#major tom (calling home) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jomgiiu · 1 year

Text

HEAT OF THE MOMENT

The king of Hawkins high, Steve Harrington asks you out on a date but not for the reason you think. After that night, you learn who the real Steve Harrington is.. or so you thought.

paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

CW: ANGST ANGST ANGST, i guess bully!steve?, steve being a douchebag, king steve taking effect, swearing obviously, mentions of wounds/blood not to major.

A/N: i wrote this one a whim, got carried away it’s not the best but i need feedback to see what i should do next with it lol. i liked writing season 1 steve, i made him meaner than in the actual show but ofc i hope you all dont mind! enjoy and reblog! (not proof read and poor writing oops)

Last night was the worst nights of your life, you got stood up by Steve Harrington. He'd asked you on a date during lunch and you obviously said yes. You and your friends were giggling and whispering about it all day, they gave you advice about what to do and say, what to wear, how to do your makeup, they seemed more excited than you. The moment you got home you got ready. He said he’d be there at 6 and it was already 3, so you had enough time to plan everything out. You put on your favorite record, pulled out your lucky socks, and got ready. The outfit you picked look like it came out of a magazine, so elegant and beautiful; Steve was definitely going to fall for you. At least that’s what you thought.

Sitting on the couch, you waited and waited and waited. 6 o’clock rolled around and the butterflies in your stomach would not stop.

6:13. He's just running a bit late.

6:28. Maybe he had car trouble?

6:41. Maybe he actually meant 7!

7:15. Or maybe he didn’t mean anything at all.

7:35. You were nothing to him.

Your parents didn’t get home from work until 8, so you decided to go up and change to save yourself the embarrassment of them asking about anything. Feeling like you came out of magazine just to feel like you were a thrown-out magazine because it’s the wrong issue. You went to sleep that night, crying over a stupid boy and a stupid date. It was stupid.

What felt like forever, you finally got to your locker. Fumbling with the lock, you got it to open and put your things away, grabbing stuff for your classes. Laughter was heard a few lockers down, glancing over it was Steve and his idiot friends. You sighed and shut your locker. You didn’t want to confront Steve but you had the right too. Confidently, you walked over to them but that instantly left when Carol whispered something to Steve, making him snicker. Your stomach felt like it was twisting and winding, you felt sick.

“Hey, you!” Carol greeted; her words were sweet but was sour coming out of her mouth. You gave her a small wave and went to focus on Steve. He had on a blue polo, Calvin Klein jeans and a dark windbreaker complementing his outfit. His hair was perfect as always, he spent more time looking at himself than he did anyone else.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Um,” the words were stuck in your throat. His stare was burning you. Either you chicken out or you confront him.

“Where were you last night?” the words came out in almost a whisper.

“Huh? What was that?” he put his hand behind his ear, leaning down a bit to you. “What did you say?” Steve’s teasing was cruel, he has a smirk planted on his face waiting for you respond.

“I think our friend here asked about your date last night.” Tommy commented.

“Ah.” Steve moved his hand away from his ear and resting it in his jean pocket. “Listen, I was planning on going but I got wrapped up in somethings. I was going to call. Promise.” The sympathy in his voice was forced.

“Yeah, Steve was too busy studying anatomy with Nancy.” Tommy teased, making Carol slap him on the chest playfully. Steve smirked and looked at you.

“Tom, pay up man.”

What?

You tried to process what was going on. You watched Tommy give Steve a $20, shoving it in his pocket looking so proud of himself.

“Why did-”

“Oh gosh, for being a straight ‘A’ student, you really are stupid.” Carol said.

“W-what?”

“Tommy over here told me if I asked you out, I'd get the 20. I did and I got the 20.” Steves words felt like a knife to the heart.

“You put a bet on me?”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!” Tommy exclaimed, making everyone laugh.

“You really believed that Steve would go out with you!” Carol snorted.

“I-”

“Listen, you seem like a great girl, I just don’t think you're up to the Steve Harrington standard. Nancy on the other hand, well she is. Don’t get me wrong, she just like you but more put together you get what I mean?” Steve’s words were harsh but said with ease.

You began to shake, you tried to hold the tears back forming in your eyes letting one fall down your cheek.

“Aw are you crying?” Carol pouted.

“I just thought you wanted to actually get to know me.” You choked out.

“Get to know you? I’d rather talk to a freak than talk to you. But I guess that’s what I’m doing now huh?” Laughter erupted around you. People stopped and stared at you, all eyes were on you, people where whispering and giggling.

You quickly walked away from them, tears clouding your vision you didn’t want to go anywhere else but out. Your friends tried to stop you but you ignored them, you were just trying to get to your car where you could be alone. Getting in your car, you finally let it all out. They humiliated you in front of everyone, Steve placed a bet on you, everyone knew why. You were a loser. You’d never be Nancy Wheeler and you’d never be with Steve Harrington. Going home that day felt awful, you told your parents that you got sick and just needed to be home for the day, or the week. Thankfully, they took the bait and let you come home early and stay home for the week. Your mom went to the school to pick up your work you missed and that kept you occupied for the time being but didn’t distract you from your feelings.

It didn’t help either that one of your friends called you, basically screaming at you that Steve asked her out on a date and she was calling you from the diner payphone that they were at right now. Your heart almost about blew up when you heard that. The day he does that to you, he asks one of your friends out? You told her congrats and when she briefly asked about your date, you just told her that you canceled because you didn’t feel well, hence why you left school today. She instantly bought it and told you that she’ll update you later and hung up. Of course, everyone had a crush on Steve and everyone wanted to be Steve. You wanted Steve but you didn’t know his personality, you didn’t know who he was as a person until now. Every girl he’s been with was ranting and raving about him and the dates he brings them on, you just wanted to experience one. You knew you were pretty, smart and you had a pretty decent reputation, why would he do that to you. Steve made you feel like nothing. He made you feel ugly, stupid and a loser. Steve Harrington was an asshole and no one knew that expect for you.

Tuesday finally came. You begged your mom to stay home again, since you did Monday. You tired the fake puke trick but she saw right through it. Your mom convinced you if you went to school, you could buy something out of a catalog. You couldn’t pass that opportunity. If you were coming back, you were coming back looking like you haven’t been crying for the past week. You threw on the cutest outfit you could find, made sure the tear stains were off your face, kissed your mom goodbye and headed to school. The moment you walked in, the counselor grabbed you by the throat and dragged you into her office. Ms. Kelly was a nice lady; it was clear she cared about the students but it annoyed you because you didn’t want to talk. She asked how you were doing and what you plan on doing to keep your grades up. You explained that you have all your work, you just need to turn it in.

“Wonderful!” she said.

Ms. Kelly looked down at her paper, dragging her finger along until she stopped.

“Ms. Click has actually requested to see you, I told her I'd send you down to talk to her. She couldn’t wait until your period. You can also take your work for her class and turn it in then.” She said, writing a hall pass. “Just come back here when you’re done okay?” You nodded gripping your history work, taking the hall pass and walking to Clicks. You liked Click, she was nice to you and you had her 5th period which was such a calm class, you liked everyone in there. As soon as you opened the door to Clicks, everyone's eyes were on you and even pair you didn’t want. Steve Harringtons.

“Oh, perfect timing! Class, turn and talk about the question on the board I'll be a moment.”

You walked into the classroom more to Clicks desk. She smiled at you and offered you a little candy. How could you say no. You handed her your stack of papers as she sat down at her desk.

“How have you been. 5th hour hasn’t been the same!”

You glanced around the class to see the people. Steve was still looking at you. You began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Oh, I've been sick. Flu season I guess.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for doing your work while you were sick. Not a lot of kids even do their work in class.” you nodded. “I called you here to obviously see if you were alright but also to see if a student can borrow your notes. You did them perfectly and I think it would help them. Don’t worry, he’ll give it back to me so you can have it back.” Click began to look through another pile of papers.

“Sure, who’s using it?”

“Steve.”

The color drained from your face. God was not on your side today. You didn’t want the cause of you missing school to look at your notes, it’s his fault he’s stupid.

“Ah, here we are,” She pulled out your notes and handed them to you. “Give those to Steve please and you can be on your way. We can talk more in 5th hour!” She smiled. You grabbed your notes and have her a tight-lipped smile. Turning away from her desk, you walked to Steve’s. He clearly wasn’t doing the assignment, just goofing around and flirting with the girls around him. Making it to his desk, he stopped talking to the girls and instantly looked at you.

“What-”

“Ms. Click wanted me to give you my notes to help you out.” you interrupted, holding out the notes to him.

“Pfft, I don’t need your notes. I don’t want to read mistakes.”

Hold it together.

“It wasn’t my choice. It was Ms. Cli-”

“Does it look like I care about what she has to say? No. Do I care what you have to say? No. I'm surprised you even came to school today looking like this.”

The girls around him started giggling and whispering to each other.

“I think I look fine.”

“Well, I'm glad you had the confidence to wear clothes from the salvation army.”

Don’t cry.

“For your information, I got an ‘A’ on these notes and Ms. Click said I was the only one who got an ‘A.’ And I got these from a catalog and I'm sorry my daddy doesn’t buy me every new thing like your ugly BMW you drive and at least I'm not a wannabe dickhead.”

Steve put his hands over his chest, having a shocked expression on his face which quickly switched to a smug look.

“Wow! You got me there! You showed me!” Steve scooted up closer in his seat, resting his arms in front of him looking right at you.

“I'm not the wannabe sweetheart, you are. You want to have my money and BMW so bad but here you are driving your run-down Ford Escort and thinking that catalog clothing is going to save you. It’s not. Sure, you think you're all smart but looks will do you better in the future. Remember that.” Steve snatched the notes from your hands and started to talk to his friends again.

You left the classroom so fast, before you could say goodbye to Ms. Click. The whole day you were worried about what Steve said. About how you looked and how looks will get you places. You knew it was bullshit, you had colleges already begging for you to go to school but it’s the way Steve said it. Worse of it all, you went to 5th hour, hoping for a good period. Until you got your notes back to notice he scribbled all over them, writing things, drawing crude things on all your work. You frantically began to look through the notes until one comment stood out to you.

