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azsazz · 5 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 3)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Mentions of how Azriel got his scars, burning.

Word Count: 3,528

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Notes: This one is a hum-dinger.

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The party is in full swing. Music beats loudly through the apartment, and the rumbling of voices trying to shout over it crams the room, bouncing off of the walls and down the hall. There are people everywhere, crowding the space. The furniture has been shoved aside to make room for dancing and there’s a beer pong table set up between the fridge and the counter that’s plastered in bottles of beer and liquor and red cups. Someone’s standing on the countertop pouring a beer into a luge with a frat bro on the other end, chugging. Azriel doesn’t know how the fuck he got in.

The air is thick with over-sprayed perfumes, body odor, weed, and alcohol. Azriel watches from his spot by the window as he preps his latest victim. He’s working his hands into a second pair of black latex gloves, fresh for the girl sitting in his chair. It’s one of the rickety ones they had at their dining table, but they don’t eat there anyway, so it’s mostly used for this. She’s excited, wearing a skimpy dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. There’s a group of guys standing nearby, watching her with glossy eyes and beers in their hands, half hard at the prospect of watching the girl get a tramp stamp.

“A little purple unicorn,” is what she’d requested, and Azriel didn’t ask why. He pulled out his sketchbook and took his pencil to it silently, sketching a few options for her to choose from.

Azriel isn’t proud of the set up he has currently; tattooing drunken college kids whenever Cassian throws a party. Usually a weekly occurrence. He is completely out of his element, but he needs the practice, should he want to open his own shop someday. The only reason he doesn’t have his headphones on, blasting music a little more to his own taste, is so that he can hear what’s going on, and tend to his client’s needs should anything happen. He’s perceptive, and will keep an eye on the hiccuping girl with her dress pulled over her ass, only because he cares more about the tattooing than whatever else is going on.

He preps her skin, taking a clean razor to remove the area of any hair. The girl scoffs when she sees it, but it’s protocol for him, and she is happily distracted when someone shoves a drink in her direction. The liquid spills over the rim a little, and Azriel grits his teeth, but continues to focus on his preparations.

She keeps squirming, shouting in the direction to the dancefloor where her group of friends can hear her. Her long, red hair that she persistently sweeps over her shoulder when Azriel tucks it back keeps brushing the area he’s just taken an antiseptic to. He sighs when she does it for the third time and sits back in his seat in frustration.

“Get out of my chair.”

His voice is a low rumble, and she doesn’t seem to hear him. She’s too busy trying to call her friends over, to brag about what she’s doing. It’s incredibly annoying, and Azriel’s already had a hellish day.

He hates knowing that the girl he’d met in the lobby lives next door. You’re infuriating, aggressive with your words and actions, pounding at both the elevator and their front door, demanding he move his motorcycle.

You may have been arguably as drained as he was, with your unruly hair and tired eyes. He’d come straight home after hearing the news that he hadn’t gotten the apprenticeship he’d wanted at Mystic Mark Tattoos. He thought he’d shown an incredible portfolio of work, both drawings and tattoos done in this very living room, without the distractions of beer, girls, and weed. They thought he was too young, that he needed to work on straightening his lines and that maybe a different style would suit him better.

And then there were no parking spots when he’d gotten home. Normally, Azriel parks in front of Cassian’s enormous rust bucket of a Bronco, his sleek motorcycle teetering on the white painted line just before the tow zone. But there had been a moving van jammed there instead, which meant more noisy neighbors moving into the already packed building. He doesn’t need to meet more people at the mailboxes, fight them for the one slow-ass elevator that might crumple if more than three people get on it. He doesn’t want to fight for a spot in the parking lot, either.

In his haze of annoyance, he’d parked in the small space between the front of the van in the no-no zone and the car bookending it. He hadn’t given much thought to the blinking hazards on the van, hoping he’d be in and out of his apartment to drop off his art supplies and portfolio, then be right back outside for a long ride to clear his head of his failures.

You had changed his mind on that, with your stupidly good-looking face and snippy attitude. He knew he’d caught you off guard, waltzing into the building like that. He’d even stopped to get his mail, something he should’ve walked right past to avoid more contact with you, but even he couldn’t keep his eyes from your backside as you stalked past him through the door.

Your question had been his aggravating final straw.

No, his final straw was finding out you were his neighbor, most likely the one next door. You’d shown up with fire in your eyes and pink cheeks, and he was hardly able to keep his surprise locked away at the sight of you and your roommate, angrier than all hell. That same surprise you weren’t able to conceal nearly made him smirk, but your taunt of towing his beloved motorcycle sparked something almost deadly in him. He wanted to grab you, force you down the stairs with him to see if it were still there, maybe press you up against it and—

“What?” the girl asks incredulously, craning her neck over her shoulder.

“Get the fuck out of my chair or I’ll put a dick on you,” he grunts, already packing up his things. He ignores her spluttering confusion, the red to her cheeks that looks nowhere near as pretty as it had on you.

“Fuck you,” the girl screeches, stumbling to her feet. The group of lingering men watch on, one even stepping closer to help steady the poor girl. Tears prick her eyes but Azriel doesn’t feel bad in the slightest. If she really wanted a tattoo, she would’ve acted properly, not fucking wasted his time. He’s done. He’s so done.

She whirls, wrenching her arm from the other boy's grasp, and tosses her drink right into his face. Azriel winces, the juiced-down alcohol stinging his eyes. He licks his lips and cringes. It’s as fruity as it smells. Vodka, it tastes like.

He swipes his wet hair out of his face so he can use his best glare that makes anyone cower from him, but she’s already dragging the boy into the throng of people on the dance floor. Azriel takes the loss, peeling the black gloves from his hands and shoving his things under his arms.

“Woah, dude,” Cassian says when he stumbles into Azriel on the way to his room. His locked room, because he doesn’t need anyone touching his things. Being in his apartment is already enough. They can fuck in the stairwell for all he cares.

Cassian’s pants are slung low off his hips, button and zipper both undone. His shirt has been shucked off, either because he’s spilled beer on himself or because he’s about to get lucky, Azriel doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. The music is too fucking loud and too fucking poppy, and the air is thick and hot. His skin is sticky and he just can’t take this day anymore. “What the hell happened?”

“You invited a bunch of assholes to your party, Cass. What the hell do you think happened?” Azriel bites, pulling his key from the keychain in his pocket. He doesn’t even have the temperament to deal with his roommates right now. He wants to be left alone.

“So she denied you Azzie,” Cassian teases, slurring a bit. The hazel of his eyes is bright, and normally it’d help Azriel’s mood, to joke around with his best friend like this, but he’s itching to get clean and get out of here.

He really should’ve started drinking.

“Don’t start with me,” Azriel sighs, twisting the key in his lock and shoving his way into his room. His shoulders loosen a bit when he steps inside. His own space, decorated how he likes. It’s dark, moonlight streaming through the open curtains, and he likes that.

“Hey,” Cassian pouts, following him. The door shuts softly behind his friend and the noise of the party dims a little, but not enough for him to want to stay. Azriel drops his tattooing supplies on his desk, eager to take a shower and clean this day off of himself. He’ll organize it all later, rip out the page with the unicorn drawings on them out of spite. “You’re acting as grumpy as our new neighbor,” he continues, and Azriel really doesn’t like being compared to you. He’d rather call that drunk girl back to finish her tattoo. “What’s going on with you?”

Azriel sighs, tearing off the shirt that’s plastered to his body with alcohol. He swipes at the remnants before tossing it into the laundry basket in the corner. “Just a rough day, man. Nothing to worry about.”

Cassian frowns and tries to catch Azriel’s eye, but his friend refuses to meet his gaze, rooting through his dresser to find a clean shirt. He’s come to the realization that he isn’t going to be able to take a shower in the only bathroom they have without people trying to knock the door down, trying to pee.

“It’s not like…” Cassian trails off like he doesn’t even want to ask this. “It’s not like last year though, right?”

Azriel’s body stills, spine going tight. His muscles constrict and he squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to breathe, fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt. Last year, when he’d been forced to go to his father’s home for the winter break. He had wanted to make sure that his son was doing something with his life, going to school for accounting instead of art like he’d wanted since he was a child.

So, Azriel pretended. He’s a smart man, and with a little help from Google and his memory, he played off the business student his father could only dream of. It hadn’t stopped his step brothers from finding out the truth, though, pinning him to the ground when their father was out for a business dinner later that evening. They’d taunted him, spat at him, and poured gasoline over his hands, setting them alight. They’d laughed while he screamed, struggled. They thought they were doing proud by his father, he couldn’t really become an artist with fucked-up hands.

And he’d fled as soon as he was released from the hospital. He didn’t go back to his fathers for his things. He’d had someone help press Rhysand’s contact on his phone since his hands were in too much pain to do so himself. Rhys had called Cassian, and both of his friends had flown down within hours.

“No,” Azriel answers shakily. He can still hear their ugly words sometimes, how they made his hands as brutalized as their insults. He can still smell the burning of flesh. Beach bonfires are a no go anymore. Azriel can hardly sleep most nights, terrified of closing his eyes and reliving the night over and over again, even a year later. “No, it’s not like last year.”

It’s both better and worse, somehow. Better, because no one is assaulting him, and his father is no longer reaching out, but worse because maybe his father had been right. Maybe his artistic abilities are not good enough to be where he is right now. Maybe the tattoo shop denying his apprenticeship only confirmed that.

“We can ditch this party right now,” Cassian says, and he sounds closer. A little more sober. “Let Rhys deal with it. We can go on a ride and talk if you want to, Az. I’ll even let you drive Cherry.”

Azriel shakes his head. Cassian doesn’t let anyone drive his beloved Bronco, painted cherry red, faded from years worth of sun damage. He doesn’t want to talk at all, really.

“That’s alright, man,” Azriel answers, turning to face his friend. Cassian’s eyebrows are furrowed deeply, and now Azriel feels bad that he’s ruining his friend's night. “Grab those condoms you came in here for and go bag your girl.”

That seems to distract Cassian enough, the boy cursing and eyes going wide. “Oh fuck! Sage! Or is it Paige? Shit, man, I don’t even remember her name.” He’s frantic, catches the box of condoms perfectly when Azriel tosses it his way.

“Just call her baby or something,” Azriel claps Cassian on the shoulder, guiding him towards the door. “They love that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

The wind in Azriel’s ears drowns out all of the bad thoughts.

This, this is what he loves, thrives off of. Roads untraveled, the night and wind his only caress. Shadows chase his route, and the silence rights his presence. The darkness takes care of him, feeds his weary soul. The thrum of the bike between his thighs is exhilarating, especially when he climbs to speed that makes his heart race so fast in his chest he’s afraid it might burst.

He’s alone in the world right now, just him, his bike, and the moon. No one can catch him, taunt him, insult him, hurt him. The night would never treat him as others do.

Gliding around a curve, he comes to a slow stop. He’s arrived at a hilltop, one he’s found while biking through the town on another night similar to this. It overlooks part of the town, and he likes being able to see the lights of the city. It’s also far enough to get a good view of the sky, and he counts what constellations he can. He cuts the engine, shoves the kickstand down, and pulls his helmet off, breathing in the scent of night.

He hangs the helmet on the handlebar and unzips his coat, peels his gloves from his hands to stare at them under the moonlight. They’re fucked beyond belief, red and puckered with marred flesh that will never truly heal. They shake sometimes, when he’s sketching or trying to tattoo. Cassian has three or four jagged tattoos because he’d offered his body for Azriel to practice on after they’d healed enough to where he could hold a tattoo gun again. He’s lucky to have such a friend, even if the tattoos he requested were dumb. He hasn’t convinced Rhys to get one yet, though. Soon.

They’re unlike the ones scattered around his own body. Mythological stories inked into his tan skin, each with their own story. Icarus on his torso because when he’d truly begun to reach out for what he wanted in life, he was burned. Psyche and Eros intertwined on his forearm because he too should only be loved in the dark, where no one can see his flaws. Large bat-like wings that cover the expanse of his back because he’d always wished that he could just up and fly away from here, all of his problems in life. Many others line his skin, each one curated to perfection, no matter what anyone else has to say. He adores each and every one of them.

The breeze blows some of his flopping hair in his eyes and he brushes it away. He should get it cut soon, he thinks.

Azriel slides from the bike, digging into the inside pocket of his jacket for a small notepad and the pencil he’s brought. He keeps the headlight to his motorcycle on, and goes to sit in front of it, letting the light wash over his sketches.

Turning to a fresh page, he puts the tip of the pencil to the pristine paper, and begins drawing, ignoring the slight shake of his hand. He has to get used to it, relearn how to make crisp, straight lines if he wants to go into tattooing, but right now, in the middle of the night, none of that matters.

He draws until his wrist hurts and he can hardly hold the pencil, and then he sits back, looking at his work. He swears he loses himself in it, not really thinking about what he’s drawing, but allowing the pencil to guide his movements. There’s a scratchy sketch of legs, the tops of the thighs covered by the fitted hem of a large sweatshirt. He’s drawn another unicorn, this one a skeleton, the black of it’s eye sockets reads “fuck you.” There’s a cerberus showing a full row of sharp teeth as it growls, two of the canine heads gnashing at each other. Azriel thinks this might be his next tattoo, actually.

It isn’t until the early hours when he’s sure his apartment has cleared out that he returns home. He takes his time, enjoying the little time to himself he has left. He doesn’t need to go back home, because he knows he’s not going to sleep, but he wants to be in his room with easy access to the rest of his supplies and the comfort of his belongings.

He’s not expecting to run into his new neighbor, but it's inevitable, the Mother playing tricks on him. You’re walking back from the parking lot as he’s getting off his bike, removing his helmet as you walk, head buried in your phone.

“Finally got that truck moved, huh princess?” Azriel comments, and watches you startle. You spin on your heel and he can’t help but take in your appearance. Your clean hair is brushes, no longer curling and knotty from your day spent moving in. Your eyes are wide, but he can see the tiredness lacing the color. You’re wearing a large hoodie despite the balmy summer night, but he can’t judge because he’s strapped up in his leather coat. He can barely catch the hemline of your shorts, peeking out from your top, and his eyes drag down your legs before climbing slowly back up.

“No thanks to you, asshole,” you mutter, trying to avoid crossing into his space. He’s massive, and you have to lift your chin to talk to him. You’re trying not to admire his stature in his leather jacket and dark jeans. Warmth spreads across your cheeks.

Azriel tuts. “So rude.”

“Why would I be a peach when you’ve been nothing but a jerk?” you cross your arms over your chest and he kind of likes this look on you. You're easy to rile. “I’ve had a hellish day, and you didn’t help. Then you go and slam doors in people faces and play your horrendous music as loud as fucking possible. Some people want to sleep, you know.”

Azriel wishes he could sleep, too.

“Still salty you weren’t invited, princess?”

You scoff, stepping around him, ready for this conversation to be over. “As if.”

You stalk for the building, trying to get away from him, but his strides are long and he can easily keep up. “Think I might catch the elevator with you,” he says. His rough voice sends shivers up your spine. “Since we’re going to the same floor, and all.”

He doesn’t know why he’s egging you on. He’s had a nice ride, gotten his head clear, but he finds himself enjoying your sharp tongue and dark glares. He enjoys your attention, the way you stubbornly have to have the last word.

“No, thanks,” you respond, all but ripping the front door off its hinges. Maybe it will hit him on the backswing.

Azriel’s large, gloved hand catches it in time, much to your dismay.

“More of a stairs kind of girl, I presume?” He asks, referencing your little trip to the fourth floor by stairwell after he’d taken the only elevator up. You grit your teeth, trying not to take the bait as you jam your finger into the button. It’s still on the ground floor from the few minutes you’d left to move the truck, finally noticing the stupid dickhead’s bike no longer blocking you in. You couldn’t sleep due to the party waging next door, but Feyre had been able to, snoring softly on the couch.

“More of a ‘don’t talk to me’ kind of girl,” you retort, nearly growling when he shoves himself inside the elevator with you. His presence takes up almost the entirety of the metal box, and you keep your eyes to yourself, staring at the bright green numbers as the rickety thing ascends.

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks. “Feisty, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you scowl.

“Sure thing, princess.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog

#azriel au #azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel/reader #art school az #art school au #midnight muse #modern!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel

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ultralightpoe · 4 months

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Full House ll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Went from cute fluff to straight angst. Sorry?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (not Eddie and reader though), angst angst angst. A fight.

Word count: 10,009 (ohhhhhh boy)

Part l HERE

(THANK YOU FOR THE GIF @feodor-dostoevsky)

(Warning. This chapter contains hints of domestic violence and if any of my readers are going through that you deserve better. I love you all, also Motley will be showing signs of abuse this chapter. It's a long chapter that I'm really nervous about and I really hope you guys like it <3)

Enjoy!

Eddie had been in a pissy mood on Halloween morning of his second year as a senior, mostly because his friends that had graduated last year were all going out to awesome college parties and he was stuck redoing school. Embarrassed and alone.

But he sucked it up, wearing his favorite leather jean combo as he walked into the halls of hell, keeping his head down while people passed by him in a flurry, excitement and laughter in the air.

He had planned to just keep his head down and make it to class, no need to get into something with Harrington and his cronies. He had enough of their teasing and bullshit to get him by for the rest of the year.

Normally it was fine since he had friends, but now he was alone.

A body slamming into a locker pulls his attention to where someone in a rustic leather jacket was slamming one of the juniors into the wall of metal. The kid being assaulted was called Jeff, he was the only black kid in the grade and Eddie had seen him around a lot. The kid didn’t hang out with anyone and seemed lonely.

Shit.

The one slamming him was Billy Hargrove, a new kid that seemed to immediately become one of the cool ones. He spent most his classes not caring and any free time harassing everyone else. Eddie had his fair share of issues with him already.

It would be a good idea to just walk away and let them handle this on their own, but Eddie could not do that. If there was one thing his dad taught him it was that he could take a punch and his Uncle Wayne always told him that you should always stand up for the weaker man. Even if Eddie wasn’t strong enough to beat Billy “steroids” Hargrove, he was strong enough to take a hit for someone else.

A sigh falls through him as he makes his way over, tapping the shoulder of the assailant quickly, the second Billy has his eyes on him Eddie shoves him quickly.

Billy reacts in an instant, hands clenching into his jacket, swinging Eddie around until it was his back being slammed into the lockers. A grunt passes his lips as he sends Jeff a quick look to escape while he can, the kid gives him a grateful smile as he snatches his backpack and dashes off.

“If it isn’t the super senior!” Billy laughs bitterly, pulling Eddie forward and shoving him back into the lockers harshly.

Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.

“What you doing here bud?! Trying to get your ass-“ Eddie loses some of his patience after the third hit into the lockers and hits Billy’s hands off of him, shoving him back enough that Billy nearly trips over his feet.

Gasps fall from the crowd as Billy glares, staring wide eyed at him as he sneers. Eddie tries to play it cool, the anticipation of a fight howling beneath his skin as he preps himself.

Before they can get into it Steve Harrington pops up, his back to Eddie as he watches Billy. “Not that I don't want to see how the freak handles business but the principal is on the way.”

Billy casts one more glare, walking off quickly as Harrington turns to Eddie.

“You stupid or some-“

“Yeah yeah. We get it Harrington. I’m a repeat senior.” Eddie snaps, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the pain. “Why don’t you find a new joke?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make sure you were good.” Steve sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before moving to pick up what Eddie had dropped.

“I don’t need help from you.” Eddie snaps, snatching the lunch box he had gotten from Uncle Wayne and walking off quickly.

Eddie had spent the better part of that year dealing with Hargroves shit, the only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Steve Harrington seemed to be having his own issues with Billy. Then the summer between his second senior year and his third Billy Hargrove died.

Eddie had avoided the pool that entire summer but he heard about it from Jeff the day the mall caught on fire. The next thing he knew Max was moving into the trailer near his and Wayne’s and everyone was bothering her and her mother about it all but they seemed like they didn’t want to talk about it.

After he dealt with VECNA they all explained a little about what happened, and when El closed the gates and fixed the time warp she ended up bringing a couple people back. That’s how he came back.

No one had seen Billy, so everyone assumed he didn’t come back. Even Barb had shown back up (though her memory was hazy on everything).

Now, Billy Hargrove stood in the doorway of his home, catching Motley when she ran to him with an easy smile. “There’s my baby!”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, stuck between anger and shock, watching this play out before him as Ziggy grabs at his jaw. The little toddler leans to kiss his cheek, a wet open mouth kiss that normally makes Eddie laugh, but this time he just stands there. Waiting for the “just kidding!” Or someone to pinch him so he can wake up.

“Sugar,” Billy starts, keeping Motley in his arms as he stares at Eddie. It takes him a moment to realize that when he says sugar he is talking to you. “Why is there a drug dealer holding my daughter?”

