose work I actually enjoyed doing. She really understood the students and designed her class structure to fit our interests."

Wanda didn't want to address the confusion that she was experiencing... almost jealousy, but the next question did not hesitate to fall from her lips.

"Do you have a picture?"

This caught you off guard. "Uh, yeah, I bet I could find her Linked-In or something." You pulled out your phone for a quick internet search. "Here she is on the school website."

You moved your phone in front of Wanda, not realizing until now how similar the two of them looked. Wanda also took notice.

"Was she on the list?" Wanda asked. "The list of teachers that students would talk about?"

"Oh, ha, no she wasn't." This line of questioning was risky, but you continued producing a response. "She was only part time and besides, that's more of a hormonal high school thing."

A brief pause entered the conversation. "Well, would she have been?" Wanda was speaking softly.

"Well, you were in high school once. What do you think?"

"Me?" Wanda's eyes widened and you nodded. "I think she would have been," the older woman drew out.

"I think you're right, Ms. Maximoff." You smirked as you took your phone back.

The two of you spent the rest of the half hour dancing around dangerous conversation, the mood lightening a little bit. You gained some insight into how the high school was holding up, and even heard some gossip about the faculty which made you really excited. You told Wanda more about what you were studying and what your plans were for after university, as well as how your summer was.

When dinner was finally ready, Wanda topped off the wine and the two of you sat down together to eat. The food was phenomenal and the company even better. The two of you went back and forth sharing memories from high school, true feelings about teachers and students being poured out. Wanda also got to know you more as you shared what books you had been reading and shows you had been watching.

Eventually, the room had quieted down as the two of you were focused on finishing the rest of your food.

"The food was astounding, thank you so much Wanda." You smiled as you set down your utensils and the older woman took her last bite.

"Mhm..." She swallowed, covering her mouth. "I would say 'you're welcome' but you helped me cook, dear, so I should really be saying thank you."

Your eyes met as the two of you stared, an odd silence threatening the conversation.

"So, clean up! What can I do to help?" You asked, standing up from the table with your plate.

"Oh, no, dear, please let me take care of it!" Before you knew it, Wanda had snatched your plate out of your hands.

"Are you-"

"Yes, yes, just sit down honey." She smiled at you as she moved around the kitchen, swiftly cleaning the mess from dinner. "So what has been your favorite class so far?" She asked as she worked. "Besides- besides that class with that teacher you like." The comment unintentionally sounded bitter, and the idea of Wanda being jealous entertained you.

"Well, besides ethics, I actually really liked my required fitness class. The semester I dedicated to the credit was a popular fitness semester, so finding an open section was hard, but I was able to get a seat in ballroom dance."

"Interesting! I didn't take you for much of a dancer." Wanda looked up at you from the sink, smiling.

"Neither did I, Wanda." You heard her lovely laugh again. "And I was not the star student in the class either, but I think I liked it the most."

"Oh yeah? What was your favorite dance?"

"The tango," you replied as you smiled, some bout of confidence overcoming you. "Would you like to learn?"

Wanda paused what she was doing then looked up at you with a smile. "Bold of you to assume to I don't already know it, but you would also be right. I would be open to it." She replied and you giggled, pulling out your phone for some music.

"Oh, now?!" Wanda watched as you stood up. "Honey, I-"

"No better time like the present!" You held out your hand for her to join you, the alcohol adding to your charm and boldness.

"Ok..." Wanda mumbled, wiping her hands off on the closest rag. She joined you in the open space, placing her hand in yours and you guiding it into place.

"Now the tango is a walking dance, so it is perfect to take it slow and steady. There are 5 basic steps, but i'll keep it simple and teach you two." Wanda nodded as you pressed play on your phone. "Now, screw traditional roles, but for the sake of simplicity, I will be the man and you the woman." You locked eyes with Wanda as she smiled, but you could see the looming intimacy behind her eyes. You could feel it too, standing this close to her body as you placed your hand on her back.

Teaching the first step was easy - Wanda was more inclined to the movements than you thought she would be. All you two were doing was striding in a circle, but every step you took became lighter and relaxing into each other was easier. Her nose tilted further towards you and yours towards hers - and for a moment, nothing else existed in the world.

Wanda was staring into yours eyes and you could barely breathe. Staring back was difficult - you kept averting your gaze to the floor or elsewhere in the house, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. But it was magical. Once you discovered though, that Wanda's piercing green eyes were the most relaxing thing to focus on, you were stuck.

And then you stepped on her toe.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, tripping as Wanda struggled to keep you from falling.

"Are you alright?" She asked as you composed yourself.

"I should be asking you that! I'm sorry."

Wanda laughed. "I'm perfectly alright darling. Now what's this about a second step?"

You blushed, Wanda essentially admitting she was enjoying this and wanted to continue. This was bizarre.

"Uh, it's pretty much the same for me. You get to shake it up a little bit."

"Oh?" She smiled and held her hands back out, awaiting the comfort of your return. You stepped into her grasp. "I can't wait," She winked.

This woman was going to be the death of you.

"Uh-m... - good!" You swallowed. "This is essentially the same as the last one, except now you're pivoting into me instead of pacing." You returned your hands to their proper placements.

"Like this?" She attempted a few steps with you.

"Almost. You don't need so much power to twist. Try again?" The two of you resumed stepping together.

"How's this?"

She almost had it, her knees just weren't getting the proper guidance. You dropped your hands down to her hips.

"Oh-" You froze. "May I?" Your hands were softly touching her jeans. You found Wanda staring, eventually returning a nod. Gently, you applied more pressure onto her joints and resumed stepping. Now, you could easily move her hips, and she quickly picked up the proper motion. "There you go." You looked back up at her eyes. "You're doing so well, Wanda."

She was speechless as you moved your hands back up to their proper position, rarely letting your fingertips leave her surface. It was easy to assume that a lot was going on behind her eyes... the step became mindless to her as she continuously scanned over your facial features.

"Wanda?"

She snapped out of it and ended the dance just as the song ended. "Thank you for teaching me, darling." She smiled softly. "That was wonderful." She returned to the kitchen in silence, leaving you alone.

"You were able to pick it up rather quickly. I was surprised." You said, following her to the kitchen and leaning against a counter. You could tell though that there were still gears turning in her head, so you let her be the one to talk next.

This allowed for a moment of quiet as you watched her finish cleaning the pot from dinner. Her back was to you as she washed and rinsed, softly humming the song from the tango.

When she was done, she still hesitated to turn around.

"Y/N?" She finally spoke, still away from you.

"Yes?"

"When I asked you what you thought of me, you said...- you said you thought I was beautiful."

You quietly laughed. "Out of all that I said, that's what you took away?"

"Darling, I-" she hesitated again. "Did you mean it?"

You did not wait to conjure up a response. "I meant every word of what I said. I mean... I have practiced telling you all of that nonsense for so long even though I never thought it would happen. I just want you to know that... that I care about you. And I do think you're beautiful, Wanda Maximoff. Without a doubt."

"You think I'm beautiful?" She tried not to choke on her words.

You took a deep breath, having done all possible damage already. "Yes, yes I do." You hesitated before speaking again. "I think that you are beautiful. Inside and out."

Wanda finally turned around, and her response was something you couldn't have predicted in a million years.

"I... I think that you are beautiful too."

You stared at her in disbelief.

"You do?"

"In every single way, you are beautiful." She paused. "The way that you carry yourself... the way you smile, the way you laugh. The moments you hold onto and the memories you make. The way your eyes shine when you're proud of something... all of it is beautiful."

She pushed off the counter and walked towards you as a tear formed in your eye. Her hand reached up to brush it away as it rolled down your cheek, but instead of placing it back at her side, her hand stayed cradling the side of your face. Your eyes raced as you traced every line and mark on her skin, noticing how her green glazed stare wouldn't look away.

The two of you stayed like that, simply staring at each other, hearts racing.

"Y/N?" Her eyes didn't leave yours.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to do something really stupid."

"Ok."

For the first time in what felt like hours, her eyes left yours, and instead went to your lips. She met your gaze one more time before slowly leaning in, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't believe what was happening as everything in your body burned. She used her hand to tilt your lips in her direction, and before you knew it, her mouth was on yours.

You initially didn't return the kiss, but before long, her sensation became addicting and you needed to know what more felt like.

Your lips were now pushing back on hers with curiosity and interest, slowly working through the feelings coursing through your entire body. Her mouth only briefly left yours before you were returning to another delicate kiss, delighted to see that it was being reciprocated with the small swipe of a tongue.

You let her into your mouth, eager to know what it felt like.

And whatever she was doing... well... it rocked your world. You caught yourself about to moan, which quickly brought you to your senses as you pushed her away.

"Oh my god." You took a deep breath and stared at the floor.

"What?"

"You kissed me." You looked up and found her gaze full of lust; dark eyes roaming your body unapologetically. You couldn't believe that look was real, but the excitement consumed you.

"You kissed me back." She said, finding your stare again. The only thing worse than her intense gaze was the fact that she was right.

You were finding it very difficult not to pull her back on top of you. "Shit."

"Did you- were you ok with that?" Wanda asked nervously. She seems as nervous as you were, almost as if she couldn't believe what was happening either. Neither of you knew that you wanted this, but everything feels right now that it's there.

"Fuck, yes." You rubbed your face in frustration, struggling to function in the current situation. The nerves, heat and alcohol were all mixing together and before you knew it, the real uncomfortable truth slipped out.

"I'm fucking obsessed with you, Ms. Maximoff." You held your breath after messing up on her name, but instead of correcting you, her jaw slightly dropped at your desperation.

Out of some bout of confidence, you stepped into her space, backed her into the counter and dismissed every reason why the two of you should not happen. Her eyes stared you down with anticipation and desire. You brought your hands up to her head and wove your fingers into her hair, craving to feel her again.

"It's my turn to do something really stupid now, ok?"

She nodded slowly, afraid to avert her gaze.

As you leaned in towards her mouth, she took a deep breath and shuttered. Her hands moved to hold your hips just before your lips met, and this time, it was her turn to freeze once your mouth touched hers. You immediately began to panic, but just as you pulled away, she pulled your hips into hers and met your mouth with haste.

Immediately melting into her touch, a soft moan quickly escaped your lips as you tugged on her fiery locks. She gasped in return, giving you the chance to slide your tongue into her mouth and elicit a sound off of her shaky breath.

After all of your longing and pining and secrecy and wishful thinking, she was yours. Right now, as her fingertips were feeling your body for the first time and her sensation was consuming, you were struggling to believe that everything was real.

But the warm skin touching your side was undeniable. The wet tongue that was gently exploring your mouth was unquestionable, and the moans that were escaping the woman in front of you were unlike anything you could conjure in a dream.

One of your hands shakily released its grasp on Wanda's hair and made its way around her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. When your action resulted in a smooth moan from the other woman, you smirked, not expecting that in a million years. You brought that hand down to her waist so you could hold her body as close as possible.

"You liked that, Ms. Maximoff?" You breathed into her mouth, knowing she could sense your heated grin.

"Shut up and do it again."

You lightly laughed at her begging, but you were desperate to please her. Leaning in to kiss her again, you pushed your hand on her waist from her belly button back up to her neck, this time squeezing harder. She threw her head back from the pleasuring pain, which you saw as an opportunity to turn your mouth's attention to her neck. As your warm lips met her skin and your hands went to roam her curves, she audibly gasped, and you were soaking up every reaction that you could drag out of her.

Wanda's hands found the back of your head as she encouraged your sucking and biting, careless of how aggressive you were being. Your own fingertips began to entertain the rim of her jeans, testing the waters as you caressed her lower back. You were itching to move lower, but every aspect of the current situation was territory that you never imagined you would be in before.

"Where can I touch you?" You whispered under her ear.

She laughed, followed by a soft moan as you bit her lobe. "Oh, detka, we've moved way past that line of consent," She replied as she grabbed one of your hands and moved it to her ass. "I want to feel you. All of you."

"Yes ma'am," You smirked and returned your kisses to her neck, placing both hands on her ass and pulling her hips into you. A groan reached your ears as your tongue met the base of her collar bone.

With your mouth now at the top of her shirt, your hands traced her sides as you bent your knees to meet her clothed belly button. Grasping and lifting the bottom of her shirt with your fingers, you began to stand back up, slowly kissing and licking a straight line up her front to where her bra connected in the center.

"Wait," She said as you were about to teethe the fabric, immediately dropping the shirt and standing all the way back up. Your heart was racing, unable to predict what she was about to say. She looked as if she was genuinely questioning the situation, and you were terrified. "Bedroom. Now."

Before you could process the sense of relief that washed over your body, Wanda was dragging you towards the hallway that led to her room. Even though you'd been in her space several times, the idea of fucking her in her own bed was driving you mad.

Before either of you could make it two steps into the room, you shut the door and placed her up against the wood. For a moment, all you could do was stare into her eyes, and all she could do was stare back. This was crazy. Her hand twitched on your back, and you lost control.

You immediately pressed your lips back onto hers, lifting her wrists up and holding them against the door. She groaned as your tongue explored her mouth, your hands eventually finding their way back to the rim of her shirt. Now wasting no time, you lifted the article of clothing off of her body as she gladly held her arms above her head.

After tossing the shirt aside, you found yourself taken aback by her body. Her simple, red bra complimented her soft skin, hugging her gently. The stretch marks that remained from her pregnancy were like highlights of the moon reflecting off of the ocean, and the way her breasts moved with her heavy breathing had you in a trance.

"Holy shit," you whispered, slowly moving your mouth towards her sternum, beginning to place soft kisses in a line.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"You're breathtaking."

"Well, I'm not what I used to be."

Your hands roamed her back as you continued your delicate kisses on her breasts.

"I don't want what you used to be, Wanda. I think you're perfect the way you are now." You said as you unclipped her bra, slipping the straps off of her shoulders. The two of you locked eyes as you slid the article down her arms. Her swollen lips and wondrous gaze were stuck on your being as your lungs seemed to be missing air.

To your surprise, Wanda's next move was to lunge at you, forcing you to walk backwards as her tongue explored your mouth and her hands worked to remove your shirt. You jumped when the backs of your knees met the bed, but Wanda didn't seem to notice as she pushed you back and climbed on top. Distracted by the feeling of being in her bed and her tongue beginning to explore your chest, you tangled your fingers into her hair and tugged.

"Fuck," She moaned, looking up at you, and you froze. A pair of of desperate green eyes and wet, swollen lips were staring up at you, and your english teacher had just moaned a curse word. You felt like you were on another planet.

"Shit, you're attractive." You mumbled and the older woman blushed. "Tugging hair, choking... this is only the beginning, Wanda." You smirked at her from under her body, and her only response was kissing you deeply.

You used this moment as an opportunity to push her on her back, quickly mounting her before she could protest, although you don't think she would have. You took the moment to drag your fingertips down her front and run each nipple over with your thumbs.