‘When you walk out of school, make sure to wear the bag on your head I left you at your locker. You need it.’

Tears filled your eyes. You shot up from your seat and ran out of your class. Ms. Click was yelling for you as you ran down the halls until you got to your locker. There you saw a paper bag with eye holes cut out of it, tapped to your locker. You ripped the bag off your locker and fell to your knees, sobbing into the paper bag. Why was Steve being so mean to you? You should be ruining his life; he shouldn’t be ruining yours. This all started with a date that turned out to be a joke and then ever since your life went downhill. Classmates from your period found you and tried to comfort you of what happened. You broke and told Ms. Click what happened and what Steve did which led to Principal Higgins getting involved and calling your parents and Steve's. He got a suspended for the rest of the week which was a relief to you but didn’t help the situation. Now since this situation, you were known as the ‘Cry baby.’ Your friends tried to help you feel better and stood up for you when the time was right. You were grateful to have a support system but not grateful for Steve Harrington.

It’s been a few months since the whole Steve situation and some forgot about it and moved on to other things like the Byers youngest boy going missing and Barb Holland also going missing, making the whole town worried. Steve was still a dick but he didn’t pay any mind to you though, he was too busy dealing with his goons and his dream girl, Nancy Wheeler. A part of you still had a crush on him, just the smallest he was still cute but he was still a dick. You had to go see Ms. Kelly every Friday since what happened which you didn’t mind but it was still annoying. It was the same bland conversation about your week. If there's any people giving you a hard time, grades, college, just boring, stupid conversations that waste your time during 6th period but you got to leave earlier which was a plus. Before you left, Ms. Kelly told you that your mom called and wanted you to stop by Melvald’s to grab some more dish soap so that’s where you are now, looking for dish soap and Melvald’s. Why are there so many soaps? You never paid attention to what one you used it was just soap. You notice someone move at the conner of your eye, you paid no mind to it until you noticed who the someone was. The navy-blue jacket, the blue jeans, the green shirt, the hair. Yeah, it was him.

Oh god not here.

Focus on the soaps.

Glancing over at him he was looking at the band aids and ointments he looked dazed, squinting at labels trying to make it clear. Then a pair of hazel eyes fell on you, making you quickly look at the soaps. You swore your heart was going to explode it was pounding so fast, it felt like someone was squeezing your whole body you couldn’t breathe. Was this really happening? Why was he here? How could you not see his BMW in the parking lot? Anxiety riddled your body as you heard someone shuffle up to you. God don’t let it be you.

“Hey,”

Frozen in place, you moved your head slightly to look at him. You were taken back by the way he looked. The right side of his face was bloody and bruised with the wound already scabbing over, his right eye swollen, a small cut settled on his lip following one on the bridge of his nose., going slightly down to the right of his cheek. He looked awful. You tried not to stare at him too much, you didn’t want to be rude but it was impossible to look away. Who did this to the king of Hawkins high?

“Sorry to bother you. I just--I can't really read this. Is this the right ointment?”

Your eyes trailed down to the box he was holding making you huff out a laugh.

“Well, if you have hemorrhoids then yes, but otherwise no.”

“Uh, no. Not necessarily.” His face turned a light shade of red. “I need something for um,” he pointed to his face rising his eyebrows. “This.”

“I’ll help you. Hemorrhoid cream definitely isn't gonna help that.” you kicked yourself for that and made your way to where he was before. Steve stood watching you look through the hundreds of creams and ointments on the shelf. You eventually found one and replaced it the original ointment in Steve's hand for the new one.

“Zemo will help a lot it does wonders; it makes it less itchy and heals quicker. You'll thank me later.”

Steve looked at the medicine and looked back at you. There was no hatred in his eyes, no cruelness. Just hurt. He was hurt inside and out; he was guilty for what he’s done to you and so many others. He’s guilty for hurting the only girl he loves. He’s hurting.

“Thanks.” that’s all he could say to you in this moment. A simple thank you, not anything else.

“Have you cleaned them?”

“Uh no, just had an aspirin and a cold coke to put it on.” Steve shrugged.

You sighed.

“Okay, just get that, I'll finish what I need and meet me outside okay?”

The stinging sensation of the alcohol covered cotton pad on the open wound made Steve wince, making him pull his head away from you. You muttered a sorry and he just huffed and let you clean him up. Never in a million years you would be sitting here in the Milvad’s parking lot taking care of Steve Harrington. He watched you carefully as you take your time with him, carefully moving so he wouldn’t be in as much pain as he already was. It took someone to beat the absolute shit out of him for him to realize how much of a dick he was. How miserable he made people feel. How miserable he made you feel.

“Sorry, this happened to you, I can't imagine how much it hurts.”

Steve scoffed at your sincerity.

“I deserved it, you out of all people should be happy this happened to me.”

“A little part of me is,” you admitted. “Who did this to you?”

You put the cotton pad down and grabbed the Zemo putting a glob on your finger and gently rubbing it in over his wound. Steve hissed at the contact.

“Jonathan Byers.” Steve mumbled.

“Oh wow.” You were quite shocked that a quiet boy like him could rock Steve’s shit. Steve was fit, he had to be for basketball and baseball so you assume he could win a fight. You finished applying the Zemo and giving it to Steve.

“Make sure you put this on twice a day, and only once if you shower. It should help the itch and the scaring a bit. You'll be healed in no time.”

Steve held the Zemo in his hands and watched you clean everything up. You were really pretty up close. Yeah, he looked at you close up a lot of times but this time he noticed every detail of your face, every curve, every wrinkle, every texture, he was scared of looking away because he didn’t want to forget it. Steve thought back to the paper bag he taped to your locker, Tommy and Carol thought it would be a funny idea and so did he at the time. When he was in the principal's office with his dad with you and your parents, he glanced at you and his chest was tight. Your head was hanging low, tears falling down your cheeks and landing on your hands, silent sobs coming from you. Steve recoiled when heard let out sobs after him and his dad left the principal's office. Mr. Harrington made it clear if he pulled that shit again, he would be kicked off the basketball and baseball teams, he wouldn’t get into an ivy league school and end up as a drug dealer on the streets. Mrs. Harrington told him that’s no way to treat girls, there’s no reason to bully girls anyway. She was disappointed in her Stevie and Stevie was disappointed in himself. Of course, that didn’t stop him from being an asshole, if he didn’t get caught then he wouldn’t have to go through that whole fiasco again so he moved on from you and started being an arrogant prick either way to everyone around him. That ended up getting beat up, ditching his “friends” and getting taken care of by the girl he bullied.

“Thanks for doing this, you didn’t have to you know?”

“I know.” you responded.

“Why did you?”

You sighed and looked at him. He looked so vulnerable, his hazel eyes soft and looking at you. Steve looked like a lost puppy; in some cases, he was. Now he was. He had no friends anymore, he was hurt and lost, no guidance, nothing. You seemed like the only thing keeping him afloat at this moment.

“Unlike some people Steve, I care. No matter what you did to me, how you treated me, you deserve some type of -- I don’t know but I was always taught to help people that needed it. I know you know what's right. I know what you have to do, so do it. You're better than this Steve Harrington.”

You walked towards your car, quickly getting in throwing the stuff in the front and driving off before Steve could say anything to you. Deep down, you knew Steve was a good person he was just around bad people. As much as you hated it, you knew he had to apologize to Nancy, he had to make everything up to her and even Jonathan but it was selfish to think he’d do the same to you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #enimies to friends to lovers #steve harrington angst #king steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #angst #season one steve harrington #stranger things season 1 #mean!steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n smut

1K notes · View notes

justabigassnerd · 7 months

Text

Making You Proud

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 6,671

Warnings - major character deaths, grief, angst, mentions of being shot down, funerals, just a whole lot of sadness okay? bit of fluff at the end

Summary - you lose the one person you thought you'd never lose and have a hard time coping

A/N - hey y'all it's time for a new fic isn't it? this was an anon request that I absolutely loved like I read it and was like 'this is the most angsty thing I've ever read... I love it!' so I really hope I've done the idea justice. I won't ramble but as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

Growing up, it had just been you and your dad against the world. Your mother hadn’t wanted a baby and so handed you straight over to Maverick almost the second you were born and forfeited any parental rights. You loved your dad; he was the best dad he could possibly be for you. He loved and protected you unconditionally. He also brought his best friend and RIO Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw into your small family along with his wife, Carole and son Bradley who was but a year older than you.

When you were little, you, your dad, Goose and his family all relocated to Miramar after your dad and Goose’s training at Top Gun. The two men were offered permanent positions as instructors at the highly regarded Navy school. They accepted, mostly so they’d have a more permanent place to call home but insisted that they still got to go on occasional deployments since their love for aviation was too much to consider giving it up. So you grew up in Miramar, with Bradley as your best friend and a loving group of people surrounding you, especially with the inclusion of your dad’s Top Gun classmates, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky and Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner.

Not long after you turned eighteen, your dad and Goose were given a new deployment, according to the brief it wasn’t going to be any longer than a couple of months and with you due to go off to college just after Maverick’s return he was even more determined to get back on time. With you being eighteen, and Carole just down the road if you needed her, Maverick was fully comfortable leaving you in charge of the house while he was gone. He stocked up the fridge before he left and made sure to leave you some extra money for the next food shops you need to do.

“Alright squirt. I’ll see you in a couple of months.” Maverick said with his ever confident smile as you stood on the pier along with all the other families bidding goodbye to their loved ones.

“You’ll be back in time to help me move into college, right?” You ask looking up at your dad as he softens.

“y/n, nothing is going to stop me from being there. I’ll fly back from the carrier if I have to.” Maverick promises, bringing you into a gentle hug and rubbing a hand up and down your back. When you’re released from the hug you move to hug Goose goodbye, throwing your arms around him as Carole and Bradley move to say goodbye to Maverick.

“You’ll look after him for me, won’t you?” You quietly ask Goose, looking up at him as he nods.