“I can explain-“ you start, watching Eddie angrily set up the crib in your shared room, jaw tensed and eyes heavy with anger. “Eds please.”

“You don’t need to explain.” He snaps, turning quickly. “No actually. You do. What the fuck?”

“I met him a couple years back. Okay? It was a one night stand from a bar, he was new in town and I ended up getting pregnant. After that he said he wanted to stay together because of the baby and I didn’t want to parent alone so I said yes-“

“So you’d rather have parented with a racist jackass then?” He laughs bitterly. You draw back, eyes wide as he does so before he sees you get defensive.

“I didn’t know about any of that. Okay? He was sweet with me for the most part-“

“For the most part?”

“He had moments of anger, sometimes I got hit. But he always made up for it. And then I got pregnant again and I thought I was happy and then….” You trail off then, shaking a bit. “I left for a reason.”

“He hit you? More than once?” Eddie bites out, hands on his hips.

“It was fine-“

“No no no. It wasn’t fine. But the fact that you’re saying it was fine and you say he made up for it means that you didn’t leave because he hit you, you left for another reason.” He sees you get nervous under his gaze and he knows he’s figuring out. Anger coursed through him at the fact that Billy had ever laid a hand on you in the first place but it’s beginning to reach tenfold when he puts the pieces together. “He hit Motley?”

“I-“

“You were okay with him hitting you, which makes me upset that you thought you deserved that, but the second he hit Motley you ran.” He fills in the blanks, watching as you crumble before his eyes with tears falling freely.

“Ohmygod-“ you sob, covering your eyes.

“And that’s why you’re so weird around Max because when you came out here you recognized her, right? And when we all shared the truth of what happened you recognized Billy in it? And you didn’t say anything because-“

“What was I supposed to say Eddie?! That I was dumb enough to fall for it?! That I slept with a racist abusive asshole one night drunk and then agreed to let him move in with me because I was scared even though I knew nothing about him?!” You snap, tears streaming down your face. “You guys would have thought the worst of me. You guys are going to think the worst of me- maybe I should just grab the girls and go get a hotel-“

“Hey hey hey.” He eases, reaching for you as you stand up to leave. His hands find your hips and he pulls you in for a hug. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry-“

“I’m sorry. I’m over reacting and being a pain in the ass because I’m surprised is all.” He mumbles, kissing your head and keeping his nose pressed into your hair. “You are very brave for leaving him, yeah? And I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, you’re not stupid you were just played. You always think the best of people and you are so fucking brave for getting the girls out of there.”

He lets you sob into his chest for a minute, rubbing your back in comfort as he holds you to him tightly.

Eddie was gonna figure this out. He was gonna find a way to get Billy Hargrove out of his life for good.

The morning was always filled with excitement, mostly on Motley's part. She loved getting ready for the day, for all the things she would do. She loved talking yours and Eddie’s ear off about the plans for the day. Then she would be crankier when she got home and she knew it was time for bed, but Eddie loved her in the mornings because he loved seeing her excitement.

He wore his glasses in the morning, while he helped get them ready for the day since you both liked to tag team the morning and get the process done faster. This morning was his turn for Motley, who currently sat at the table blabbering on about how she was excited for secret santa while Eddie sat at the stove watching the pancakes bubble.

“-and I keep thinking what if Vinny gets me? He will probably get me the dumbest thing ever and I would be so upset. But what if Troy gets me, oh I hope Troy gets my name- Daddy are you listening?”

“I’m listening, pretty girl.” He smiles, looking over her shoulder where she sat coloring. “You hope Troy gets you. Cause you have a big ole crush on him.”

“DO NOT!” She yells which makes him laugh and turn back to the pancakes. Before he knows it he feels a pair of arms wrap around him, with you kissing along his exposed back slowly while ge fights off the blush.

“You cooking bacon without a shirt, handsome?” You smile and he tries not to laugh.

“I can’t feel half the skin on my stomach anyways.” The scars made sure of that. “You want a piece of bacon?”

“I’ll wait to eat with you and the girls. Did we get any yogurt on our last trip to the store?” You ask, moving to the fridge to check. Eddie takes a moment to admire you before looking to where Ziggy sits in her high chair, playing with a piece of paper that Motley gave her.

“Morning metal head.” He coos, walking forward to kiss her head. She giggles and claps before Motley follows what Eddie did, kissing her sisters head.

“Come here Daddy.” She smiles, and he bends down to let her kiss his forehead which makes her laugh.

He sets them both up with plates, eating breakfast quickly before rushing to get a shirt on as you bring them both to the door to get them in shoes. When he gets back he finds Motley with her arms crossed and shaking her head.

“What’s going on?”

“She found out Steve is taking her to school.” You sigh, trying to grab her foot.

“I want Papa to take me. He said he wanted to!” She snaps and Eddie watches you tense up, choosing to intervene here.

“I got this, go grab her bag.” He smiles, switching spots with you. “Alright. No playing around. Metalheads put their shoes on when told.”

“But daddy-“

“Ah.” He holds up a finger and she sighs before grabbing the left shoe and moving to put it on her right. “Wait. This is a good time to teach you left from right.”

“I’ve got time.” She smiles , watching him.

“Alright. This is left,” he holds out his left hand, the metal bracelet he always wears drawing Ziggys attention as she waddles closer.

Motley holds out her right hand, repeating “left.”

“No. That’s right.”

“I’m right?”

“No. That hand is right.”

“Yeah daddy. I know I’m right.” She scoffs, staring at him like he’s insane.

“No pretty girl. You’re opposite of me, like a mirror. So if this is my left hand you’re left hand would be….” He picks up her left hand, wiggling it a bit.

“Oh. So this would be my right hand.” She mumbles, shaking her right hand.

“Exactly. So if this is your left shoe it would go on…..”

“MY LEFT FOOT!” She yells excitedly which makes him smile.

“You got it! You rockstar!” He helps her tie it, letting her rest her foot on his thigh before switching the feet and tying the next shoe.

“We ready to go?” You ask, coming around the corner and smiling.

“Daddy taught me my left from right, Mommy!” She giggles, rushing to get her bag and holding your hand as you lead her out of the house with Eddie close behind, Ziggy in his arms trying to reach for the bandana on his head.

“Hey Uncle Steve,” she calls, running up to him to hug him. “I know my left from right!”

“You’re a genius kid!” He smiles. You pull her attention, kissing her forehead before kissing Steve’s cheek. Eddie follows, kissing Motley then snatching Steve and kissing his cheek which makes everyone laugh. Ziggy coos the second she sees Steve and he instantly makes grabby hands at her.

“There she is, my pretty little angel.” He coos, bouncing her up and down as Motley climbs in his car between his two sons. Vinny glares while Jackson waves his grubby little hands. The kid was four and thought the best thing to eat was a crayon.

“You know what gender the baby is yet?” You ask, watching Steve with Ziggy.

“No. But Nancy is sure it’s another boy.” He sighs out. “And she wants to name one after her brother.”

“Do we need another Mike?” Eddie laughs which makes Steve laugh as well.

“That’s what I said!”

“Alright, I have to head off. Drop Ziggy off at daycare before work. Have a wonderful day boys.” You smile, grabbing Ziggy from Steve who sighs in disappointment, before kissing Eddie and heading off to your car.

Steve turns to Eddie, a raised brow, he opens his mouth to start asking but Eddie holds up a hand. “Nuh uh. We don’t talk about within hearing age of Motley.”

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, squinting. “She get upset?”

“The opposite.”

“But the guys a massive dick!”

“And that’s her dad.”

“You’re her dad.”

“No, I’m the step dad.” Eddie sighs, something clenching in his gut. “I gotta get going. Thanks for dropping Motty off.”

The thought that he was just the step dad stuck, it clung to him like a second skin, sticking like a shadow over the sun. He thought about it while he tucked the girls in, and when he woke them up. He worried over the thought of Billy fighting for custody and turning the girls against Eddie.

He was just the step-dad.

This is what he was thinking about as he changed the oil on one of the cars in the shop, a frown stuck to his face as music played in the background. It was Dylans, the other repairman that worked today, turn for the stereo and he was playing all the rock hits. Which included ‘rock you like a hurricane.’

And all Eddie could imagine was his girls having a dance party but instead of him being there it was Billy. Billy dancing with them to all the music and-

“HI DADDY!” Motley shouts, making Eddie gasp in shock, whipping his head to find her on all fours so she could see him under the car.

“Hi pretty girl.” He smiles, using the cart to roll out from under the car and sit up, whipping the bandana off his hair as she whirls around the car to attack him, roaring like a tiger as she jumps on him. “What are you doing here?”

“School let out early today, they have their christmas party tomorrow and then winter break.” You explain, walking around the car with Ziggy on your hip, still wearing the cute diner uniform. “Motley wanted to come grab you for lunch.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, laughing when she slips a bit and he has to catch her before she hits the floor. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza?!” He acts shocked, eyes wide as she begins laughing. “Well I don’t know about that…. I don’t really know if I like pizza.”

“You LOVE pizza.” She scoffs, jumping up and dashing to the radio to turn it down. “Does Dylan want pizza?”

“Why thank you for asking little lady.” Dylan smiles, wiping his hands on his suit. “I love pizza.”

“Hear that daddy? We have to go get pizza for Dylan.” Motley sasses, coming back over to snatch Eddie’s bigger hand between her own. “Get uppppp!”

She groans as she tries to lift him, and Eddie picks himself up so she thinks she was able to do it. “Jesus you are strong.”

“I pulled a secret santa today, and you’ll never guess who I got!”

“Troy?”

“No.” She sighs, disappointed for just a moment before her face lights up again. “I got Samantha, she likes jump rope.”

“Yeah? Is that what we are gonna get her then?” He chuckles, moving to wash his hands as you go and put Ziggy in the car.

“Well I don’t know. I don’t want my gift to be too basic and not surprising. But I want to make sure she actually likes it. And do you think-” Eddie lets her ramble, grabbing her hand and leading her to the car as she goes on and on about the ideas she has for gifts.

The store was busy when Eddie took Motley Christmas shopping, holding her hand in his own as walked across the street and headed into the warmth. He had been more focused on making sure she wore a coat then grabbing a coat heavy enough for himself.

The second she is in the store her eyes widen and she makes a mad dash to the kids aisle, Eddie right behind her trying to slow her down a bit.

“Alright, take a look and see what you might like to get Samantha.” He huffs, breathing into his palms to warm up his face, ignoring the weird look he gets from a do-good mom passing by in her expensive shoes.

He had gotten used to the looks by now, it’s not like he screamed father with his leather jacket and tattoos, but you always told him that he was a better father than any country club dad you had ever met. And he was constantly lecturing Motley that ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’ so how would this be different?

“How about this?” She asks, picking up a barbie car that makes Eddie’s eyes go wide.

“Isn’t there a price limit on this thing?” He blurts, moving to check before she is completely gone and looking at something else.

“Can I get a dollhouse?”

“For Samantha?”

“No, for me silly..” She laughs, like it was the most obvious thing.

“We are supposed to be shopping for your secret santa cheeseball.”

“Oh, right.” She sighs, moving back to the barbies. “How about for christmas?”

“Have you asked Santa?” Eddie smiles, and she shakes her head. “We’ll write a letter tonight, then.”

“Okay.” She giggles before pointing to a ken doll. “Hey daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Santa already answered my wish this year.” She mumbles which makes Eddie look at her curiously. “Last year I asked Santa to bring my dad back. And he did even better.”

Eddie’s heart practically shatters as he tries to smile at her, the vast empty feeling at her words killing him. Of course, what little girl didn’t want her dad on christmas, and she wanted Billy.

Steve was suspicious of him the entire Christmas party, giving Eddie the side eye every chance he could while you sat not far off with Nancy gossiping amongst yourselves.

Steve was room mother, and as much as Eddie made fun of him for it his friend was an amazing room mother. He had thrown the class’ holiday party at his house rather than that stuffy classroom so that the parents could come as well. His house, which was already insanely decorated for Christmas, had tons of ‘activity stations’ for the kids to do. Motley and Vinny were currently arguing over what color gumdrops they wanted to put on their gingerbread house.

Charles, Samantha's dad as Eddie found out, had wavered off after talking to Steve and himself for the past hour and finally the two men were left alone. “Who knew parenthood would be just like highschool again?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve snickers. “I feel like-”

“King Steve again?” Eddie taunts, shaking his head.

“Oh no no. You can’t make fun of me since you’re apart of the cool kid club this round.”

“No I’m not-”

“Oh yes you are. Please, everyone talks about you and Y/n. One, all the moms think you are attractive and so gentleman like for taking on the girls. Two. The dads are jealous of you cause you have this cool rock thing going on while still being a parent. Three, everyone loves Motley. She is the class princess. Everyone wants to play with her at christmas, if she shows up to their birthday party then their year is made. Admit it Munson, you’re raising a prom queen.”

“I don’t think I have much to do on that front, and it’s more to do with I’m your friend and you are the Room Mom.”

“Shh not so loud.” Steve mutters. “Nancy has been feeling a little guilty about being ‘less of a mom’ cause she spends all day at work. I tried telling her it was fine but she thinks it’s a bad look that her husband is room mom and not the actual mom.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad look. I think it shows that Vinny is being raised by two people who understand life a little better than other stuck up parents.”

“Thanks pal.” Steve sighs, leading them away so Eddie can go up and check on where they put Ziggy to nap. Steve had been nice enough to set up a little crib in his room so she wouldn’t have to be dragged around the party.

They catch up on everything, Steve complains that he think Jaxon might just be a freaky kid considering the amount of crayons and pencils he eats and how Nancy babies him. He complains that Mike is the worst uncle and never actually helps but always claims to do so.

Eddie catches Steve up on the Billy situation, which had shocked the group to no end.

“He’s been calling everyday, arguing that he should get visitation.” Eddie sighs, taking a swig from the beer Steve smuggled for them.

“That’s bullshit. Tell him no.”

“Y/n is worried that he could fight and get full custody.”

“Why on earth-”

“Because she took the girls and ran. She did it for their safety but the court will never look at it like that.” Eddie sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “All they will see is Hawkins very own mall hero being abandoned as she runs to Hawkins very own freak.”

“Motley and Y/n don’t think of you as a freak.”

“Maybe not. But Motley adores Billy, and that leaves me on the sidelines.”

“That’s not fair.” Steve sighs but Eddie shrugs.

“You know how long I hated Wayne for taking me from my dad? That man hit me and all I did for years was look up to him and try to be better. I pushed away anyone that actually cared. I know what she is going through right now, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin that love she has for her dad. Shit person or not.”

“Would you rather ruin her dad for her or have her heart broken when she is exposed to him on her own?”

“I think if he ever hurt her I would actually-”

“Kill him. I’m so in.” Steve finishes the sentence before there is a quick knock on the door.

“Dad!” Vinny whines. “Where’s the gift?! We are doing secret santa!”

Steve sighs, moving to his dresser to grab the wrapped gift before handing it to his son. Eddie waits to follow Vinny, surprised when he turns to him rather than immediately running away.

“Will Motley like this wrapping paper?”

“Yeah? I think she’d love it.” Eddie smiles, watching in shock as the kids dashes out. “He got Motley? Bet he hated that.”

“Nah, he was worried she might now like the barbie car.”

“Wasn’t there a price limit on this thing?” Eddie asks, raising a brow.

“My kid is head over heels for your daughter Munson. Just be happy Troy didn’t get her. Little punk thinks he’s everything.” Steve scoffs, walking past Eddie and mumbling under his breath about Troy being a little shit.

There was a new form of hell to Eddie, not having his girls under the same roof was that hell. After a very long argument it was agreed that Billy would get them for the night, they would have a fun time at the shitty motel room.

So, after a long night of pacing back and forth, Billy finally dropped the girls off around noon, smoking easily as he carried Ziggy’s car seat in one hand.

“Really? Right by her?” Eddie snaps, grabbing the handle carefully as Ziggy coos up at him.

“Didn’t think you would be one to care, Munson.” Billy laughs, looking past him to where Motley stood with a grumpy look and her bag around her shoulder. “You used to make sure our class was coked out just fine.”

“Motty go inside.” Eddie sighs, moving to open the door for her, getting a little nervous when she glares and stomps in. “Has she eaten?”

Only when he turns back to ask Billy the jackass is already halfway in his car, sending a cocky smile in Eddie’s direction as he turns the speaker up loud.

Now left alone with the two girls since you were at work Eddie shuffles inside to go find where Motley stomped off to, finding her in her room sitting on the floor and playing with a toy he didn’t recognize.

“New barbie?” He smiles, watching her carefully. This was the first time she had ever gone with her dad and he didn't know what to expect, maybe he had been hoping for a hug or kiss. “She’s very pretty-”

“Papa got her for me.” She bites out, voice dripping with attitude.

“Okay. You hungry? I can make you-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” She screams, rushing to slam her door in his face, the tiffany poster she had on it staring back at him as he blinks in shock. There had been fits, a couple of screaming fits, she sometimes called him meanie head when he told her not to do something. But she had never before slammed a door in his face.

Not really knowing what to do he decided to focus on bathing Ziggy first, making sure the smoke scent didn’t cling to her before setting her up to eat something.

A couple hours later you came home, a nervous smile on your face as you looked at him only to realize he was upset.

“What happened?”

“She’s upset, won’t come out of her room.” He sighs.

“Let me go check on her.” You mumble, kissing him before heading to her room and knocking softly. “Hey bugs? Why don’t you come out and say hi? Daddy can make something for dinner-“

“Eddie can fuck off!” She screams, which makes you freeze as Eddie’s heart drops and he leans his forehead on the wall.

“Motley Marie-“

“NO!” She screams from the other side of the door and Eddie feels like he might throw up.

“Maybe I should go to Wayne’s tonight?” He offers, shaking a bit as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I need to help him fix the replace his fridge anyways”

“Eds, no.” You mumble, tears welling up in your eyes as you shuffle closer. “She’ll be fine in a bit. We just need to get her to eat and-“

“She’s not gonna come out to eat if I’m here. I’ll come back tomorrow to see if she’s feeling better. Okay?” He tries, rubbing your arms in a comforting manner. “Just one night, maybe she will eat and calm down”

You shake your head, crying, but you both already know the answer. And Eddie already knows this might not work out for him.

After packing an overnight bag and heading off he makes it to his Uncle Wayne’s and spends the night there, hoping Motley would feel better if he wasn’t there.

He helps Wayne sort out the kitchen, both of them planning on switching the fridges out in the morning now that his is empty. So, later in the night, Eddie lays on the couch staring at the ceiling.

He couldn’t fall asleep without you beside him and he’s used to seeing the hall light under the door so the girls could see if they needed to get to the bathroom or your room.

He tossed and turned, doing his best not to get too upset at all of it before he began thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.

He never wanted to hurt the girls, and as much as he loved them and loved you there was always that thing about “if you love someone set them free.” So, as much as he hated it, he figured maybe it was time for some breathing space. Let Motley learn about her biological dad for a bit, and he would take whatever he could get even if it was just a dinner a month. Anything to make sure she didn’t hate him forever.

So, around 6am, when he finally managed to close his eyes and get some sleep he had decided that the best plan of action was to give his girls breathing room.

When he woke up Wayne was already starting on the fridge, which made Eddie realize just how much he had slept in. Jumping up quickly to start helping, he didn’t think to call you.

They spent the next few hours moving the fridges and getting the new one set up, making sure everything was working before hauling the old one to the junkyard. By the time they were done the sun was going down and Eddie was starving so Wayne offered to order a pizza.

The only problem was your car was at the trailer when they got back, with you sitting on the hood smiling at him as Wayne pulled his truck up to park.

“Hi Grandpa Wayne.” You called which made the older man smile and hop out quickly to give you a kiss before moving to say hi to the girls in the back seat.

Eddie moves to hug you, kissing you deeply before you pull back and smile. “You didn’t call, and we called this morning but no answer so I figured you boys were busy.”

“Sorry. I slept a little late and we were fighting that damn fridge all day.” He smiles.

“We were thinking about going and getting dinner tonight, thought we’d come pick up daddy.” You offer, holding his hand. He casts a quick look to where Motley is sitting in the backseat, laughing as Wayne pretends to steal her book.

Breathing room.

“I actually got more stuff to help Wayne with. That okay?” He could see you visibly deplete, trying your best to keep smiling.

“Of course that’s okay. Just don’t forget to call okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You wanna say bye to the girls?”

“I….Not tonight.” He feels like he’s stabbed himself in the gut and twisted the knife, his throat tightening up with the urge to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mumble. “And you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Right.” He smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek. When you kiss him one last time you move to Wayne, tearing up a bit.

“Enjoy your handyman Wayne. But I expect him back tomorrow by dinner, got it grandpa?”

Wayne, to his credit, smiles politely and nods. Mumbling something about making Eddie work overtime as you laugh, he hears Ziggy blubber sadly, probably upset that she’s in her car seat.