"Oh, Fuck, babygirl, you're driving me-" You eagerly latched your mouth onto a breast, receiving a heavy gasp from the woman below you. You continued on with your work, playing with the free nipple in one hand and stroking a thigh with the other. Her fingers were dancing across your back, eventually making their way to unclasp your bra.

The moment you felt the relief, you gently bit down on her delicate nipple, causing Wanda to arch upwards and rake her nails down your back. The pain caught you by surprise as you leaned into her and moaned into her ear. You could feel her smirk against your skin.

"Shut up." You groaned.

"Make me." She replied, trying to tug your bra down your arms.

You sat up to fully remove the article of clothing, entertained by the hands that were running up your side to cup your breasts. You rested for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Wanda's massaging.

"Is this what you wanted from me, detka? Is this what you picture when you think of me?"

"To be honest, I never let myself consider it. But I always wondered what it would be like..." You smirked and placed your hands on her stomach. "Why? Is this something you've fantasized about? Having me on top of you, topless and moaning?" You leaned back over her body, your hands moving to massage her breasts and your breath teasing her other nipple.

"Oh honey," She laughed and moved her touches to and down your back. "I've thought about all of this. What your mouth on my tits would be like, how your fingers would feel inside of me..." Your movements stopped as you stared at her. "How hard would you fuck me and with how many fingers and how much tongue. How much would you edge me and make me crazy. What you would look like in-between my legs with my cum dripping from your lips? I'm simply curious, darling." Her hands cupped your ass as you worked up a response.

"Well aren't you lucky, Ms. Maximoff," You began with a shakey voice, one hand holding you up and the other teasing her stomach. "Cause you get to find out." You moved your fingers to the top her jeans and you popped the button open. "Have you ever pictured me rubbing out your cunt?" Wanda simply stared. "Well, we should probably start there." You slid your hands into her jeans and started making circles over her clothed pussy, watching as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. You could feel her slickness in the fabric.

"Fuck, Wanda, you're already drenched." You groaned as you finally placed your lips on her other breast. Her wet cunt was already coating your fingers and you realized that you were so close to tasting her. "You're so wet for me, I've hardly done anything."

"Darling, you've done more for me than anyone else ever has." She groaned.

"Do you want me to do more?"

"Baby, please."

You immediately took your hand out of her jeans and turned your attention to taking them off entirely. You could hardly contain yourself as she lifted her hips and helped you slide the denim off of her skin, her now drenched panties completely visible.

"Wow," You whispered, crawling back on top of her body, bringing your face up to hers so your noses could meet again.

"Hi," She smiled sheepishly, and you gave her a loving kiss.

"Gods, you're stunning. I can't wait to be inside you." You kissed her again.

"I want to touch you too, babygirl." Wanda whispered and you smiled.

"Touch anything you'd like, Ms. Maximoff."

Wanda's eyes scanned your body. "I also want these off." She pulled at the hem of your pants then dragged her fingernails up and down your sides.

Shivering, you dismounted Wanda and stood up, putting on a show of you taking off your pants.

"You mean these old things?" You bent over so Wanda could see the fabric sliding down your ass, taking your time even though it was painful.

"Detka, you're killing me." Wanda sat up to watch as the hem dragged down your legs, revealing your most flattering panties. The attention she was giving you was lighting you on fire. You heard her audibly gasp when you started to pull at the final piece of clothing, but you instead let go of your panties and turned back around, smirking.

"Now, Ms. Maximoff, I can't do all of the work for you." You waltzed back over to the bed, remounting the older woman. You watched as her eyes followed the dark spot on your only remaining article. Grinning, you leaned into her ear. "Ill touch yours if you touch mine."

"Please, baby." She whispered. You sat up so she could see all of you again, this time reaching a hand down to where your panties covered your pussy. Making sure she was watching, you pulled the fabric aside.

"Go on, Wanda, it's all yours."

She slowly reached a hand to your slickness, and the moment you finally felt contact, you took a deep breath. At first, she just held one finger there, but eventually, small movements began to circle your clit. You moaned. "Good job, M- Ms. Maxi- mo--" She slipped a finger into you. "FUCK. You feel so good. You're doing so good." You noticed Wanda's eyes were glued to her finger moving in and out of you, trying to fill in the picture that was still hidden by the thin fabric.

You opened your eyes just in time to see her pull out her finger and bring it up to her lips, sensually sucking you off and whining at your taste. Excitedly, you let go of your panties and leaned down to taste yourself on her tongue.

"How did that feel, Wanda?" You smirk, coming out of the deep kiss and pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"God- babygirl... you- you're driving me crazy." Her hips softly rolled under you as she pulled your head back down for another aching kiss. You ran the hand that wasn't supporting your weight over her breasts and down her body, scratching at the skin below her belly button. "Please, honey... I..." She mumbled in-between kisses, you hardly giving her a chance to speak. When you finally pulled away a few inches, no more words were leaving her lips as her chest heaved for air.

"What is it, Ms. Maximoff?" You smirked, playing with the elastic around her waist.

"I need you to touch me."

"Yes ma'am." You watched her facial expressions as your hand finally dove into her panties, the moisture immediately apparent. Her eyes widened when your pointer finger found the velvety slick and you immediately knew you would do anything in your power to make sure she knew how good another woman could make her feel. Your digit slowly started exploring the rest of the area, soft moans escaping the older woman as you glazed over her clit and entrance.

"Have you ever been touched like this, Wanda?" You whispered into her ear, making a few nips at her lobe.

"N-no..." She sighed as you began intentionally circling her clit.

"Nobody to notice what you like... what you want. This wet, pretty pussy wasted on cheap condoms and a quick fuck."

A sinful moan left her body as your lips once again returned to her neck, you quickly learning where her sensitive spots were. "Shit, baby." Her nails were digging into your shoulder blades.

"Nobody to know how warm and soft you are," You said, shoving a finger into her entrance, groaning as she gasped. "And it's a damn shame, cause you feel so perfect, Ms. Maximoff." You met her eyes when you could see the surprise on her face at your last statement. Your finger started moving slowly in and out, trying to map out every dip and line you could feel. "So perfect."

You once again reattached your lips to hers, feeling the vibrations from her moans on your tongue. You could stay like this forever, you felt. But Wanda did not.

"Detka, I need more. Please." Her slight accent slipping through, reaching down to your core.

You pulled your finger out of her and she whined, fearing her pleading made you step back. Little did she know, but she would be getting exactly what she asked for.

"I would love to give you more, but these are gonna need to come off." You dragged your soaked finger down her stomach to grab at her panties and she frantically nodded.

"Yeh- yes please. I want to feel all of you."

You smirked, moving back to finally drag the rest of the fabric down her legs. When you finally brought yourself to look at the painting between her legs though, you could hardly breathe. Her folds were swollen and soaked with her wetness, slightly moving with her body as her chest rose and fell. You felt so divided, debating consuming her immediately or taking your time to work her up.

You realized while the first option was so tempting, the second would give her the full experience. You slowly reached your fingertips to graze over her thigh, small whimpers coming from the older woman.

"Oh, Wanda, you are divine." You muttered, now dragging both palms up her waist and down the sides of her ass as you repositioned yourself closer to her core. Eyes dragging up and down her person when you spotted the wetness that you had left on her stomach earlier. You leaned down to clean it all up, finally getting to taste her tanginess on your tongue. You moaned into her skin.

"Detka..." She gasped as you moved your mouth down to her inner thighs and you hands to grip her waist. Her smell was driving you crazy as her taste lingered in your throat. You began to slowly suck at the warm soft terrain, finding it easy to pull the skin between your teeth. A hand was placed on your head, pulling on your hair in a desperate attempt to get you closer to her core. You simply laughed, leaving red spots everywhere in-between her thighs.

Despite your grip on her hips, she still found some movements, directing your attention to the quiet sticky sounds coming from her pussy. You watched in a daze as her small twitches pushed around the slick, begging to be touched again.

You couldn't take it anymore, fully embracing her wetness with a torturous lick up her core. The groan that escaped Wanda was heavenly as she tried to tug you back onto her. You complied, picking up a slow routine of collecting her mess into your mouth. You dug your fingers deeper into her sides, addicted to her pain response.

"Oh, good girl, baby. That, wow." She said as you began to suckle on her clit, striving for every reaction you could get out of her. "Holy fuck."

You smirked, finally sliding a finger back into her dripping hole and continuing to work on her clit with your mouth. You knew this pace you were making would not be enough, but you wanted the older woman to beg for it. You could tell she already wanted to as your hair only got tugged harder and finger nails started scratching at your arms.

After only a short time, you decided to amp up the teasing with another finger into her entrance, but you would not change your pace. You took breaks on her clit when you felt she was building up too many knots, paying attention to her audible sighs as if she was taking a cold plunge and making sure her lungs were still working.

"Darling, please... oh-"

You blew on her clit as you watched how your fingers slid in and out of her, collecting up her slick.

"Baby please make me cum. You feel s-so good but you're destroying me Y/N/N."

"You want me that bad, Ms. Maximoff?" You grinned.

"Darling, its not a want. It's a need. Now. Please."

"Ok, as long as you look at me as I fuck you clean. I want you to know what good love feels and looks like." You smirked as she pulled a pillow under your head, elated when she gasped at the image before her... your chin soaked, eyes hungry and smile cruel. You kept eye contact with her as you sunk back down to her core, living in the light of her stare. You began to continue the licks and pumps, but she let her eyes roll back, which you hadn't told her to do.

"Eyes on me, Ms. Maximoff. I'm in charge right now." You couldn't believe those words had just rolled off of your tongue, but clearly she hadn't either as your gazes reconnected.

"You little sl-" She went speechless as you started a more aggressive pace, ensuring her green glare was on you. Once you had decided she would stay like that, you moved all of your attention to her pussy, finally tying all the knots together in her core. Her moans and whimpers were everything to you, even when you noticed her upper body was becoming too weak. You decided to let her finish, knowing she more than deserved it.

"Detka, I think I'm gonna cum- I"

"The stage is yours" You mumbled into her, internally grinning. You pumped a few more times and the next thing you know, Wanda has thrown her head down and arched off the bed. You could feel her cum as you watched the sight before you, the older woman unable to control her high.

You stared in awe as your fingers worked her off her high, chest heaving and hands rubbing her eyes. You slowly pulled your fingers out of her twitchy hole, making sure her eyes were back on you as you raised your digits to your lips.

"Wow, babygirl, that was... amazing." She pulled you over for a kiss, adjusting to her taste on your tongue. "Thank you."

You giggled. "You know, Wanda, another nice thing about women is that they have the stamina to make you cum more than once in a night... if you're interested." You smirked.

Her jaw slightly dropped. "More than once?"

╚══《✧》══╝

Thanks for reading!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elwriteswanda #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #dom reader #lesbian #wanda maximoff x female reader #wlw smut #wanda maximoff smut

374 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Note

K, congrats on 3.5K and I was wondering if you can make something about “Why’re you looking at me?” and it’s Tommy or John having a crush? AAAAAAA

Thanks for sending this in, E!! @writers-hes I’m sorry it took me so long to write!! I just had to go with Tommy for it because (if you haven’t noticed already) he’s my fave to write for! The thought of this made my giddy haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Strictly Business

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smoking, drinking

Word Count: 1186

Summary: When a business associate doesn’t show, Tommy and (Y/N) make the most of a dinner…and try their best to keep their true feelings under wraps.

“Do you really need me here?” (Y/N) asked for the umpteenth time as she sat down across from Tommy at the table they’d been led to. She didn’t expect to be dining at some posh establishment today, but for Tommy Shelby, she’d drop her plans and do just about anything if he asked it of her.

Yeah…not the best mindset logistically thinking, but what can she say…she was smitten with him. Problem was that he hardly gave her the time of day with it came to that. Strictly business. That’s what they agreed on.

“I do,” Tommy nodded, fishing a cigarette out of its packet so that he could perch it between his lips and strike a match to light it. He cleared his throat then as he crossed his one leg over the other and sat back, looking around for the person he’d be meeting.

“Guess that’s that then,” (Y/N) commented, more so to herself than anything, as she grabbed the napkin and draped it over her lap. She then began to peruse the menu because hey, if she was going to have to be in this fancy establishment, she was going to sample their wares.

The waiter came over to their table moments later and (Y/N) took her time to chat with him, asking him what he recommended, what was popular, and what would pair well together. She must’ve took around ten minutes trying to figure out the dish she wanted to order. Once she did, the man turned to Tommy. He kept it simple, ordering a whiskey.

“You’re really not ordering anything?” (Y/N) asked him after the man left.

“I figured that if I got hungry, I’d take something from your plate,” he answered honestly, a grin teetering on his lips.

“Bold of you to assume anything will be left,” she countered, her grin matching his.

Tommy just pursed his lips at her statement, trying to stop his grin from growing bigger than it already was. He then accepted the whiskey from the waiter and brought it to his lips, thankful he had it to hide what he was really feeling. Strictly business.

Time passed as the two waited for the business associate to show up. Nothing much was said, but nothing really needed to be said. Tommy and (Y/N) had become accustomed to sitting in silence, and more often then not, they found it peaceful. It was comforting in a way.

About a half hour had passed now, and there was still no appearance of said business associate.

“Is this man coming?” (Y/N) questioned, her brows furrowed.

“He said he would be,” Tommy dismissed her question, sipping on his third whiskey. The fact that he was sat here instead of out making sure everything else was running properly kind of irked him. The only reason he wasn’t marking it as a complete bust was the fact that (Y/N) was there.

“At least we get a meal out of it,” she commented as the waiter brought her dinner out. She smiled up at him as a thank you before surveying the delicious plate of food that was placed in front of her. A wider smile grew on her lips as she looked back to Tommy. “Well…at least I got a meal out of it.” She couldn’t help but correct herself, her teasing statement making Tommy roll his eyes at he fought his grin back.

(Y/N) dug into her dinner, making sure to make an exaggerated comment about how absolutely delicious the food she chose was. She was enjoying her dinner so much that she momentarily forgot he was even there with her.

Which is why when she looked up to see his eyes focused on her with the slightest smile dancing on his lips, she thought her heart was about to jump out of her body. She’d never seen Tommy look at her in that way. It was almost as if his eyes were twinkling, the shade of blue present in them just about making her breathless.

“Why’re you looking at me?” she broke the silence. While she didn’t want to ruin the reverie that had been created the second their eyes met, she had to say something or else she might have combusted on the spot.

“Hmm?” he simply hummed, and (Y/N) wanted to groan. He’s purposefully making this hard on me.

“Why’re you looking at me like that…like you just were a few seconds ago?” she repeated her question.

“What was I looking at you like?” he asked, his brows now raised.

“Don’t make this tough for me, Tommy,” she huffed, her heart going at about a mile a minute. His expression didn’t change. (Y/N) huffed again. He’s really gonna have me spell it out to him. “You were looking at me like…I don’t know, like you were dreaming or something,” she tried her best to explain it.