“Been doing it for this long and I don’t plan on stopping.” Goose assures, squeezing you in the hug a little before releasing you. You hear the call for all the Navy personnel to begin boarding the carrier and look at your dad who smiles.

“That’s us.” He says, glancing over at Goose who nods, both men picking up their bags and turning to head over to board the carrier.

“Dad, wait!” You call out, rushing over to your dad as he turns back to face you before hugging him tightly, eliciting a small ‘oof’ from him upon impact. Maverick, of course, did not hesitate to hug back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as well.

“I love you.” You whisper, hugging him a little tighter.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Maverick replies, a smile on his face as he presses one last kiss to the top of your head before releasing you to join Goose and board the carrier. After keeping you dad in your line of sight until he disappeared into the aircraft carrier, you watched as the carrier pulled out into the ocean and began its journey across the seas. When the families began to disperse, you turned to face Carole and Bradley.

“I say we get some ice cream. On me.” Bradley says with a grin, looking from you to Carole as you roll your eyes jokingly. Getting ice cream after seeing your dad and Goose go out on a deployment became a tradition when you and Bradley were young, and you never wanted to let it go.

“Oh the ice creams are on him, Carole! Is this part of becoming a fancy college kid? Being able to afford ice creams now.” You joke as you follow Bradley and Carole to Goose’s bright blue Bronco. Your words caused a light laugh from Carole while Bradley laughed sarcastically. Bradley had just finished his first year at college and was back home for the summer, he had wanted to join the Navy straight out of high school, but Carole and Goose had urged him to try college first, to see if he finds something he likes more and to just get a degree under his belt in case after he graduates, he can’t pursue a career in the Navy.

“Just remember, you’ll be a fancy college kid in a couple of months.” Bradley grins as he ruffles at your hair, laughing as you swat at his hand, laughing yourself. The three of you climb into the Bronco and Bradley drives to the ice cream parlour you had frequented in your youth.

“How are you feeling about college, sweetie?” Carole asks, her ever soft smile on her face as you eat a spoonful of the small tub of the ice cream.

“A bit nervous. I’m going to be so far away from here. It’ll be weird not seeing everyone.” You confess, glancing down at the table, eyes fixed on a stain that clearly no amount of cleaning would get out.

“You’ll be okay, sweetie. You’ll be able to visit, or we’ll come and visit you. Either way you’ll get to see us. You’ll end up having so much fun anyway.” Carole says, smiling as you nod lightly at her words.

“Trust me, you’ll have a great time. You’ll make so many new friends as well. As long as none of them replace me.” Bradley says, sending you a wink from across the table as you let out a soft laugh.

“I promise none of my new college friends will replace you if you promise none of your college friends can replace me.” You bargain, getting a nod from Bradley instantly as he holds out a hand to shake on a deal.

“Seems we have a deal. None of my friends could hold a candle to you anyway.” Bradley says, smiling at you as you smile back. After finishing your ice creams, you spend the rest of the day spending time with Carole and Bradley before heading home in the evening to get some sleep.

Over the weeks your dad was away, you spent time with Bradley and Carole, as well as spending some time with some of your school friends to make some memories before you all head off to different colleges. You didn’t get much communication with your dad, only getting rare phone calls when he was granted one. But you had been counting down the days on the calendar that sat proudly on the kitchen wall, you’d been crossing off the days as they passed as they inched closer to the day that had ‘DAD HOME’ in bright red letters.

Four days before your dad was due to come home, you received a knock on the door. Thinking it was Bradley, Carole, or one of your friends you turned the tv off and went to the door. However, when you opened the door, you were greeted by two men in Navy uniform, both with solemn expressions on their faces. The smile you had on your face dropped the moment you registered who was stood in front of you. You were staring at Viper and Jester, your dad’s old Top Gun instructors.

“Please tell me he’s just in hospital.” Your voice came out as nothing more than a whisper as you looked up at the two men, eyes quickly becoming cloudy with tears before you blinked them away rapidly, determined not to cry yet.

“May we come in?” Jester asked, watching carefully as you nod, stepping aside and holding the door open wider so the two men can enter before closing the door behind them and leading them into the living room where they urge you to take a seat on the armchair while they perch on the sofa.

“We regret to inform you that your father, Lieutenant Commander Pete Mitchell, was killed in action earlier this morning.” Viper says solemnly, heart breaking as he watches your eyes become teary, bottom lip quickly being clamped down on so it doesn’t wobble. Viper had flown alongside your grandfather in the Vietnam war and saw him get shot down and now he had to report of Pete Mitchell’s death to his daughter.

“How?” Was all you managed to get out as tears begin dribbling down your cheeks and your arms wind around your middle as if you were shielding yourself from further harm.

“They say the bandit came out of nowhere. Your dad was scouting ahead, checking for anything that may come the carrier’s way. Either Goose or Maverick must’ve only spotted it moments before it struck because I was told your father attempted to report something in before his signal cut off. Chipper couldn’t get there in time to save them. By the time he shot the enemy down…” Viper couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence, from what he had been told, the image alone of the jet plummeting into the sea in a fiery blaze was too much for even him to handle, let alone Maverick’s eighteen year old daughter.

“Does that mean that Goose is-” A sob cut you off before you could even finish the sentence you were dreading to ask. After wiping your eyes fiercely with the back of your hand you look back at the men and see Jester nod.

“It happened too fast, neither man made it out. There will be an attempt to recover the bodies but we’re trying not to get too hopeful.” Jester says carefully, watching you carefully as more tears work their way down your cheeks, your eyes squeezing shut momentarily to free the tears that are stuck.

“The Navy will take care of any funeral arrangements and are willing to offer you as much support as you need. You can come by whenever if you’d like to clear your dad’s belongings out or if you’d rather someone else can do it and bring them here.” Viper continues, wanting to make sure you don’t feel like you have too much pressure to figure everything out alone. When he saw Maverick’s next of kin list consisting of only your name, he felt awful. He thought to himself that no kid deserves to go through all this alone. You merely nodded at Viper’s words, unable to form any kind of response.

“Do you have anyone who could come over and be with you right now?” Jester asks cautiously, neither man wanted to leave you alone after receiving news this devastating and wanted to get someone to come and be with you for a while. You didn’t respond to Jester’s words, just silently sobbing and hugging yourself. You couldn’t even bring yourself to begin to think of someone who might want to check in on you. Jester and Viper exchanged a worried look when you couldn’t respond, and they started thinking of anyone who may be able to sit with you and check in on you until two people come to mind.

“What about Iceman and Slider? I know your dad was close with Iceman.” Viper then offers, watching you carefully as you give them the slightest nod, giving Jester the ‘okay’ he needed to find the phone and call Iceman’s number. It broke Jester’s heart to stand near the calendar as he dialled the number, noticing the bright red writing on the date four days from now. His heart broke further when his eyes drifted to a day less than a week after Maverick was due to return with, ‘y/n moves into college!’ written undeniably in Maverick’s handwriting. Jester was suddenly shaken out of his thoughts when he heard the voice of Iceman on the other end of the phone and asked him to come over as quickly as he can, and to bring Slider with him.

In the time it took for Iceman and Slider to come over, you excused yourself to go upstairs to the bathroom and to have a bit of privacy. After splashing your face repeatedly and quickly realising it wasn’t going to help the way you were expecting it to, you decided to slink into your dad’s empty bedroom to let out more tears in private.

When Iceman and Slider got to the house, they had been anticipating seeing Jester at the house but seeing Viper as well, both men donning their uniform, set off warning bells in both Iceman and Slider’s heads. The two entered the house and listened carefully as Viper and Jester explained everything about the accident and the deaths of both Maverick and Goose. Iceman and Slider felt their hearts drop at the news.

“Where’s y/n?” Was the first thing Iceman could muster the courage to say, eyes darting around the room in search of you.

“She went upstairs to the bathroom not long before you two arrived.” Viper says, watching as both Iceman and Slider’s eye’s drift to the hallway where the stairs are.

“Can we check on her?” Slider asks, glancing back at his superiors who nod.

“We’ll leave her in your care for now. We called you both over so she wouldn’t be alone. Keep an eye on her and if we can help in any way, let us know.” Jester then says, both he and Viper making their way over to the door while Iceman and Slider follow them, seeing them off before heading upstairs in search of you. Walking past Maverick’s room, both men paused outside the door when they heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from the other side of the door. Slider gently pushed the door open to reveal you curled up on Maverick’s bed, curled into his pillow as you sobbed into it. Both men exchanged a brief worried glance before entering the room. Both of them perched on the other side of Maverick’s bed gaining your attention the slightest amount as you glanced at them out of the corner of your eye before burying your face further into the pillow, inhaling the faint scent of your dad’s cologne that still clung to the pillow.

“You should go and check on Carole and Bradley.” Was the first thing you said, voice muffled by the pillow and thick with tears, but they heard you regardless.

“No, we’re here to check on you. We don’t want you to be alone right now.” Slider says, shaking his head at your words the moment they left your mouth.

“We’re going to help you through this, okay? You’re not alone.” Iceman said softly, hand reaching to rest on your shoulder as his thumb began to rub soothing circles on your shoulder. Inside, Iceman was screaming. He was having to comfort the daughter of the man he had secretly harboured feelings for, since the moment he saw Maverick in the bar before training officially began. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be comforting a grieving daughter. He was supposed to be watching Maverick drive with you to your college ready for move in day. He was supposed to finally get the guts to confess how he had really felt after all these years.

“How am I supposed to keep going without him?” You question, another wave of sobs washing over you as Iceman continues to smooth his thumb over your shoulder.

“We’ll help you. You don’t have to be alone.” Slider repeats what Iceman had said just moments prior, doing his best to support you.

You continued to sob and didn’t speak another word to the pilot and RIO duo. You sobbed and sobbed until you cried yourself to sleep, still clinging to Maverick’s pillow. When they had noticed that you had fallen asleep, they exchanged another worried look before Iceman took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m going to stay. I can’t leave her alone right now. You can head home.” Iceman says, speaking soft enough to not disturb you. Slider nodded lightly, both men standing as Slider grabbed the blanket that lay folded at the end of the bed and carefully draped it over you before the two left the room, heading downstairs and congregating by the front door.