He spots Motley when you open your door to get in, leaning against the window already staring at him. There is a glum look on her expression and Eddie feels that stab wound tighten. She hates him, she can’t even smile when she sees him anymore. Billy must have told her what a fuckimg freak he was.

Instead of crawling into the hole he wants to, he merely raises a hand slowly to wave, attempting to seem like everything was fine.

She raised her own hand, and Eddie thinks he’s mistaken when she presses it to the glass of the window as you drive off.

“You okay?” Wayne asks, rubbing his boys shoulder.

“Not really.”

True to his word Eddie calls the next morning, only to be surprised when he hears Motleys voice answer.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Hey Mot…ley.” Eddie panics , thinking that she might now like her nicknames now. “I called for your ma.”

“Oh.” She mumbles, obviously disappointed that it was him. “I can go get her……”

“Not if she’s busy, okay? I can call back later.” He hears her set the phone down and scamper off, feet hitting the hardwood of the kitchen as she rushes to find you. A couple minutes goes by and he hears both your voices trickle back into hearing distance, probably from the downstairs hallway.

“- dy Eddie. He just wanted to talk to you.” He hears Motley mumble, and that shooting pain was back. Eddie. She called him Eddie again.

Panic claws at him as he hears your footsteps get closer and he hangs up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes.

After helping Wayne around the trailer he returns that evening, feeling lame and tired. Kicking his shoes off in the doorway, hearing your music downstairs which tells him you had probably started reading once putting the girls to bed.

He planned to shower and then go see you, so he makes his way to the room, shucking his jacket off and tossing it on the bed in the dark.

“Heyyy.” Someone whines, making him stop and look to the bed to see Motley climbing out from the blankets and pillows, eyes wide. “Watch it.”

“Sorry kid,” he smiles, moving to grab the jacket. “Didn’t see ya there.”

She giggles softly, moving to the middle of the bed and turning on the light before going back to her spot. He gives her a soft smile before moving to grab clothes and heading to the master bathroom only for her to call out.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, turning with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry I was mean and hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I made you mad.” Tears well in her eyes as she says it which makes his chest clench.

“Hey hey. I’m not mad.” He says softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she immediately crawls over and crawls into his lap.

“You are! That’s why you didn’t want to come home!” She cries. “You hate me now.”

“No no. Take a breath.” He tries to calm her down, rubbing her back in soft circles as she sucks in a deep breath.

“I made you mad…”

“You didn’t make me mad, I just had to help Grandpa Wayne with some stuff. He’s old now. He needs help.” Eddie offers, still rubbing her back. She calms down a bit, face pressed into his chest as she slowly puts herself back to sleep.

He carries her into her own room, making sure she’s nice and comfortable when he tucks her in before going back to the master bedroom to shower.

When he comes back out he finds you waiting on the bed, a smile smile tugging st your lips. “Hey stud.”

“Hi baby,” he whispers, moving to lay down. He gives you one kiss before laying down and shoving his face into the pillow quickly, desperate to sleep.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask, rubbing a hand on his back.

“Nothing to talk about. I’m fine. Just wanted to give her space is all.” He sighs.

“She loves you Eddie.”

“I know.” He lies, closing his eyes to sleep

Motley spent the next day at the Harrington household while Eddie and you went to shop for some last minute gifts you hadn’t gotten at the beginning of the month.

With Christmas being only a week away now you were beginning to panic and Eddie was doing his best to ease your anxieties as you tried to think of what the girls would want.

“I think we got everything.” You sigh out when you make it to the car, Eddie pushing the cart filled to the brim with bags as he rubs your back. There was something off about you today and he felt guilty that he hadn’t come home until late last night.

“I think we did.” He moves away only to open the back of the van, beginning to pile all the bags in before he hears you gag and dash to the chunk of grass he parked near.

“Shit- “ he snaps, tripping over himself as he tries to get to you to hold your hair. “You okay? Nervous about Christmas?”

“Y-yeah…” you whine, rubbing the back of your hand under your nose to wipe the snot after you finish puking. “Over stressed myself is all.”

He sighs, helping you up and getting you set up in the van before moving to finish his original task.

He spends the rest of the day making sure you’re okay and wrapping the gifts. He tries to change his handwriting on the tags so Motley would think other people were signing them. Make her think she got a gift from Santa and the elves and one from Mrs. Claus before he took his coffee grounds and make a hoof print on the gift he had made from Rudolph.

He hides them all in the basements laundry room, moving to wake you up when he’s done.

Two days before Christmas Eve Motley and Ziggy go with Billy again, and Eddie makes himself scarce when they are dropped back off the next day, wanting to give Motley room to breathe in case she needs it.

He hides in the basement, keeping his headphones in as he practices guitar, hearing the echo of stomping around upstairs. She had come home in another mood, that much he had figured out by the sounds of her yelling when she came in.

The phone rings in the distance and Eddie ignores everything as he practices more riffs until your in front of him with a small smile. “That was Gareth. They wanted to rehearse? Asked if you could head over.”

“Oh?” He asks, standing up. The perfect excuse to give Motley some space without hurting anyone’s feelings had just arrived and he was gonna take it. “I’ll head over now.”

“Are you gonna be home for dinner?” You ask softly, face tense with worry and exhaustion.

“We’ll probably practice too late.” He sighs, kissing you before moving to walk away.

“Eds?” You call, making him look back at you as you stress. “Y-you’re okay…… right?”

“I’m okay.” He lies. Really he feels pathetic, useless, a lame ass excuse for a stepdad. ……he feels like his father.

She just needs space. He thinks to himself, smiling at you. But deep down he already knows it’s not working. He loves his girls but if they don’t love him back then he is just dragging them down.

And his heart breaks at the thought of the inevitable.

I don’t wanna say bye.

As he passes the hallway to pack clothes for the night he sees that the Tiffany poster on Motleys door had been ripped down the middle, and he risks a peek in to find it the missing piece wadded in the trash along with her fleetwood poster she got around thanksgiving.

Sighing in defeat he shuffles to grab his bag and head out.

The morning of Christmas Eve he wakes up to find that sometime in the night Motley had crawled into bed with you and Eddie, curled up between you two with tear streaks down her face.

Nightmares, nasty little things.

He kisses her cheek lightly before getting up to get ready for work. By the time he is putting on his boots he finds her yawning and sitting up.

“Are you leaving?”

“Only for a bit.” He tries to sound positive. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Swear it?” She asks, eyes wide.

“Triple swear it.” He smiles back, and something eases in him when a smile breaks out across her face, going from ear to ear.

So he leans to kiss her cheek, taking the good mood while he can before heading to work and coming back home by 5. Only to find Billy’s Camaro in the driveway when he does come home.

Walking into the house, tense and tired from the day, to find Billy sitting on the couch as you work in the kitchen. You send him a quick look and Eddie follows, rushing into the kitchen with you.

“He invited himself for dinner.” You whisper.

“Why?”

“Because Motley told me I couldn’t come for Christmas morning.” Billy snaps from the doorway, leaning on it like he owned the place. “Which is really fucking weird considering that I’m her dad. I should be able to see her on Christmas. And I can only assume that you’re the one saying no Munson.”

“Hadn’t even known that we had that discussion but sure. I’ll take the hit.” Eddie smiles. “Cause you are 1000% banned from this house on Christmas Day.”

“You can’t separate me from my kids.” Billy snaps.

“We’re not. You can have dinner with us tonight, but you can’t be here tomorrow.” There were far too many people coming tomorrow that Eddie did not want having to deal with Billy, and he didn’t want your day being ruined by this asshat.

“I’d prefer the dinner to be a family occasion” Billy snipes. “And last I checked you weren’t.”

“Eddie is family.” You snipe back, backing up when Billy glared at you. “This is our home. His home. He stays.”

And before he knew it everyone was seated at the table, in the most uncomfortable dinner of his life. You were just pushing food around your plate, while Eddie was doing his best to stay cool.

“How are your grades Motley?” Billy asks, turning a heavy look to her.

“I’m one of the top in my class-“

“One of?” Billy interrupts.

“They have top three. They all tie in that spot so the kids don’t lose self esteem in the competition.” Eddie explains, tapping a ring on the table in annoyance.

“That’s bullshit. If her grades are the best then that needs to be said-“

“She’s doing fine. Her grades will help win a pizza party at the end of the year.” You snap, rubbing her cheek.

“I just want to make sure I’m not raising a retard that turns into a super senior.”

“What’s that mean?” Motley asks, wide eyed as Ziggy shoves some spaghetti in her mouth.

“Oh baby, it’s noth-“ you begin but Eddie cuts you off, looking her gently.

“It means I wasn’t good in school. I got held back from graduating for three years. That’s right. I was held back another year after you…. Well you know.”

“You got something to say to me, jackass?”

“Not really.” Eddie snipes, picking up his plate and heading to the kitchen before he loses his temper. Lucky him that Billy was set to follow.

“So this is where Motley gets all that attitude huh?! Some shit for brain pathetic piece of shit starts raising my daughter, showing her shit music and telling her the world is all rainbows and sunshine. Right?!”

“We’ll she’s 7. The world is supposed to be a little brighter-“ Eddie starts, watching as Billy grabs the front of his jacket and shoves him into the cabinets behind him.

“You think you’re something, huh?! Well you’re nothing more than a trailer trash piece of shit!” Billy yells in his face, and Eddie remains bland. Not letting any motion on his face as he shrugs.

Motley was going to hate him.

This would never work because your kids needed to come first, and Eddie knew that. He would always put them first. If he stayed with you Motley would soon begin to resent you.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“No. I don’t think I’m anything more than a piece of shit. I’m quite good in that life.” He shrugs. “And it’s not shit music that she was listening to, it was her choice of music. Music she liked, and if she likes it then it’s not shit.”

Billy laughs bitterly, then Eddie can do nothing but watch his hand pull back into a fist, getting him right in the face.

Pain shoots through his face as his head hits the cupboard behind him hearing the wood crack at the impact. Motley screams out loud “DADDY!” And Eddie assumes she’s screaming for Billy to stop.

He didn’t want to hit her dad in front of her, so he took it. Punch after punch from Billy before you jump on the man’s back, hitting him to get him off Eddie.

Billy pushes you off quickly, making you tumble to the floor as Motley runs for you before you try and ease her back. Eddie can’t feel his face but he knows it’s swollen and bloody, spitting out the taste of iron as he swipes a hand under his nose, pain shooting through him when he does so.

Motley is still screaming, over and over “DADDY DADDY!” And when Billy takes one aggressive step over to where she is in your arms Eddie finally loses it.

He shoves at Billy’s back, drawing his attention back and taking one quick swing across Billy’s cheek. One of his rings slices his cheek as Billy’s head whips to the side. But Eddie doesn’t stop, too built up on protective rage.

Ziggy is screaming in the background, Motley crying for her dad while you hold her back. Eddie takes a couple more hits, pushing Billy to the door so they wouldn’t have an audience. Only problem is the second Eddie pushes Billy out he finds a cop car already waiting, the cop hopping out and rushing to the scene.

Christmas morning was spent inside a jail cell with a broken nose, Eddie laying on one of the benches staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about how much his face hurt right now.

One of the neighbors had heard yelling and called the cops, who had taken 15 minutes to respond. And since Eddie didn’t start hitting back until the end he could only assume that meant he had taken nearly 15 minutes of that beating.

What a fucking coward.

He had hit Billy in front of Motley. Oh my god her entire Christmas would be ruined right now. He was an absolute piece of shit.

“Hey kid?” Someone calls, making Eddie try to open his unswollen eye and see. Hopper stood there in mundane clothes, sighing in disappointment. “Thought we agreed last time I arrested you that it would be the last time.”

“What can I say?” He croaks out, dropping his head again. “I’m trailer trash. Always have been and always will be.”

“Come on pity party.” Hopper sighs, unlocking the door. “You’ve been cleared. Witness statements.”

So they had questioned you. Fuck.

When he grabs his rings and jacket from the clerk he doesn’t bother putting them on, keeping everything in the bag including his chain and wallet. He puts the shoes on, groaning in pain when he bends over, before moving to see that Wayne had come to pick him up.

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie grunts, not bothering to smile due to the cut on his lip and cheek.

Wayne doesn’t say anything, merely leads Eddie out, keeping a hand on his arm to help lead him to the car since he can only open one eye.

When they are both jn Wayne lights a cigarette, handing it to his nephew. “Have some before we get there. Relax you a bit.”

“Get where?”

“Your house? It’s Christmas? We agreed I’d bring gifts for the girls and get a nice meal?” Wayne asks.

“No. I’m not going there. Not like this and not after that.” Eddie snaps, tears falling from his eye as he thinks about it. That would just ruin Motleys Christmas even more. He couldn’t do that.

“I just wanna sleep.”

“Edward Wayne Munson.”

“Wayne John Munson.”

The sigh that falls from his uncles lips tells Eddie that he won.

(A POV from you? Gasp!)

After watching Eddie and Billy both get arrested you had to give a statement to the police, not like you could actually get a word out considering you were sobbing.

Eddie was bleeding profusely and could barely open his eye when they dragged him to the car, Motley sobbing at your hip as they did so. The officer talking to you tried to calm you down, rubbing your back in a soothing motion that didn’t work and only stressed you out more. You begged them to let Eddie go but the officer said it was protocol and that you should call in the morning to give your statement.

But you didn’t. You sat there with that cop until you calmed down and gave a proper statement, he said he would write a report and get it all sorted so you took Motley in. Getting both girls showered and ready for bed. After tucking them in, still crying, you found yourself moving to the kitchen to clean up the mess. Starting with the the broken glass that had fallen, then the dishes before you moved to scrub the floor, crying harder when you had to scrub Eddie’s blood.

At some point Motley came out, rushing into your arms to keep sobbing so you took her back to yours and Eddie’s room to try and get her to sleep there. You put her in one of Eddie’s sweatshirts before laying with her and trying to calm her down.

“He hurt daddy.” She sobs.

“Honey, Eddie was just trying to-“

“No. Billy hurt Daddy.” She explains. “It’s my fault. I told him he couldn’t come over on Christmas!”

There it was. You had wondered since Billy brought it up, you hadn’t said anything and Eddie hadn’t. So why had Motley?

“Why would you do that Motley? That was an adult decision that you should have let me tell him. I don’t want you getting in trouble because-“

“He’s mean to daddy, I didn’t want him bullying daddy! Okay?!” She cries, swiping her cheeks. “But now Daddy hates me! He hates me mama!”

“No. He doesn’t. He doesn’t hate you, okay?”

“He does!”

It took all but 30 minutes to lure Motley out of room after Eddie left for Wayne’s, promising her some chicken nuggets for dinner and that was it.

She ate silently with you before bath time, then when you sat with her on the couch before her bedtime while Ziggy slept in her crib, you noticed her watching the door every 2 minutes.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, smoothing out her still damp hair.

“Is daddy Eddie coming back for bedtime?” She asks, scratching her arm. “He always lays with me.”

“He’s gonna be at Grandpa Wayne’s tonight. Helping him out with something. We will see him tomorrow, okay metalhead?”

“Okay.”

Only when you called the next morning there was no answer, Motley getting dressed beside you with a look of excitement on her face as it rang.

“Is he there? Ask him when he’ll be home!”

“He didn’t pick up ,baby, I’m sure they are busy. We will see him later okay? Maybe we can have dinner at the diner.”

And that’s what she talked about for the rest of the day, you tried asking about her time at Billy’s but she simply shut the conversation down. By the time dinner time came about she was upset that Eddie hadn’t come back so you offered to go to Grandpa Wayne’s and pick them up.

You had been there for about 5 minutes when the van pulled up and you could hear the gasps of excitement from Motley when Eddie hops out.

Inviting him to dinner, only for Eddie to be nervous and say no. He looked upset, and you were beginning to panic deep down.

Please don’t leave us. I love you. You wanted to say but you were pretty sure that would scare him off more.

Who wanted the mother of two with the racist abusive ex? Right?

When you drove off without him Motley was just as upset. “Why didn’t he come mama?”

“He had some more stuff to help with.” You answer, smiling at her through the mirror.

“Why didn’t he say hi?”

“He’s just not feeling good.” Lie lie lie.

The next day you were doing laundry while Motley was dashing around upstairs and Ziggy was waddling around you.

The sound of the phone ringing didn’t draw your attention since you were too busy trying to kick the washing machine into working. But when your daughter dashed down the stairs you looked at her.

“PHONE!”

“Who is it?” You ask, laughing at her excitement as you snatch Ziggy up and follow her up the stairs.

“Daddy Eddie. He just wants to talk to you though.” And you found yourself rushing to the phone, only when you got there it was just the dial tone.

“Is he coming home? Can I do his hair when he gets back?” She asks hopefully.

“Maybe later.”

By the time you realized he was back Motley was on her own bed and the shower to your shared bathroom was running so you laid on the bed waiting for him to come out.

When he did your heart beat out of your chest, nervous and in love.

He laid down, face in the pillow as you let him know Motley loved him.

All he could say was “I know” before falling asleep and you were heartbroken.

He’s gonna leave.

Two days before Christmas Eve when Motley is dropped off from Billys he doesn’t say a word, merely tosses her bag at you as he slams his car door and drives off.

Motley storms past you, pushing into the door as you carry Ziggy in, watching her in shock. “I HATE HIM AND I HATE YOU!”

Eddie, who had been waiting in the kitchen, sulks downstairs to give her space and you feel a twist in your gut. “That’s not fair to Eddie, Mot.”

“I’m not talking about Eddie. I’m talking about HIM!” She screams, stomping to her room and ripping the poster from her door.

“Hey!” You snap, following her and trying to get her to stop as she tears down the Elvis and Fleetwood Mac poster.

“I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM! It’s bullshit!” She screams, slamming the door. Only she slams it so hard it creaks open a little. Before you could make it worse the phone rings and you find yourself heading downstairs to tell Eddie about the call.

The excitement on his face breaks your heart as you realize he is so desperate to get away from you. Jesus you trapped him didn’t you?

By the time Motley comes out of her room she looks around for a minute, sitting at the table. “Where’s daddy?”

“Band practice.” You smile.

“When will he be back?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just eat.” You felt bad about the short answer. But you were upset about the way she was acting and you were upset that she said she hated you. Not to mention the way she ripped the posters and the way Eddie seemed to run from you.

You already dragged her away from Billy once, now she was going to lose another father because of your mess. You were a terrible mother.

She hates me , and so does Eddie.

“He will be here, okay? Daddy would never miss Christmas.” You smile, crying softly yourself. “Just wait and see. Daddy will be home.”

She calmed down a bit at your promise, laying beside you.

“I asked santa for dad back last year….” She mumbles. “And he gave me an even better one.”

“Yeah, he did.”

You don’t get a lick of sleep, waiting all night for the sound of the door to open. They had to have released Eddie, right?

You overthink it all as you sneak all the gifts out to the tree, ones that Eddie wrapped while you were sick and see all the dedication he put into them which just makes your heart melt more.

When the sun starts coming up you realize that maybe no officers were there to release him and they would in the morning during normal processing hours so you focus on starting the meal and getting the girls ready.

Motley refuses to go near her presents, choosing to wait for Eddie. You’re okay with it, letting Ziggy open a gift since you know it will take her forever.

You focus on cooking while Motley waits on the couch watching out the window.

But then people start showing up for the early dinner and you begin to let that panic sink in. Steve shows up, his two sons dashing for Motley as Nancy waddles in behind them. They thought three dishes that they add to the table. Steve asks about the broken cabinet but before you explain Lucas and Mike show up with their own dishes.

One after one they all show up and sook enough you break from the crowd to go in your room and call the station.

“I’m looking for Edward Munson? He should have been released by now but-“

“He was released two hours ago.” The kid on the phone sighs. “Anything else.”

You don’t respond, choosing to hang out and close your door so your guests don’t see you cry.

He wasn’t coming, you had messed everything up like usual. God you were pathetic.

Just as Billy would say, useless as hell.

Shuffling to the bathroom to try and catch your breath, turning on the water and sitting under it as you try to ease the panic attack.

The pink pregnancy test box stares back at you from the trash bin, the actual test on the counter where you had planned to surprise Eddie.

God I can’t do anything right.

Part lll HERE

(OHHHH I really hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Please please please no hate on it! If you want to see something specific such as a blurb or scene with Eddie and the girls feel free to request. -Ultralight)

Taglist::: (Let me know if you want removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel @mariamayhemrsmunson @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @scout141 @thehuntresswolf @natie335 @alyisdead @animechick555 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @mysticpeachobject @jackiosstuff @slytherinroyalty16

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jasonsmirrorball · 9 months

Text

NEW ROMANTICS JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ of course there's an attractive guy who sits a row ahead of you the one time you decide to swear off boys

You approach the beginning of the new semester with the same level of excitement reserved for doing the dishes. The only class you remotely look forward to is the literature elective you’ve chosen, a stark difference from the rest of the subjects you’ve got lined up, all incredibly dreary and tedious. The students in the arts faculty are, you find, significantly easier to tolerate than the finance bros, prep school daddy’s money boys that look right through you when you speak in class.