“I wasn’t dreamin’,” he shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Well you looked like it,” she shot back, sending him a glare that a smile was trying so hard to break through. Tommy lazily shrugged off the conversation, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. (Y/N) shrugged also, focusing - well trying to focus - on her meal once more.

“I was watchin’ you,” he stated after a few minutes had passed.

“Oh yeah?” (Y/N)’s eyes shot up to match his once more.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out slowly before continuing, “I enjoy watching you. Brings some quiet to me mind.”

“Oh yeah?” she answered with the same question she asked before, although her voice was softer this time around.

“Yeah,” he nodded again, leaving it at that, even though he wanted to say so much more to her. He wanted to tell her just how much she had helped him since he met her. Tell her how he couldn’t get her off of his mind, even if he tried. Strictly business.

The conversation ended there, and (Y/N) tried her best to focus back on the meal in front of her. Something was burning in her mind though, something that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.

“Tommy…?” she spoke again after a few more minutes had passed.

“Yeah?” his eyes were on her in a second. They never really left.

“There was never someone coming to this dinner, was there?” she just had to ask him.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he answered with a vague statement, although his eyes told her a different story. See what Tommy didn’t know was that (Y/N) had gotten pretty good at reading his eyes. She’d never call him out on the truths he brushed over though.

Instead she pursed her lips to hide her smile. “Strictly business?” she checked with him after a few beats of silence.

“Strictly business,” he answered with a nod, ending the conversation there. His answer was short and succinct, but his eyes told her differently.

*tags in reblogs so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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thatharringrovehoe · 1 year

Text

I love 'stuck in a time loop' fics where the characters slowly fall in love with each other. But right now I'm thinking of Steve rushing downstairs wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his left sock while someone pounds on his front door in the middle of the night. When he opens it, there stands none other than Billy Hargrove, sweaty and exhausted.

And carrying an axe.

Steve tries to close the door but Billy's already jammed his boot up against it, holding it open. Billy's voice is a croak in the otherwise eerily silent night.

"The first pet you ever had was a cat named Sampson. You found him in the alley behind Melvald's and hid him in your room for six weeks before your mom found out and gave him away while you were at school. You were eight."

Steve is sure there's smoke billowing out of his ears from how hard the gears are turning in his brain. But try as he might, he has absolutely zero fucking clue what to do with this information. Somewhere in the house an antique clock strikes midnight.

Billy flinches, grip creaking around the axe propped up on his shoulder.

Steve chooses his next words very carefully.

"While I'm really glad you and Tommy are swapping childhood stories about me, it's getting late-"

"-And you have a shift in the morning. Yeah. I know. I also know that in the past one hundred and fifteen days you've never once even made it till morning. So I'm here to keep you from becoming monster chow and then maybe my fucking life can go back to normal"

Billy's shouting by the end. Steve's heart thunders in his chest.

you've never once even made it till morning

monster chow

The image of a demon falling out of the Byer's ceiling in a cloud of plaster and rot bubbles up with a growing panic. Billy's tapping his fingers anxiously around the handle of his axe, eyes darting to the side every now and again like he expects something to be there. Steve swallows down a hysterical laugh with the thought that the best case scenario right now is Hargrove took some type of hallucinogenic drug and drove to Steve's house in the middle of the night with a weapon.

The worst case scenario...

An owl hoots in the darkness and Steve feels like he might vomit with the surge of adrenaline. A stray breeze rustles the branches of the forest around them.

What if it's a prank?

God please let it be a prank

"All my friends knew about Sampson. Hell, the lunch lady knew about him."

Billy's jaw tics. "Look, I'm trying to keep us both alive so would you just shut up and let me in? The last place I wanna die is bumfuck Indiana."

He moves to shoulder past but Steve doesn't let him through. From this close Steve could count all the freckles on Billy's nose, air tense as a piano wire. Billy stares back, gaze wild.

Desperate

And one hundred days is a long time to get to know a person.

"I'll let you in. But-!" Steve's hand shoots up to press back against Billy's chest as he attempts to shove past him. His heart beats like a hummingbird under Steve's palm. "You have to make me believe you."

Billy breathes a harsh sigh through his nose, leveling a glare at Steve. The axe thankfully does not lodge itself into any part of Steve's person. For now.

"What do you want from me Steve?"

A coyote howls in the distance. Guttural and wrong. Chills erupt down Steve's spine.

"Tell me something I've never told anyone. Something only I would know."

An expression Steve can't parse flashes across Billy's face. Whatever it is it looks painful. Sad, but not for himself. There's more rustling out in the woods. This time without a breeze.

"You're adopted"

It's like a punch to the sternum.

Steve lets him in.

#The seasonal depression is lifting lads #so be prepared for alot more of my nonsense #harringrove #time-loop AU #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #that hoe writes #discord blurb

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faytelumos · 1 year

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Dude the way I'm eating your tags like they're my last meal on death's row!! I'll do the same here. Can you IMAGINE the standard Thomas sat when he became a father.

This wild, rowdy, firecracker of a man Gotham grew from golden soil and made him dirty, becoming a dad? Oh man.

Especially in the black and white era, where the most proficient job you could have in Gotham was a gangster. Second was a thief. Third was politician, but they mean the same thing anyway.

No man was particularly attached to fatherhood, " Yeah, I see my brats once a week. "

" Sheesh, you're lucky. I had to cut back work when my wife delivered. I just don't get why I have to do be there. What's your stance on that, Thomas? Does the husband have to be there?"

Thomas, smiling like a feral tiger: You know I delivered my baby, right?

OOOKAY, I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS!

Okay, be Thomas Wayne, doctor, philanthropist, old money, living in Gotham with your beautiful wife and your beautiful boyfriend, and you're having a son.

(Martha makes a funny joke about needing more girls in the house, and Alfred reminds her she throws most of her feminine relationships away after a month and a half.)

This is Gotham city. This place breeds corruption and desperation like a petri dish. You inherited the role of a founding family heir from a father you never liked and every secret organization and mobster has been trying to put you in their pocket since.

And now you have a beautiful, tender, delicate baby boy.

Absolute fucking terror.

This boy is going to be a target for every walk of life from the ground to the sky. This boy is going to get seductive offers to corruption every day, this boy is going to be a walking paycheck for anyone who's in trouble, this boy is small, and vulnerable, and yours, and he's meat and money to everyone else out there.

His future is altogether uncertain, but there's a million possibilities out there, and most of them are terrible, and it's the worst kind of anxiety.

On top of this, based on your fic, Thomas did not have any kind of healthy relationship with his dad.

This makes it so much harder. Now you're Thomas, worried to death that the world is gonna eat your son alive, and wondering what kind of father you're gonna be.

Fatherhood and manliness are two toxic chemicals that mix into the water as far as Thomas can tell. Maybe Tommy can sleep a little easier knowing Alfred will be there, knowing Bruce's other father won't be taking Tommy's shit, will also be looking out for his boy. Maybe having such a good person there, too, will protect Bruce from the boogeyman inside every other man that is Fatherhood.

Because Thomas never met a father he liked. Thomas hated Ben. And he's so terrified he's going to be just like him.

But besides all of this, Thomas is here, now, holding his newborn baby in his hands. It was crazy getting ready for it — everyone was asking him if it was really a good idea for him to be delivering his own baby, but honestly, he would never forgive himself if he missed that chance. It was crazy, because Martha, his absolute fireworks show, his light in the dark, was soldiering through all of the contractions and the pain all the way to the delivery room. And Alfred's just outside, putting out fires all over the manor as they get ready for a bump turned into a baby, Tommy's rock calmly pacing and bringing order and certainty to a day so very full of chaos and fear.

And it's a lot. It's so much. But in the scrubs, with the mask and the gloves, Tommy's hands are steady and he breathes evenly, and he holds his wife's and child's lives in those hands, and he loves them endlessly. Nothing can go wrong, and he wouldn't trade the chance to be there for both of them through this for anything.

He's scared, of himself, of Gotham, but as his little boy's growing up, he just takes the moments he can get and he does everything in his power to make his little mini-me boy as happy as physically possible. He takes every moment to give Bruce what he wanted at that age.

#Thomas Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Martha Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #every time you talk about Tommy I just love him more #he's such a freakin' guy #love him #PennyWaynes #can I ax you something?

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capacityfornirvana · 6 days

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I agree they’ll try to navigate buddie very differently from now on and they’ll try to let people down very very gently. why do you think it’s happening right now? What changed? Did the get tired? Was buddie a possibility but now it’s not anymore? Is it because Tommy is more supported than previous partner and they’re not afraid to lose support of a subset of fans? I do think it’s the last one. Online fandom was 90% buddie shippers before bucktommy. But now I think it’s a 65% buddie 25% bucktommy shippers (but the number is growing) and 10% everything else

I believe it's all of the above, with the exception of Buck and Eddie evolving from something viable to something no longer considered.

As brief as my time has been in this fandom, I have to be honest, I have never gotten the sense that Buck and Eddie was ever actually a viable pairing. I tried to see it. I tried hard, and I would have been more than happy, had I felt it. But I just couldn't. I think the intention was always to portray them as platonic friends turned brothers. Personally, I think Eddie making Buck Christopher's godfather, however you want to view that gesture, was proof of that. I don't think that narrative choice was to show that Eddie subconsciously saw Buck as a potential romantic partner who could fill in as a second father to Christopher. I think it was to emphasize how much Eddie trusted Buck with his son, to show that Eddie could see how much Buck loves his son, and he was so touched by that, so much so that he would trust Buck to raise his son, should he ever die young. And even if Buck couldn't do that, for whatever reason, I think it was important for Eddie to let Buck know that his best friend valued him that much, because Eddie is an amazing friend who wants Buck to know how genuinely important he is to other people. He knows that Buck has always had a low opinion of himself, and any good friend would want to chip away at that mentality. This is all just my interpretation, mind you, but man, I feel pretty confident about it. I know that confidence means absolutely zilch, but hey.

As for why they're starting to make their intentions clearer, I do think the catalyst was the rampant toxicity, in addition to what I said before about the desire to maintain respect for Buck and his bisexuality. Because I'll tell you what, the toxicity from these shippers spread fast and far, to the point where I am seeing people who haven't even seen 9-1-1 talk about Buck, his bisexuality, and the harassment from Buddie shippers. When I picked up on that, I knew the shift was going to come quickly, assuming my assumption about Buck and Eddie only being friends was correct. Granted, I didn't predict Jennifer Love Hewitt being so, uh, direct about it, and for Ryan Guzman to throw out the heterosexual label. But hey, life comes at us fast.

I'm not going to say if Tommy is here to stay or not. I have no way of knowing that. When it comes to shows of this nature, a lot can change extremely fast. But I feel it in my bones that they are, at the very least, strongly considering it.

#911 abc #bucktommy #i hope this all makes sense. super distracted at the moment.#anonymous #ask #text

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modelbus · 2 years

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Hii! Can I request a Tommy x reader (romantic) where they’re just chilling at Tommys apartment together and she jokingly hits him with a pillow and runs off and he catches her and they start play fighting just lots and lots of fluff <33 she/her pronouns or they/them if you want

I am a sucker for fluff... I used a third person POV for this one! Let me know if you like it, or which POV you prefer.

Pairing: Tommyinnit x Female!Reader (romantic)

Fluffy Fighting

"You can edit more in the morning, please get some sleep." She begs.

Tommy, ever persistent on his editing conquest, doesn't even turn his chair around to answer. "I'll be done eventually."

"But at what cost?"

To that he doesn't reply. Although she knew Tommy loved YouTube and Twitch, this was taking it a bit far. Some of his subtitlers went on vacation so he decided to subtitle his video himself, but it was just taking forever. A whole day of editing! That meant she hadn't gotten to spend any actual time with her boyfriend despite having been invited to his apartment.

"You're going to fuck up your sleep schedule." She tries again, but to no avail.

Stubbornness was both a good and a bad trait, for this exact reason.

"I'll fix it eventually." He dismisses.

That's it. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, she stands and quietly approaches him. He doesn't spot her, so she hits him on the head with it.

Immediately, his hands stop moving on the keyboard and mouse. With a swallow, she backs up a few steps and drops the pillow. At least he's spun his chair around?

"Did you just hit me with a fucking pillow?"

"No?"

The way his lips are tugging up into a grin, ruining his fake frown, betray him. See, she knows that look. It was his bad idea look, his "I'm going to drag you into my bad idea look", and in general his mischievous look. So, like any sane person would, she turns tail and runs.

Within seconds she can hear him running after her. The thing about Tommy was that he was tall with long legs, meaning she was absolutely screwed.

“Get back here, bitch!” He yells.

She raises her middle finger in his vague direction, too busy rounding the couch to actually look behind her. When she fakes left he jolts that way, and when he fakes right she jolts the other way.

To her right is a half-finished Lego set, so she grabs a Lego and chucks it at him.

"Hey!" He yells, finding it and throwing it back. "Leave my Legos out of this!" After a second of a weird stand-off, he attempts to hop the couch. It’s more of an awkwardly slow tumble, sending her into laughter.

Unfortunately for her, he recovers quickly. Noticing a second too late she barely turns around before he’s grabbing her wrist and tugging her backwards. Arms wrap around her waist once she’s in range, trapping her in his embrace.

“I am going to suffocate you.” He announces.

“Wait, please, I have a family.”

“Not anymore!”

"I have so much to live for!" She fake sobs.

"Like what, bitch?!"

A small smile grows on her face, her next words glaringly obvious.

"Well, I have this boyfriend named Tommy who I'm pretty sure would like me to live."

"Well what if he doesn't?"

"...fuck. Didn't consider that."

Finally, Tommy laughs and breaks his character.

"Guess my boyfriend won't get kisses from me anymore." She hums, slipping out of his now-relaxed hold.

"Wait." He pouts. "I do want you to live!"

"Oh, in that case..."

She turns around to face him, leaning up for a kiss. After a second she can't help herself, and mumbles against his lips, "I win."

"What?" He laughs, pulling away with a faint blush.

"You aren't editing. I win."

"You tricked me!"

"Yup. And it worked. So you have to go to bed now, because I won."

"I didn't agree to that!"

"My rules."

"This is-" A yawn cuts him off halfway through, and he doesn't attempt to finish the sentence.

"Exactly. Come on, we can fall asleep to Moana or something."

"Moana is actually so fucking good."

"I know, I know."

Before she can head back to his bedroom, he steps closer again and kisses her again. Her hands go around his neck, his around her waist, and they sway just a little.

“Fine. Let’s sleep.” He finally relents.

Now that he's given up trying to resist, it only takes a few minutes for the both of them to find their way to bed. Moana plays on his laptop, but it's almost useless as they both find themselves falling asleep within minutes, curled safely into each other.

#tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #mcyt #mcyt imagine #dsmp #tommyinnit mcyt

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cosmic-crybaby · 9 months

Text

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 16: 'You're No Good For Me'

Warnings In This Chapter: Hinted affair, mentions of blood, manipulation etc etc. ANGST

Masterlist:

---

It took you almost twenty minutes to calm your children down.