“If you need any help or anything, call me.” Slider says, attempting a gentle smile for his friend but he was sure Iceman could see right through it.

“I will.” Iceman says, patting his friend on the shoulder and watching him leave the house. The second the door closed, Iceman let out a small sigh, eyes drifting back to the stairs before heading into the living room.

When you woke up, at first you were confused as to why you were in your dad’s room but when the memories of a few hours prior returned you were once again holding back sobs, wiping the tear stains from earlier off your cheeks. As you wiped your cheeks, you heard birds singing from their tree branches and you wanted nothing more for them to shut up. How could they be so cheerful when you had just lost the most important person in your life? It was the cruellest irony to have the day be so sunny and cheerful when you had just learnt of this irreplaceable loss.

When your stomach grumbled, giving away your hunger, you debated not even getting up at all. You wanted to just wither away in bed and never see the light of day ever again. Just as you were in the motion of tugging the blanket over your head, Iceman gently pushed the door open, a tray of food in hand.

“y/n/n, I brought you up something to eat, kid.” Iceman says gently, approaching the bedside and setting the tray down on the cleanest of the two beside tables. Why Maverick needed two bedside tables when the room was only occupied by one person, Iceman would never understand.

“’M not hungry, Ice.” You mumble from beneath the blanket, making Iceman sigh lightly and perch on the bed once more.

“I think you should eat something, even if it’s a little.” Iceman gently encourages, watching as you begin to poke your head out of the blanket, looking over at the pilot who offers you a small smile to encourage you out further, like you were a cat he was trying to win over. Before you could reply, your stomach rumbled angrily, giving away your desire for food and Iceman just handed the food over with a raised eyebrow. He watched you like a hawk, making sure you ate.

“I know this is probably not what you want to hear right now but we should probably think about where you’re going to live.” Iceman starts, trying his best to approach the subject. He knew it was better to talk about it now rather than later.

“Where I’m going to live? Here. Dad bought the house if there’s a chance, I get the house I’m keeping it.” You state as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“y/n, you’re going to college in a couple of weeks. Paying for this house would probably be a bit above your pay grade right now. If your dad left the house in your name maybe you could rent the house out to people until you’ve finished college and in a good enough financial place to afford living there. In your breaks from college you can always come to mine if you want. My door will always be open to you.” Iceman says, and deep down you knew he was being logical, but you didn’t want any help. You were sure you’d be able to get through this without the help of Iceman.

“Ice, I’ll figure it out. You don’t need to do this.” There was a slight bite behind your words as you glared over at Iceman.

“But you don’t have to be alone. We want to help you.” Iceman tries to get through to you, not wanting you to feel like you had to do everything alone.

“I’ll be fine Ice. You can go now. Go and check on Carole and Bradley.” You, however, were sticking to your guns and weren’t backing down. Iceman knew you weren’t intentionally being mean. You were going through a lot right now and Iceman was sure he had unintentionally pressed you a bit more than he expected. Respecting your request, Iceman stood from the bed and glanced over his shoulder at you.

“If you need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He says softly before exiting the room, making his way downstairs and leaving the house.

A week later, you were burying an empty casket for your dad. Any attempts to recover Maverick and Goose’s bodies were unsuccessful so you were forced to bury an empty casket. A bunch of Navy personnel had showed up to the funeral, wanting to honour your father. It killed you to see Iceman punch his wingman’s wings into the casket. But the pain was made ten times worse when you were handed a folded flag with a copy of your dad’s dog tags on top. Your dad had given his life for the Navy, and all you got back was a flag. You had slipped the dog tags on as soon as you could. And you let out every tear you had attempted to hold back when you saw the fighter jets flying over in missing man formation. Every step of the funeral was proving to you more and more that you weren’t going to see your dad ever again.

After the funeral, as people began to disperse, most of them made the effort to share their condolences for your loss before moving on. As you glanced around the large military graveyard, you caught sight of Bradley with his arm wound tightly around Carole as she sobbed into his shoulder. You’d seen them at Goose’s funeral a couple of days prior in the same exact position they are now. Like at Goose’s funeral, you couldn’t bring yourself to go over and talk to them, so you just watched them from afar, tears in your eyes as you did. Bradley lifted his gaze and made eye contact with you from across the graveyard and you couldn’t do any more than stare back at him. Talking to Bradley and Carole meant having to remember all the times you’d spend together with them, and your father and you weren’t ready for any of that. Eventually, you tore your gaze away from him when Viper approached you with his condolences and when you looked back, both Bradley and Carole were gone.

A couple of days before you were due to move to college, you had been working hard to ensure everything was ready for when you left. After getting confirmation that your dad had left the house in your name should anything happen to him, you worked closely with an estate agent to put the house up for rent, insisting it doesn’t get sold because once you finished college and got a job you wanted to move back to Miramar and the house. You’d sold some items of furniture and other things you didn’t need but kept most of your dad’s stuff. Anything that wasn’t going to college with you was put into storage until you moved back into the house. You only spoke to one person during this time, and it was to ask Iceman if he could keep an eye on your dad’s beloved motorbike while you were away for four years. You were taking your dad’s car with you, but you couldn’t bear to sell the bike.

As you were packing up some of the last stuff you were taking to college you heard a knock on your door. You didn’t answer it, knowing it was more than likely a member of your dad’s team wanting to wish you well or check in on you. In the days leading up to your departure, you were constantly getting knocks at the door and you didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to get out of Miramar and would only get in contact with people when you felt good and ready. You remained silent as there was another knock at the door, when you didn’t answer again, you heard a slight thud as if someone had put something down outside your front door followed by the sounds of footsteps getting further away and the sound of a car pulling away. Curiosity getting the better of you, you crossed to the front door, pulling it open and finding a box sat outside your door.

“What the…?” You muttered to yourself as you picked up the box. It wasn’t heavy, and it felt like there was just a lot of paper or something similar sliding around. You brought the box inside, set it down beside you as you sat on the living room floor and lifted the lid off. On top you found an envelope with your name on it. You recognised the writing instantly to be your dad’s. Only your dad had handwriting that scratchy yet legible. Lifting the envelope out, your eyes were drawn to the pictures below it and you placed the envelope alongside you so you could pick up the pictures. There were pictures of Maverick with Goose, Iceman, and Slider, as well as the rest of his team. Then there was pictures of your dad with you as a baby, as a kid, and as a teenager. Tears filled your eyes as you shuffled through the pictures as you began to realise that this box was filled with stuff your dad must’ve kept in his locker at work. You then noticed patches that must’ve been off his flight suit, and you held them, flipping them over in your hands and running your fingers over the embroidered lettering. After going through the whole box your eyes drifted back to the envelope that sat alongside you and you picked it up, sliding your finger under the sealed flap and easing it open before pulling out the letter inside, opening it carefully and beginning to read.

y/n,

If you’re reading this, then I can only assume the worst has happened and I have died and left you behind.

I’m not the best with words, you know this, but I’ll try here for you. I love you so much squirt. You’ve been the light of my life since I first held you in my arms. I know it’ll seem so hard, but you can get through this kid, I know you can. You’re so strong and I want you to go out there and make me proud like you already do every day. You’ll take this world by a storm I just know it.

I am so sorry for leaving you. Just know I’m with you every step of the way in spirit. I’ll make my presence known, promise.

Show the world what Mitchell’s are made of.

Love,

Dad

You were unaware of the tears that had fallen until you noticed the tear stains on the bottom of the letter, and you were immediately moving the paper away from the line of fire from your tears and wiping your cheeks harshly to get rid of the tears that fell. You then folded the letter up and put it back into the envelope for safe keeping before lying back on the carpet to regain control of your emotions.

When the time came for you to begin the drive to your college. You loaded the car up, sparing one last glance to your house as you closed the door.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” You whisper to the house. It felt weird, promising a house that you’d be back but you had grown up in this house. You wanted to come back to it when you could. It was a way to keep your dad with you a little more. After bidding the house goodbye, you climbed into the car, glancing over at the passenger seat where you’d laid your dad’s jacket proudly over the seat as your hand reached up to the dog tags that sat around your neck.

“I’m going to show them what Mitchell’s are made of, dad.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you turn the cars engine on, pulling out of your driveway and beginning the journey to your next step in life.

True to your whispered promise. You showed your college what a Mitchell can do. You aced all your classes, majored in psychology, and graduated with top grades. On graduation day, you looked into the audience of proud parents and wished above all else that your dad could’ve been there to see you graduate. You had no doubt he would’ve been the loudest parent there. You could picture him alongside Goose, Carole, Iceman, Slider, and maybe Bradley as they cheered you on, hugging you once you met with them after the ceremony. Instead you were alone, awkwardly dodging parents and graduates until you decided to just leave the ceremony.

After graduating, you moved back to Miramar, becoming a therapist within the Navy. You served as support for veterans, serving members, and family members of any Navy personnel, serving or retired, alive or dead, you’d provide help the best you could. You even reconnected with Iceman and Slider, apologising for the way you had treated them prior to you moving away but they dismissed your apologies, hugging you tight as they told you how good it was to see you again. You first moved into a small apartment to save up money before you got into a good enough financial place to be able to move back into your childhood home. You visited your dad’s grave at least once a week, filling him in on everything that had happened in that time. Despite everything you had achieved, you often wondered if you made your dad proud.

About twelve years after you graduated and moved back to Miramar, you were still happily working for the Navy. You had just finished a long day of seeing client after client, having particularly been affected by a girl that was brought in by her father after her mother died on a deployment. The girl was a similar age to you when Maverick died so after finishing up for the day you needed to go for a walk around the nearest park to clear your mind. As you stepped out of your office, you saw a person stood outside. The first thing that stood out to you was the man’s Hawaiian shirt, not many people wore shirts like that. When the man looked at you, you could’ve stumbled back in shock, he looked so much like Goose, sandy blond hair, moustache, everything. And when you squinted slightly, you realised who you were looking at.