Spring’s approach is near and evident this morning as you walk across campus, a gentle warmth on the back of your neck and the slow budding of jasmine outside the buildings, sweet smelling and pretty.

You dream for a moment, as you walk into the lecture theatre, of a life in which at seventeen you had chosen this. Sitting in an old, wooden hall of a lecture theatre, students in colorful and kitschy clothing, it’s nothing like the sleekness of the professions faculty. It’s a welcome change. You sit by yourself, and a wistfulness stirs up in your chest when a trio of students sit a few rows ahead of you, chatting excitedly to each other about their classes and the break.

The reminder of your own break makes you cringe, the text messages on your phone radiating through the leather of your bag.

It hadn’t been your greatest moment, choosing to go out with a boy from last semester’s econ class, but you’d gone through with it if only to put yourself out there. It had felt momentous at first, if only because you didn’t feel quite so wallflower-like and shy for accepting it, but in the end it had been nothing less than abysmal. The message you’ve been screening weighs heavy on your conscience, pressing into your stomach in demands of being acknowledged.

You’d reply to it later, you vowed. But you were so swearing off dating.

You suspect that you are something of a joke to the universe, that there must be some entity somewhere that takes pleasure in your misery. The moment you make such a vow is when the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life crosses into your line of sight and you go still when he looks over at you momentarily, before sitting in the row in front of you.

You have about two seconds to gather yourself, when the lecture begins, and it is not nearly enough time to recover. You force yourself to pull your attention to the front of the room, and away from the dark haired man that sits only a few feet away, typing diligently on his laptop. It’s ridiculous, that you’re so overcome, and more so by a mere stranger.

But you can’t help the way your eyes slide over to him, several times, sneaking looks through your lashes at the curl of his hair and the lines of his jaw. The watch around his wrist glints as he types, large hands moving in fluid, controlled movements.

You sigh.

He walks into your class later that week, and you determinedly avoid eye contact, thankful that he sits at a different table even if you wish he’d sit at yours. You have very little doubt in your making a fool of yourself should he so much as look your way. No, you think. Better to keep your head down and try to enjoy the class.

It’s difficult when, going on a month later, you’ve only become more enamoured. Jason, you learn his name, is kind. It horrifies you. You might’ve stood a chance had he dismissed you completely, but you get assigned to a table together and he is attentive when you speak, so good at coaxing your opinions out of you that you don’t even realise you’ve spoken until your other tablemates reply. It unnerves you, when his mouth quirks up into a half grin, smiling at you across the desk like you’re sharing a secret, and you don’t quite know what to do with it.

The streak of white that ribbons through his black curls, the scar that bisects his brow and jaw–all of it intrigues you. But still…you hesitate. There is comfort in not disrupting the routine you have built, even if at times it gets to be a little lonely. Better to admire from a distance, even if sometimes it feels as though maybe he thinks well of you, too.

A few weeks into the semester, when the assignments have begun to loom ahead of you, and midterms grow closer, you walk out of the classroom and hear your name called out from behind you.

It startles you, and when you turn your stomach dips at the sight of Jason slinging his bag over his shoulder as he catches up to you.

“Hi,” he says, a little breathlessly, falling into step with you. You blink, offering him an unsure smile.

“Hi,” you reply. When the both of you pause, you raise your eyebrows, stepping to the side of the busy hallway. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes widen and his face breaks into an easy grin. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I wanted to say, I thought you made some pretty good points, earlier in class. Are you doing anything, now?”

You blink at him, biting at the inside of your cheek. He waits patiently, and you’re struck by how pretty his eyes are, teal and bright, framed by thick, sooty lashes. A freckle below his eye moves with every blink.

“I was going to study,” you say, and it sounds a little embarrassing to say, when you look away and catch sight of the lawns out of a window, sun soaked and green with spring’s approach.

Jason doesn’t seem to mind it so much, only nodding his head when you look back at him. He looks a little unsure, then, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Do you mind if I come with?” he asks and you blink again. He offers up a rueful sort of grin. “I’m writing my essay on that Keats poem you kind of mentioned in your presentation, so I wanted to pick your brain a bit on that.”

“Oh,” you say, a little stunned. The aforementioned presentation had been nerve-wracking, and you’d felt the weight of his stare throughout what felt like the longest five minutes of your life. It almost made you long for the disinterested stares of the finance students. Almost. “Yeah, no, sure.”

“Cool,” he dips his head. And then he lifts it, looking a little sheepish. “Do you mind if we make a stop to get coffee, though? I’m kind of dying.”

You can’t help a grin at the way he admits that, letting out a small laugh. “That’s fine. I need to eat something, anyway.”

The campus cafe isn’t too busy when you enter, and you’re grateful for the lack of a rush. Jason leans down to peer at the desserts on display, and looks at you.

“What are you getting?” he asks, and you shrug, telling him your usual coffee order. He nods absentmindedly, muttering a “That sounds good.”

He steps up to the counter, and lingers by your side while you give your order. You try your very hardest not to pay him too much attention, but the brush of his jacket against your arm makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you stutter over your order. When it comes for you to pay, you’re taken aback when a hand moves in front of your own and a card that is very much not yours taps against the machine.

You look up at Jason, baffled. “Hey! You didn’t have to do that.”

He looks dead serious and unabashedly unapologetic as he steers you off to the side to wait for your order and explains, “I’m crashing your study session, it’s only fair.”

“I said it was fine, didn’t I?” you bluster, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“You can get it next time, if you want,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “But my dad would never let me live it down if I asked for your help and then made you pay for your own coffee.”

Your indignation pauses at the mention of his dad, a little charmed by the serious wide-eyed look he gives you, shaking his head at the thought.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, then, even warmer in the face by the implication that there’ll be a next time. But it feels like the right thing to say when he nods, a slow, pleased smile blooming across his face.

The both of you find a table in a quiet corner in the library after, sunlight spilling in through the window to warm your fingers as you pull out your planner, nodding as Jason speaks in low tones about the essay topic he’d chosen for his midterm. He sits across the table from you, long legs stretched out next to yours and you’re careful as you stretch your own under the tabletop.

For all he’d worried about crashing your study session, Jason does not speak much except to ask your thoughts on a line or two, spinning his laptop around so you can read over the lines he’s written. He’s a good writer, succinct and poetic without it reading too flowery–for an academic paper. You bite back the urge to ask him if you can read the whole paper when he’s done. It doesn’t feel so much like you’re helping him, than studying in his company. It feels a little surreal, and utterly comfortable at the same time. The silence is content, and settles over the both of you like a light cloak.

By the time you call it quits, it is late afternoon, and you feel a little drowsy. You part ways at your bus stop, climbing onto your bus after he insists on walking you there. He waits there as you board, and you offer a hand up in goodbye as the bus pulls away, pocketing the sight of his own raised in return.

The next week finds the both of you at the same table, and so does the week after that.

BLANK BLOGS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

reader in this au u r so beloved to me shy and a little lonely pouring one out for the wallflowers everywhere u r so loved (reader in my other series is probably more outgoing so i wanted to switch it up but i think she'd be friends with reader in this au)

#jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #jersey boy au #jason todd college!au

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fearyandear · 9 months

Text

My Headcanons for Societyboy!

I tried giving him features the other boys didn't have, like eyes that are downcast and a hooked nose. I also gave him adult braces because I thought it was a cute mental image to have this angry douchebag arguing over people and getting self-conscious when you stare at his teeth and laugh. He had pretty black hair that he thought was too boring to get your attention again, so he tried bleaching and coloring it himself, ending up with this. He doesn't take care of it, his hair is a mess aah. Also, he's self conscious of Quest because he has a skinny little body and that man is 😳

I have a bit of writing on him that I'm not sure I'll actually get to finish, but my take on our ex is:

He's an egocentric loser we confessed to first at the end of junior year of high school. He accepted because it meant he had bragging rights over his other friends. You stay together through senior year, the excuse of you both being busy trying to get into college truimphed over any actual intimacy taking place (most of your dates were just you watching him play a game in his room or studying).

Finally it was over, you both got accepted into the same college, graduated, and over the summer, you both prepped to move into your dorms (seperate). As the first year went on, you both made separate friend groups. Slowly, he started feeling uneasy. He realized there was a good chance you might leave him with so many new people in your life, and so much time spent apart; to combat this, he kept insisting on you following him to his hang outs, or staying over at his dorm instead.

You didn’t mind him becoming clingy at first; he had always felt very independent from youbin highschool, and he wouldn't care about stuff like cuddling and holding hands together before. This was nice.

But it only got worse as the years trickled by, and he became very demanding. You were slowly becoming an island, unable to hold friendships without upsetting him, relying on him, and being left behind anywahs when he spent his time with his own group. You graduated, and lasted a few months living together before you finally snapped and broke things off.

He was furious. He didn't think he did anything wrong and thought the progression of things was just how relationships were meant to be. He convinced himself that you were only throwing a hissy fit, and you'd come back. When it wasn't happening as immediately as he wanted, he started stalking you online, unable to comprehend how you could live without him.

When you'd post good things about your new life, vitriol overtook him and he started commenting shitty things, making his own posts, insulting you and hating you and still, expecting you to one day wake up and come knocking back.

But you wouldn't.

And it's been over a year already. He's still alone, blocked on all your accounts (though he got new socials to keep looking at you), in the same apartment (despite being offered to move somewhere cheaper because you might come looking for him), and still thinking of you daily. He didn't want to allow himself to feel it, but he's sad.

He misses you so much. He misses sleeping by you, misses hearing you talk about your hobbies, misses your cooking, your voice, your hugs and kisses, all the ways you made him feel special and not like the sad sack of shit he really was. It's time he finally owned up to his mistakes, internalize how he fucked up your life, and actually try to get better at being more thoughtful of you. He still thinks it's you he has to end up with, somehow, in some way.

As he browsed through your social media again, that's how he found the link you surely clicked on. It's somewhere neither you nor him have ever made an account on. That means he's not blocked there! His heart beat fast as he copied it but didn't click it yet; he had to calm down. This had to be like, the universe affirming him, right? Throwing him another chance to see you again. He wanted to make it count. But he was... anxious, too, after so long. He had to wait to buy and take a few edibles before he finally resigned himself to what would come next. He'd win you back. He joined the server.

(Then, enters Societyboy's Route. Not Quest's, this one would be similar but different.)

#blooming panic #societyboy #bp societyboy #blooming panic fanart #blooming panic fanfiction #blooming panic headcanons #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #yeah i count him as a yandere. hes an ex you cant grt rid of because hes so convinced you are meant to be with him #he doesnt want to have it any other way its pathetic #societyboy bp #yandere ex

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blxckmassbaby · 4 months

Text

Back To School

Pairing: LSU Joe Burrow x Black! Fem Reader

Warnings:Smut, (MINORS DO NOT READ)

Synopsis: Another late night fling with QB1.

(not proofread so sorry for mistakes :/)

It’s two in the morning,and you know damn well you should be asleep or at least studying.

But here you were,pinned underneath one of the most famous quarterbacks in college football…again.

You caught the Heisman trophy winner’s eye at a party on campus and ever since then,these meetups became routine for you and Joe. Although it had been a minute since the two of you had a meetup due to his hellish schedule,the passion and lust for each other never wavered.

All the kisses,the way he touched you,they were all just as feverent as ever.

“Seeing all those pictures of you looking so fucking good and not being able to touch you drove me crazy.But now I finally can again and I’m gonna take full advantage of it,you hear me,Y/N?” Joe whispered in your ear,running his hand over your clothed pussy, laughing at how his entire hand could cover your sex so easily.

“Joey…” You whimpered.

“I know,baby. Just lemme get you prepped for me first,okay?” Joe said softly.

He momentarily pulled your shorts and panties off in one go,leaving your pussy exposed to him amd the cool dorm air. His focus shifted from the discarded clothing back to your glistening mound.

Joe placed his thumb on your clit and began to rub your pearl in small circles,which was one of your favorite things he always did to you. He knew how to put just the right amount of pressure on it and the perfect pace to rub it,making your body jolt slightly.

“Oh look at you,you missed that huh baby?” He speeds up just a little bit,letting a drop of spit fall from his mouth to your pussy,intensifying the sensation.

“Joe please,” You whined a little louder and wrapped your much smaller hand around his wrist,trying to move his other fingers towards your entrance before he suddenly pulled your hand off.

“Be fucking quiet and behave,you’ll get what you really want soon.” He says sternly.

He slips the tips of his middle and ring finger into you before your tightness makes them slide back out. ”Fuck I gotta stretch you back out again. Been so damn long I think you got tighter,babe.” He pushes the same two fingers all the way into you this time. You winced from the intense stretch and Joe abruptly stops.

“You okay baby? you need a minute?” He asked.

You responded with a faint “uh uh” but obviously that wasn’t a concrete answer so he asked again.

“I need words,mama.Do you need a break? Yes or no?”

“No,daddy.” You whimpered.

“Oh keep calling me daddy and see what happens,baby.” Joe smirks feeling himself get harder from the name you just called him.

He pushes his fingers back in you once again instantly curling them up towards your g-spot. He kissed you in an attempt to muffle your moans as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Tell me what you want next.You wanna cum on my fingers or cum on my dick the way you used to hm?” He asked.

“I need to cum on that fucking dick,Joe,please.” You moaned against his lips.

“I knew that’s what you’d pick,you’re always so eager for my dick. And you’re gonna get exactly what you want. Joe says.

He takes his fingers out of your core,licking your essence off of them before discarding his own shorts and boxers on the floor. He strokes himself a few times and slaps the tip repeatedly on your pussy lips. “Look what you did to me,you see how fucking hard you made me?” Now you’re gonna feel it too.He muttered.

You shut your eyes waiting for the inevitable feeling of him poking at your entrance and sure enough,he’s sliding into your pussy for the first time in what felt like an eternity,letting out a deep groan as he did so. You wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer as his hips snap into you.

“Missed this fucking pussy so much,and it’s all mine. No one else drives me this crazy,baby.” He moaned. This nigga was absolutely lost in pleasure.

You could’ve cum just from hearing him tell you your pussy belonged to him.Knowing that out of all the other bitches on campus,you were the one getting this treatment.

“Don’t fucking stop daddy! ouu-shit!” You cried out feeling his the tip of his dick kiss your g-spot just as his fingers did earlier.

“What did I say about getting loud huh,slut?” I know it’s good but we don’t wanna get caught right?” He grunts staring directly into your eyes. The smallest things really did turn you on about him,especially the way he was able to fuck you at such a breakneck pace yet never break eye contact. Guess he was skilled in a bunch of other areas too.

You hadn’t even cum yet but your body was so overstimulated,you were so close all you could do was dig your nails into his back and moan into the abyss of the night. The need in your voice,the way your nails clawed at his back,it all ignited something in Joe that made him fuck you even harder.

The gushing sounds of your pussy and the quick rythm of him rutting into you plus both of your moans and cries of pleasure was nothing short of an erotic symphony that was drving you over the edge.

“Fuck,you hear that pussy talkin’ to me,babygirl? She’s sayin she wants to cum.You gonna let that pussy cum for me hm?”

You nodded quickly,trembling underneath the quarterback as his thrusts became sloppier.Joe was damn near unintelligible,the sound of your voice and the feeling of you wrapped around him so tightly was getting to him.

Then suddenly,as if he had a sudden burst of energy,he lifts your legs and places them over his shoulders, allowing him to drill even deeper into you.

Both of you couldn’t help but moan loudly from this new angle,and by this point whatever noises anyone heard was the least of either of your worries.

“Fuck,c’mon,mama Cum for daddy, I feel you getting closer…” He trails off mid-sentence as his orgasm seemingly approaches just as quickly as yours.

“Im c-cumming! Shit I fucking can’t-MMH”

“Come on,baby. Come on,baby cum on this dick it’s all yours.” Joe groans,kissing the silver number 9 charm on the anklet he had gifted you not too long ago that was currently draped over his broad shoulders.

Your press your hands into his firm chest as your orgasm completely ravaged through your body,making your eyes roll in the back of your head. Joe’s followed close behind you,his body shaking as he came inside of you. He pulled out,and breathlessly collapsed on top of you,trying to catch up with himself.

“Didnt realize how much you missed me did you?” You giggled running your hands through his hair.

Oh I did,I just had to show you better than I could tell you.

(Hope yall enjoyed this,let me know if you’ve got any nfl requests and let me know what you thought of this story😭)

#nfl smut #joe burrow smut #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fluff #nfl fluff

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theemptyartdeco · 8 months

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Twin Tides (Nate Jacobs)

Summary:

Kaitlyn Arundel, a former prep school princess from New York City, was a pawn in her parents' war of a divorce, had a fire in her that was concealed by a facade of naivety and perfection.

Nate Jacobs is the king of the monsters that once haunted him, a master of control born from his own nightmares.

When their worlds collide, lines blur and reflections emerge, hinting that perhaps, they're not as different as they seem.

Materlist

Chapter 2 Calmness amidst the Storm | Kaitlyn

Warning: This chapter contains prejudice, strong pejorative language and internalized misogyny. (Both of them are deeply flawed characters, read at your own discretion.)

Kaitlyn Arundel belonged to everywhere but nowhere.

To the glamorous New York, to the exotic Beijing, to melancholic Vancouver, Kaitlyn came, breathed and lived. She didn’t mind the habitual change of scenery. Why would she ever? She adored the privilege of flying above the world, rainy wooden scent of the northwestern coast, the foreign and mysterious capital of an ancient civilization and the vibrancy and grandeur of the city where dreams were made of.

But finding herself in a Californian suburban town was something that had almost sent her over the edge of anger and despair.

“Sweet daughter, it doesn’t matter whether you are in New York or anywhere else. Diamond shines everywhere it travels to.”

“Don’t you blame it on me. It’s your father’s fault that I can’t afford your private tuitions and ballet training anymore.”

“I will be sending allowance on your card. Don’t you ever worry. It’s your mother I am punishing, not you.”

“Kaitlyn, I’ve looked into your profile, 4.2 GPA, outstanding volunteering experience. Keep your academic records as it is, you will get into college in no time.”

Getting to a college? Is the man fucking serious? I do not belong to some low life community college. I belong to an Ivy.

“Kaitlyn.”

“Ms. Arundel.”

“I’m sorry,” She adjusted her skirt, forcing the anger and tears down her throat by smiling gracefully, “Please go on.”

“As I was saying, I know transferring across half the country in the middle of your senior year may unsettling,” the principal continued, the appreciation in his voice now laced with a hint of impatience, “But I assure you, there is no need to be.”

“Thank you, Principal Hayes,” Kaitlyn nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the discreetly ostensible round pearl earring, “To hear this from you offers me great relief.”

Relief my ass.

Every step Kaitlyn took toward the AP Calculus classroom, she felt as if she were Cersei Lannister in Games of Thrones, walking down atonement among stinking peasants of King’s Landing.

Some guys with their poorly arranged shirts smirked at her way, their lustful eyes gazing under her black skirt, while a group of girls whose laughter sounded like those horrendous traffic honking in downtown New York bumped the side of her shoulder, misplacing her expensive shirt.

She peeked back at the the group of girls. Fluorescent pants, their full breasts bouncing blatantly in their tops that served to enhance their youthful sexuality.

They would’ve been sent home, she scoffed, with a slight tilt of her brows, if only this was at the Trinity.

She sat herself in the corner of the first row instead of the centre where she wished to be. She liked attention. Especially the type of attention she receives effortlessly simply by dressing, walking and smiling they way she did. But something about placing in front of twenty ish hormonal teenagers unsettled her. Most importantly, the spot offered her opportunity to observe.

The teacher went on and on about the limit of a function, a notion she had leant in junior year, Kaitlyn’s gaze wandered subtly unnoticeably. One girl was the first of her subject of observation. The makeup on her face was smoky and bold, her winged eyeliner almost reached her brows. She, like almost other girl in East Highland High, wore a short tank top revealing her belly button and petite waist. Then, at least, her eyes finally landed on her breasts, again. They were plump, her round skin rubbed against each other and the rough texture of her top. They captured her attention uncontrollably.

She felt the sensation of her tight, black, push-up bra constraining her flesh like a 19th century corset.

But she loved Victorian corsets.

But it burnt, it hurt.

She returned her mind on the paper, but the image of their horrendous laughter and rude demeanour, the way their breasts bouncing freely and shamelessly played again and again.

Just as she breathed soothingly, preparing to drown herself in the world of mathematics once more, her eyes landed on Nate Jacobs.