Reassuring them that things were going to be okay. But even you yourself were unsure. Giving them a tight hug and a kiss goodnight, making sure to tell Frances to stay with them until they fell asleep, before you entered the bedroom.

You didn't want them to hear the absolute terror you were about to unleash.

Thomas sat on the bed, his jacket discarded and his white shirt somewhat unbuttoned. His hand was still wrapped in the blood-stained cloth from the dining table. You harshly slammed the door behind you, making the room rattle, approaching him and stopping to stand in front of him with your arms crossed.

“You lost your temper with my kids, Thomas…That can never happen again, do you understand?”

He only nods once before he purses his lips and looks up at you.

“Your kids are out of control,” He stated with raised brows and condescension behind his words. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re fuckin’ kids! That is how kids behave when they’re tired, hungry, and disappointed,” You listed. He arched a brow at you. 'Disappointed' he repeated with a bitter laugh.

“I told you I wasn’t ready for this, didn’t I? I warned ya…I fuckin’ warned ya,” He pointed a finger at you with his non-injured hand before he stood up and struggled to unknot his tie with one hand, taking strides to his wardrobe. You stood in your place as you stared at him, bewildered.

“It’s not that hard to ask for help, you could have asked your Aunt or your sister for help, but it’s a little too late to turn back now,” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Yeah, I am sure Aunt Pol would have some great advice on how to discipline your kids for you,” He simply said with a small glance. Perplexed, you screwed your brows together.

“Don’t you dare,” You seethed.

“What?” He taunted, walking to his wardrobe to put his clothes away.

“Don’t you dare blame my kids, the only person acting like a child tonight was you!”

He exhales heavily as he slammed the door to the wardrobe shut before turning to you, the obvious frustration on his face. His normal glacier eyes were dark like the darkest depths of the ocean as he wore a stern look on his face. He approached you, at least a few inches away from your face. Under any other circumstances, he would just be a kiss away. And everything would have been forgotten.

“I’m acting like a child?” Shock laced his question.

“Yes, you are,” You argued. You looked down and reached for his wrist, bringing it up to show him. “You slammed your hands so hard, that you broke a fucking glass and you cut yourself…you threw a tantrum just like a fuckin’ baby,” He jerked his hand away from you. He wasn’t in any pain, his anger numbed it.

“I have made big sacrifices for you…huge fuckin’ sacrifices, I am behind on my work because I spent all my time with you-”

“And you think I haven’t? I have to commute at least forty minutes back and forth everyday,” You interrupted.

“And that wouldn't have been a problem if you just took everyone’s advice and hired someone to help you,” He said quietly.

You took a deep breath before speaking again.

“You walked into my family…my beautiful family that took years to grow and create, one that you would have started by now if you had any strength, courage, or restraint,” You stepped back from him, glaring at him with disgust. “Esme was right, you’re unstable…I get it…work is hard but that does not give you the right to act the way you do,”

“And how is that, (Y/n)?” His condescending tone was pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your blood boils with every second.

“Oh, would you like me to list it off for you, Thomas?” You asked. “Your terrible temper, your unstable mood, your drinking problem, and the fact that I found snow in your office and opium in your nightstand!” You yelled.

He chuckled.

“Ah, after all this time…I still stand by what I assumed,”

“Which assumption would that be? Because you’ve made so many,” You laughed. You stood far away from each other. You were by your vanity while he leaned against the bedpost.

“You pretended to be drunk to get me to fuck you, get you pregent,”

You both fell silent. The only noises in the room were your heavy breaths and the crackling of the wood in the fireplace as the flames cast an intimidating shadow upon your face. Your chest heaved up and down rapidly as you gulped down the lump in your throat as your hands moved to rub your stomach, protectively as the baby began to move about and kick.

“Oh God…How could you say that?” You asked yourself as you turned away from him. You held your hand over your mouth to side the sobs as you bent over, one hand leaning on the vanity. Thomas slowly approaches you and attempts to hold you.

“This is just an obstacle…eh? Listen to me…Listen to me (Y/n), I am sorry I shouldn’t have said that, this was only a setback,”

You pulled your arms away from his touch. Overwhelmed by everything around you. His smell, his touch, his voice, the hot temperature of the room, the weight of the baby, everything had you wanting to just tear your hair out and scream.

“No…No this isn’t a setback, Thomas…this is a fuckin’ disaster!”

“I warned you that the stress of what I do and the stress of this is going to ruin our relationship-”

“The stress of what?” You asked, turning to him with tears in your eyes.

“Having a baby together,” He answered. You shook your head.

“No…Three…” You held up your shaky hand, showing three fingers. “Thomas…Three children!”

“I didn’t even ask for one!” His voice boomed.

“You act like you’re the only one who fucked up their life,”

He shook his head before he sat down at your vanity chair, picking up a cigarette to rub it across his lips before lighting it.

“I guess that’s what happens…” He took a deep breath. “When strangers get drunk and fuck,” he exhales the smoke.

You paused and swallow thickly. Your eyes scanned him. Until you spotted the red smudge on the collar of his shirt, the red and purple spots on his clavicle. Everything seems so clear now. Your eyes began to tear up as you gasp in doubt.

"I knew it," You muttered as you looked away. Thomas lifted his head to look at you.

"I fucking knew it!" You shouted, picking up a glass perfume bottle and raising it to throw it at him, Thomas quickly leaves the vanity chair and rushes to the washroom, dropping the cigarette as the glass bottle shattered against the hardwood as it merely missed him.

"What the fuck?!" He shouted from behind the door. He could only hear you shouting, crying and the loud crashing of only what he assumed was you breaking the valuables on the vanity. He scrambles to look in the mirror, cursing to himself as he looked at the love-bites and the lipstick that were evidently clear now that he was sober.

"You're a fucking coward Thomas Shelby!" You cried as you leaned against the door.

"It was nothing (y/n), you're overreacting!"

You chuckled sourly. leaving the door to sit on the bed. Thomas cautiously opened the door, looking out into the room, the broken glass of the beauty products were haphazardly spread across the floor. There you sat, tears glistening on your cheekbones as you looked down at the floor.

"(y/n)…please," He held his uninjured hand out as if you were a wild animal. You tsked and roll your eyes at him.

"Oh please, Thomas..." You mumbled.

He threw his hands up, breathing heavily.

"Humor me, Thomas..." You started, slowly standing up. "Who was it?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Stop lying for one second and tell me!" You snapped. He blinks, his body seemed less tense as he conjured up the courage to tell you.

"You know who," He simply stated.

"At least have some courage and say her fuckin' name...you owe me that at least,"

Thomas licks his lips and looks down. Suddenly feeling brave he says her name. It felt like a curse leaving his lips.

"Lizzie Stark,"

You nod bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m packing my shit and I’m leaving…tonight,” You told him, turning back around to pack whatever little you had left into a trunk. He watched as you then went into your children's room to wake them up and help them pack a small bag, fetching some maids to help you take them to the car as you threw whatever gifts, dresses, jewelry, other materialistic things he got for you onto the floor. Throwing your coat on as you made your way down the stairs with Frances’s help. Your children, although confused and still tired, sat in the backseat of the company car, knowing this was the last time you would have that kind of luxury. You sat in the middle as they rested their heads on your shoulders and cuddled into your sides. A single tear escaped your eye as the car began to take off down the long entry path. If only Thomas knew of the agony you felt in your heart.

Thomas stood outside, watching in somberness as you left. Without a goodbye and second glance. You and Thomas had argued before, of course but it never got this bad. It was always resolved by the morning, but he feared that this was the last time.

He wanted to cry, scream, and yell over the fact that he really fucked up his last chance with you. He loved you more than words could say. As the car disappears into the dark distance he retreats back inside.

"Should I assume she is coming back, sir?" Frances asked.

"That...I am unsure, Frances..." He shook his head.

"Please get some rest, Mr. Shelby...have some peace of mind,"

And so he did. He tried at least. He cleaned up most of your mess but as he laid in bed he held the engagement ring between his fingers. You had left it on your vanity before you took off.

Oh how beautiful it would have looked on your finger when you got married.

---

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bluemagi · 9 days

Text

Re. Jumping ship and multishipping

I've been thinking a lot about this these past few weeks, since a certain hot pilot swooped in and stole my heart. I've seen people giving other people shit for "giving up" and jumping ship, for multishipping or even just for liking and enjoying a character. And it's just weird to me how people are so obsessed with controlling other people's behaviors. Just the other day I saw a TikTok where the creator was saying that people who "jumped ship" to Bucktommy were just fetishising because they want to see two guys kissing. Which is just... a terrible take on so many levels.

I was a Buddie shipper too. I enjoyed their on-screen relationship, I saw the signs that there might be more than friendship, and I hoped that something might happen. But I have also been in fandoms for at least 20 years by now. I've been through queerbaiting, I have been through shipbaiting, I have been through relationships I previously loved being destroyed by what happens on screen. I know that nothing is promised and that we have to have realistic expectations. Our interpretations of things are usually not what the writers/actors/directors/editors intend, and so we can always hope, but we have to know that we probably won't get what we want.

I think I grew a bit bored with the Buddie ship around season 5. I was watching queer representation in other shows, like Tarlos in Lone Star, and I couldn't see 911 ever go there, especially as time went on and nothing happened, there were no obvious signs. I didn't think they would ever make Buck or Eddie queer. I still enjoyed the show for what it was and would watch when I had the time, but I wasn't obsessing over it anymore. I would watch the show and hope that either one of them would get an interesting love interest (I actually sort of liked Natalia at the end of season 6), and until that happened, I would just enjoy Buddie outside of that, in fan fictions and Tumblr discourse.

So imagine my surprise when they finally did it, when they actually made Bi Buck canon. Since Tommy had been on the show before, we already knew a lot about him, and we could also read into the difference between s2 Tommy and s7 Tommy and see that there had been a lot of development there. So yeah, I was immediately interested. The more I saw, the more interested I became. So while I can still love and appreciate Buddie, it is far more interesting to me to have actual substance with an on-screen relationship, rather than having to try to interpret and read into every interaction to see if it can relate to Buddie.

But, back to jumping ship and multishipping. I've been thinking back through my fandom history, and I realized that this is something I have gone through several times before, in one way or another. I started out with soap operas, and in those, everyone cheats and nobody is ever happy for long, so jumping ship back and forth happens. Suddenly a character is killed, only to come back to life several years later. They completely change personalities, they change faces (new actors), so things change a lot. I suppose that might be why multishipping and jumping ship is not really an issue for me. It just make sense that you can change your mind about something when more content comes out. It's sort of like a relationship. You can be happy and in love for a while, or for a long time, but things change, people grow, and suddenly that relationship is not right for you anymore.

So I was thinking back on my previous experiences with jumping ship and multishipping, and I just scribbled down some thoughts on them. Starting with....

As The World Turns - Nuke vs. LuRe

I think one of the first times I jumped ship, was from Noah/Luke to Luke/Reid in As The World Turns. An American soap that ended in like 2011. Nuke were one of the first gay male couples on American day time TV, and if you have the time, please go read about them on Wikipedia, because their story is absolutely ridiculous and overdramatic, as most soap couples are. And since this was in the 00s / early 10s, they barely shared any kisses or intimacy. At certain points we were counting the days between their on-screen kisses, and I think we went 200 days without an on-screen kiss while they were in a romantic relationship on the show, and the first time they had sex, I think they just kissed and fucking jumped on the bed or something. It was just ridiculous. But it was representation, which there was not a lot of back in those days.

Then, my beloved Reid Oliver came into the picture. He was out and proud, he was confident, successful, unapologetic, he was just very interesting. Luke/Noah was young love, riddled with insecurity and drama. Luke/Reid was more confident, more adult. And also, it was an option! Back in those days, there were barely any queer characters on TV, and now there were three guys in one show. At the point when Reid came on to the show, I was already finding myself growing tired and annoyed with Nuke, and Noah specifically. So when he showed an interest in Luke and they began their relationship, I happily jumped over.

I was then punished by the show's cancellation and that fucking train, but that's beside the point.... Moving on!

Days of Our Lives - Will, Sonny and Paul

Now this was a fun one! I remember watching Days back when I was in elementary school. My friend and I would go home together from school and watch it before doing home work. I was better in English and in reading than her, so I would be reading the subtitles out loud to her so she could keep up with what was happening. I think Days actually helped me to learn English much better. So I remembered all the drama with Sami, Carrie, Lucas and Austin, and with baby Will. And it was a bit shocking to me when suddenly baby Will was an adult (or I guess in his late teens) and was coming out of the closet. This was around the same time as ATWT, I believe, around 2010, so again, there wasn't a lot of representation on TV.

Also, side note, this was before streaming was a thing, and I lived in Norway, so we didn't even have access to everything. I had to buy DVDs to watch stuff like Queer as Folk and The L Word.

Anyways, Will and Sonny became a couple, and with that, the first male same sex couple on the show. It was the only real option, so of course I shipped it. I am again reading the Wikipedia page for this couple, and their story is quite insane. They recast the role of Will at one point, and I didn't love how the character changed after the actor was changed. So when Paul came on the show, I was immediately drawn to him. His back story was interesting and the actor had amazing chemistry with everyone. So I shipped him with both Will and Sonny (and both versions of Will, tbh). And again, you simply must read the Wikipedia article about this. It was just pure insanity.

Supernatural – Dean, Cas, Benny

We cannot talk about shipping without talking about Destiel. It is simply not possible. I'm not even going to explain anything, because we're on Tumblr, everyone knows Destiel. So unsurprisingly, I am a Destiel shipper. I can't remember when I first started shipping them, but it must have been quite early. Probably not in season 4 when Cas first arrived, but probably in season 5.

So Destiel is an example where I haven't jumped ship, but instead, I have multishipped. Cas has unfortunately not really had any real love interest outside of Dean. I honestly can't even think of any, apart from that random woman he married when he had amnesia, which... just no, dude. But Dean however, he has had some options, and I haven't hated them.

Lisa, I loved her back in the early seasons. And when he went to live with her after season 5, I didn't hate it. I knew the chances of Destiel ever happening were slim to none, so I could enjoy Dean and Lisa together on screen while enjoying Dean and Cas in fan fictions.

Later, we met Benny. And I immediately loved him. He was so interesting, he had such an interesting relationship with Dean, and I was so mad when he died. Again, Dean was never shown to be anything but straight, so again, chances of anything happening here was also slim to none. But I could happily enjoy fan fictions and content on them, alongside with Destiel.

Other honorable mentions:

I was considering writing a whole section about Robron from Emmerdale, but I realized that I am still so pissed off about that whole thing, so I don't think I'd be able to articulate anything good from that. So instead I will just use this as an example of an on-screen couple that I absolutely loved, but that I ended up hating and abandoning due to what happened on screen. I jumped that ship straight into the ocean, and swam far far far away.