“Bradley?” You questioned, stepping closer to the man, and stopping when he smiles softly.

“Hey y/n.” He replies, his voice quiet and soft as he watches you. He had grown up so much since you last saw him. He’d filled out with more muscles; he started sporting a moustache like his father’s, but he was still Bradley. You longed to hug him, but you felt you didn’t deserve such a greeting after going no contact with him for so long. Bradley could see the conflict within you and held his arms open, raising an eyebrow with a smile, giving you an invitation that you accept instantly, walking into his outstretched arms and hugging him tight as he winds his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry Bradley.” You whisper against his shoulder, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes as you cling to him.

“Don’t apologise.” He says, resting his chin gently on the top of your head.

“But I stopped talking to you. I never checked in.” You say, squeezing your eyes shut to fight off the tears.

“Hey, communication is a two way street. I could’ve reached out, but I didn’t. I think after what happened with dad there was just too many memories and I backed out any time the thought crossed my mind.” Bradley says, assuring you that there was no bad blood between the two of you. After hugging for what felt like forever, you finally pulled away, smiling up at your old friend.

“How did you find out I worked here? You haven’t been stalking me, have you?” You quip as Bradley lets out a breathy laugh.

“You wish. I’m stationed here now at Top Gun. I completed a mission a week or so ago and it really shook me up and one of my teammates recommended I see you. The second I heard your first name I knew it had to be you.” Bradley explained, his grin never fading.

“So you are a Navy man now. Making Goose proud I bet. Who recommended me? Just out of curiosity.” You ask, wondering which of your clients it could be.

“Hangman. He spoke highly of you.” Bradley said, making your eyes widen slightly.

“Jake’s here too and he hasn’t bothered to come and see me? I have some strong words for him when I next see him.” You had gotten along with Jake well; you were able to see past his strong bravado and help him navigate the loss of a wingman pretty early on in his career in the Navy. The two of you had formed a strong friendship and you tried to check in with him when you could.

“So, you joined the Navy after college. What’s your callsign?” You ask, looking up at Bradley as he takes a breath before speaking.

“Rooster.” He says, watching as you nod.

“It suits you, Rooster.” You say, testing the callsign out.

“Do you want to join me for a walk? If you have stuff to do it’s fine the offer is there though.” You then say, watching as Bradley debates the offer before nodding. You lead Bradley to the park, the two of you chatting the whole way before you settle down alongside each other on a park bench to continue talking.

“How’s Carole? I completely forgot to ask.” You say, the thought hitting you violently.

“Oh… she passed away a year after dad died.” Bradley says and you immediately feel like the worst person on the planet.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry I didn’t know.” You apologise quickly, without even thinking you reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay. She wasn’t doing great after dad died, I thought it was a temporary illness but one day I got a call saying her heart gave out. I think she died of a broken heart.” Bradley says, making tears fill your eyes.

“She’s with Goose now, and the two of them are watching over you and they’re so damn proud of you I just know it.” You say as Bradley smiles over at you.

“They’re with Mav I bet. And I bet he’s so proud of you as well.” Bradley says, his words bringing your smile back to your face.

“You know, the mission we flew the other week, our instructors kept talking about your dad.” Bradley says, making your eyes widen slightly as you watch him.

“Talking about my dad?” You prod gently, wanting answers.

“It was a rough mission. We thought someone wasn’t going to make it home. Our instructors kept talking about how your dad would’ve been a perfect person to teach or lead the mission. No one understood missions like that the way he did.” Bradley explains, making you nod lightly. Your dad had been reckless within the Navy, but he used his recklessness to do what others were afraid of doing, which put him above the others in the Navy.

You continued to talk in the park with Bradley, catching up with him on everything until the sun began its descent over the horizon, the golden glow dancing through the tree leaves.

“I’m glad I found you. It’s been great talking to you again.” Bradley says, his gaze fixed on the glow filtering through the trees.

“It’s been great talking to you again too Bradley.” You reply, smiling over at him and admiring the way the golden glow of the sun illuminated his face perfectly. Had he always been this attractive? Or were you just noticing it now? Before you could get lost in your thoughts, Bradley turned back to you.

“We should probably head home before it gets dark.” Bradley says, eyes drifting back to the sun before looking back at you.

“You’re right.” You mutter, upset that this moment has to end.

“So, where are you living now? I’ll walk you home.” You didn’t expect that response from Bradley, and it had your eyes wide in seconds.

“Bradley you really don’t have to worry about it. I’m not too far from here anyway.” You say but Bradley was on his feet, helping you up and looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I was brought up to be a gentleman so let me walk you home, okay?” Bradley says, his soft expression melting you down in seconds.

“I live exactly where I used to when I was younger.” You say and Bradley’s eyes light up, remembering the house all too well.

“Let’s go!” He says enthusiastically, practically bounding along like a golden retriever as he walks you home. The two of you continue to talk until you end up outside your front door.

“Well this is it. Hasn’t changed much.” You say sheepishly, thumb rubbing your wrist in nervousness as Bradley grins.

“Still a great house. I’d love to come by one day and see what you’ve done with the place if you’d let me.” Bradley says, making you smile softly before a sudden wave of confidence overcomes you, making you hold your hand out.

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in and then we can arrange a time for you to come round.” You say and Bradley instantly dug his phone out of his jean pocket and handed it you, waiting as you made yourself a contact and sent yourself a message so you could add Bradley’s number into your phone. When you handed the phone back to him, your fingertips brushed against his and you could’ve sworn you felt sparks travel up your arm.

“Goodnight, y/n.” Bradley says, bidding you goodbye with one last quick hug.

“Goodnight, Bradley.” You reply, releasing him from the hug and watching as he walks down the driveway before entering the house, sending him one final wave when he glanced over his shoulder. As you entered the house, you made yourself something for dinner before heading upstairs to get ready for bed, exhaustion quickly overtaking you as you clambered into bed, looking over at the picture of you and your dad that sat proudly on your bedside table.

“Goodnight dad. I’ve got a hell of a story to tell you when I next visit. I hope I’m making you proud.” You whispered to the photo, your eyes slipping shut as you allowed sleep to take over.

Little did you know, Maverick had been watching over you ever since his death and as you whispered your little mantra of hoping you made him proud every night, he’d always respond with the same thing.

“You make me proud every damn day.”

255 notes · View notes

everythingelseisextra · 9 months

Text

Come Home (Tommy's Perspective)

Part Fifteen: David and Goliath

Description: Tommy doesn't tell you everything. So much gets stuck in his mouth, including his business. Warnings: PTSD, language, Tommy being angsty I guess Word Count: 4796 (sorry) Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @Majesticcmey @Optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @ay0nha @mgdixon @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel @ce1iat @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

12 Hours before the attack on the barn

When she leaves, my mind clears. I think differently when she’s here. Softer, like a spell cast to make what I’ve learned and what I’ve made myself less important. She leaves out the front door, and I walk back through the house. Footsteps echoing through the halls like a heartbeat. It’s easy to slip back into a routine, to abide by the list that creates itself somewhere in my head. I find the phone and dial the number without thinking about it. Pick it up, hold it to my ear, wait.

“Hello, Tommy.” Arthur, the usual rashness to his words drowned out by the phone’s crackling. His drawl is recognizable to me like I’d know my own hand, and it’s something of a comfort after the talk I’d had with her. “Why’re you calling me at this hour?”

I forget he’s not awake nearly as early as I am. My day, and her day, too, starts before the sun. I don’t give it any pause. He doesn’t care about the real reason I’m calling him. Wants his orders from his sergeant major and to put his head down and do it. “I need you to start what we talked about, Arthur. With the girls. Talk to ‘em, get what you can out of them, see if you can find any of the men who hold their leashes.”

“On it, Tom.” A rustling of movement tells me he’s just finishing getting dressed. “That all?”

“Tell John to do the same. Stay on the outside, don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.” I can smell breakfast in the air. All I want is a drink and a cigarette. Too early for that. Need to eat. “Tell me what you find.”

“All this for that woman who sprayed you with the hose, eh?” There’s amusement in his tone that I don’t like. Like he’s caught me on some trick I took, like he has something on me. Maybe he does.

“Yep,” I say shortly, not inviting more questions.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. Just looking out for you, Tom, that’s all.”

“I know what I’m doing.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, then drop my hand. “Goodbye.”

“We’re worried about you here. Seems a bit soon, doesn’t it? After Grace and all that—”

“Goodbye, Arthur.” I put the phone down and huff out a breath.

Seems a bit soon. Maybe it is. Maybe I’m all up in my head, afraid to be alone at night, so I attached to the first kind face I saw. Maybe our meeting was some mistake made by me to draw her into the dark.

No. She carries the same burden as I do, in a different form. If our meeting was anything, it was mercy. If some cosmic mistake is what brought us together then it will take another one to tear us apart.

—

Alfie Solomons leaves after the briefing on the Russians. The door remains open. My brothers stay. Their eyes flick down to the ground and stay there, and I slowly sit back down onto my chair. None of them want to be the first to talk. I look to Arthur, let him feel my gaze. If I feel something at their reluctance to leave, it’s too deep for me to be aware of it. I shy away from feeling too deeply. Nothing set in stone, and yet, everything a dirt road. Tread the same path too long and it will become the only path there is. I refuse to be limited by my own emotion.

“So, Russians, hey?” Arthur tries at skirting away from whatever shames him. I stare up at him, unamused. “We— we uh— we fucked up, Tom.” Arthur stumbles over the confession and John shoots him a look of venom. “I fucked up.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting.

“One of the girls— well, you know how they are— I had some drink in me and she— she asked some questions. Shouldn’t have answered them, Tom. Should’ve kept my bloody mouth shut. It doesn’t matter now, they know. I told it to ‘em, and now they know. Nothing to do but—”

“What do they know, Arthur?” I keep my voice even. My head throbs where the stitches were taken out months ago, another sign of my dawning insanity.