Wearing a large blue hoodie, it was obvious in his eyes that his mind was filled with calculations beyond the math.

That night at the carnival, he touched her.

He dared to touch her.

“A lot of men would try to het their hands on a beautiful girl like you. You don’t want to find yourself in that kind of situation.”

Was that a threat?

Nate Jacobs was the image of an archetype she disdained: the arrogant jock, stupid and practically illiterate, actions dictated by sex hormones instead of the brain. Yet the way he spoke to her with the calm and charming mask he had worn , even later that night, the threatening way his gaze locked to that his girlfriend and the way he grabbed her for messing his pride…

For the first time in this dreadful school, Kaitlyn was excited. Among the hormonal driven teenagers, there was a wrestler.

An embodiment of physical strength and strategy.

To be frank, Nate Jacobs had occupied a portion of her mind. A disgust boiled in her stomach as Kaitlyn is recalled the unabashedly greedy look the faces of those pathletic and arrogant high school boys, but Nate Jacobs was everything she liked about men.

Kaitlyn Arundel had made a long mental checklist of the things she liked and disliked about men.

She liked white shirts, crisp and clean, but not the ones that hadn’t seen an iron in weeks.

She liked tall boys, but didn't mind the shorter ones as long as their bodies were in shape.

She hated unkempt appearances, but there was nothing on planet Earth she hated more than fat arms and a round belly.

She liked jeans, snug but not too tight.

She liked sweaters.

She liked confidence, but despised misplaced arrogance, the bluster without the backbone.

She never understood boys who wore makeup, felt it hid more than it showed.

It was one of the things she first noticed about Nate. His confidence didn't just show, it roared.

“Mr. Jacobs, please come with us.”

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Principal Hayes’ voice.

“Maddy fainted, and they found bruises on her neck,” a girl whispered to the person next to her.

“And they think that Nate did it!”

Kaitlyn immediately recalled the image of him dragging Maddy furiously away from the booth after she had called his mom the c word.

To Kaitlyn, the idea of Nate leaving those marks on Maddy wasn’t unsettling. If someone had humiliated her that publicly, she might not have drawn blood, but she'd certainly have sought revenge — maybe by obliterating her future.

An hour later.

“Ms. Arundel, do you consider Nate Jacobs to you a violent individual?”

“No, officer. Nate Jacobs is one of the few who had shown me kindness since my transition to a completely new environment. He is an honest, generous and kind person . I truly believe he wouldn’t do such a thing. He's just not that kind of person.”

Author’s note: after writing this chapter, I realized that her pov, perhaps, is more and disturbing and Nate pov chapters. Even I, the author, got a little disturbed while writing. I know there aren’t as much dramas in the these first two chapters, but I believe it’s essential to take the time to establish their worldviews and give a glimpse of their internal battles. Like Nate, there is a reason why Kaitlyn is the way she is. Her backstory will be explored. Thank you for reading!

Comment pls pls pls! Your comments mean everything to me!

Tag list: @dani-is-a-princess @wabi-sabi1090 @tember1

#euphoria #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fanfic #fanfic #rue bennett #nate jacobs x you #maddy perez #jules vaughn #jacob elordi

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red-bat-arse · 10 months

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Just Date Someone Better!

*I don't do tag lists*

Eddie and Chrissy were friends, completely by accident. There was a late winter party with a few too many black out drunk basketball players that pushed the tipsy and sober crowd to migrate into the garage; Eddie made a snipe about pompoms and the mating rituals of high school preps that Chrissy, a little high, cackled at before asking him if his species did the same but on top of cafeteria tables, and they'd gone from there.

Sure, it was mainly based on having a weed buddy to talk shit about high school boys to, but hey, everyone started somewhere. The rumours about him had already paved the way, so when Chrissy asked him how many drinks it'd take before he would kiss Patrick Mckinney, he took the out and avoided the confrontation he always dreaded with new friends. And when Chrissy cried over him buying her Mcdonald's for dinner one day, he got to learn something about her that she kept close to her chest too.

Eddie was queer as a two dollar bill, and when he got comfortable with someone he didn't bother hiding it. It was no wonder that several weeks in his circle tripped Chrissy into figuring something important out about herself, granted the waterworks she burst into when she finally confided in him in late January were a touch less dramatic than his own coming out to Wayne, where he'd freaked out so bad he'd tripped and broken his nose. And then just being two queer kids getting through high school in Hawkins would've been fine and dandy, figuratively and literally, if not for two major factors.

Chrissy had a judgemental prick for a boyfriend, and her mother had held her college fund over her head from the moment she voiced an inkling of doubt in their relationship. Apparently good christian boys like Jason, nephew of their church's preacher, were the cream of Hawkins' crop, and it would set her up for life if she accepted that she would follow him to college, get married when he graduated and come back to town to raise their kids all before she turned 25. It wasn't even that Chrissy didn't want that life -actually, she desperately wanted to find someone who would love her, marry her and settle down for a long, quiet life -but she wanted to do it on her terms, not her mother's or Jason's.

Eddie quickly learnt to hate Chrissys' mom and look at Jason with something akin to pity. At least Jason, despite being a self absorbed teenage boy, did actually seem to love Chrissy -though it was clear after watching for a few weeks that he didn't much listen to her or notice when she was struggling. The less said about how Eddie felt concerning the way Chrissy's mother treated her, the better his blood pressure would be, but he could work out that animosity by getting Chrissy out of her head and eating, and there wasn't a damn thing Laura Cunningham could do about it.

Or at least, there wasn't anything physical, Eddie thought grimly one day when he picked up Chrissy's shirt off his floor -she always changed at his place to be more comfortable -and noticed the rough edges of hastily taken in seams. Or the way that on Mondays Chrissy had recently started flinching at loud voices and would pick at her food, never actually eating it, and always, always make a point to sit closer to Jason at lunch and in class even though after school she told Eddie she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Eddie was pretty sure she was going to snap one day and it wouldn't turn out well.

He wished he could just tell her to kick Jason to the curb, but it would only make her other problems worse, and there were still months until graduation, not to mention she couldn't skip town without any funds. Even if they left together, that would be potentially months living on one income, and she'd start to hate herself for 'being a burden' even if Eddie could never think she was. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He'd never tell the shrimp this, but Dustin really saved them when he came up with a plan one night after Hellfire, right around March when they'd spent all of the last campaign watching Eddie craft enemies who were holier-than-thou royals or witches who cursed the party with various ills. Honestly it was a miracle Chrissy herself had never witnessed one of those in action.

"So it's all about reputation?" he asked as they were packing up, a look on his face that spelled trouble whenever he pulled it during a session. Eddie nodded back, saying something about how Carver was apparently high royalty in the eyes of the waspy control freak mother population in town, and Dustin perked up even more. "Well then all Chrissy has to do is date someone better in the meantime."

That pulled Eddie up short, which made Gareth bump into his back as they left the drama room.

"How do you figure that, casanova?" Mike rolled his eyes and shoved a little at Dustin's shoulder. "Going to set her up with a winner all by yourself?"

"It wouldn't be real, Mike," Dustin rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, huffing. "She wants alone time and someone she can drop when she goes to college, boom. If he's better than Carver, that should keep her mom from complaining, and give her a boost in school if it's someone really impressive. The gossip chain loves a good romance," he spread his hands wide, like they should all be following him to some predestined conclusion. "Who do we know that's age appropriate, a nice dude, with a good reputation, and, more importantly, available and hung up on someone else?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Mike whined.

"You want Chrissy to fake-date Steve goddamn Harrington?!" Eddie hissed.

Steve Harrington -who better in Hawkins than Steve 'The Hair' Harrington for a hare-brained scheme like this? Steve, who still held clout from his high school days with the current juniors and seniors who hadn't noticed his fall at the time, but definitely remembered that he'd become kinder. Steve, whose name was well respected in town both for his parents' reputations and the way he'd saved people during the starcourt fire last year, and then stepped between Sinclair and Billy Hargrove the year before that. Steve, who may've been working retail but could easily fudge his situation as 'gaining independence and responsibility before he leaves town to learn under his father and take over the family business'. Steve, handsome and charming but a meangirl at heart. Steve, still hung up on Nancy wheeler so he wasn't a threat. Steve, the abdicated King.

Sue him, he'd listened to the kid's hero worship of the guy for six months, Eddie could wax poetic about his stupid tiny crush if he wanted. Thank god he'd never named serious names when he and Chrissy were bitching about the Hawkins male population before this.

More importantly, when Dustin and Eddie met with him to talk it over, Steve listened with a weirdly intense look on his face as to why Eddie was even entertaining Dustin's insane idea. It was the first time Eddie really vocalized the magnitude of how much his worry about Chrissy turned his insides out, and that if he didn't have such a negative reputation himself he'd have put himself up for grabs in a heartbeat. Eddie didn't say it outright, but the fact he was willing but unable to play Chrissy's beard really got to him, but part of the sentiment must have shone through, because in the end Steve agreed -but only if he could talk to Chrissy about it first.

It was surreal to host Chrissy, Dustin and Steve freaking Harrington in the living room of his trailer the next evening -really made him want a cigarette in the lead up, quietly fretting about what the kid and his big brother were going to think about the small, cluttered space he called home. But he shouldn't have been worried. Dustin flopped down on the couch without pause, and Steve just asked whether Eddie wanted him to take his shoes off before he followed, looking as comfortable as if he were in his own house.

Eddie had, of course, briefed Chrissy on the proposed plan on their way back from school to give her time to think on it. She was only a little miffed that Eddie had talked to Steve about it without consulting her first, but admitted it would've been awkward approaching Steve about something like this either way. She was still stewing in her thoughts by the time they showed up, brow furrowed and fingers tapping at the sweats she'd stolen from Eddie's dresser the minute they got in the door.

"So you're really still hung up on Nancy Wheeler?" she asked bluntly, and Steve choked a little. He glared at Dustin when the kid laughed and shook his head, getting up to pull him away from the couch.

"Okay, no, not having this conversation with the peanut gallery present. Take your dork master outside and let me and Chrissy talk in private," Steve shot Eddie a disarming little grin, and despite himself Eddie felt his feet move to follow a protesting Dustin right back out his own front door. The kid huffed something fierce but had a big smile on his face when he dropped into one of the porch chairs and looked up at Eddie.

"Steve's got this," he said, perfectly confident, and Eddie -well, he let himself believe it.

Steve didn't just have Dustin's admiration, he had his trust, and that didn't come cheap. If he said Steve would go along with this if Chrissy was on board, exactly to her specifications and no further, then that was what would happen. If he said Steve was still pining over the elder Wheeler, well, Eddie had his doubts based on how glued to Buckley's hip the guy was, but it meant Steve wasn't going to actually develop feelings for Chrissy. And if the guy born with a silver spoon could settle in Eddie's home without even a hint of distaste, whether it meant he was a good actor or just a good dude, either way, they were golden. Who better in Hawkins was there for a plan like this?

Well, maybe it'd be better if Eddie wasn't going to be crushing on his best friend's fake boyfriend, but no plan was perfect. He'd be fine.

#pre steddie #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #steddie #fanfic #stranger things #fake dating

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arielhopepeace · 1 year

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Hiii. This is my first time posting on here but this is gonna be a Joel Miller and y/n story. I do have a Javier Peña story too, so lmk if you want me to post that!!

Please 18+ and I’ll add the appropriate tags for future uploads but this one is just part one for now! Only fluff (for now).

Part two is here

Part three is here

Part four is here

Part five is here

Part six is here

Part seven is here

Final part is here

6,000+ words

PART ONE

There’s a sense of calm in the stifling Texas air today. All of the kids are off of school for the summer, and people are enjoying the crisp sun rays on their dewy, hot skin. You notice that the excitement for the state fair is palpable, easily picking up on the feeling from the young teens who pass you by on the sidewalk.

It wasn’t too long ago that you yourself were in high school, ecstatic for summer vacation, and a well-earned break from the misery of the education system. School was never for you. It wasn’t that you were inept or lazy, but that the other students were insufferable. It was hell going through school, and it was all because of who your dad is.

Not only is your dad the mayor of Austin, Texas, but he’s also one of the wealthiest people in the state. Your parents always wanted you to go to public school so that you could have a normal education and have a ton of friends, but the second everyone made the connection with your last name, you were doomed.

Luckily, they never forced you to go to college. You were able to secure your spot as your dad’s secretary, and making decent money doing it, too. Truthfully, it frustrates you to be in such close proximity with him all day. It’s not that you don’t love your dad, you do. You just wish you had an actual relationship with him.

The two of you never did normal father-daughter stuff, or even spent much time together growing up. It was always helping him prep for a campaign, or him just talking about his job. It’s always seemed like he cares way more about his job than you, and your relationship suffered because of it.

You’ve never brought this to your dad’s attention, and part of the reason is because you’re scared he won’t even care if he knew. You’re just happy to have a relationship with your mom. She’s like your best friend. And since you didn’t have many growing up, it was nice to be close to her.

As you’re leaving the office to head to your car that is parked a bit out of the way, you notice a few ambulances passing by, the blaring sirens and blinding red lights startling you to the point where you hop back off of the sidewalk. The trucks are nowhere near you, but the sudden burst of noise gave you an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You can’t help but watch them as they travel to their destination, praying that they’re not turning towards anybody that you know or love. It alleviates some anxiety as you watch them continue down the long road, knowing that the few people you do care about, live closer than to where they’re going.

You’ve just recently moved out of your parent’s house into your own, and it’s been freeing, yet terrifying. The stillness of the house at night, along with the random creaks and pops that you haven’t familiarized yourself with, leave you so uneasy, that it’s hard to sleep sometimes.

It’s only been a week at this new house, and while it’s beautiful and lovely, it feels painfully empty. You haven’t gotten around to going to a local shelter to adopt a cat or dog, simply due to the fact that you work five days a week from nine to five. An animal deserves to have someone around more often than that, in your opinion, and you don’t want them to go from being at a shelter and alone, to being in your home, alone.

There is a perk to this new house, though, and while you know it’s demented of you, you can’t help but feel giddy every time you see the black pickup truck in the driveway next to yours. Next door to you is your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, and his daughter, Sarah. It was completely coincidental that this was the house that was the most fit for you, and just so happened to have your childhood crush living next door.

You know it’s wrong of you to have a thing for your dad’s best friend who is at least fifteen years older than you, but you know it’ll never amount to anything. He’s a kind man who loves his daughter more than anything in the world, and the fact that he’s extremely hot is just an added bonus.

He has a luscious head of black hair that is just starting to show a few sprinklings of gray in it. His body is fit, yet still thick and not at all lean. It’s his naturally tanned skin that always gets you, and the fact that it looks like the sun personally kissed him when he was born. Tie that all together with a handsome hooked nose, reminding you of a Greek god statue every time you see him. And that nose rests above an always groomed mustache and beard that has its own dash of subtle gray hairs in them.

If you were older and a different person entirely, you wouldn’t hesitate to go after this man. He’s been single for god knows how long, and you haven’t seen him with a woman since his wife died just after Sarah was born, when you were twelve.

Sarah herself is now twelve, going on thirteen in a few months. It’s strange how long ago being thirteen seems to you, but also how it’s like it was yesterday. In truth, you don’t miss your teen years in the slightest. All the awkward growth, hormones, and the question of sexuality was just plain stressful. But now it’s eleven years later, you’re twenty-four, and you’re living in your own house, with your own car, and pretty content with your life for the most part.

Pulling in to the driveway at home, you see Joel outside washing his truck. White streaks of soap cover the vehicle and your eyes are on Joel’s dampened gray shirt and dark blue jeans that he’s wearing beautifully on his perfect body.

It’s ridiculous how hard-up this man has you. He has no idea the sinful ideas you have in your filthy mind about him, or the fact that he could snap his fingers and you’d do whatever he commanded. You’re practically panting as you watch him stretch over the hood of his truck, the gray fabric of his shirt riding up, allowing you a glimpse at his side.

You shake your head, feeling like a creep just watching him do a completely innocent task. You step out of the car, the smell of soap instantly filling your nose as you walk up to your front door.

Joel takes notice of you and waves, putting his massive sponge down on the hood as he walks over.

You’re instantly nervous, feeling your blood pumping faster in time with his steps toward you.

“Hey,” you say smoothly, not at all sounding as nervous as you feel.

“Hi,” he grins, flashing that goddamn adorable smile that melts you every time. “I actually wanted to ask you about that barbecue your dad is having next week. Your dad said to be there at five, and I know how anal he is about that shit, but I have to bring Sarah to a friend’s house that night. Would he care if I was late? I’ve tried calling, but he hasn’t answered, as usual.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “yeah he never answers. I doubt he’d care, but I could always take Sarah if you wanted me to. I didn’t plan on going to the barbecue anyway.”

His straight black brows push together. “Why?”

Laughing a bit sheepishly, you briefly look down to your feet. “I’m just not feeling it. Those events are never fun for me. I’m always just sitting by myself in the corner while my parents schmooze with the town.” You frown, “And now my only buddy Sarah won’t even be there, so I’m definitely not going. She’s the only one who talks to me, when she goes.”

Joel chuckles, bringing a hand to your shoulder. His touch electrifies you. “Come on, I’ll talk to you. It’ll be weird if the mayor’s daughter isn’t there, right?”

You shrug. “I’d rather stay in bed, eat snacks, and watch a scary movie by myself.”

“Well, hey, if you still end up going after you take Sarah for me, I’ll be happy to see you.”

It warms your heart to hear him say that, and you can’t help the heat that’s made its way to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“And thank you for taking her. It means a lot.”

“Of course. I love her. She’s the best.”

Joel looks back to his house, smiling fondly. “She is.”

You put your key into the lock, turning it before stepping in. “Just text me next week about what time and where the house is, okay?”

He nods. “Thank you again, y/n. You’re amazing.”

Smiling, you step inside, reluctantly closing the door on the face of the sexiest DILF you’ve had ever had the pleasure of knowing. There’s always that thrill when he’s near you, like you’re in high school again talking to your crush against the lockers while you do your best to be as feminine and alluring as possible.

Your phone buzzes from your purse and you pull it out, smiling when you see a text from Joel.

Joel

5:45pm

Taking Sarah to the fair tonight. Would you like to join us?

You’re not sure why, but your heart skips a beat at him asking you. Obviously it’s not a date, and he’s only asking because you’ll be home alone otherwise. But you know that you’d be an idiot to say no at an opportunity to spend time with him.

5:46pm

Sure. What time?

Joel

5:47pm

Gonna finish up dinner then be on our way. Probably 7.

5:48pm

Okay, I’ll see you there.

Joel

5:49pm

Would you like to just ride with me? You know, save the environment from carbon emissions and whatnot.

You audibly giggle.

5:50pm

Lol, sure. I’ll be ready.

You practically twirl around your living room like you’re the main character in a rom-com. There’s even a slight squeal that passes your eager lips at the scenarios running through your mind. Wouldn’t it be lovely to go on the Farris wheel with Joel; to be so close that your legs are pressed together? Maybe he’ll lean in and kiss you, and fireworks will pop above your heads, adding to the romance of the moment.

There’s nothing you wouldn’t give to have Joel return the feelings you’ve had for him since you were going through puberty, but you know that he’s not interested in someone so young. And the fact that his best friend is your dad would also definitely play a part in his lack of interest. He’s a powerful man, and there’s no doubt he’d be furious if anything were to ever happen.

Shaking your head, you push all of the mushy thoughts away, knowing that all they are are silly fantasies that can never be fulfilled no matter how hard you try to manifest them to reality.

It’s nearing seven o’clock, and you’ve fitted yourself into blue jeans, your black Keds, and a t-shirt with your favorite singer on the front. You obviously want to feel pretty around Joel, so you reapplied the makeup that was already on your face for work, touching it up and making it look cleaner. Your hair hangs loosely, even adding the extra effort to straighten it. You know it’ll frizz up because of the heat, but as long as it’s silky for a little bit, that’s all that matters.

Your stomach growls loudly. Because you were so focused on getting ready to see Joel, you didn’t leave yourself enough time to eat dinner. Of course you could always eat something at the fair, but deciding on what is the biggest issue. There’s always so many delicious choices, and you’re not sure which you’ll land on.

There’s a knock on your front door and you swing it open, seeing Joel in his same jeans as before, but with a different shirt on than the one he was cleaning his truck in. This one is nicer. It’s a red plaid shirt that has the sleeves rolled up above the elbows, and you can’t help but notice the fresh smell of his cologne.

“Hey,” you finally say with a smile. “Let me just grab my purse.”

You stretch behind the door to the coat rack where your tan purse hangs by its long strap. You toss it over your shoulder, turning and locking the front door behind you.

“I’m glad you decided to come with. Sarah is supposed to meet some friends there, so I’d just be the stray dad holding all the tickets and prizes,” Joel smiles down at you.