Klaine! The couple that got me into Tumblr in the first place! I loved Kurt from the first season, and I was so intrigued when Blaine came into the show (I was also a huge AVPM fan, so that just made it all the better). And I really enjoyed them together for the first couple of seasons. But thinking back, I think I fell out of love with them quite early on. Their stories didn't hit the same, it got boring. I was actually more interested in Karofsky by the time I stopped watching the show, which was probably part of the reason why I stopped watching. It was quite the unpopular opinion back then. Maybe still? I have no idea.

Gallavich! I loved Shameless back in the day, and Mickey and Ian were among my favorites. But at a certain point, I got fed up with it all and stopped watching. The on-and-off stuff got boring, important things got swept under the rug, and I didn't like the treatment of Mickey. Anyway, I gave up and stopped watching. It was only years later when the show was ending that I caught up and found out they actually ended up together. Which was amazing, but still left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

Anyways, my point is that there seems to be this opinion now that if you ship a couple, you are stuck with them for life. Jumping ship, or even multishipping, is seen as a betrayal, as something horrible. Shipping Buck and Tommy apparantly means that we hate Eddie, and that we don't care about the beautiful friendship and relationship Buck and Eddie have. But that is simply not the truth. At least not for me, or for most people I have seen discussing this.

At this point in time, I am going to enjoy the beautiful on-screen relationship that is Buck and Tommy, and I am excited to see where it goes. If that relationship ends, and somewhere down the line, Buck and Eddie finally end up together, I will probably be happy (as long as it is done right, like Oliver Stark himself has said).

#911 discourse #multishipping #jumping ship #bucktommy #idk just my two cents

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mischiefmanaged71 · 1 year

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In This Moment (5)

Summary: A single moment can spark a magnificent change in a person’s life.

A/N: Peaky Blinders AU! Ewan Mitchell OC x fem! Reader

The bar bustled with excited shouts and the piano that evening. The lads were celebrating another profitable deal with drinks and games. Everyone was there in attendance that night, including all of the Shelby family. Of course, Y/N made sure that Will was there. He’d become quite close with Arthur and Finn over time.

Y/N grabbed her glass from the bar, watching the joyous shouts from Arthur and Finn. The groups laughter reached from her all the way across the room. A humoured grin grew on her lips as she sipped her water. While she didn’t drink herself, she found humour in watching the rest of them get absolutely wasted...although the fall out wasn’t entirely great when she had to deal with them on occasion.

Y/N glanced up at the person standing over her shoulder, flushing at Will’s expectant smile. She mustered a sheepish smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.” he leaned against the bar, facing the room.

“Why aren’t you with them?” she gestured at the group.

“You looked lonely. Thought I'd keep you company.

She raised her eyebrows, staring into her drink. “I’m perfectly fine. You can go on, I know you want."

He stared at her with a look of disbelief.

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

She let out an exasperated sound, unsure of the answer to give him. “I’m used to being alone. I’m content with it.”

“Why?” he met her gaze. "Is there a reason?"

“Do you ever feel like-” she paused, trying to trade the words from her mouth. “Like people are judging you? Whether consciously or subconsciously-you can just tell. It’s something I’ve noticed since I was a girl. I prefer my own company most of the time. There's nothing wrong with that."

“Why’d you ever agree to let me live with you then?”

There was a hesitation there along with his curiosities growing. Y/N flickered to study his face, feeling calm in his presence. “I don’t feel that way when you’re around.” she traced the edge of the cup, “I’m not too sure why it’s different, but it just is.”

“You could’ve said no, but you didn’t.” he pointed out.

“You’ve met Tommy. Don’t act like I had much choice in the matter.” she teased.

“I think with the right motivations, you could make anything happen.”

She flushed under his gaze, as he appreciated her flustered state for the moment. Her mouth gaped, a huffed laugh escaped her lips.

“Right.” she traced her eyes to his lips, “And if I asked you something, then. Would you do it?”

“Technically, yes.” remembering Tommy’s order to meet each and every one of her requests. “I do what you ask."

"Why is that?" She asked, wanting to hear him say it.

"It's my job."

"So in practice, I could ask you...anything." Her voice trailed off at the end.

“Yes.” his low voice tickled her ears, curious as to where she was going with it. The new found confidence in her demeanour was surprising. “What’s on your mind?”

“Exactly." He blinked, looking down at her with a smirk.

He was, but that seemed a bit too on the nose.

“A few things.”

His words sent shivers along her skin as her jaw fell open, a shaky breath escaping. Meeting his blue eyes sent her off kilter as she almost fell apart. The emotion in his voice wasn’t what she was expecting, her heart shuddering in her chest. Many things rushed through her mind, the first foremost being that she had hopelessly fallen for him.

Will was now leaning closer to her, his face inches from her’s. Their breaths mixed together, the rest of the part melding into the background so it was just the two of them. “Ask me, then."

"I'm yours."

“What do you mean?" she pondered in astonishment, her voice below a whisper.

"I can't be any clearer."

The loud laughter from the boys shook her from the daze, Will pausing right above her lips. She could feel the brush of his warm breath as she turned to the side, blinking at disturbance.

She didn’t know if it was on her interpretation of his words, or something more hopeful on her part. Y/N stared at him, still unassured. Will pressed forward, his face growing closer. She watched, eyes half-lidded as his lips grew closer and she thought her heart would implode--

It wouldn’t last. It couldn't.

For a moment, it felt right. That was before she realised the absurdity of it all as life kept finding ways to tease her. Things like this weren’t meant for her. She knew that from the beginning. Lost in her feelings, she had acted foolishly for weeks. She had been afraid that falling too hard, once again, would leave her heartbroken. The domesticity was nice while it lasted, but having fallen in love with someone who couldn’t possibly reciprocate was the far cry she refused to accept. She had men flirt with before, and sure she had feelings for others. This, however, was the first time she truly felt for someone this deeply. She was not foolish enough to believe it would work out as she dreamt. Y/N had some dignity left to pull away from the fantasy. From the decision that could potentially ruin it all.

Y/N swallowed the tightening in her throat, dissuading the fluttering in her stomach as she straightened her posture.

“Excuse me.” she said, heading to escape from the moment before she could falter in his presence.

“Wait-”, Will reached out, but she had already departed. Despite her name being called out after her, she kept walking.

TAGS

@pearlstiare @aemonds-sapphire @chainsawangel @xcharlottemikaelsonx @padfooteyes @batsyforyou @yentroucnagol @cl-0-vr @viviartsy @h3k3t @arcana-greenleaf @yummycastiel @lauraneedstochill @sasikanleesworld @theliterarybeldam @actualhawkesworld @ohitsthemaster @aemonds-wifey @stillinracooncity

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett #peaky blinders #aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond x reader

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amywritesthings · 2 years

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Meet Me At The Usual

gif credit @ gwinammie

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 5K

Summary: It's sophomore year Winter Formal, and things get a little messy with your secret friendship (and secret crush) with the Freak of Hawkins High.

Warnings: Language, Fluff & Angst, Secret Friendship, Unresolved Crushes, School Dances, Yearning, First Kiss, Eddie Munson in a Suit

A/N: Enjoy my self-indulgent, cavity-inducing story of Eddie Munson having a massive crush on you and not knowing how to be chill about it. I love writing this man. Prequel to Where Shadows Meet Shapes.

( Read on AO3 )

PREVIEW

“I wanted to ask you to the dance tonight,” you croak before you can chicken out.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, readjusting his all-too-aloof demeanor in order to protect the brief, crackled surprise underneath.

“Little ol’ me? I thought it was supposed to be the other way: guys ask girls, yada yada—”

“You were never going to ask me.”

His chin juts back, face scrunching in offense. “That isn’t true.”

Meet Me At The Usual

Winter Formal is such a bitch.

The stretching hallways are littered with snowflake decorations and paper icicles. Disdain crawls up the back of your neck at how feral the entire student body of Hawkins High has become in a matter of days.

Giggling hopefuls line the rows of lockers, telepathically begging every person that passes to be asked — as someone’s desired date, as someone who is wanted —

(As someone who isn’t a loser.)

If memory serves you right, your Freshman year’s Winter Formal was an absolute mess. Not only did you rip your dress, but Tommy Winslow — a date you didn’t know how to turn down — acted like such a sleaze that half of your night was spent hiding in busy corners, wishing you could leave before the gymnasium clock struck ten.

You can’t imagine Sophomore year will be any less awful.

The one thing, however, that is different this year are the surprise several requests to accompany someone as their date to this seasonal event. Flowers from a football player, outright being asked by a basketball starter — the list continues to grow as Friday inches closer.

(Since when did people care about you? Is it because you’re leading the class by grades and grades alone?)

The only tolerable thing about this Tuesday afternoon has been finding a messily folded note hidden in the crevice of your locker:

Meet me at the usual ? - E

‘The Usual’, as cliché as it can be, being under the bleachers.

Rather than spending lunch with the other honors students, you slide past the front doors and round the rectangular edges of the crimson brick building until you see it — in the distance, a silhouette of someone already waiting under the metal beams holding benches afloat.

The closer you get, the more prominent his wild, curly hair becomes.

“Someone has to teach you how to fold better,” you greet, stepping over a metal bar in order to join the other person under the privacy of the football stadium.

Eddie Munson stands with his arms raised, palms flush against a higher beam you cannot reach as he watches your arrival with amusement. “I didn’t have much time to write it, my dear fair maiden. It was kind of a last-minute idea.”

“Like all of your ideas?”

“Hey,” he holds up a finger, matter-of-fact. “Hellfire’s run like a tight ship. Nothing in that game is by chance or accident — except the roll of the dice, but some would say the numbers are fate.”

“I’ll take your word for it, seeing as I’ve yet to witness this illusive club.”

“It’s exclusive,” Eddie quips, slapping an indistinguishable beat into the metal support beam above, “and illusive. Next game’s on Friday and they have no fucking idea what gnarly dungeon they’re about to get into.”

“Friday?” Frowning, you situate yourself in a lean along a pillar. “But Friday is the—”

“Winter Formal,” Eddie interrupts. “Exactly.”

“So you’re not going?”

Eddie’s brow quirks. “Why, are you?”

“Everyone at school goes every year.”

“I don’t, and I didn’t last year. None of the Hellfire Club goes. We’re not particularly interested in being gawked at more than we already are.” A slow but certain smirk crawls to his lips. “Hope you’re not going with Tommy Winslow this year.”

“Tommy?” you grimace. “Absolutely fucking not.”

The smirk disappears off of his lips, now open-mouthed in shock.

“Doth the lady sweareth?”

Your expression falters to an outright disappointed frown. “Are you serious? You’re going to give me shit for swearing, out of everyone?”

His hands detach from the metal to lift high in surrender, unable to stop the laughter billowing from his lungs.

“Hey, cool it. It wasn’t a jab. I think it’s hot when you curse, alright?”

So hot that he’s never made a move.

An entire year of knowing Eddie Munson, and he’s never tried to any of the Junior usuals — when you stop by to watch 21 Jump Street, he never attempts the classic yawn while simultaneously putting an arm over your shoulders, instead opting to respectfully sit side-by-side; he never flips crumpled paper into the cleavage of your lower t-shirts; he never asks you out to dinner or to come by his trailer for anything beyond a smoke and jam sesh, ending with him walking you to your beat-up Nissan before your mother’s stern curfew.

Nothing.

(He doesn’t actually find your swearing — or you, for that matter — hot.)

“Jusssayin’, do it more often,” he adds.

“Shut up,” you scoff, scooping your arms to fold tightly against your chest.

Eddie does — if only for a second.

“So did anyone ask?”

“Ask what?”

“You — out — to Winter Formal?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, I just thought by now you’d have a date or whatever.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you,” he says.

“It’s me?” you repeat.

“Yeah, Lady Hawkins, the…” He sighs, smacking the beam lightly once more. “...projected Valedictorian of your class, the star of the fucking whole show, the cream in everyone’s coffee. By now, at least a dozen unworthy jocks have probably asked.”

Your eyes narrow with subtle amusement. “Do I detect jealousy?”

“Roll for perception,” he replies instead, evoking an inside joke for a means of a truce.

(I don’t want to answer — or, in most cases, you already know the answer.)

Warmth floods your system as your smile spreads to a wildfire grin. You lean your temple against the bleacher pillar structures, watching him fondly.

How Eddie Munson ended up in your life the way he has, you truly cannot — and don’t quite care to — remember. A happenstance note on a desk led to an overabundance of chicken scratch handwriting in your locker, eventually rolling into this:

Meeting in shadows, in spaces, times where no one can see.

Because if anyone found out the two of you were an odd couple of thieves, thick yet so very thin in discretion, then that would be the end of ‘Lady Hawkins’ reputation.

(Your parents would never let you out of the house again.)

“...I turned them all down.”

It’s the truth. Every last offer, shot down with a polite no.

Eddie’s expression shifts, albeit unreadable as he drops his chin, allowing dark curls to cover most of his face. “Good. I mean — not good, but they didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“And who does?”

“No one in Hawkins, that’s for fucking sure.”

Laughter bubbles in your lungs as he ducks under the support beam, nearing as his ring-clad fists bump together.

“Just skip it.”

A beat passes. You huff with confusion.

“Skip what?”

“The dance.” He leans in, waggling his brows. “Wanna smoke at my place instead?”

Your brows slide high to your hairline. “Will you get dressed up?”

His browline falls. “Dressed up? What, in… Zeppelin over Poison, or some shit?”

“No!” you correct with a playful roll of your eyes. “No, Eddie Munson, a suit.”

Eddie’s playfulness falters, childish excitement dissipating as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his denim jeans. Sniffing at nothing in particular, his attention drops to the dirt bunching at his scuffed, duct-taped boots.

“...nah, don’t own any of that kind of stuff. My uncle’s got a funeral suit, but that hasn’t been dry cleaned in six-something years.”

Oh.

You take a step forward, reaching for his arm but ultimately failing to make contact. Your hand falls lamely to your side. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t,” he interrupts, softer this time. “You never do. Not sure how you don’t, but you always mean shit in the best possible way.” He lifts his chin, nose scrunched. “A little irritating, if you ask me.”

“I’ll do my best to tone down my Snow White approach to life just for you.”

Eddie opens his mouth to quip back, but the 5-minute warning bell echoes from the Hawkins High building.

“That’s your cue,” he suggests instead, pushing the tip of your tennis sneaker with his boot. “Don’t drink the punch at Formal.”

“And don’t kill your party in the dungeon crawl,” you sing-song as you walk backwards, careful not to trip over the metal bar on the ground as you depart for your next class.

“I can’t make any promises!” he shouts after you, staying behind.

. . . . . . . .

You’re the only person without a date at your Honors Geometry table.

One empty chair sits beside you as the other two couples laugh, spilling liquor from a flask to complete their punch cups. Mary Meeks and Rachel Smith gossip about every dress that passes by. Darren Jones and Justin Waters talk about the only thing they’re interested in — football, the season, the upcoming drafts for the future — ruining their formal attire with their letterhead jackets.