“You know how it is, they act all nice to ya and—”

“He told them about hose-girl.” John cuts in. “He told them that he knows about the one that got away.”

My eyes lock onto the drawer in the desk where my gun sits, hidden. “How much did you tell them?”

“Ah, well, it was all very— I mean, I told them—”

“Get to the fucking point.” Inside that drawer is a weapon I’ve held to the temples of many a man, myself included. Inside that drawer is the hope I have of protecting my own. Including her.

“I told them she has horses. That’s all. That she has horses and doesn’t live in town. All I said, I swear it.” His voice carries bravado, covering up for the anxiety I know he has. He doesn’t like displeasing me, and he certainly has.

My words come short and quiet. “You gave them definitive information about a woman they’ve been trying to find for years.”

His silence resonates.

“Answer me, Arthur.” I tear my eyes from the drawer to pin him down, trying to lock onto his shifty eyes.

“Yes, sir, I did.” He looks to John for support, pleading with him for backup. He finds nothing but a stony face.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this before I planned to meet with the fucking Russians?” My voice threatens to raise and his eyes grow furtive.

“I thought—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you thought!” I stand, slamming a hand down on the desk in front of me. Arthur flinches. “Her blood is on your hands, and you’re standing there telling me what you thought?”

“It was my mistake, Tom, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re fucking sorry. We’re all fucking sorry.” I grit my teeth, grind them, and walk out from behind the desk. They turn on instinct, soldiers at attention, their eyes on my back. “We go to the Russians, and we go to save what’s left of her. Understood?”

“Yes.” John’s voice.

“Arthur?” His name is rancid on my tongue. I grow antsy, a green horse on its first ride, flinching and preparing to bolt. I should be by her side, getting her out of there. I should be hunting down the man who thought he could own someone like her.

But I have business. The world slowly lowers down on my shoulders, and I am not Atlas. I cannot shrug.

—

I leave the Russians with the scent of cigarettes, whiskey, and Tatiana’s perfume lingering on me, and the thought of Grace stuck in my head. I was careless, and now I’m hungover, disorganized. The night is still young, and we reach home before the moon is bright in the sky. First thing I do is pick up the phone and call Moss. I ask him about a woman in a barn outside of Birmingham, and he tells me they found two dead bodies with her.

“She’s safe?”

“She is for now. She won’t talk and she has no record, Mr. Shelby, we gotta take her in.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Keep her. See if she’ll talk. I’ll come get her.”

I need an ally. I need help, with everything, not just the quiet things. I need someone who can stare down the barrel of a gun and keep their mouths shut. I need someone who ignores the urge to run, who knows that they’re a monster, too. Two dead bodies found at the barn. One smashed, one shot. When I close my eyes, I can see myself pulling the trigger, smashing the skull. When I think about it, I can feel her fear and determination. My brow furrows, my lips part. She sits alone in a cell while men she doesn’t know interrogate her.

“Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”

“Don’t.” I shake my head, a headache stretching between my temples. “Don’t make her talk. Let her wait. I’ll be there.”

“Yessir, Mr. Shelby.”

“That’s all, Moss. Goodnight.”

I put the phone down and make my way to the bathroom to clean myself off, to rid myself of the smell of other women and spirits and the taste of Grace on my lips. So that she doesn’t smell it, yes, and so that I can forget it ever happened. So that I can wash off the shame and fear and overwhelming sense of loneliness. So that the path I tread doesn’t become beaten.

—

After I’ve cleaned the wounds on her head, after the blood has been washed off, after the sins of my war have been confessed, she sleeps in the bed next to me. I’m on my back, but my head is tilted. Her eyes flutter beneath her eyelids. Her lips part slightly. Moonlight shines on her skin. A swollen bump grows underneath her chin, skin broken.

If I could love her, it would be heavy. Something to carry with me. My love, I’ve learned since Grace, has teeth. Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe possession, maybe control. I can grip with clenched, white knuckles. I can force someone to come back to me, not because they want to, because they have to. I want to love her but I doubt that I can. When I try, something hurts, and I cannot tell her where, only that it does.

A desperate part of me that I do not visit often wants to know what it’s like to be consumed. I am always the possessor, not the possessed. I want to be claimed. I want her love to have teeth, like mine, that can show me that my armor is only skin. If she was the one to cut me, I would bleed forever. That desperation believes that, even with Grace’s death, there is a person out there made exactly for me. That desperation believes that the war I fought in might be echoed in someone else’s. That desperation believes that I have found her and I am ruining it.

I get up from the bed and my body aches. Faint bruises form on my trachea, where Tatiana pressed down. I look at myself in the mirror and empty eyes stare back. There is fear behind them. I want to lay back down with her and forget about last night and tonight and all the regrettable nights I will undoubtedly have until she is brave enough to touch me.

In three days time I crawl back into a tunnel, deep underneath the earth, with the pressure of the world lying over me, precarious. I brave the underground for the sake of a robbery that could make or break my career. I promised Grace to stay legal. She’s dead. And the company runs.

—

“We have your son. Get in the car.”

Rain patters on the outside of the car. I’m in a tinfoil box, and my son is out there. “First. Is he safe?”

“Of course he’s safe. All children are dear to me.”

Michael’s voice, his confession, speaks to me from memory. My son, in the hands of men who have little respect for physical boundaries. Who have little respect for children themselves.

“You have all the cards. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will certainly do it.” My words are choked at the ends, not broken, but holding anger and panic.

“You ever drive one of these beasts?”

“I’m asking you to conduct business.”

“I borrowed it. Lent it. By a lord. For the duration of this business.”

My head bowed, my eyes unblinking, staring forward, waiting for the order that will save my son. I breathe heavily. I have no choice. I have to comply. “I will certainly do what you need me to do with no complaints.”

“We were forced into doing this awful thing. We did warn you that your son would be in danger if you deviated from the plan.” The priest speaks to me like I’m thick, words slow and gentle and pretentious. “It was you who made a mistake, you understand that?”

“Yes.” Anything. Anything to get him back.

“What mistake did you make? Do you even know?”

Now it’s a game. A show of power. I have no choice. I must comply. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You made a deal with our enemies.”

“I will do what needs to be done.” “You went behind our backs to stop the Soviets from blowing up the train. But it’s alright. It’s alright. We’ve rectified your mistake. You ask me ‘what do I need to do?’ Well, here’s what you need to do, you fucking mongrel, you.” He hands me an envelope. I take it with shaking hands. “But since the Bolsheviks will not be blowing up the train, you’ll blow up the train yourself. It’s always been about the explosion. From the beginning. The bang. The outrage. Understand?”

I nod, unable to do anything else. A mechanical movement, trained into me, comply, comply, comply.

“Those are notes and fragments for you to scatter in the wreckage. Implicating named officials from the Soviet embassy.”

“I will scatter them. It will be done.”

“Good. Our friends at the Time and the Daily Mail will do the rest. And once the British government cuts diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, that will be our mission accomplished. You’ll have been part of a fine adventure.” His eyes land on me. I can feel his gaze, despicably soft brown eyes, a red herring. “To help with the outrage, we need people to die in the explosion.”

I feel nothing. I am an empty shell of a man, puppeteered by a God that despises me. “How many?”

“Let’s say; six? Rail workers, perhaps. Men from the factory.”

I nod. That's all I can do. “And I want my son returned to me within an hour of the explosion.”

“Oh, it’s conditions now, is it?” The amusement in his words sends chills down my back. I shift forward.

“We need to fix the handover in advance.” Firmness. Clinging to what little power I have.

“I haven’t finished with you yet, Mr. Shelby. We also hear you’re digging a tunnel. Mining for precious stones under Wilderness House. I’m told they have a faberge in the strong room. The Lilies Of The Valley Egg, made in 1898. One of the Odd Fellows has a wife who’s obsessed with faberge. He wants to give her the egg for her birthday…”

“He will have it.” Comply.

“And the economic league will take all the jewels that you steal, to cover our considerable expenses. The fight against communism isn’t cheap, you know? So if you want to see your—”

“I will bring you all the jewels.”

“A bang first. Then bring everything you’ve stolen to your office at dawn.”

I shake my head. “No. No. I’ll not be able to get the jewels to you by dawn. The tunnel has hit clay.”

“If the Saint Andrews clock strikes 5:00 am on the night of the robbery, and we don’t have everything that we’ve asked for, the bell will be tolling for your boy.”

Thunder rumbles. I nod, closing my eyes. My son. The last piece of Grace I have.

“Now get out of my fucking car.”

—

A day has passed since I’ve seen her. She has her horses. She’ll think of me when she has the time, wonder where I’ve gone off to. I have no doubt she’ll worry tonight. She’ll pace the room we share and think she’s made a mistake, some blunder that’s chased me away. I think as I drive that this might be the end. My disappearance, my lack of communication, my lies, might be the final straw for her. She knows nothing of the Russians or the Soviets, knows only little of the priest. I’m sure she expects me back when the sun starts to go down. I’m sure her sleep will be fitful or impossible without knowing where I am.

I won’t be going home tonight. She will rise before dawn, when I crawl out of a tunnel, and she will wonder where I am. Perhaps she’ll call Ada, who’ll tell her nothing. I am Midas. When I touch her, she turns cold, so I don’t. I don’t tell her of the business I conduct because she doesn’t deserve to be part of this bloody fucked up world I’ve created. So, she’ll wake up, and I’ll be gone. No explanation, no contact. And I’ll come home when the sun has risen and I’ll explain nothing. I protect my own.

I protect my own, but I’ve chosen Charlie over her, and of that I am guilty.

There’s gray in the sky when I arrive at the tunnel. Johnny Dogs shouts at me, seeking an explanation for my sudden appearance. I shout back something about my boy and the priest and midnight, and before he can stop me, I climb down into the tunnel.

I don’t feel. I try to chase away the ebb and flow of my head during daylight, above ground, when the danger separates itself from the soldier I used to be. I’ve built a dam between myself and whatever wave of emotion comes crashing in. I can see it come, but I am never drowned by it. Not when I’m on top of the world instead of underneath it.