You can’t help but giggle beneath his intense brown-eyed gaze. “I’m glad you invited me. Would’ve been alone all night.”

He nods. “I know. Figured we could both use the company.”

Joel opens your door for you, and your inner imaginary version of you is doing cartwheels, confirming to herself that this is in fact a date. You brush her off, knowing she’s still over-thinking everything.

“Hi, y/n!” Sarah squeaks excitedly from the back seat. “I’m so glad you came.”

You turn, meeting the soft, wide hazel eyes of Joel’s beautiful daughter. “Me, too! I was telling your dad how bummed I am you won’t be my barbecue buddy next week.”

She giggles, flipping her curly hair behind her shoulder. “I’m sorry! My best friend is having a big sleepover and I didn’t wanna miss it.”

“Aw, no, I don’t want you missing out on that to hang out with me at some lame barbecue! That sounds like a blast.”

“I’m so excited,” she beams. “The first sleepover of the summer.”

Joel gets in with a slight grunt, looking to Sarah in the rear view mirror. “And I know not the last.”

“Nope.”

Joel and I both chuckle, the truck pulling away from my driveway as we head through the crowded streets towards the fair.

To no surprise, the place is jam packed with people of all ages, making it nearly impossible to find a parking spot. Joel manages to find one across the street at a baseball stadium, where a lot of other people are parked for the fair as well.

The three of you walk across the street, waiting for a safe clearing before you head towards the ticket booth at the entrance of the fair. Joel easily pays for the three of you, despite your wallet and cash being ready and in-hand.

“Joel,” you say gently, “you didn’t have to pay for me.”

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Please, it’s not a big deal.”

Sarah looks up to her dad, her lit-up iPhone in her hand as she puts on her best puppy dog eyes. “Can I please go meet Stacy and Lilly now?”

Joel sighs. “Fine, but you keep me updated on your whereabouts, okay?”

She nods fervently. “I promise!”

He gives her a small kiss on the forehead before she’s on her way, scurrying off to be with her friends.

“Guess she doesn’t want me around this year,” he says with a small laugh, but it doesn’t hide the pain in his voice.

“Aw, Joel, don’t say that. Sarah loves you, and you’re an amazing dad. She’s just getting to that age where she’s not a kid anymore. She’ll be thirteen soon, right?”

He looks to you as he nods. “Jesus, yeah.”

“She’s lucky to have you, and she knows it. When I was thirteen, I barely saw my dad.”

His brows fix together with sorrow in his twinkling brown eyes. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. He was so focused on running for mayor and his campaigns,” you sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to darken the mood,” your laugh lightens the air a bit.

“No, not at all. I just had no idea. I thought you two were inseparable, since you work for him and all.”

Your eyes shift to the dirt path in front of you, watching it as you continue to walk along it with Joel beside you. “We haven’t been close in a long time. He’s a bit self-absorbed.”

Joel snorts with laughter. “Well, I could’ve told you that.”

You both chuckle, and you decide to change the subject.

“So, how was your day? I was surprised to see you home so early.”

It’s clear that he gets your signal to switch the conversation, and he does it without a single fret to his words.

“Yeah, I was, too. It was slow today, actually. Normally, I’m not home until after the sun sets, but they didn’t need us as long today.”

“That’s good,” you grin wide. “I’m sure Sarah was happy to see you.”

His eyes soften as he nods. “She was.”

Joel works in construction, and that only adds to the rugged handsomeness that is this man. There’s callouses at the tops of his palms, as well as various small scars and scrapes on his hands and arms. You’re not sure if there’s anything about him that isn’t a complete turn on.

“See? She adores you. It’s okay if she wants to hang out with her friends. Don’t take it personally,” you nudge him gently.

He chuckles, nodding. “You seem to be very knowledgeable for someone who doesn’t have any kids.”

“Only telling you what I personally experienced as a female teen.”

Joel smiles, his eyes turning to look at the different food booths around. “Do you want something to eat? I can’t imagine I gave you enough of a warning to have dinner.”

Your stomach screams in response, pleading for the relief of food. “Oh, it’s not your fault. I was too busy winding down from work to eat. I’d actually love to get something, I’m just so indecisive.”

“Hmm,” he stops in the middle of the wide dirt path, tapping a long, tanned finger to his blackened beard. “Would you like a turkey leg?”

You shake your head as you laugh. “That sounds—messy.”

“So, what? I’m not judging you,” he smiles warmly.

“Maybe something simpler, like a pretzel.”

He gives you a disapproving look, his hands on his hips. “A pretzel for dinner?”

You roll your eyes as you smirk, not being able to help how hot you think it is when he gazes at you in that way. It’s probably your massive-sized daddy issues that have you squirming beneath his line of sight, but you don’t care. You’ll forever find this man to be as sexy as can be.

“Fine,” you quirk up a brow. “How about I’ll have a pretzel and we can share a funnel cake. Deal?”

Joel pats his stomach. “God, with this body? I really shouldn’t.”

“I promise that there’s nothing wrong with your body.” You say it before thinking, and you instantly advert your eyes away from him, continuing over your odd compliment. “Uh—the pretzel stand is over there,” you point, gesturing to it down the path with your head.

You both walk towards the stand, the smell of fresh, soft, buttery pretzels filling your nose and making your mouth practically water. There’s also a cinnamon-sugar pretzel near the window on display that has your stomach rolling over itself in almost agony.

Joel steps up to the window, pushing a five dollar bill towards the older gentleman in the stand. “Two salted pretzels, please.” He holds up his fingers in a peace sign.

The man nods, taking his money as Joel looks down to you with a victorious smirk.

“You’re annoying,” you laugh, shoving him with your elbow. “Why won’t you let me pay for anything?”

“Because I invited you. Just let me treat you and quit complaining about it.”

God. Even his playful assertiveness is sexy. He could do anything at this point and it would leave you weak in the knees. It’s not just what he says, it’s the sultry allure of his deep voice. It’s a soothing, gentle voice, but also powerful and manly. You’ve never heard him yell, but you know that it would knock you off your feet if you did. Just that thought alone tempts you to make him angry, just to experience firm, enraged Joel for your own wicked pleasure.

He hands you your pretzel, clicking his to yours as he bows his head slightly. “Cheers.”

You laugh, biting into the soft, fluffy flesh of the browned bread. The flaky salt hits your tastebuds with a delicious sting, making you salivate as you chew.

“Mmm,” you groan, “thank you, Joel. I’m starving.”

Joel’s eyes meet yours, giving you a small smile as his jaw flexes from his chewing. “You’re welcome. Now, to that funnel cake stand.”

You nod, walking down the path a bit to be instantly drawn in by the smell of decadent, fried batter. Joel bites at his pretzel again, briefly mesmerizing you with his mouth before you look to the funnel cake menu.

“Are you a chocolate or fruit woman?” he asks, pulling his bifold out again.

“Definitely chocolate, but there’s nothing wrong with both. What about you?”

Joel looks to you with a smirk, licking his lips free of salt. “Chocolate. But I was wondering if maybe we did one with chocolate sauce and strawberries on it.”

“God, you’re amazing,” you practically groan. “Yes. That sounds perfect.”

He chuckles as he nods, both of you waiting in line as you finish your pretzels. Joel takes your paper sleeve from you, smushing it with his as he bunches them together, tossing them in the nearest trash can.

You watch as he orders the funnel cake, enjoying how he’s taken charge of the evening. The thought that he might be doing this because he thinks of you like a daughter makes you suddenly feel sick, and you’re praying that he doesn’t. The fact that he said ‘woman’ and not ‘girl’ when asking if you prefer chocolate or fruit was comforting. It made you hope that he saw you as a exactly that; a woman.

His hand slips into his bifold to pull out another five dollar bill, stopping to gaze up at the menu again.

“Sorry, could you actually add a large lemonade to that, too, please?” he hands the guy a ten. “Thanks.”

“I love lemonade,” you smile wide at him, feeling how hot your cheeks have become.

“Me, too. I just know that I need something to drink after that pretzel, and I figured you did, too.”

You both move to the side so other people can order as you wait for your funnel cake to be finished.

“Thank you. You’re so nice to me, Joel.”

He chuckles. “And you’re nice to me. And Sarah, which means more than how you act towards me. You could hate my guts, but as long as you’re nice to my girl, that’s all I care about.”

His girl. God, what you wouldn’t give to be called that by him.

Joel stretches up to grab the funnel cake and lemonade from the woman who hands it to him, and the both of you find the nearest table to sit down at. He hands you a fork once you’re settled down into an old plastic folding chair at a splinter-inducing wooden table.

His fork crunches into the plastic plate as he stabs the dessert, his mouth stretching out in an ‘oops’ expression.

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s okay, these plates are cheap. If stuff gets everywhere, it gets everywhere,” you shrug.

Joel chuckles, pushing a pierced bit of the cake into his mouth. “God,” he chews, “yes, yes, yes.”

You take your own bite, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate, the strawberries, and powdered sugar. They all combine into a beautiful explosion of delectable sugar in your mouth, making you nod in approval.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say, taking a bit more.

“Oh, I agree.” He gives you a half smile. “And thanks to you, I actually allowed myself to eat it. I never eat stuff like this anymore.”

You ruffle your brows. “Why?”

“Well, I’m about to be forty, and my metabolism isn’t the same as it used to be,” he chuckles. “I’ve already got the dad bod.”

“Dad bods are hot!” you blurt, watching as his eyes widen in surprise, and his eyebrows raise. “I just mean that—like—all dad bods are hot. Having a six pack isn’t the rage like it used to be. It’s dad bods.”

Joel laughs, his head turning down to the funnel cake as he continues to eat. He quickly drops his fork as he chews, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Sarah just texted me to tell me she’s going on one of the big rides. She sent me a picture, look.” Joel flips his phone around, and it’s a picture of a wide-eyed, over-exaggerated with fear, looking Sarah and a large ride behind her.

“She’s adorable,” you giggle. “I never rode those things as a kid.”

“Why not?” Joel asks, locking his phone and tucking it into his jeans again.

“I’m a pussy.”

He lets out a loud laugh, contagious enough to have you giggling along with him.

“Why don’t we go on some? We’ve got the bracelets,” he shimmies his wrist at you.

“Oh, god, Joel. I don’t know.”

“Come onnnn,” he drags out. “It’ll be fun. What’s the point of going to the fair if you aren’t gonna ride the rides?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Fine, but if I throw up, you’re not allowed to judge me.”

His eyes soften as he stands. “I already told you I’d never judge you.”

Joel gestures the rest of the funnel cake to you, but you turn it down, resulting in it being tossed into the trash. You’re both walking quicker than before, your feet carrying you to the ride where you lay against the side and it spins you in a fast circle.

“I will definitely throw up on that one!” you protest, anxiety clawing its way into your chest.

Joel hops in the very short line. “Are you really going to let my money for your bracelet go to waste?”

You glare at him as you cross your arms with a smirk on your lips. “Didn’t think you’d hold it over my head.”

“Well, now I am,” he teases.

The carney signals you guys forward, and you’re both running onto the ride, strapping yourselves against the padded wall directly beside each other. You can feel your heartbeat in your neck, and Joel looks to you as he guffaws.

“If you’re too scared, we can get off, y/n. It’s really okay.”

“No!” you say firmly, finding your courage. “This ride is my bitch.”

Joel cackles with you joining him.

Your hands are gripping the bars near your shoulders as the ride finishes being loaded up. You can hear it being geared up, the slow spin beginning. It’s nerve wracking waiting for it to get to full speed, but it only happens within a matter of seconds.

You’re spinning so quickly you feel like you’re going to fling through the open ceiling of the ride that you don’t dare to look up into. You know that if you turn your head anywhere other than up, you’ll be vomiting funnel cake and pretzel all over everybody in this ride.

The music in the ride is deafening, as are the mechanics and the wind whipping in your ears. Joel screams out beside you, and you decide to scream with him. Slowly, you turn your head, watching through your whipping strands of hair, his own hair being roughly pushed around by the wind.

The ride comes to a stop after what feels like forever, and Joel stumbles out of his space, tumbling to the ground and falling flat on his back.

“Oh, my god!” you cackle, releasing yourself from your seatbelt confines to stumble carefully over to Joel. You see about three different Joel’s from how completely dizzy you are.

“Ah, fuck. I’m too old for this, y/n,” Joel laughs hysterically, his eyes closed.

“Oh, shut up. You’re not old. Now, get up.” You hook your arm under his, slowly pulling him to his feet.

Your arms stay hooked as you both wobble out of the ride, Joel clutching the railings out of the ride for dear life.

“Give me a minute, I still feel like I’m spinning.” His laughter hasn’t stopped since you set foot on that ride.

Your equilibrium has mostly replenished, and you can’t help but laugh at Joel’s lack of steadiness.

He leans back off the railing after a few minutes, brushing his hair down with his palms. “Ah, I’m a mess.”

“You look fine, Joel,” you giggle, fixing your own hair as you wonder how fucked up it looks. “You still want to ride more rides?”

“Maybe just not as spinny,” he chuckles, finally starting to walk towards you. “Something easy.”

“What about the carousel?”

Joel nods. “Perfect. Let me catch my breath a little on those.”

You walk over to the ride filled with shiny, lavish horses all having a pole going through them. There’s only a few people ahead of you, mostly everybody waiting for the bigger, scarier rides.

Joel and you walk the steps, the ride wobbling a bit as everyone gets to their horse. You pick the one that’s your favorite color, and Joel is seated on a sparkly white one beside you.

“Beautiful,” you giggle.

Joel beams wide at you. “I happen to like my glittery horse, thank you very much.”

The funniest part about it all, is how a man so burly and masculine is giggling like a school girl on the back of a wonderfully feminine horse. You’re both laughing your heads off as the ride starts up, going in big, decently slow circles with your horses sliding up and back down easily.

There’s a bit of a jerk in yours, making you move suddenly forward towards the pole. Joel grips your pole, your head hitting the softness of his hand.

You’re amazed at his reflexes, and also his ability to detect you were going to fly forward.

“Wow, thanks, Superman,” you smile with a slight laugh.

“As soon as we started going, I could see that one was a bit wonky. Unlike my pretty glittery queen beneath me.” He uses his other hand to pat the ass of his horse.

Your horse juts forward again, making your forehead knock against Joel’s hand.

“God, I’m moving. This one is gonna kill me,” you say, quickly hopping off to go to the one on the other side of Joel.

His head turns as it follows you, his eyes examining the horse closely. “It seems good, I think.”

“Oh, yeah. This one is a lot smoother.” You quickly pull your phone out, pointing it to the mirror directly beside you. “Smile, Joel!”

Joel closes his eyes as he presents you with a big, toothy grin, and you giggle as you snap your picture in the reflection.

You examine the photo, laughing at the both of you. You turn your phone to show him and Joel belly-laughs.

“You’ve gotta send that to me,” he giggles. “It’ll embarrass the shit out of Sarah.”

Later, you’re both sitting down at the same table where you had your funnel cake, Joel having purchased another lemonade for you two to share. It brings you a slight thrill to know his lips were wrapped around the same plastic straw that you are currently sucking lemonade through.

You’ve had such a good night with him, that the inner imaginary you is actually starting to believe that you may still end up kissing on the Ferris wheel.

Joel pulls out his phone, standing up. “Okay, Sarah said one more ride and then she’s ready to leave. Let’s go win a stuffed animal.”

“Okay,” you beam, carrying the lemonade with.

He lands on a shooting game, and you have to shoot one hundred pellets into a target to break the bullseye out of the paper. If you do it, you get to pick any prize you want and take it home.

Joel holds the stationary rifle steady, leaning down a bit to keep his eye on the sights. The bullets shoot out quickly with a sharp whistling sound as they crash against the paper. Before he’s even finished with his full round of pellets, the middle of the paper falls down, Joel backing up and triumphantly holding his hands in the air.

“I’m the pellet god!” he cries, making you giggle like an idiot.

“Okay, you can pick your prize,” the younger-looking man says to him.

Joel gestures to you, looking to all the prizes.

Your eyes immediately land on the giant purple ape, pointing with a wide grin. The man climbs up and gets it down, the damn thing being as long as you. Joel takes it and hands it to you, your arms enveloping it into a huge hug.

You turn. “Thank you. I’m gonna name him Joel.”

“Oh, yeah? Do I look like an ape?”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nope. It’s just because I like him so much.”

Joel smiles softly at you, his brown eyes gazing into yours. You feel weak in the knees by the way he’s looking at you, and you know that you’re reading too much into his gaze.

“Daddy!” you hear, the both of you turning to see Sarah. “Did you win me a stuffed animal?”

Joel looks to you, then back to Sarah. “Actually—”

“Yes, he did!” you beam, handing the gorilla to the little girl who can barely carry it. “But he said you have to name him Joel.”

Sarah hugs the stuffed animal tightly, smiling wide as she nods. “Thank you so much.” She puts the animal down briefly to give her dad a huge hug, his arms falling to wrap her up.

Your eyes are a bit bleary as you watch their moment, wishing that your dad would’ve given a damn enough about you to even take you to a fair.

Back at home, you say good night to Sarah as Joel pulls into his driveway. Sarah gives you a hug, then runs inside with her big stuffed animal clung to her side. Joel walks you to your door, peering down at you as you unlock it.

“That was sweet of you to give that to Sarah,” he says sweetly. “Thank you, y/n.”

“Oh, please. I’m sure it means more to her than to me.” Your body faces his. “Thank you for tonight. I had such a good time.”

“I did, too. I’m happy you came with.”

“Me, too.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and all you hear is the chirping of crickets and the buzzing of the cicadas.

“Anyway, good night, Joel.”

“Good night, y/n.”

You walk into your house, closing the door behind you as your back presses against it. Of course you wanted that gorilla, knowing that Joel won it for you, but you wanted Sarah to have it more.

Their relationship is so special and rare. You would kill to have your dad give you more than a passing glance in the last ten plus years. It makes you happy knowing that they will have a good relationship forever, and Joel will make sure of it because he loves her more than anything in the world.

***

#pedropascal #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #y/n fics #the last of us fic #smut #javier pena #javier pena smut

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chrisbitchtree · 4 months

Text

All For You

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race!

The day Billy’s life changed forever was a Sunday in May. He’d never forget that for the rest of his life. He’d never forget how brightly the sun shone as he packed up his car and drove east, as his father kicked him out, refusing to pay for any more of Billy’s college tuition after finding him in bed with his friend Matt a week after they arrived home for summer vacation.

His was given the option to stay and continue to have his dad pay for his college education, but the conditions were that he move home and live there while finishing out his last two years of school, and that he give up his friends and his “lifestyle” as Neil called it.

Billy refused. He couldn’t live under Neil’s roof again. And suddenly the whole state of California, not just San Francisco, seemed too small, so he got in his car and drove. He hadn’t been aiming for the Midwest, had originally planned on Boston, but that’s where he’d landed, after his car had broken down on the side of the highway just outside of Chicago. Finding he liked the pace of the city more than he thought he would, he decided to stick around for a bit.

He applied anywhere he could, and the first place to call him back for an interview and offer him a job was a catering company. He’d worked as a waiter on and off through his first couple years of college, for extra spending money, so he was confident that he could do the job well.

He made friends easily, people who accepted him for who he was, falling in with a group of fellow servers, Heather and her girlfriend Robin, and their friend Steve, gorgeous, funny, goofy Steve, who could make Billy weak in the knees with one smile, and thoughts of whom filled Billy’s every waking hour, and most of his dreams too. They would work long hours, day after day, serving at all sorts of upscale events, and when they were done their shifts, they’d hit the clubs or bars, or go see a movie, then head to the diner for late night shakes and fries.

When Billy decided to stay long term, applying for and getting a transfer slot at a local university, he had to find a place to live. Heather had been nice enough to offer up her couch for the summer, but that couldn’t be a long term solution, so Billy put out feelers for a potential roommate. It turned out that Steve was looking for one as well, so it worked out perfectly.

It seemed like a match made in heaven. They were the same age, both out on their own with no ties to family, working hard to make a name for themselves in the world. Steve was an especially hard worker, going to school for culinary management by day, and working as a server by night and on weekends. He’d also pick up shifts in the prep kitchen when he could, telling Billy that it was important for him to know how all aspects of a food business worked if he wanted to own his own restaurant or catering business some day.

Billy really admired Steve’s drive, and it only added to his attraction to the other boy. He tried to fight his feelings for Steve, but it was hard when he was so sweet and kind, funny and thoughtful, and looked like he did to boot. He had long legs that seemed to go on forever in his black server’s pants, a lean, toned swimmer’s body, and soft looking, wild brown hair that curled up in some spots and flopped over in others.

Billy wanted nothing more than to kiss Steve’s plush pink lips while running his hands through it. It felt like he and Steve were maybe building to something, but it was always hard to tell. One minute, Steve would be flirty, touching Billy’s arm as they talked, and the next, he’d be moving to the other side of the couch, keeping a safe distance between them.