Every so often, the conversation bounces to you and you answer, disinterested but feigning excitement, before it’s right back to sitting between the four of them.

You sit, ignored. You stand by the punch table, ignored. You find a spot by the corner where Mary can fish out her cigarettes she snuck into the dance, ignored.

This is miserable.

(This feels so empty.)

Friends by association, it only occurs to you how little you have in common with these birds of a feather flocking together.

And you’re pretty sure you caught a passive aggressive comment about the chiffon, pastel pink dress and painfully tight high heels you’re wearing.

(Not by choice, but by your mother’s insistence.)

Maybe Eddie was right. Maybe it would’ve been better to smoke at his trailer. Maybe you should have stayed home.

Maybe you should have asked if you could sit in on the—

“Not like that Shitfire Club.”

Your ears perk at the insult, broken from your trance as Justin puffs his chest out of his letterhead jacket from the chorus of laughter he elicits.

“They give me the creeps,” Mary replies, pulling her sparkling shawl closer around her shoulders. “Do they ever bathe?”

“I think they all sit in their mom’s basements and jerk off to geriatric porn.” Rachel’s unlit cigarette dangles daintily from its index-middle finger sandwich. “Probably together.”

“The Freak’s orchestrated demonic orgies, I just know it,” Mary agrees with a disturbed nod.

The Freak.

Eddie.

“Or they jerk each other off,” supplies Darren, snorting at his own crude joke as he passes his flask to Justin.

“Hope I don’t see any of those fucking nerds tonight,” Justin prematurely warns, rubbing his nose with the knuckle of his thumb. “Because if I do, I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, Justin?”

Mary and Rachel turn first with different degrees of confusion when your question cracks the bubble of their conversation. Justin steps out of his place to peer around the girls’ dresses, making direct eye contact while you lean against the painted concrete wall.

You can almost hear Eddie’s slowed, cautious voice in the back of your head: don’t provoke them. You’ll just put a target on your back like the rest of us.

Too late.

Your temper gets the best of you.

“You can barely catch a football in the off-season, so how are you supposed to land a punch?” you inquire, bending at the hips to push yourself from the wall.

The girls’ jaws drop in unison. Darren mumbles a prolonged ‘yooo’ under his breath, caught off guard, but not as disarmed as Justin. His face grows a shade of salmon pink, blotchy and unpleasant.

“You stickin’ up for the Freak or something?”

You breeze past the accusation to shoulder-check Rachel, clipping in your heels to snatch your silver clutch from the communal table.

“No amount of cologne will mask the fact that you? Probably haven’t showered since the last Championship — the one you lost for our team, if I remember correctly, so if I were you?”

You offer a pointed stare at Justin, unblinking, unmoving; mousey persona be damned.

“I’d stop picking on people for their alleged shortcomings when yours have been displayed on our home field scoreboard. And go fuck yourself.”

The last part, you regret only a little. While swearing was never in your public wheelhouse, you feel the need to drive home their cruelty with your own.

It seems to work by the way Mary steps clear out of your way, calling you a raging bitch under her breath.

You don’t care.

You just need to get out of here.

Stalking to find the library — will he be angry if you show up unannounced in the middle of the game? — your heels click down the linoleum hallways half-dimmed in the night.

Finding the library door closed, you stop in your tracks and push against the metal mechanism to… darkness. Total black.

No one’s here.

No one speaks, no one laughs, no one tosses a unit of dice.

“Eddie?” you call out, voice echoing in the vastness. No one calls back.

It’s stupid to go to his trailer.

He may be out with the rest of the club.

He may be busy, like how you’re supposed to be busy instead of dropping into your father’s Nissan to depart from the school event and run straight to the trailer park.

Except you floor it out of the Hawkins High parking lot anyway and within fifteen minutes, find yourself pulling up to a trailer you’ve visited on several hushed occasions to catch the latest flick under the guise of studying with a classmate.

Behind the window shades, a soft orange hue emits.

Someone’s there.

The car door slams shut as you hike the pastel pink skirt high to your knees. Avoiding the uncut weeds licking at your bare ankles, you manage to avoid sinking too far into the soft dirt leading up to Eddie’s trailer.

He’s going to think you’re insane — if he’s even home.

It takes a beat or two to muster the courage to knock; first slowly, two knuckle-taps that barely put a dent in the door. No response leads you to grow a spine, pounding three times with the butt of your fist.

Your body tenses when the door wildly swings open, startled and annoyed.

“The fuck are you knocking so—”

“—Oh.”

Both voices cease to exist among the chorus of crickets in the grass when Eddie Munson stands in his trailer living room in a black jacket and a white dress shirt, half-unbuttoned.

The black ink on his pectorals coils along the material, peeking out as he stills at the door frame. His hair must have just dried, because the curls are light. Springy. Soft.

The vocals of Black Sabbath croon softly in the distance, echoing to your ears.

Before you can stop yourself, your gaze crawls down his body — the black slacks are a little loose and a tiny bit wrinkled, and his toes flex and relax under black socks.

“Ho-ly shit,” he finally murmurs under his breath as if trapped under a spell.

Locking eyes once more, you clear your throat and shift from one painful high heel to another, all-too aware of just how pink this dress is in a sea of black.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Why are you… here?” Eddie asks in high-pitched confusion, taking a step to survey the trailer park outside of his trailer. Whether he’s checking to make sure no one else is here or to see if someone is watching, you aren’t sure.

“You weren’t in the library,” you supply, dropping your skirt to cross your arms into your body.

“Why would you check the library? I thought you were supposed to be at the dance — I mean, I thought you said you were with friends?”

“Because you said that’s where you play, right? The library?” you ask, bouncing on your toes for the kinetic warmth. “It’s freezing.”

“What happened to the dance?”

“Change of plans. Fuck the dance.” His chin juts back in shock of the vulgarity of your declaration. “We’re smoking at your house, so can I come in before I become a chiffon icicle?”

It takes a second, but the smile crawls onto Eddie Munson’s lips as he bows to you, open-shirt dropping with gravity. His ring-clad hand sweeps a grandiose entrance to his humble abode, stepping aside so you can enter.

You gladly take the offer, kicking your heels into the living room before your bare feet touch the threaded carpet. The relief is instantaneous.

(No need to pretend here. No need for reputation bullshit.)

“What made you change your mind?” You hear him ask as he gently closes the door behind you, locking it. His back presses into the metal, hands supporting his lower back.

“Roll for perception,” you answer cheekily. He huffs in amusement, unconvinced.

“If you don’t think I’ll abandon you right here to get my lucky set of dice, then you are sadly mistaken.” Eddie nods his tilted chin towards the hallway leading to the bedroom at the end of the trailer. “You’re on my home turf now, angel.”

The pet name purrs on the tip of his tongue like velvet. A playful warning, nothing more.

“You would have rolled a natural 20 anyway.”

“Damn right I would.”

Pushing himself from the door, he navigates to the middle of the living room and reaches gently for either of your elbows. Your hands remain tucked into your sides, the chill lingering. Eddie looks at you, really looks at you, with seeking concern.

He won’t ask what’s wrong.

He won’t veto the perception check.

Just like how you’re too afraid to ask about the funeral suit, so you don’t.

“What happened to the dungeon crawl?” you bring up instead to fill in the gaps between Ozzy Osborne’s singing and the blaring guitar solo.

“Ended early,” he murmurs. “Babysitting emergencies cut the crawl short.”

“That’s a shame.”

“So is wearing this dress in my house when you’re supposed to be with your friends.”

The roll of your eyes happens before you can stop it, and Eddie follows the movement like a magnet — his rings clang as he reaches between you, angling your chin to bring your gaze back to him.

“Sidebar with me.”

“Ed—”

“Sidebar, or so help me, I will make us dance to Sabbath.”

“Dance?” you blurt with absurdity, before reaching for his free hand at his side.

Calling his bluff is easy — no amount of alcohol or weed will make Eddie Munson want to sway to the power ballads blaring from his bedroom.

He doesn’t have time to retract from the way you cup his hand, bringing your conjoined arms up and into position. He belly laughs a beat later, head thrown back with abandon.

“You’re such a freak, I’m so serious.”

Freak.

Although he means it playfully, your smile gradually begins to disappear. When he drops back to a neutral gaze, however, he notices immediately.

You don’t need him to push.

“They’re shitty people, Ed,” you blurt, closing your eyes with regret. “Really… awful, nasty people that I’m supposed to be friends with, have classes with, spend my time with — all because, what? It’s good for my life plan?”

No need to roll for perception anymore.

You continue to squeeze your eyes shut as you admit your complicity. And to your surprise, your arm moves — in time with the slowing guitar, where you feel the cautious hover of his hand at your waist before he commits to touching the silky fabric of your dress.

“Some people say yeah, it’s perfect for your life plan. I believe the corporate man would consider it networking ,” Eddie provides, low in a murmur, as he leads the sway.

“It’s bullshit.”

“Everything is bullshit if you think about it, but a little birdie once told me that some of it’s necessary, so…”

“But what if I don’t want that?”

Eddie freezes at that hypothetical question, allowing the song to play out for the next to begin. You feel a nudge, his hand pushing into your waist twice, and you silently oblige to look at him.

You’re met with those puppy-dog eyes, expectant and sad and forgiving all the same.

“You’re not saying something,” he begins, taking a sharp breath before you can open your mouth to protest. “I mean — you’re saying a lot to me right now, but you’re not actually saying what it is you wanna say.”

As your shoulders deflate in defeat, he shimmies his shoulders in the hopes of lightening the mood.

“You know whatever is said here, I won’t repeat. I won’t tell a soul.”

He’s said this plenty of times over the past year. No one talks to the Freak. No one looks his way beyond a scowl. Whatever is said this trailer, to him and him alone, will die here, because no one asks Eddie Munson to spill his guts.

“I wanted to ask you to the dance tonight,” you croak before you can chicken out.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, readjusting his all-too-aloof demeanor in order to protect the brief, crackled surprise underneath.

“Little ol’ me? I thought it was supposed to be the other way: guys ask girls, yada yada—”

“You were never going to ask me.”

His chin juts back, face scrunching in offense. “That isn’t true.”

“You hate formals.”

“I do.”

“And you had Hellfire Club tonight.”

“Well, okay, that isn’t why I didn’t—”

“No?”

“No! No, Hellfire Club can get moved, I’m the GM.”

“So you would have gone, then, if I had asked?”

Eddie lets go of your joined hands to run through his clean curls.

“We can’t… talk about this. Not now, man.”

You move a fraction of an inch closer, pushing forward. “Would you? Or would you have asked me? If I were a different person, would you have ask—”

“Do you think I’m wearing my uncle’s fucking suit for the laughs?” he interrupts with a hint of exasperation, removing himself from you completely to take a semi-circle around the small living room. “Christ, dude, look at me. Look at what I’m wearing.”

You stay perfectly still as the knot forms heavily in your throat. Eddie doesn’t look at you as he paces back and forth, out of breath from the emotion in his voice.

“You think I wanted to be mocked mercilessly as I waltz in, totally stag, at a place where no one wants me to be? I cut the Hellfire Club dungeon crawl early because I wanted to see you. I was going for you.”

Despite yourself, you croak one shaky syllable.

“Me?”

Eddie finally, finally, looks directly into your eyes from where he stands.

“Why are you always so fucking surprised?”

It’s said with exhaustion, a year in the making, as you look him over in a new light. Eddie fidgets in the much-too-large jacket, the frame hanging off his gangly limbs, as he assesses and reassesses your reaction.

“What the hell are we doing here, man?” He holds up a palm before you can speak. “Please don’t placate me just ‘cus you tolerate me. I don’t think I can take that.”

“Tolerate you?”

“Yeah, tolerate,” Eddie repeats. “We hang out under bleachers because lunch is a fucking snooze. You come over to fake-study so we can watch whatever that sitcom is that you love so much. We slip notes back and forth—”

“You sent me the first note!” you interrupt in a desperation from his negative spiral.

“—like we’re, I don’t know, as cozy as Chrissy fucking Cunningham and Jason Carver. And yeah, I did send the first note, because I think you’re great and—”

“I told Justin Waters to go fuck himself.”

The words you should have led with when he first opened his front door now spill hastily out on the floor between you, creating a divide. Eddie’s eyes, already wide with panicked truth, grow to be the size of saucers from the implication — and the wonder of what you could possibly mean.

The crease in his brow ceases to exist, head tilting an inch: go on.

You do.

“I was at the Winter Formal and I was standing with Mary, Rachel, Darren and Justin fucking Waters and they were talking about a bunch of stuff I didn’t care about. Like, loads of stuff, but I was so bored and I was spaced thinking about how your game was going, but then they brought — they brought up the Hellfire Club.”

Eddie’s face drops.

“They started talking shit, completely out of their asses, and I am so sick of people constantly making you out to be a bad fucking person when they’re the bad people.”

And so are you, for never speaking up sooner.

“So I told him to go fuck himself — for talking shit about you, about the Hellfire Club, about anyone who isn’t on the stupid football team that he’s dragged down since he joined because he’s so awful at playing—”

“Stop,” he warns, but it’s nothing beyond a whisper.

You don’t hear.

“And I wanted you to be there. I — wanted — to ask — you. And I get there’s this… stigma? Or whatever, about us hanging out. I get that my parents may say something.”

The curly-haired boy is a certain shade of pale, almost translucent. “I’m serious, stop.”

“The entire school will have something to say because all they do is work on their stupid life plans,” you continue from the momentum of the relief lifting off your chest.

He takes a step forward as if he’ll cross the room to you, but quickly halts in his journey.

“You gotta stop right now, or I might kiss you.”

It’s a confession that cuts through like electricity. From the crown of your head the current surges, awakening every vein in your body to the here and now.

Eddie looks wrecked — there’s a glassy tint to his eye, defeated from this impromptu argument and even less anticipated honesty session. Black Sabbath’s album has completed its run time, enveloping the trailer in pure, excruciating silence.

Too afraid to speak, your lips part with a million questions you won’t ask.

Eddie Munson, dressed in a suit for the Winter Formal, wants to kiss you.

“No one stands up for me.” Your own vision blurs as he clarifies the sudden desire, ashamed at the way he sounds so lost. “I’m just — it’s not something that happens with Eddie the Freak, you know? And it — I don’t know if I should be pissed at you for putting a target on your back or what, but—”

“Eddie.”

You want to scream. You want to run to him. You want to ignore the sudden flame blooming in your lower belly, but you can’t.

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he says, voice cracking. “You’re the best part of my fucking day, dude, and I’m—”

Screw this.

“Then let me mess it up.”

Your interruption knocks the wind clear from his lungs as your bare feet take off to a determined stride towards him without an ounce of hesitation.

Reaching for the back of his head, you rise on your toes to press a gentle kiss to the center of his lips. At first Eddie doesn’t react, entire body taught under the button-down shirt and slacks. Both of his hands are fists, white as death in contrast to the dark metal of his row of rings.