I am trapped in a birth canal of mud and the sound of picks against clay. I cannot move in any direction without being pressed against some wall. I watch the only way out disappear behind me. There’s no escape except to complete my mission and pierce through the earth. Some nightmare shakes the earth around me. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m covered by dirt and it staunches the blood from the abrasions; from the axes, from the rough stones, from myself, that mark my shaking body.

The single lantern flashes shadows and I can hear the Germans against the barrier in front of us. A race against time begins. No apparatus supports us, all we have are pickaxes to eat away at the earth in front of us. Tunnel warfare springs to life, and my head pounds, and the dam is broken. My hands shake and my eyes are wide and there’s no doubt that I am terrified. Doesn’t matter. I can be scared and still work, still function, still complete the business I’ve forced myself into. There are men by my side that inch forward with every second, who I trust, who know the tunnels as damn well as I do.

I am ripped into being alive. Sensations, doubts, fears, absolute terror, things I have not felt since the war. On hands and knees, chipping away at impossibility, the earth rumbling with soldier’s feet and mines exploding on the no-man’s-land I tunnel beneath. Strangely, there is fear, and next to it a sense of belonging. This is my grave that I dig, and I am meant to die here, underground. This is my home, the first place I learned to run from, the first place I promised myself I would never return.

One of the men seizes and I do nothing to help him but send him out. On the edge of the shakes myself, I am wired to do nothing but dig. Forcing the wet clay apart, blood and sweat dripping from my forehead, inching forward bit by bit with the other men.

I remember rot. I remember bodies buried in the clay. I remember the sun being a dream. I remember each shake of the earth a bad omen, each sound of picks on the other side a forewarning to our deaths. God watched idly as I buried myself and other men in a grave I dug myself. We told each other not to listen when we screamed, when we convulsed at night, when we broke from the pressure of the world on our shoulders.

I can feel sludge beneath me, slipping, and I know I’m going too fast. My men build supports with timber to hold up the earth on weak substructures. Condensation drips onto me. The ground around us shivers, rocks tumble from around the supports, and we pause, waiting, expecting to be buried. Nothing.

Gasping for breath. Body bruised and battered. Swimming in the suffocating pressure of the earth surrounding us. Trying desperately to dig upwards, to save our own lives. To survive. None of it real, just the sound my picks and the men building supports.

I reach the end and plant an explosive. Backing away. Blinking the blood and sweat out of my eyes. It goes off, and I expect to be buried but have no time to fear it. Before the smoke clears, I’ve escaped the tunnel, and I can breathe, if only for a moment. My shaking hands scoop jewels into a canvas bag, giving no thought to what I grab, where I grab from. I take and take and take.

There’s a shout that I don’t have much time. I suck in a breath, snatch blindly at the last few jewels. Crawl back into the tunnel, throwing the bag of jewels in front of me, following the men as they begin the creep back up.

I’m the last out. The other men have gone to clean themselves up. Panting, I lie in the dirt where I belong, and roll onto my back to stare up at the black sky. My breath fogs the air. Bits of my body stings where the skin was scraped off. And I pant.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

—

Somehow, I manage to drive. I don’t see the trees around me, don’t see the grass or the hills, just look straight ahead as my destination grows on the horizon. A single phone booth on the side of the road, resolute. I don’t turn off the car, stepping out and walking unsteadily over to it. I place a coin in, turn the handle, and wait.

“Let me speak to him,” I say.

My son’s babbling fills the phone and I smile. “Hello, Charlie.”

He’s unharmed. He’s safe. The nightmare, for now, is over. A lump forms in my throat and I don’t understand it. I’m smiling. I’m relieved. My hand shakes. There’s extra liquid in my eyes.

“Hello, Charlie,” I say again. He responds with a quiet dadda and nothing else.

“Can you hear me?” I sniffle and fend off the rising pressure in my chest, holding it off until I’m done, until I know he’s safe.

He mumbles something about being tired and I smile again, heart simultaneously filling and being stabbed with something cold. “Yeah. You go to bed. Good boy.”

The call ends and I put the phone down. Something in me bends and bends and bends and then, finally, snaps. My brow furrows and I squeeze my eyes shut and a small sob wracks my body.

It was a success. My son is safe. The jewels are ready. I should be fucking grateful that I survived this. That we survived this.

There’s a sense in me that there was no success, only what appears to be one. There’s a sense in me that tells me I’ve pushed those I want close further and further from me. There’s a sense that I will never be the man I hope to be because it’s hard when I’m always fucking unwanted. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel unless I blow it up. There’s no joy to be had unless I force it.

And I sob, because I feel everything. There’s an ache in my chest and a hole in my heart. There’s pain through my body and a horrible loneliness in my head. There’s relief, pure and unadulterated, and there’s terror lingering from the tunnel, images flashing through my mind of what burned itself into my mind in France. Claustrophobia burns through me. I sob over what I’ve destroyed like I want to stop and worship it, and soon, I’ll be back with a pick in my hand and explosives waiting.

My son has grown up barely knowing me because I’m consumed by business. My heart has been broken too many times and I fear that it will never be made whole. I am a soldier with only the cause of ambition to guide me. And I feel everything, even though I try to hide it.

I take a breath, pressing my eyes closed, then pull myself together and straighten. I call her. I suspect she won’t pick up, but I try anyway.

There’s a click and her voice, distorted by the distance, says my name in a tone I can only describe as fearful. “Tommy?”

“Yes,” I say, words still choked.

“Where have you been?” Not steady, not brave, not the tone I know from her.

“Business.” It’s the only explanation I can give.

“Business? For two days straight?”

“Yes. For two days straight. You need to know who I am.” I squeeze the earpiece, stopping my voice from wavering. “You need to know that I can’t give you what you want.”

There’s quiet on the other end of the phone. My hand continues to shake.

“What happened?” The fear is gone, in its place, worry.

“Nothing happened,” I lie. “Do you understand me? I can’t be the one you need. You think I’m going to change but those fuckers out there are worse than I am.”

“I’ve never wanted you to change. I’ve never asked for that. And no one can be everything to someone. I’m not expecting that from you. I just want you to tell me when you’re going to be gone like this.”

“They’ve issued an arrest for my family and I have to let it happen.”

“What?”

“For my brothers, for Pol, for Esme and Linda. I made the wrong enemies.” Please, forget about me, choose to leave. “You should go before it all goes to shit.”

“Tommy. I’m not going. I’m staying with you. You’ve made a mistake, that doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you. I told you I would forgive your rottenness and I plan to keep that promise.” Her voice is strained. “Tom, just come home, we can talk—”

“I’ve gotten mixed up in something too big for me.” I close my eyes, a small tear dripping out. “I won’t have a family after this.”

“Thomas Shelby, I swear to God, if you don’t come home, I’m tracking you down and dragging you here myself. Okay? So get back in your car and drive your ass home. You’re gonna be fine, you’re not gonna end up without a family. You’re going to be fine.” Her voice softens towards the end and I feel myself drawn towards her, despite everything. “You won’t be alone.”

“I fucked another woman.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Quit trying to make excuses for me to leave you. Come home, we’ll calm you down, and we’ll talk about it.”

“My brothers told them where you were. The attack was my fault.”

“I get what’s happening here. Something scared you, and you think you’re hurting everyone around you, so you’re self-sabotaging. Come home. That’s all I want. Don’t you want to give me what I want?”

I do. I always want to give her what she wants. There are better men out there who could love her. There are better people who could protect her without making the mistakes I did.

They’ll have to get through me, though.

“I’ll come home.” I open my eyes and blink hard, ridding them of their bleariness. “I’m not the man you want, love.”

“So you keep saying.” Her words grow wry. “You forget that you don’t get to tell me what I want. And I want you. I don’t know how to make that any clearer to you.”

I nod and give in to the words she speaks. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon, Tom. Yes?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

I put the phone down. This shallow world, this twisted and broken body I live in, this mind that I cannot control, somehow she is a master of all of it. Somehow she puts me at ease. Love, I think, is two people inspiring each other to live. And she gives me a reason, and she stays by my side.

Dawn breaks, and I walk back to my car in silence.

#only the wild ones #tommys pov #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaker blinders fandom #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders fanfic

324 notes · View notes

coveredinsweetpea · 2 years

Text

hiding [eddie munson x reader]

A/n: this is the first thing I've written in MONTHS so don't @ me!!! Idk where this came from, but this man brought me my inspiration back!!

Summary: Eddie sneaks in through your window while your parents are still home. Stuff happens. (SMUT-ish) 2.1k

Warnings: nothing major really. unprotected sex, a little bit of name calling, the risk of getting caught... it's a chill one :)

Over the sound of the water hitting the shower floor, you heard the door open, and sighed. "Jesus Christ, can't you kno- Eddie!?"

With a little devious smile on his pretty lips, he slipped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him without a sound, "Hi, baby"

"How did you get in here?" you asked, slightly enraged but still amused. You were still hidden behind the curtain, with only your head peeking out.

"Through your bedroom window, obviously"

"You can't do this, Eddie, my parents are at home!"

"You think I don't know that?" he shrugged, checking himself out in the foggy mirror. "I would've used the front door otherwise, you made me a key, remember?"

"For emergencies!"

"This is an emergency" Eddie grinned, gently tugging at the shower curtain, "I missed you"

"You're such an idiot, Eddie, if my-"

A swift knock on the door interrupted you. "Y/n?"

"Mom!?"

Your heart nearly stopped as Eddie's eyes threatened to fall out of the orbits.

"Honey, I need that hand lotion we got last week"

"Yeah, I think it's in my room" you lied, looking straight at the little container as it sat peacefully on the edge of the sink.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's in here. I saw it this morning"

"Wait! I'll give it to you in a minute"

"I can get it" she said, and time nearly stopped as you saw the door knob starting to turn.

Before you could even register what was going on, Eddie had jumped inside the bathtub. He was fully clothed, muddy boots included, standing one head taller than you as water poured down his head and body.