In the face of this, Billy tried to tamp down his feelings, doing his best to just enjoy his friendship with Steve. They would help each other study, make sure the other ate, they worked and partied together, and it was really starting to feel to Billy like he had a family again, between Steve, Heather, and Robin.

Then, Billy had to go ahead and combine his bad habits of jumping to conclusions and opening his big mouth without thinking about what he was going to say first. He and Steve had both been scheduled to work a massive Christmas party for some regular clients of theirs, the Harringtons. They hired the catering company almost every single Saturday evening, for small dinner parties, and they were Billy’s least favourite events to work, because the Harringtons were so awful.

They were rude to the staff, telling them that they were slow and lazy, and constantly made up stupid white lies, like saying that they’d asked for white win when they were poured a glass of red, even though the servers knew that they’d asked for red, or saying that their steaks were overcooked, even when they were a perfect medium rare. The only thing that kept the catering company coming back was how well the jobs paid, and the generous tips that the Harringtons would give them at the end of each event.

Nobody ever wanted to work a Saturday night, but Billy would be fine with working every single Saturday if it meant he never had to serve those awful people again, so he was deeply frustrated to see his name on the list of servers for their Christmas event. He knew there would be a huge payout for it though, so he decided to just grin and bear it, and hope the night would go by quickly.

Thankfully, it did go by relatively fast, and at the end of the shift, he went looking for Steve, hoping that they could ride back to the warehouse space that the catering company ran out of in the same big white food service van. As he rounded the corner towards the Harrington’s front hall, he heard Steve speaking in hushed tones with a woman. That was weird. The female voice didn’t sound like anyone from work.

Curious, Billy froze in place and listened. “Son,” the woman said. “You know you’re welcome home at anytime. In fact, we hope that you’ll join us for Christmas dinner. You just need to stop that. And in case you need help making your decision, here you go.”

Mom,” Steve replied, his tone stern. “I don’t want this. And I told you and dad that I’m not changing my mind. Take this back. I don’t want it. We’ll see about Christmas.”

“I’ll throw it in the trash if you don’t keep it,” the woman said, before walking away, her heels clacking on the tile floor. She rounded the corner, followed by Steve, who was stuffing an envelope into the pocket of his black pants.

Holy shit. Steve was the Harrington’s son. He wasn’t like Billy at all. He flattened himself against the wall, trying to remain unseen. Thankfully, he did, both Steve and Mrs. Harrington too wrapped up in the argument they’d just been having to pay attention to anything else.

Billy was fuming. All this time, Steve had been acting like he was just a regular guy, trying to scrape by, with no one to care for him, just like Billy, but in reality, he was richer than Billy could ever dream of being, and he had a family, right there in town, that seemed to care about him and want him around, even if they were assholes to almost everyone else. And here, Billy had thought he and Steve would spend Christmas together. Sure, he’d never actually asked, but it seemed to make sense. Where else would either of them go? Billy had already been trying to see if he could fit a small turkey in their apartment sized oven, and Steve was planning on spending the day with his rich family in their mansion!

He tried to act normal on the ride back to work, and on the car ride back home, but by the time they got back to their apartment, he couldn’t hold back anymore. “So, I hear you have big plans for Christmas day, huh? Gonna go over to mommy and daddy’s and let them spoil you? I can’t believe you never told me that the Harringtons were your parents, Steve. You just sat back and let us complain about what assholes they are, and it turns out you’re their fucking spawn! Did you think that was funny, asshole? I hope you enjoy your fancy meal while I sit here all alone eating a frozen dinner and getting drunk off cheap wine.”

Steve, who’d been in the middle of taking off his coat when Billy started his little rant, stood frozen, his eyes wide, his face ashen, his jacket half on and half off. Billy could see the bulging envelope in his pocket. It probably had a giant wad of cash in it.

“Billy, I…” he started, but Billy cut him off, too mad to listen.

“I just don’t understand how you could do this. All the months we’ve known each other, and we’ve lived together for almost four months, struggling to make rent and pay the bills, and you’ve got an endless supply of cash right there. I heard your mom give you the envelope of money. I saw it in your pocket.” He pulled off his coat, throwing it towards the hall closet, and stomped to his room, slamming the door shut.

He hoped that Steve would leave him alone so he could cool off, but no such luck. Not a minute passed before Steve was yanking Billy’s door open. Hands on his hips, he looked like he was about to lay into Billy, so Billy grabbed his headphones, turning on his music and cranking it up loud. He closed his eyes and laid back on his bed, doing his best to ignore Steve.

It worked for a little while, but then Steve was snatching the headphones off his head. “Hey, asshole!” he shouted. “Did you ever think for one fucking second about asking me why exactly I’m struggling to pay for stuff if my parents are loaded?”

Huh, yeah, Billy hadn’t really thought to ask. “Because you’re a massive idiot who doesn’t know how to be happy with what he has?”

“No, dumbass, because, exactly like you, I was kicked out of my house for being queer. But unlike you, I don’t have the benefit of being halfway across the country from my parents. They hire the catering company almost every week, just to keep an eye on me, and remind me of the lifestyle I left behind, and I don’t want to say anything about it to anyone because they bring in good money for the business, and despite my repeated requests for my parents to leave me alone outside of work, they’re constantly trying to bribe me to come back, with the conditions that I take something they choose in school and marry a woman.

But I don’t want that. I want to own a restaurant. I want to make a name for myself. I want to date guys. I actually wanted to date you, you fucking prick. Until tonight, that is. I really liked you, but it turns out you’re just as awful and judgemental as everyone else in my life. I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend Christmas together, and I took the money from my mom so I could afford to buy you a Christmas present, but I really hope that you enjoy that frozen dinner and boxed wine. I’ll talk to Heather and Robin about going there.”

Billy sat speechless as he watched Steve walk out of his room, slamming the door behind him. He was such an idiot. He had to make this better somehow, but he had no clue what the fuck to do. It wouldn’t be enough to just say sorry. His big mouth had pushed them way beyond that. No, he needed to make a grand gesture, something that would really show Steve how much he meant to Billy.

It came to him the next morning as he was hiding out in his bedroom, listening to the sounds of Steve getting ready to go to work, a shift he and Billy thankfully didn’t share. Steve had mentioned that he was going to spend Christmas with Heather and Robin, since Billy had gotten himself ex-communicated.

Robin and Heather, from a small town in Texas, couldn’t afford to go home for the holidays, so they were staying in Chicago. If that was the situation the two of them were in, there were probably others, at work and school, that couldn’t afford to make the trip home, or didn’t have family to spend the time with. Maybe Billy could offer to host a potluck dinner at the apartment, to show Steve that he wasn’t alone, and that he had a lot of people, most especially Billy, who cared about him.

As soon as he heard the front door shut and the key turn in the lock, Billy sprang out of bed and raced to the living room, scooping up the phone, cord stretching across the floor, and dialed Robin and Heather’s number.

He’d been so caught up in how to make this better that he’d never considered that Steve would have already told them what happened. He sat through a full half hour of both women trading the phone back and forth as they took turns berating him for his behaviour the previous evening. He knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing to hear all the stupid shit he’d done repeated back to him.

When they were done, and he had apologized profusely, promising to never hurt Steve again, he told them his plan. After another round of promises to never intentionally hurt Steve again, they agreed to get him back to his and Billy’s apartment on the evening of the 25th.

When Steve got home that day, he reluctantly listened to Billy’s apology, and just as reluctantly accepted it, telling Billy that he knew he hadn’t meant it, and was just being a hot headed asshole, which Billy deserved, but since they were out of school for the semester now, any time they weren’t working over the next two weeks consisted of Steve mostly avoiding Billy by going right to his room when he got home, or leaving the apartment altogether for long stretches of time.

A small part of Billy hoped that anger wasn’t the only reason that Steve was avoiding Billy, that maybe he still had feelings for Billy too, and just felt awkward about addressing those feelings now. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high though.

Billy tried to spend that time working on himself, seeking out a therapist who could help him work through his feelings of jealousy and resentment towards anyone who he perceived as having an easier time than him in life, and help him work through his abandonment issues, both things he’d spent way too long shoving down inside himself until they bubbled up to the surface, out of his control.

He also contacted everyone at work and his school friends that said they didn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays, making them all promise to keep it a secret from Steve. His invitations had an overwhelmingly positive response, which both saddened and heartened him. He’d never thought of how many other people felt alone as he did.

Steve spent the night of the 24th at Robin and Heather’s apartment, so Billy worked to prep the apartment as best as he could. They didn’t have much furniture in their apartment, and there wouldn’t be much room for extra tables and chairs anyway, so he decided they would all eat on the floor. He bought bright red and green tablecloths at the dollar store and draped them all across the living room floor after pushing the couch and armchair against the wall, and a few of tomorrow’s guests have loaned him Christmas lights and decorations, and one even brought over a tiny tree.

He was actually pretty happy with it by the time he was done. Now he just had to wait. He made cookies to fill the time, ten different kinds, from his mother’s handwritten recipes, one of the only things he brought with him when he moved to remind him of her. By the time he stopped for the night, the counters were full of baked goods.

The next day, as the guests started to arrive, Billy grew more and more worried that Steve wouldn’t show up. He didn’t know what kind of plan Robin and Heather had concocted to get Steve to go back to his apartment, he’d left that to them and trusted that they’d follow through with it, but he was starting to second guess whether they’d be successful.

They said they’d have Steve at the apartment by 6pm, but that ticked by, and then 6:15, and 6:30, and Billy was starting to give up hope, resigning himself to failure. He had an apartment full of friends, but no Steve, the one who mattered the most. Then, just as the clock struck 6:45, the door flew open, and Billy could hear Steve’s voice, even from back in the kitchen, where he was grabbing more napkins.

“I still don’t get why…” the words died on Steve’s lips just as Billy rounded the corner to their living room. There stood Steve, with Robin and Heather behind him. Steve looked as beautiful as ever, hair flopping in his eyes under his hat, and a startled look on his face as he took in the space, packed full of their friends and coworkers. He locked eyes with Billy, who suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

“Billy, can I talk to you? In my bedroom?” Steve asked.

Billy followed silently behind him.

“You have a lot of nerve, having all of our mutual friends over for a Christmas party at our apartment while I’m over at Robin and Heather’s, sulking. You’re really trying to hurt me as much as possible, aren’t you? We just came to get the bottle opener. Robin broke theirs. If you don’t need it for your party guests, I’ll just take it and get out of your hair, so the festivities can continue.”

Oh god, this really wasn’t going according to plan. “Steve, I didn’t plan a party for while you were gone. This party is for you. Well, for you and for everyone who didn’t have anywhere else to go for Christmas. But mostly for you. I wanted to show you how many people you have in your life, that you don’t need your parents. We’re your family now. I’m really, really sorry about what I said to you that night, but you mean more to me than anything, and I just wanted to make you happy. I don’t think you’re a spoiled brat. I think you’re the most amazing, hardworking, kind, special person I’ve ever met, and I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove that to you.”

A small smile started in the corner of Steve’s mouth, the first thing even close to Steve’s usual grin that Billy had seen in weeks. “Ok, I’ll think about forgiving you. On one condition.”

“Anything. I’ll do anything for you, Steve.”

Steve opened his bedside table and pulled out a sprig of something green. “I was going to use this stupid mistletoe to finally try to make a move on you tonight, but I’m gonna leave the move making to you now.” He handed the sprig to Billy, who held it over their heads.

He leaned in close to Steve. “Can I kiss you, you beautiful goof?”

Steve didn’t respond, and instead just pressed his lips to Billy’s own. They stayed like that for a long while, until someone knocked on the door, letting Billy know that his kitchen timer was going off for the hors d’oeuvres.

“Come help me in the kitchen?” Billy asked, holding out his hand. Steve took it, following him out of the room.

The spent the rest of the party glued to each other’s sides, and Billy could tell from the soft looks Steve gave him, and the giant grin plastered to his face that this had been the right move. Billy was beyond happy that the plan had worked. Laying in bed that night, holding Steve in his arms, Billy thanked whatever higher power had decided he was worthy of a second chance at happiness.

*** From that year onwards, every single Christmas, no matter where their lives took them, through the opening of their first, then second restaurant, marriage, and the adoption of both of their children, one thing never changed. Every single December, they put the word out to anyone and everyone they knew that they were welcome in their home for a celebration of friendship and found family come Christmas day.

Please look forward to the amazing work from the next contributor, @oopsiedaisiesbaby!

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove relay race #harringrove fic #chrisbitchtree writes

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gravedigginbbydoll · 11 months

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pencil shavings and shared smiles {pt.4}

Fem! Teacher Reader x Teacher! Eddie

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AN: Hi friends! Sorry this took so long, I was struggling to finish this chapter and figure out how I wanted things to go but here we are ! Enjoy! (Also pls reblog and like if you enjoy it!)

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: Minors DNI!!!, Noncanon, Hawkins AU, Normal Hawkins, Rumors about Eddie, Eventual Smut, Very fluffy, Outcasts and Bullying, Mentions of Loneliness, Flirting, drinking, violence/fighting, drug usage, mentions of death, Fem!Reader, use of nickname Tish in place of Y/N, older! Eddie, short-haired Eddie, 1995/1996 Hawkins, F! Reader has a dark past, F! Reader is a former goth lol, angst.

Summary: First day of classes, and the day is not too hot for you.

Following that peaceful afternoon with Eddie, you slowly started to unravel bits and pieces about the man. At the same time, he slowly got you to open up more and more. You had spent your following few lunch breaks between training periods with him, even one day bringing old faded polaroids to prove your brief stint in the goth scene. Eddie had nearly lost it when you showed him a photo of you at a goth club in your hometown, a dark little underground venue fondly called ‘The Church’.

“Tish, I barely recognize you. Your makeup and clothes! I thought I was the black sheep!” He exclaimed, chucking with pink cheeks. He had started calling you ‘Tish’ as a joke, referencing Morticia Addams. He thought himself incredibly clever when you revealed you had taken French in high school and at your college.

You had not let him off easy, making him bring proof of ‘The Hair’ Harrington and his own wild mane he had bragged about to your next lunch in the library. He had done as promised, bringing multiple polaroids of himself and his friends. One had him and Steve, along with Dustin and Mike, who you know now as Nancy’s brother. They all had arms slung around each other, Dustin sandwiched in the middle as the shortest in the lineup. Eddie had a mischievous smile, his hair much longer, and his brunette curls wild. He wore a jean vest with patches, a leather jacket underneath, and a worn-out Metallica shirt. It was the same Eddie you knew, but his face had no smile lines or soft wrinkles. Steve looked the same, but his hair looked like it was reaching for heaven, which made you laugh a bit. The other photos all had Eddie in similar attire, and you could even point out some of the people you recognized.

“See?” Eddie teased. “Told you I was metal, Tish.”

You were wishing for those lunches and teasing jabs from Eddie currently as you anxiously got ready for your first day with students. Before moving to Hawkins, you mostly worked as a sub due to… extenuating circumstances. You had your first day planned out, opting to do introductions and explain to students what you hoped to do as their first reading while also setting expectations for the classroom. What you hadn’t prepped for was your neighbors having loud and obnoxious sex all night, leaving you lying awake for hours before finally succumbing to sleep. You were now shaky and tired, trying to pull on your heels, leading you to misstep and break your other heel while twisting your ankle. Pain shoots up your leg, and you slide down your wall, a sour mood spreading. You pull off the heels and sigh, trying to calm your nerves and turn the day around.

Flats it is.

The ride to school is relatively calm, save for the headache that’s trying to creep in. There’s a bit of traffic, but nothing crazy. When you reach the school, you feel your stomach drop at the sight of parents dropping off their children and teachers’ cars parked in the lot. You check your wristwatch, hoping you didn’t read the time wrong. Instead, the numbers flash at you in mocking tones.

It’s 9:00 am. The school day has already started.

You feel your chest tighten as you rush across the parking lot and into the building, trying to dodge the few kids running around the hallways late for their homeroom. When you finally make it to your room, you see none other but Mrs. Doyle standing in your doorway, crossed arms and disapproving, staring at your homeroom class seated at their desks. You scramble in, smiling apologetically at the older woman’s scorn, rushing to your desk, and throwing your purse into your chair as you head to the board to quickly write your name. When you spin back around, you see something on your desk. A candy bar. Next to it is a note scrawled in messy handwriting. You gently pick it up, reading the message.

Good luck on your first day, Tish. Knock ’em dead.

A smile finds its way onto your lips, and you straighten up, beginning to introduce yourself to your homeroom class, a new sense of determination and courage finding its way into your heart.

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

Once you reach lunchtime, I feel the slight boost of confidence beginning to wear off. Your students didn’t seem excited by the reading or explanation of the assignment, groaning at the prospect of homework.

You sit at your desk, rummaging through your bag, when you hear a knock at your door. You stop to look up, your heart skipping a beat at the idea of a familiar head of curly hair being behind the door. Instead, it pops the head of the ever-scorning Mrs. Doyle. Your heart sinks.

“Mrs. Doyle, hello. How may I help you?” You smile politely, swallowing down your nerves.

She enters your classroom, closing the door softly before turning to you; her stern expression has not changed since this morning.

“I came to discuss your tardiness.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you nod, trying to offer an apology. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Doyle. I truly appreciate you watching my class this morning. I promise-”

She cuts you off with a hand raised, her mouth pursed in a hard line. “Now, I’m not sure how they do things in ‘the big city’ or wherever you’re from, but here tardiness is unprofessional. Especially on the first day. Let us hope it’s a one-time mistake.”

You nod, smiling shakily, your hands trembling. Guilt and shame consume you. “Of course. My apologies.”

She shakes her head, heading out the door, but stops to look at you first. “Just know… this job isn’t for everyone.”

You feel your stomach drop to the floor, panic creeping through your system.

She smiles a sickening faux grin. “Well…good luck, dear.”

As she closes the door, you try to control your breathing. You eventually feel your body relax and decide to look through your bag again to find the small sandwich you managed to throw together during your rush to get ready. You feel your stomach growl and your frustration grow as you realize you left the sandwich out on your counter. You decide to calm the rumbling of your stomach with the candy bar Eddie gave you, but you still feel hunger gnawing due to forgetting breakfast this morning. You groan and lay your head on your desk. Today is quite a day.

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

The end of the day is finally reached; the students race to get out of school and head home to comics, games, and TV. You smile softly at the children running out of the school, memories of your own youth playing in your head. Some things don’t change.

You are about to head to the teacher’s lounge and grab a coffee before starting lesson plans when an older gentleman dressed in a button-down shirt and nice dress pants comes to your door. He smiles at you. He’s handsome and clean-cut, but you don’t recognize him.

“May I help you?” You offer a smile, though confusion swims through your brain.

He smiles wide and holds a hand that you take and shake gently. “Hello. I’m Mr. Robucks. I’m Jimmy’s father.”

You hold back a grimace, recalling Jimmy as the well-dressed yet rude boy who didn’t pay attention in class and had attempted to sneakily stick gum in one of the more timid girls’ hair. You stopped him with a stern glance, but he still unnerved you.

“Ah, yes. He’s in my 2nd-period class. Is there any concern or something I should know, Mr. Robucks?” You furrow your brows but smile softly, trying to not let your nervousness show.

Mr. Robucks chuckles and shakes his head, his grin wide. “Please, call me Chris. And no, I just figured I’d introduce myself. My boy can be mischievous, but he’s a good kid.” He looks you up and down, making your skin prickle and crawl. “Although, not sure how he could focus with such a young and beautiful teacher.”

You fake a laugh, trying to be polite. “Oh please, Mr. Robucks. Thank you.”

He jokingly squints at you, wagging a finger. “Now, what did I say? Call me Chris.”

You smile tightly, grab your bag, and head towards the door. “Well, Chris, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to get going-”

He stands before the door, looking at you and smirking, tilting his head. “Well, I do hope we see each other often. Perhaps I can show you around town.”

You feel your throat tighten at the offer, trying to keep your fake smile and politeness from cracking. “Perhaps. Good day, sir,” you state, trying to brush past him.

He steps aside to let you, but you can feel his eyes on your back, watching you walk the hallway.

You hurry your steps towards the teachers’ lounge, closing the door behind you and letting your head lean against the door as you sigh, trying to regain calmness and a sense of control.

“Tish…?”

Even in your frazzled state, you recognize the low timbre of his voice and turn. He’s sitting at a table with Steve and another relatively young male teacher to his left. His eyes are full of concern and confusion, and he leans forward. You walk toward the table, an apparent slump in your shoulders. You sit across from the men at the round table, looking up at them wearily. Eddie reaches across the table and squeezes your hand, his hands warm and calloused, the rings he wears a cool contrast against the heat of both of your skin.