When you pull away with budding concern that yeah, perhaps you have finally messed this up and the admittance of wanting to kiss you was only just an exaggeration, Eddie shakes his head as if he’s entranced in a dream.

Then his hand finds the back of your neck, curling around it, before crashing his lips against yours with yearning desperation.

You make a noise of surprise against his mouth, but melt into the gesture. Both of your hands find his face, pulling him impossibly closer, as his trembling hand at your neck keeps you in place. He tastes like fresh mouthwash, the scent of woodsy cologne and a hint of weed — it’s all completely Eddie.

His tongue licks at your lower lip, and you’re sure this is how you die.

Your lips part to test the water, meeting his tongue with curious want. He groans as if the action alone could ruin him, his free hand lightly cupping the side of your face before detaching himself from you to find a purchase of air.

“Holy shit,” he breathes in short puffs, eyes still closed.

You lower your hands, only for him to quickly drop his own to catch them. His thumb runs along your soft skin, relishing in the moment, before dark eyes finally connect with yours.

“Hey.”

The greeting is shy, small.

“Hey,” you murmur back, a bewildered laugh caught in bubbles at the back of your throat.

Eddie’s brow furrows, caught between euphoria and reality. “Did that just—”

“Happen?” you finish, and he nods furiously. “I think so.”

“Not how I expected my night to go,” he admits, still trying to find his breath. “I thought I’d be rolling up to that dance to see you — fuck, I don’t know, dancing with someone else and then I’d feel extra shitty—”

“I only thought about you the entire time, so, I don’t think that was in the cards,” you admit sheepishly, dropping to full height from your toes.

Eddie looks to the ceiling as if he’s about to pray to an unchosen deity before the smile bursts against his lips. Elated. At ease.

It’s beautiful.

“You, uh, you still wanna stay to smoke and watch movies or something or did I just… I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, so I’m going to need you to make the decisions here, doll.”

You laugh, tugging playfully at the hem of his suit jacket.

He really dressed in this thing for you.

Nothing feels real, but it sure feels right.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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writingcold · 7 months

Text

Hi. Welcome to Chapter 24. I have no words to put here, so just going to get to it.

If you are just joining us, you can find the Master List to the series here

Thank you, @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake. You are all amazing and I so appreciate you.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.

Content warning: 18+ only story. Violence. Angst. Character harm.

Word count: approx. 6000

Chapter Twenty Four: Going Sideways, Small Victories, And … Jacob

“Son of a bitch,” Marcus growled, pitching forward, scrambling to keep hold of his shotgun.

Jake took a chance to glance back at the man, seeing the blood running down his arm. He cursed as he shifted hard to skate around a curve. Marcus gave warning before taking aim and another shot. The glass of the windshield fractured on the Lizzie. The car wavered before jumping right back on the bumper.

“What the hell, Jake!” Josh stammered as he tried to aim out his own window.

“Little pecker head mother fuck,” Marcus grumbled as he yanked off his belt.

Josh fired a few shots before reaching forward to help tie off the elder’s wound. Jake had the Moon screaming around curves and making sure the heavier car stuck to the road. Marcus was quick to reload, but shouted out just as the shots of a tommy gun pelted their rear end. All three men ducked as glass shattered around them. Jake winced as he felt a shard land in his left cheek and a wash of warmth trickle down into his shirt collar. His arm tingled with pain as glass bits chewed through his shirt sleeve, leaving a trail of gore running down his arm. In a fevered daze, he brushed his fingers across his cheek, knocking loose a long chunk and causing another flood of blood to stain his skin and collar. The moment the bullets stopped flying, Marcus popped up and took his shot. Blood sprayed out the enemy car. Josh took another round of shots, putting more holes in the hood of the Lizzie.

They flew around the stretch that had become Jake’s refuge shortly after moving to Kingsford. It was the spot that Cora had pushed down any reservation that he held, making space for herself to grow and reside in him. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the road before him. An idea struck. A glance to his brother and the plan was forged in moments.

Marcus squeezed off another shot. Jake hit a straight, narrow stretch of road and laid into the gas pedal, deftly outrunning the Lizzie, pulling his lead to over a mile. He caught a rough trail, turning the Moon down what swooned into a loop back to the main trail. He could feel his brother’s sudden realization of what was happening as he turned the car back towards Bell. Marcus smashed out the window at his side, picking up immediately the opportunity that was set before them.

“Jesus, Jake,” Josh whispered, holding on to the door and seat.

The Lizzie accelerated at the sight of the Moon heading right for her. Jake did not flinch. Did not hesitate. This was his road. His region. His heart beat in a heavy rhythm as he sharpened his gaze upon his enemy. There was absolute stillness inside the rig as the two cars skated by each other with a hair’s space between them Marcus got off a shot, but it was so fast, it hit somewhere in the cab; any casualty was uncertain.

“Fuck,” Josh said, relief in his voice.

Jake raced up the hill once more. His brain was already forcing the road before him to his whim. There was another small turn around that he would turn the Moon around once more. The late afternoon shadows were making the tiny break difficult to see. Josh jumped as Jake slammed the breaks, catching the lip of the turn a moment late. The car oozed to a brief stop as Jake slammed it into reverse, rapidly gaining his bearings once more.

“Jacob…”

Jake was sprinting once more at the Lizzie. She was in mid turn when he caught sight of her in the distance. Marcus had his shotgun ready, the barrel pressed against the ridge of the jagged glass. He heard his brother’s ragged breath as they once again drew close. Marcus fired off his shot as they caught the back bumper of the Lizzie. Josh was quick to look behind.

“Did he stay on the road?” Jake asked, his voice thin with excitement.

“Barely.” Josh strained, practically hanging out the window.

“I got the last of the gutter rats,” Marcus said grimly, reloading both shotguns.

Jake took the round he had already tread, hitting the gas hard up the hill in chase. He was shedding his skin into the wolf he knew he could become. His eyes blazed on the view ahead, taking the curve past where he held Cora as the finches flittered in the fields and woods below. His heart tripped at the way her trust had fueled him that day. In her innocence, she gave him herself in a manner he never expected.

“What the hell…” Josh’s voice was muted in awe.

The Lizzie was completely stopped. It appeared that her engine was silenced. Jake could see Bell inside, hands on the wheel, body rigid. The man’s eyes were hard on the view before him. Jake shifted, hitting the gas pedal for a full on strike. He watched as Bell raised a pistol, balancing it on the steering wheel. However, the way he held the pistol was wrong. It was as if his arm was holding him back from taking a shot. It became obvious that one of Marcus’ or Josh’s shots had struck the driver in the shoulder.

“Hold on,” he growled as he made himself small behind the wheel.

The twisting of metal screeched in the air as the Moon rammed the Lizzie head on. Marcus brought his shotgun up as Jake started to push the car towards the ridge. Josh brought his hands up over his ears as the barrel moved forward, expelling its payload through the remnants of the windshield. Bell’s face ruptured as his hands flew up. Jake continued to push the Moon forward, plowing the Lizzie over the side of the road. He slammed the brakes before they followed Bell over the embankment. Josh was quick to jump out, rounding the front to watch the vehicle smash its way down the hillside, catching on trees and boulders. The Lizzie had become a coffin.

Jake felt his hands fall from the steering wheel. His fingers and arms buzzed with weakness. His spine bent with weariness. He caught Josh’s gaze, full of grimness, knowing that the day was only finished there for the moment. Bell was dead. He closed his eyes as he turned the engine off. The silence that rushed in pounded in his skull.

“Mr. Jacob,” Marcus said, his voice hushed.

Rousing, he turned in his seat to take in the sight of the man behind him. “Yes, Marcus?”

“It’s not done. There’s no time for rest,” he answered as he poked the wound in his bicep.

Jake nodded as he reached for his cigarettes. He handed one to the gentleman and one to Josh as he got back inside. “I need to ditch this for the time being. We’ll head back to Granite Bluff. Jerry should be ready for us.”

It was dusk when he rolled the Moon into the small town. On the north side of the bluff, Jerry Young had a garage. Young was one of Jake’s drivers on distribution runs and was second only to Sam when it came to mechanics. The stout framed man was ready for them, garage doors open for Jake to park the wounded and splintered roadster. They took the time for a round of drinks, smokes and a quick cleaning of wounds before taking one of the delivery trucks south towards Kingsford. The drive was less than twenty minutes, but it felt like days had been spent navigating through the inkiness of the night. Jake’s body melted in the passenger seat as Josh navigated the bouncy way back home.

“Jake,” Josh said, his tone hard as he slowed their speed.

He opened his bleary eyes to see home spreading out before them. There was a car blocking the road ahead. Jake looked at Marcus in the back seat, taking note that the man was already reaching for his guns. Sitting up, he tried to straighten himself the best he could before Josh took the truck down to a rolling stop. A sheriff’s deputy stepped out, fixing his hat as he walked towards them. Jake recognized him as one of Moore’s trusted men. Leaning across the seat so he could hear, he was met with an expression he had realized he was fearing.

“Martin set me out here,” Becket explained, his eyes roving back to Marcus and then back to the brothers. “Porter is with the marshals. Martin wanted me to assure you that your family is safe, but he must keep appearances and all.”

Josh nodded. “Where are they now?”

“First they were going to be in the bank then your home,” the man remarked around a cigar.

“Aside from the marshals and Porter, have any other elements arrived?” Marcus asked from the back.

“Not that I am aware. But I’ve had my ass parked out here for the past two hours.” Becket stepped closer, his thin features hard. “Martin said to be quick about it. Get your shit and run.”

“Thank you, Deputy,” Josh said with a nod.

They watched as the man returned to his Model-T and drove back towards town. Jake’s mouth ran dry as his brother cranked the engine up once more. Marcus remained still in the back. He wondered what was tumbling through the man’s head.

“Where to first?” Josh asked, shifting the truck into gear.

“Home,” Jake remarked. “They will be waiting for us there. Might as well not keep them waiting. Get this shit over. Are you ready for this Marcus?”

The darkness swelled within the man behind them. Jake could feel the air shift into more dangerous waters.

“I am ready, gentlemen,” he answered, his voice full of grit for what was to come.

Like a ghost, Josh drove the nondescript truck into Kingsford, passing the church and easing into the neighborhood. Jake watched as the chaos of a swarm moved around their home. There were men everywhere. The neighbors were watching from behind locked doors and drawn curtains. Josh’s visage was drawn beyond the house, though. Jake looked towards the other end of the street. There was a pair of cars out of place. One glance to Marcus confirmed that these were not to be trifled with. Josh handed Jake a pistol, while Marcus double checked his own.

“Thoughts?” Josh asked as they watched the pair of cars creep towards them.

“We play one on the other,” Marcus said with a nod. “No faster way to be done than to lure both sides together to cancel each other out. But it’s going to be bloody.”

Jake turned his shoulders to look at the man. Marcus’ eyes were closed as if he were collecting himself.

“Mr. Jacob, you take care of our girl,” he said quietly. “She is something very special.”

Jake felt a lump invade his throat. The man knew what was to come. A shift in the power dynamic was planned, but to have it arrive was taking them all by surprise. He nodded as Marcus patted his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

“You two work together,” Marcus continued, his face calm. “You get that family out of here. Get Henry and the others to me and we’ll handle it. But for now, we’ll bring them in. Don’t get too shot up.”

Josh grinned. “Don’t get killed, you mean.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “Be seen by the coppers first. Present to them. Make them see you. Ya follow?”

Jake’s skin felt cold as the moment settled across his brain. He watched as Josh opened the door of the truck before fitting both of his guns into his palms. He pushed out with Marcus, slowly righting his aching body with his own gun pressed against his leg. There was nothing at first. No movement from their home. No movement from the cars that waited for them in the distance. Marcus brought up one shotgun, pointing in the direction of what could only be a nest of Cresci’s men. Josh stepped out into the middle of the street, both hands wrapped around pistols that he brought up in the directions of their enemies.

The lightning crack of a gun flashed in the distance. The storm ripped through the air without precision. Without direction. Jake could hardly focus as shouting echoed out from the house before them and gunfire boomed from the street. He felt the world grow tight with rage as Marcus aimed and shot once, shaking the very ground. Men began to swarm out of their house. Pistols began firing from all directions. Jake had no idea where to shoot, or what direction to look in to see where his enemies were surging from. Pain shattered his breath as he felt his leg knocked out from beneath him. Josh was aiming and firing towards the cars. Marcus was aiming in the other direction. The man’s black eyes turned on him for a brief moment. Angry, Jake pushed himself back up to standing, the flesh at his calf muscle flaming from a bullet grazed wound. Josh was shoving him backwards towards the spaces between the houses. Marcus dropped one shotgun and latched onto his collar as they began to run. Both sides began unleashing terror on each other. Marcus lagged behind as Josh dragged him along.

“Get to the garage!” Marcus ordered.

Jake’s brain raced ahead. If Porter was already at the dancehall, the garage would be blocked. His mouth refused to form words as they broke out into a jog, dodging in between buildings and hiding when they could. Down the alley they tread. Gunfire was heavy in the air, but for the moment, it was not aimed at them. As Jake guessed, the main egress for the alley was blocked. He limped into the garage as Josh went right to the back and the stash of weapons to refresh what they had. Marcus looked over the wound on his thigh with a shake of his head.

“Josh, get that belt,” he said, trying hard to not wince as the elder was poking at the wound.

His twin grabbed the leather strapping and was quick to tie off his leg. The pain beat in time into his brain. Marcus was looking over the casing of their only tommy gun. Josh strapped three pistols to his lean frame before he loaded two more pistols to hand to Jake.

“You can be sure that those hatchetmen are thinning out,” Marcus remarked. “The marshals, too. I’ll take the Kissel and run it past the hall to distract them. You two, get to the others. Can you do that? Tell Henry to meet up at the cop shop.”

Josh mumbled in agreement. Jake felt detached. He watched as his brother threw open the carriage doors. Marcus was behind the wheel and rolling the beauty out. Josh reached out for him once the car was backing up in the alley to create more room to ram into the road ahead.

“Let’s get the others,” he said, a grin on his mouth. “Ready to be done with this place, Jake?”

His eyes drifted closed as he nodded.

“Out the back and across the street,” Josh continued, letting Jake lean on him to leave.

The door creaked open and his twin looked out to make sure the way was clear. No sooner were they out in the open that shots rang out. Jake felt a scream explode from his mouth as Josh began to buckle. He had his pistol out and was firing wildly, unable to discern where the attack was coming from. Josh was firing as well, though their bodies were becoming twisted together. Heat scorched his limbs as he tried to drag Josh. They tumbled across the road. The crunch of metal from behind them and the squeal of tires flooded the air with flame.

The Kissel flew past them. It’s front was mangled, but Marcus was throttling it forward at whatever speed he could milk from the dying engine. He rammed into a dark car that was lit with flashes of guns. The Kissel reversed and repeated the attack. Jake struggled for breath as he covered Josh with his own body. His brother’s hand slapped at his face in panic, opening the wound on his cheek once more. He could feel his body fight against his need to move. Had he been hit twice? Three times? Josh was shredded against him with too many wounds to differentiate in the darkness.

Bile and blood flooded his mouth as he forced his legs to shove Josh to the side so that he could stand up. Marcus unleashed the tommy gun into the enemy car with a feral scream that burned his brains. Jake moaned as he bent over his brother, his face planting against Josh’s chest as he fought to right himself.

“Josh…” he whispered, pushing at his shoulder. “Josh… come on. We’ve gotta go.”

No reaction. No movement. Tears scalded his wounds as he pushed on his brother’s chest harder.

“Josh? Fuck, come on. You’re not allowed to do this shit,” he grunted as he pulled at the collar of Josh’s jacket.

“Fuck you, Jacob,” he growled in his throat, the volume just above a whisper. “I’m gonna do…”

Josh’s face grew slack. His skin lost color quickly. Jake froze in panic. His breath was jagged as he lost his strength. A hand came down on his shoulder in a hard fall. Startled, Jake nearly fell to the side as he willed his body to find the fortitude to take a swing at the incoming danger. Marcus caught his fist, separating him from his brother.

“You made it fucking three feet,” Marcus seethed. “I told you not to get shot up.”

Jake babbled as the man yanked him up despite the wounds, despite the pain, forcing him to stand. He felt a darkness touch the fringes of his vision as Marcus grabbed hold of Josh, slinging him over his shoulder like a child.

Shots started to ring out again. They ducked and wove their way back through the alleyway. Marcus changed directions. Jake was in no manner to argue. He stumbled behind the man, his eyes fighting to stay on his brother in prayer. A soft cough. A stunted whine would catch his ear, giving him hope that Josh was still with him, beside him despite his state.

Jake faltered as they crossed the open street. His body screamed at him to stop, but at the same time, his emotions scalded him spurning him on. The hospital. Marcus had gotten them to the door. Jake fell through, shouting for help. Shouting for Doc Boone, he nearly fell backward into Marcus. A nurse appeared with a curse on her mouth before running to the side for a wheelchair. Her hands came across Jake’s shoulders but he pushed her off.

“Josh first. I’ve got work to do…”

His tongue felt thick in his skull. Marcus looped an arm under his own to hold him upright. Looking into his blackened stare was like looking upon death itself. Shivering, he felt the life stir within him. He needed to get to Cora. He knew he needed to get her out. Get the family to safety. Marcus pulled him back through the main door into the coolness of the air.

“Jacob,” he whispered, his voice like smoke. “Get to the Janas house. I’ll get a truck from the warehouse and get it to Sam and Danny. Send Henry to the cop shop. You get me?”

Nodding, his body wanted to stop. His heart pounded on. Fueled him on.

“Stay hidden,” he said, grabbing him by the face to keep his attention. “I’ll have the boys to you as soon as they can be there.”

He could not find words to speak. Instead, he summoned what little remnants of power from his feet, forcing his battered body to move on its own. Cora sang out to him. Lured him to her side. Demanded that he return to her, no matter what state he was in.

Chapter Twenty Four Pt. 2: Cora

Cora shifted her back against the edge of the chair. Her body was uncomfortably hot as Georgie had crawled into her lap and had been sleeping against her for over an hour. Every jolt, every shift and the boy would startle. She wanted to lay him beside her but the poor thing just needed his big sister to hold tight. Despite the heat and ache in her back, Cora knew in her depths that she needed the contact as well.

Matthew and Jon took turns reading their copy of Call of the Wild. The deep cadence of their voices set a calm upon the air. Rosemary silently mended the boy’s clothes to keep her hands busy. Cora rubbed Georgie’s back and hair as a way to ground herself, finding a fractured peace in the young boy’s ill-eased slumber. All the while, Henry sat in silent vigil at the edge of the big window, moving only to change his sight line of what could be plotting against the family as a whole. The first cracks of unmistakable gunfire shattered the calm at just before nine pm. Matthew scooted in close to Cora while Jon moved next to their mother, arms wrapped around them to give them shelter. Henry glanced back at the family, his storm filled eyes conveyed the danger that spiked around them. Cora drew in a sharp breath as he drew out his pistols to sit in await in his lap.

Time. The incessant tick tock of the clock belied a fractured sense of time. The flood of shots followed by absolute canyons of silence pounded at her. The tears that fell unchecked onto her face churned the acid in her belly. Rosemary whispered prayer. Matthew slid Georgie’s relaxed frame off of her, providing some relief to the burden of the moment. She caught Henry’s concerned expression as he peeked out of the curtain. He shook his head at her as he continued his vigil with a pistol drawn and resting in his hands. He shifted once more, rising to his feet to check the flanks of the house in absolute silence.

It was hard to distinguish where the fighting was happening: be it north towards the Kiszka home; or perhaps the west end where the Lantern and shops were; or the east where the bank resided. Cora just knew that in all of that crossfire, Jacob endeavored. She willed his body to be lithe and his brain to be smart and clever to elude whatever villain chased him. The expanse of silence deepened, lengthened. The abrupt cackles of violence rang out in fits and spurts, erratically shouting out to the residents of the town to remain undercover.

Sharp slaps on the door startled them all. Henry was quick to look out the window, a polluted phrase falling from his tongue. He waved at Matthew to help him move the sideboard away before letting the door open. Jacob stumbled across the threshold, falling against Henry’s side. Matthew was quick to steady him, wrapping a strong hand around his elbow.

“Marcus needs you,” Jacob was saying as Cora struggled to move her body forward. “Cop shop. Get them all over there.”

Henry did not glance back at the family before taking his rapid leave. Cora’s emotions robbed her of her senses at the sight of him - barely able to stand, bloody and battered, he rocked on his heels like he would fall down if someone breathed on him. He held his hands out for her. Without hesitation, she held him. She wanted to weep over the quivering of his frame, the pain that radiated from his skin. Not caring about the proximity of her family, she pressed her lips to his in an attempt to soothe even if for a moment. He whispered his love against her as if he refused to move from her.

“Rosemary,” he said without breaking his gaze from Cora, “gather everything the family will need. Matthew, help her. Only what you can carry.”

Her brain wanted to panic and her heart wanted to wallow over what little she could ascertain over his condition. His blood sticky fingers pressed into her cheek. His eyes were wild with pain and fear. Her gut steadied her. Her legs found purchase to look at him - taking in the gash that ran from the corner of his nose to nearly his left ear; there was blood soaking through obvious wounds but blood that seemed to be pressed into the fabric of his shirt and pants that did not match with harm. Joshua…

“Baby, it was so bad,” he gulped, tugging her closer. His fingers were trying to press into her, not seeking harm, but perhaps in search of her heat, her realness. “It was so fucking bad. And Josh… Fuck…”

She cooed and attempted to soothe as tears washed through the blood and grime that polluted his skin. A sob broke loose from deep in his chest as she kissed him.

“Marcus got him to Doc, but…” His voice crackled and refused to become coherent once more. The sound of burnt parchment rattled in his throat as he struggled to put to voice anything.

Licking at her lips, Cora could only hold him tighter. “What do you need me to do?” she asked, calm, strong.

His soft breath against her skin bruised her inside. She felt his fingers shaking against her as he tucked her braids behind her shoulder so as to speak directly into her ear. His mouth quivered as he struggled to keep himself together.

“Sam and Danny will be bringing a truck,” he whispered. He leaned into her, allowing his weight to be steadied by her. “They will get the family out. Get you to your sister.”

She nodded as she brushed her finger across his mouth as fresh tears washed down both of their faces. His dark eyes met hers as he dragged in a fractured breath.

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

She pressed her mouth to his to silence the hurt and replace it with love. For a moment, there was nothing. No movement between them. He leaned into her suddenly, taking both her cheeks into his hands to keep her close. She could hear her mother and the boys moving around but did not care. He withdrew, only to crash into her once more as if to reclaim an innocence they knew before the day had dawned.

Gunfire echoed outside. Jacob’s eyes pinched closed before he turned his body with winces and groans to look out the drapes. Rosemary was coming down the stairs quietly with Jon and Matthew behind her carrying satchels. Georgie sat in stunned silence. His large eyes were liquid crystals of fear. Cora held her hand to him and he was quick to run to her. Jacob slid into the chair that Henry had occupied at the edge of the window, his eyes flared with pain. He waved Matthew over close, along with Jon.

He swallowed, collecting himself as his hand quivered over a wound on his thigh. “My brothers will be here soon. I’m expecting the three of you to help your mother and sister.”

“No,” Cora said, her tone rough. “Jacob, you can’t-”

“I can’t leave him behind,” he answered without looking at her. “I will be right behind you.”

“You promised to take care of us,” Georgie blurted out, fear heavy in his features.

“That is my intention, George,” he said, meeting the boy’s gaze. “But I need to make sure all of my brothers are with me, too.”

Matthew’s stoic features hardened. “Jacob, you are in no condition to go alone.”

“I have to, Matthew.” His voice held all of his exhaustion in the moment. He pushed himself up to reach out to the young man. Cora had to catch him to keep him steady. “I’m counting on you the most. Keep Cora safe for me. Keep them all safe.”

Rosemary waved at her. “Cora. Let’s get you cleaned up and get your things.”

Jacob nodded at her. Jon had Georgie on the other side of Jacob, sitting cross legged on the floor. Matthew continued to talk with Jake, their faces shadowed as she moved away in a haze. She realized as she walked into the bedroom that her dress was matted with blood. Rosemary handed her a wet rag to wipe at her face while she unzipped the back of the dress she wore. Her mother set out another dress before she started shoving clothes for both of them into another bag from the wardrobe.

“He’ll be lucky if he survives,” Rosemary whispered. “Keep your composure for him, Cora. You are what is keeping that poor man alive.”

She felt a jagged breath rip from her lungs as her mother turned away to rinse the rag only to return to work at the gore that had seeped into her own skin. The weight of her mother’s words pierced her brain and froze her to the ground. Her fingers were shaking beyond her control as she was trying to push away thoughts of what was to come.

“Cora,” Rosemary’s firm tone roused her. “Cora, come on. He can’t wait.”

Her mother shoved her slip over her head before handing her the dress. Stepping into it, she realized it was her church dress. She was trembling so badly, she could barely fasten the buttons while her mother was stuffing their clothes into a bag.

“Mama, what if…” she mumbled as a sob started to take over.

“No. You can’t. You can’t do that right now.” Rosemary set the bag at the door before turning back to her daughter. “You were right about your father and I. I loved that man something terrible. It gutted us both that he was so broke after being over there. You love your Jacob, you remain strong for your Jacob. Understand? He’s got to carry it with him right now. You can cry when you’re alone.”

“Yes, Mama,” she whispered, wiping at her cheeks.

She had not realized that her mother had already started walking out the door. Cora dragged her bag up, hauling it out into the main space and towards the others. Jacob was leaning against the wall, face towards the window. The dim light splashed across him, highlighting the damage that his body had taken. Matthew had sat down with the two boys and was distracting them with rock/paper/scissors. Jacob’s eyes closed for a long moment as she drew near. Cora paused at the visible pain he suffered.

Setting her bag with the other things, she moved back towards Jacob. He straightened as much as he could as she leaned towards him. “You will be right behind us.”

“The best I can. Porter has the marshals in the Lantern now,” he said, his whole body slouching like an old rag. “I got that demon of a driver, though. I got Bell. He can’t catch us. Since Porter and the marshals are busy with our shit, it’ll be up to Sheriff Moore to be looking for us.”

Her grin lasted a moment. “Good thing he’s looking out for us, then.”

A bulky covered truck bounced to a stop in front of the house. Sam rolled out of the passenger seat and Danny was quick to move to the back to unlatch the tailgate. Molly peeked out the back, a single wave of her hand in greeting. Rosemary moved the boys forward, bags held out to Danny as he reached for them. Jake caught Sam by the arm, balancing himself as he stepped out onto the porch with Cora at his side.

“Goddamn, Jake,” his brother gasped over the sight of him. “Where’s Josh?”

“He’s with Doc,” he answered, his voice rough like sandpaper against a splintered plane. He tried to clear his throat only to give up. “We got him to Doc, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw slackened as he watched Daniel, Matthew and Jon carry bags and quilts and blankets. “How bad?”

Cora swallowed as a nervous laugh fell out of Jake’s mouth. Sam straightened up, catching her gaze. “He’s not coming with us,” she whispered, afraid to betray the fear in her tone.

Samuel’s eyes flared. “Jake,” he scolded. “Let me stay behind. I’ll make sure we get to you at Dot’s-”

“He’s half of me,” Jake answered as Georgie took his other hand.

“You have more to lose here, Jacob,” Sam said, waving at the family around them. “I can keep him safe. I can keep him -”

Cora’s eyes drifted to the ground. She swallowed the hope that Samuel’s argument would win out against his twin. In her bones she knew he would never leave Joshua behind. He would never allow anyone else to ensure his twin’s security.

“Georgie, you’re good at minding us adults, aren’t you,” Jake said, looking down at the boy. “Your job is to make sure Sam minds me. He’s to go with you and take care of business while I’m gone. Can you do that?”

Sam held his hand out to the boy. Georgie rolled his lips into his mouth as he let the man fold his small hand up. He nodded with every ounce of seriousness that he could hold in his body. Cora hiccupped into her hands as she turned away in an attempt to recover. She felt Jake embrace Sam. She ignored the whispers of goodbye between the brothers for fear of losing herself in the sentiment shared.

Sam bent and scooped up Georgie. The boy called out his goodbye to Jacob, his large eyes liquid as waved. Jake looped their index fingers together. Cora saw the hesitation. She saw the clear need he had to run. Her insides screamed at her to demand he send Sam after his twin. But she knew. Cora knew that her answer was simple - Jacob could not leave himself behind. It was better to protect his future by sending them away.

“I love you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I will see you again. You will be with all our family. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she answered, fighting to control her show of torrent that was building within her belly.

“You’ll still marry me?”

Tears struck her cheeks that she quickly brushed away. He did not need to see the flush of emotion. He needed to see her strong. He needed to see her as she was a person.

“I’ll still marry you,” she said simply. “Fresh start. New life.”

“Jake, we gotta go,” Sam called.

Cora closed her eyes in an attempt to shore up her entire being for what was to come. He kissed her once more, gentle and full of love and warmth.

“Wife,” he whispered, his voice thin.

She could no longer remain still. Cora felt herself buckle under the weight of the moment, dropping his hands and turning away to walk fast to the truck. Sam helped her into the back as the sound of the engine cranking over roared like the breaking of her spirit. Georgie pulled himself into her lap, laying his cheek on her chest and held on tight as the family were lunged forward down the road, leaving her whole world behind her.

…

I have one more chapter and an epilogue to post up. I'll get these going tomorrow morning for the chapter and the epilogue will be posted at noon. *whew*

I have a taglist, but after this one you may be cursing me instead.

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