“What’s up, Tish? Hard day?” His usually teasing tone is soft and cautious, and he keeps his soft hold on your hand, rubbing a thumb back and forth across your hand.

You feel heat rush through you but look up at him, your eyes threatening to overflow with tears, but you fight it with a tight-lipped smile. “Honestly? Not the worst I’ve had.”

He gives you a pointed look, shaking his head. “Uh, uh. I don’t do well with bullshit, Tish. Spill it.”

You feel your heart warm before sighing. Then, you launch into the story, explaining everything from the late night you had due to your obnoxious neighbors (which Eddie promptly got up during to make you some coffee, with as much sugar as possible), the students hating the assignment (Steve and Eddie reassure you that the kids are just upset that summer is over, and the art teacher you come to know as Will reassures you that when he had his first year at Hawkins Middle, the kids tore him to shreds), Mrs. Doyle scolding you for running late (Eddie promptly threw up a middle finger and said ‘fuck her’), to the weird father trying to flirt and make passes at you (Eddie and Steve both threw up the finger then, scrunching up their noses). By the end, you feel like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

You hold your coffee cup, the warmth radiating off your mug spreading through you. You sit with the three a bit longer, laughing at Eddie’s over-the-top gestures. He’s telling a story about his first year teaching and how he fell flat on his face in the middle of the parking lot, making himself look like he’d gotten in a fight. He’d jokingly told his students he was an ‘underground boxer.’ One of them believed him, causing parents to call the school to panic and some of the older teachers (including Mrs. Doyle) to really chew him out.

After a bit more casual conversation, Will heads home, grabbing his briefcase and waving you goodbye. Steve then checks his watch, cursing as he runs out the door, claiming he’s late for “movie night” with Robin. You and Eddie are left alone, the teacher’s lounge relatively bare as most of your coworkers left to rest and recuperate from the first day back. Finally, you stand up to go, remembering your plan to work on the reading assignment and try to make it more fun for the kids. Eddie stands, grabbing his stuff as well.

You take in his appearance discreetly as you grab your things, and your toes practically curl. You finally noticed his attire and felt something swirling in your stomach. Eddie is wearing a black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to showcase a smattering of tattoos along his forearms. He still has his chunky silver rings and guitar pick necklace, though you see it more now with one of the shirt’s top buttons undone. You feel your thighs squeeze together as you try to shake off the thoughts.

Eddie heads to the door first, opening it for you. When you approach him, he does a dramatic bow, head tilted down as he draws out his words. “After you, milady.” He glances up at you, eyes twinkling with humor.

You giggle softly, faking a curtsy. You try to imitate a posh accent, failing miserably. “Why, thank you, Sire.”

You walk through the doors, Eddie walking beside you. You’re both mostly silent, holding your bag on your shoulder, Eddie’s hands in his pockets. When you near your hallway, he turns to look at you, a shy smile gracing his face. Your heart pounds as you look up at him.

“Say, Tish… Do you like stargazing? What with being a lady of the night and all,” He teases, dimples appearing as his deep and warm eyes stare into you, their coffee hue warming your insides.

“I’m not opposed to it. Why? Is someone offering?” You tease, fighting the grin that wants to cover your face.

He shrugs, walking backwards towards his hallway, away from you. His grin is wide and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. Your heart flutters.

“Could say that. Maybe you should meet them in the parking lot at 8?”

Your stomach churns with excitement as the smile you’ve been fighting spreads like wildfire across your face, and you feel your emotions bubble out of you.

“Maybe I will.”

He shines with excitement and joy, his grin never dimming in brilliance. He keeps his front to you before pivoting on his heel and holding a hand in a wave. He calls out over his shoulder, tone light and teasing.

“Hope to see ya there, Tish.”

taglist: @bebe07011 @corrodedcoffincumslut @kurdtbean @nerdflash @kimmi-kat @aheadfullofsteverogers

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writingseaslugs · 1 year

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Pomefiore: Halloween with Them

Aight here is some Pomefiore which I thought was super cute while I was writing it, so I hope you guys enjoy! Also, if you guys don't know what "boystyle" is, think of Lolita in a more prince-like fashion. Ciel from Black Butler vibes.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Halloween with Them

Theme: Costume Prep

Pomefiore took Halloween as a very serious holiday, but not for the scare factor. The extravagant costumes and make-up were a great way to test your skills. Whether it be glamorous looks or hideous monsters, Pomefiore took the make-up aspect very seriously.

It came as no surprise that they needed models as well. Sure, they could be practicing on one another all day, but the amount of make-up remover and latex could be devastating on the skin, especially excessive exposure. So dragging other students were needed.

Then the students who took costume design also needed models to show off their work on the night of the school’s party. This meant everyone at Pomefiore was taking a page out of the Sea Witch’s book and finding poor, unfortunate souls to glam up in preparation.

Vil Schoenheit

“Alright, so you’re going to be doing my make-up why?” You asked as you sat down at Vil’s bedroom vanity. You knew that over a thousand people would kill to be in your shoes right now. So far, though, you were just here because Vil told you to be there. It wasn’t really a choice on your end, as it was stated more as a command. Still, you didn’t exactly hate it and were happy to be there. Just more or less confused as to why it was you.

“I need to figure out your look for the Night Raven College’s party, of course. Now come here; we need to prep your face before.” Vil said, going over and grabbing some cleaning wipes. You were no stranger to spa days with Vil, so you just closed your eyes and sighed, letting him move your face around and make sure any hair that might even come into your face was clipped back.

You weren’t expecting him to get a pair of tweezers while your eyes were closed to pluck some eyebrow hairs. You yelped in surprise, your eyes widening as Vil gave you an unimpressed look, “You know better than to move while I’m working on you. We need to clean up your eyebrows for this.” He said, leaning back in with the tweezers. You inched away, not feeling the want to have the hairs on your face to be plucked out.

“Can’t we do the glue stick thingie?” You whined, but knowing Vil, he wouldn’t relent.

“Absolutely not. Those are for special effects looks, which we aren’t going for. I refuse to ruin your skin that I’ve worked so hard to be presentable.” You gasped at his words and put a hand over your heart.

“Pardon?” You asked dramatically, wanting to get a rise out of him. Vil just frowned and grabbed your chin, and dragged you closer to him by force. You squeaked, your face right in front of his own as he began tweezing away.

“We both know you needed better skincare products when we met.” He said, and you groaned. It was true, though, living in Ramshackle hadn’t been a luxury. Even the water wreaked havoc on your hair and skin. Vil kinda was a saving grace. After he was satisfied with your eyebrows, he took a moment to look at your face. That was when he smirked, dragged your face closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“You’re a very cute-looking potato today.” He said, and you wanted to just crawl into a hole, “Now come on, we have a lot of work to do if we’re going to be matching on Halloween.”

“M-matching outfits?” You asked in shock, “When was this decided?”

“The moment you decided to become involved with me, obviously. Don’t act so surprised.” Vil said, but he secretly loved the shocked look on your face. It was the whole reason he waited until now to inform you. You just groaned, knowing you’d never have a moment of peace while seeing this man.

Rook Hunt

“Mon amour, you look breathtaking.” Rook said, coming into the room as you were in the middle of getting dressed in the outfit he had specifically picked out for you. You couldn’t help the little squeal that came out of you, still half naked, as you scrambled to put on the outfit, “Ah, no need to be shy. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” Rook said with that smile plastered on his face.

“Oh my sevens, Rook, can you not?” You whined as he walked over and began helping you button up the top of your clothes. You felt like a small Victorian child being helped, not only because of Rook assisting in dressing you but because the costume he had so lovingly chosen for you was a boystyle outfit that made you feel like you were set back in the Victorian era. “By the way…how many outfits do you plan on having me try on.” From the Lolita dress, he had thrown you in earlier, you were wondering why he actually had you in here.

“I simply couldn’t decide on just one outfit for you, so I had several made, of course. I want to see which one you love the most.” Rook said, leaning closer to you after he finished buttoning the shirt, “You look exquis in this outfit.” He cooed happily.

“Rook, you said that about the last two costumes.” You reminded him, and he laughed happily before picking you up into his arms. You could only grasp onto his shoulders and yelp at suddenly being lifted into the air. He did a little spin, laughing the entire time as though he was having the time of his life. For all you knew, he probably was. You couldn’t help but join him with a small chuckle.

“It’s because it is all true; they all look ravissant! I could stare at your beauty all day.” Rook said before pausing, “In fact, I might begin doing that.” He said, and you knew he was being dead serious.

“Absolutely not. I adore you, Rook, but I need privacy sometimes.” You said, and the pout that spread on his face was short-lived before it was replaced by a dazzling smile.

“Then half the time?” He tried to compromise, and you knew this was a battle you wouldn’t be winning.

“Fine, but no more walking in on me showering. That is me time.” You warned, and he nodded, “Now come on, how many more outfits do I have to try on? I still have homework to do.” You said as Rook put you down and ruffled your hair, careful of the small top hat on you.

“Only fifteen more to go.” He said with absolute confidence.

“Fifteen?!”

Epel Felmier

“I’m staying here, and I’m not leaving until Halloween is over,” Epel said, crashing onto your bed. You had been in the middle of doing your homework and hadn’t even heard the front door open, and now Epel was looking defeated as he stared at the ceiling.

“What happened this time? Make-up or new costume?” You asked, and Epel scowled, sitting up and tossing his legs off the side of your bed so he could face you better.

“They put me in a dress? A dress of all things. What do they take me for?” Epel’s accent was slowly making its way out, and you absolutely loved the sound of it. He did look adorable while pouting as well, but you’d rather die than say that to him. You knew how he felt about his masculinity, and even though he fed a little more into the toxic side of it, you would respect his decisions.

“Was it at least a tactical dress?” You asked, trying to make light of the situation. Epel raised his eyebrow as he pondered over your words.

“Tactical?” Epel echoed, and you nodded your head.

“Ya, like, did it have pockets?” You said, and Epel shrugged, but a small smile appeared on his face.

“No, it didn’t.” He said, “At least I didn’t see any, not that I was payin’ attention.” He shrugged it off. He was still reeling from the fact that they basically forced him into one. It was a bunch of the taller upperclassmen who wanted to make him look as adorable as possible. It made his stomach churn just thinking about it. He ran out of there the moment they looked away and left the dress outside the room.

“Then clearly they have horrible taste.” You said with a sigh, looking between your homework and Epel. As you closed your textbook, the choice was obvious, and you stood up, “Well, let’s go.” You said, motioning for Epel to follow you. Epel stood up but looked confused as to what you wanted.

“What are we doing?” He asked, and you smirked.

“We’re gonna do something stupid, probably. You in or what?” You could see his eyes flashing for a moment as he thought over his choices. Vil would no doubt get mad at him if he was caught, but then again, he wanted to do something reckless and get the adrenaline pumping.

“Let’s do this.”

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader #Epel x Reader

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e-wills-afterhours · 4 months

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Pretentious Coffee, Chapter 4

A/N: I saw a quote on Tumblr that I believe is attributable to F. Scott Fitzgerald. He said something to the effect of life is a struggle between the overwhelming desire to write and the series of circumstances that seem to conspire to keep him from writing. Y'all. That's it. That's the whole deal. I am trying. However, a surprise December tornado devastated my town (it made national news so I'm giving my location away there). My children fell ill. My husband had to go to a funeral in Arizona for a buddy who died from colorectal cancer. Then, in my caring for said ill children, I also caught the ill.

On the bright side, I'm usually left alone while sick. I aim to get some new writing done instead of just uploading parts of old fics, like this one. Please bear with me and my half-delusional, high on decongestant writings.

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Astrid’s feet were cold, and her boots were soaked through with snow. Wool socks made little difference. Her body was numb beneath thick layers, but that was for an entirely different reason than the weather. She had gone against her better judgment by deciding to tag along with Ruffnut to her brother’s party, but she took a chance that she might actually enjoy herself.

The severity of her mistake became clear within the first ten minutes.

She had only just gotten a beer for herself, joining Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and the other party-goers gathered around the fire pit blazing in the tiny backyard. No one else arrived at first and she had begun to feel foolishly optimistic that it would remain a smaller, more relaxed affair—much more her speed.

Then a SUV pulled up, and a half-dozen people spilled out of it, followed by two more sedans. She recognized one but dismissed it as a common make and model to soothe the anxious twist in her stomach.

But, the door opened, and a tall, muscular figure she knew all too well emerged with an infuriating swagger. From the passenger side, he was joined by a pretty girl with long, black hair pulled into a loose plait—much like Astrid wore hers, insultingly enough.

The very person she left her dorm to forget was strolling up to the fire with his new lover on his arm: the girl who had ended everything. The one he cheated on Astrid with, only to finally leave her for.

“I didn’t know he would be here,” Ruffnut whispered urgently. “Shit. We can go.”

Astrid shook her head, eyes narrowing as the crunching of snow beneath the crowd of boots grew louder. Tuffnut and his friends called out to the newcomers, and they hollered back. It was then Astrid’s eyes met her ex’s, and she took small satisfaction in the hesitancy of his next few steps.

So, he was still feeling guilty? Good.

More bottlecaps popped and the huddle around the crackling fire grew tighter. Astrid was closer to the source of her frustration than she had been in over a month. She could feel his eyes on her, wanting her attention—he had always wanted her attention, never content to let her pursue her own interests outside of himself and school. He was not controlling, but…persistent?

That had been fine in high school when prepping for college was all that mattered, and he had been a pleasant way to unwind from sports and homework. They were always together when their schedules had allowed it, pouring their energy into being the power couple—alphas in the adolescent pecking order.

University was a different world, though. New opportunities and a fresh start called to Astrid, and she had started to drift from him, only a little, as she branched out toward new interests. She thought it was a good thing—a way to grow and have more to share to enrich her relationship.

She quickly learned, however, that things became a competition. Who was having more fun? Who was faring better in their courses? Whose accomplishments were more brag-worthy, and who was better taking advantage of their new independence?

Astrid quickly grew weary of it. She had no interest in competing against her boyfriend, simply because he felt he had no one else to compete with. She understood his drive and his confidence. She shared those same traits to an extent, and that was what first attracted her to Eret. There was no thinking involved. It had been easy. They were one and the same.

But when she deliberately put more distance between them, coming up with excuses and activities to fill her schedule, he responded in kind—a sort of “two can play at this game”, she figured. They saw each other the weekends, and still went out on dates. Things weren’t great, but they were okay in her mind. They were holding it together and still having fun, though the emotional adhesive in their relationship had grown more brittle than she had realized.

Eret had likely already been seeing his new girl on the side, but Astrid had been clueless for a time. Maybe they had not yet started sleeping together then. Astrid knew him to have more integrity than that.

She eventually decided they were something worth saving and had shown up at his apartment unannounced. She had only wanted to talk, to regain some of the spark they had lost…and that was how she had found out about the other woman. Halfhearted excuses chased her all the way to her car as Eret stumbled after her, trying to wipe the lipstick off his face.

No official declaration ended their relationship. Such a thing was unneccessary and redundant. The tears that had blurred her vision then were more from the sting of wounded pride than true heartache.

Even as Astrid stood beside Ruffnut in the snow, determinedly avoiding eye contact with Eret, it was her wounded pride that was still hardest to tolerate. Thoughts of him plagued her, not because she wanted him back, but because he had made a fool of her. There was no closure, because she would not speak to him or give him the satisfaction of apologizing. He wouldn’t get to have the last word. She kept him on a hook because he deserved to sweat.

He deserved to be made uncomfortable by the mere sight of her, and so things went unresolved. Her pride, still raw.

“I’m going inside,” she told Ruffnut. “It’s too cold out here, suddenly.”

She didn’t wait for a response, marching toward the backdoor with purpose. The chatter faded as soon as the door shut behind her, replaced by the latest hit music and quieter, more intimate conversations between the few, less social individuals hiding from the elements.

There were cheesy Christmas lights strung up in the kitchen, extending through the open floor plan. The most pathetic fake tree was tucked in the corner, decorated with cleavage ornaments and small, plastic pin-up girls. Instead of a star, it was topped with a glittering marijuana leaf.

Astrid rolled her eyes.

She set her beer down on the kitchen counter and shrugged off her coat. There was a pile of hats, scarves, and winter jackets draped over the sofa closest to the front door, and she added to it.

No one cared that she was there, wrapped up in their own conversations. It was nice and what she had originally expected. She did, however, stand out like a sore thumb, hovering by the door alone. To be a wallflower was entirely new.

She made her way back to the kitchen and her beer, noting the hints of Tuffnut and Snotlout in every immature, novelty Christmas decoration, and the swimsuit model calendar tacked to the side of the refrigerator. She envied the other people sitting around and chatting away about anything and everything, sharing their half-baked revolutionary ideas that would surely change the world.

Astrid never had much practice with philosophical conversation outside the classroom. She fancied herself much more pragmatic.

“Are you stalking me now?”

The simple question cut through her reverie.

She jumped and nearly dropped her beer on the faded linoleum. From the corner of her eye, a tall, slim figure sauntered out from the hall to her left. She was gobsmacked, blatantly gaping. Her shame was in pieces on the floor, like her bottle had nearly been, as her mouth hung open.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out.

Hiccup, the coffee barista, shuffled around her to get to the refrigerator. He was nonchalant in his T-shirt and sweatpants, like there wasn’t a party going on around him, and they often did the very same awkward dance in cramped spaces.

“I, uh…live here?” he replied, pulling out his own beer. “I didn’t realize that was such an offense.” Astrid continued to stare at him and he leaned back against the adjacent counter, drumming the fingers of his freehand on it. “I’m beginning to think everything I do offends you, actually.”

“What? I—no. No, it doesn’t,” Astrid answered hotly. “I would just like to enjoy myself without any aggravations, for once.”

He popped off his bottle cap. “I’ve been called many things. ‘Aggravation’ is new.”

Astrid scrunched her eyes closed and took a deep breath. When she gazed at him again, she hoped it would be with less obvious annoyance.

Admittedly, she had been thinking about him too much, pondering his sarcastic wit and why it lingered in her consciousness.

“I didn’t mean you’re an aggravation, specifically,” she amended. “I’m just not in the mood to listen to—.”

“Nice backpedaling. Why say it, then? Exercising that baccalaureate vocabulary?”

Her face fell. “Because you seem to lack a basic conversational filter. Or charm. I haven’t figured out which.”

He shrugged. “Well, if pedestrian talk of First World problems is more your thing—“

“Then I would’ve taken a sociology course,” she scoffed.

They made eye contact over the lip of their respective bottles and he grinned.

Astrid felt a strange prickling beneath her skin—butterflies made of fire that she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

His sass should’ve turned her off. If he was anyone else, she’d have walked away and never looked back. But, their banter held the dim embers of excitement. Each exchange was giving oxygen to the burgeoning heat that she had once felt for Eret—and yet whatever drew her to Hiccup felt entirely novel. She wasn’t even sure it had a name.

“Attraction” seemed too juvenile, but “lust” also missed the mark. It had nothing to do with the physical essence of him. Too many years, she had been with the male reflection of herself. Hiccup was something different—a challenge to her concept of what was normal and desirable. He was intriguing—a hypnotic fascination that drew her closer to some kind of rabbit hole. If she fell, she didn’t know where she would end up, but it would certainly be somewhere much further than where she had already been.

After all, wasn’t college about branching out and trying new things?

She took a large swig of beer, her rational brain screeching for attention.

What was wrong with her?

She wasn’t the kind of person who looked for a rebound lay—but then again, she had never been on the rebound.

Still, she was a stranger unto herself, sizing up this young man she hardly knew, and frighteningly, he was hitting all the marks on some mysterious list tucked behind the most desirable traits she had first dreamed up when she was twelve.

“I see you’re hard at work on ‘not being hungover’,” Hiccup teased, nodding to the drink in her hand.

Astrid smirked. “Indeed. This is my one and only tonight.”

He quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Color me impressed. A true achievement.”

They shared a genuine smile and Astrid felt her numb body warming down to her toes—until the backdoor opened. Several party-goers filed in to escape the cold, including Tuffnut, Snotlout, some of their friends, and Eret, with his girlfriend.

Astrid felt as though she had been thrown back out into the snow.

She nearly dropped her drink a second time when Hiccup said, “Hello, Eret.”

Eret nodded and his girlfriend shifted her weight uncomfortably beside him, glancing back toward the door.

“You know each other?” Astrid hissed, eyes darting back and forth between her past headache and her future gamble.

“Sure,” Hiccup replied flatly, not bothering to lower his voice. “I know he’s in the business of stealing people’s girlfriends.” He raised his bottle and Eret’s jaw clenched. “And business is good, isn’t it, Heather?”

The girl on Eret’s arm looked away with a scowl, and Astrid felt like she had been catapulted into an afternoon soap opera.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid modern au #pretentious coffee au

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