You both just stood there, frozen, looking at one another and trying not to burst into laughter.

"Hun, me and dad are gonna go out tonight for a bit, ok?"

"Great, have fun!"

"And your brother is sleeping over at Tom's house, so you'll be on your own"

"That's ok" you said in hopes that she'd be done faster.

Hearing your mother's words, Eddie was barely able to contain himself. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your ear. "Think of all the rooms I'm gonna fuck you in"

You didn't even get a chance to react before your mum continued speaking. "You know, this would've been a great opportunity for you to have a boy over"

"Mom!"

"What?" she exclaimed, trying to sound offended. "It's been a year, it's time you got over Steve, baby"

At this point, you didn't even dare look in Eddie's direction. "I am over Steve, mom, remember? I broke up with him"

"That's my girl" Eddie whispered, playing with a strand of your wet hair.

"I still don't understand why you did that, he was perfect for you" your mother continued.

"Yeah, yeah, maybe he was. I don't know, I don't care, I didn't like him like that anymore, now can you let me shower?"

"How about Jason? I met his mother at the grocery store, she seems like an amazing woman"

At that point, you thanked the lord for the shitty pipes and the loud water stream, because otherwise, your mother would've definitely heard the gagging noises Eddie made, and the little yelp he let out when you elbowed him in the stomach.

"I hate Jason, can you leave now? Please?"

"I just feel like you're missing out on things, honey. Before you know it you'll be on your own, working everyday, I don't want you to let these beautiful times pass by, that's all"

"Yes, mum, you're right. But how about we talk about this tomorrow, huh? We'll go out for a coffee or something"

"Sure, hun, whatever you say" she mumbled and then you heard her grab the knob. But the door didn't open. "Promise me you won't spend all night doing homework, ok? You spent more time at the library these past few weeks than I did throughout college"

You saw Eddie grin, and bend down to whisper to you, "Is that what you tell your parents when you come over?"

"Yeah, mhm" you answered them both. "No homework, I promise"

"Ok, baby. I left some money on your desk, order some food, ok? Mama loves you, bye baby!"

"Bye mom!"

"Jesus Christ!" Eddie exclaimed as soon as your mother had left the room. He pushed his wet hair back from his face, and started undressing himself. First, his beloved jean vest, then the leather jacket, the not-so-muddy-anymore boots and then his jeans.

"Eddie, I'm sorry to do this, baby, there's no way we're fucking in the shower"

It was like his whole world crashed on top of him. "What do you mean? Why not?"

"If you think I could get turned on right now, especially in this shower, after the discussion I had with my mom, you're mistaken"

"I bet I can change that," he grinned.

"Not a chance, Eddie" you laughed, and pushed the curtain away. You were one foot out of the bathtub when he grabbed your waist and dragged you back in. "Eddie!"

"I just showered at home, I didn't get undressed for nothing, do you have any idea how difficult it is to put on wet jeans?"

"Jesus Christ, Eddie"

"I'll have you screaming that" he chuckled, pinning you against the cold, marble wall. His lips immediately found yours, and as his tongue pushed inside your mouth, his feet parted your legs.

"Eddie, no" you giggled, nudging him away.

"We're already here, we're already naked, I'm already hard. I don't see what's stopping us?"

"That's all it takes, huh? For you to be hard?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and without even a flinch, he pushed his middle finger inside your pussy, and the simple fact that it slipped right in proved his point.

"Any arguments left?" he grinned, and pushed one more finger inside you.

You let your head fall forward to stifle your moans into his shoulder, as he kept a very steady pace against your core.

"I hate you"

"Hate fucking isn't my forte, sweetheart, but we can work something out"

After that, Eddie didn't waste too much time working you up anymore. And he didn't really have to. He gave his cock a few pumps and aligned himself at your entrance, pushing his whole length in with one swift motion.

A rather loud moan broke past your lips, but with the shower still running, you didn't bother to keep quiet. He did shush you however, in-between the kisses he peppered along the side of your neck.

His thrusts were slow but deep, moving your body up and down against the wall as you held on to his shoulders. His fingers were digging holes into your hips, as a way to let out the pressure that was building inside of him. Eddie, unlike you, still tried to keep quiet.

"Fuck, ok, ok-" you panted, raking your nails across his scalp before grabbing hold of his roots, "Faster, please, go faster"

As if he didn't want to. The fact that he had been rock hard ever since he had climbed in through your window didn't help with pacing at all. Ever since he entered you, he was on the edge of bliss, but hell if he wasn't gonna have you come first.

"Look at me, look at me, sweetheart" Eddie whispered, pulling away from you. Your eyes locked just as he picked up his pace, just slightly.

You nodded yes, eyes ready to roll back when he brought his hand between your bodies and started rubbing at your clit.

"Look into my eyes, baby, come on. Don't be like this"

"Yeah, fuck" you moaned, swallowed thickly and forced your head upright.

His thumb worked you hard and fast, in a pattern he already knew so well. It took him about two weeks to learn what your body loved and craved, and he had been using it against you ever since.

"Come on my cock, yeah? Come on, baby, I'm right here, let yourself go. That's my good girl, show me how good I can fuck you"

And his whole plan would've worked. He knew what set you off, and only needed a few more moments in order to have you screaming his name. But another knock on the door interrupted him.

"Y/n, honey?" your mother's voice rang through the bathroom.

"Fuck-" you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes. "Yeah?"

"We're leaving, alright?"

"Ok, bye, mom!"

"Bye, hun!"

As soon as she left, both you and Eddie relaxed, not having moved one muscle ever since the knock. You expected him to pick up where he left off, but instead he didn't, he just watched you, his cock still buried deep inside your pussy.

"What?"

Eddie licked his lips. "You little whore"

Your eyes widened in surprise, but the little smile that curled the corners of your lips betrayed your true emotions.

"What?"

Without any warning, Eddie pulled out and let you down. You were about to protest and cling to him like you always did when you wanted something, but he was faster.

He spun you around to face the wall, and pressed himself against your back. "Think I didn't feel the way you clenched around my cock? Getting caught fucking the outcast made you like that? Hm?"

"Eddie!" you whined, trying to arch yourself back against his cock.

"I think you love the fact that your mom hates me. Don't you?"

He pressed his cock at your entrance and leaned closer to your ear. "Is that why you came and basically jumped me a few days ago at rehearsals? When I had to fuck you in the bathroom twice before you finally calmed down? Wasn't that just right after that article came out? Where everyone trash talked me? Accused me and my friends of all those horrible things?"

"Fuck- fuck, ok, maybe!"

"Oh, I was wrong about you, sweetheart"

"Eddie!" you cried, "Please!"

"Please, what?"

"Fuck me, please"

"I don't know..." he teased, and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Eddie!! Just please, please, just fuck me. I'm begging you, please"

"That's my good girl" he chuckled and kissed the side of your neck. "Was that so hard?"

You barely managed to shake your head before he entered you again. This time however, he didn't waste any more time. Balls deep from the very first thrust, he worked up a pace that had you almost crying out in pleasure in seconds.

"Fuck, I'm close, Eddie"

"I know you are, baby" he said and wrapped his fingers in your hair. He pulled you up against your chest and held you tight as he continued to ram his cock into you. "Come for me, doll, come on"

And you did. Moments after, the orgasm washed over you like never before. Your body trembled and you felt exhausted, but he held you up, fucking himself into you until he was finished too.

"Fuck-" Eddie breathed out, letting his weight fall against the wall right beside you.

Suddenly feeling empty without him so tightly wrapped around your body, you pushed yourself up and moved over to lean against his chest as his cum leaked down your thighs.

With the remaining bits of energy inside his body, Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the top of your head.

"I love you," you said.

"I love you, sweetheart"

Knowing very well this was only the beginning of a very long night, you and Eddie soon left the shower and headed downstairs to order food. You settled on a monstrous pizza with a little bit of everything before going into the kitchen to make some drinks.

"You know what you said about my mom, about how I like the fact that she hates you?"

"Mhm" Eddie nodded as he poured vodka into your cup.

"You're right"

"Of course I am," he chuckled. "When have I ever been wrong?"

"I mean it! I wanna tell her about us!"

"I obviously don't wanna cause you any problems, doll, but I'm all for that"

"I'm gonna do it tomorrow, I'm done hiding you, I want everyone to know we're together"

With a ridiculously big smile on his lips, Eddie walked over to you, "You have no idea how happy that makes me"

"Hiding was fun though"

"I can think of stuff," Eddie laughed.

Like every time you hung out with Eddie, time flew right by. Before you knew it, the pizza had arrived and the drinks weren't even ready yet.

"I'll go get it, '' Eddie announced and sprinted out of the kitchen.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, thinking of him wearing only his wet pair of underwear and your Pink Floyd t-shirt that didn't even get close to his ass as he opened the door.

"Um, Y/n?" Eddie yelled from the front door.

"Yeah?" you asked as you jogged over.

"I don't think you're gonna have to wait until tomorrow to tell your mom about us" he said just as your eyes landed on your half naked boyfriend who was standing next to your very pissed off mother.

"Fuck"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 5 months

Text

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

203 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 7 months

Text

THE VETERAN

(This is an idea I've been batting around for a while. Thanks to @maturedadsandmen for the inspiration to see it through.)

"This round's on me, Ackerman," Jim Bowers said, with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before he went to get us another round of beers. His blue eyes twinkled, and I could see the wrinkles and crows feet on his weathered, tanned face. Bowers held his liquor better than me, but he was definitely buzzed, too.

It had been a long week, but the summer MLB draft was now complete and a lot of the front office guys - and gals, too, but mostly guys - were out celebrating. Only now, some of the guys were heading off to dinner or going home. A few were in a corner trying to hit on some women at the bar. Which left me chatting with Bowers.

I don't know why Jim had decided to be buddy-buddy with me. Over the last month, the sarcastic putdown of calling me Moneyball had somehow turned into a friendly nickname, when he wasn't calling me by last name. But I leaned into it. The man was a former professional player and a legend in Royals history. He'd coached for a good decade once the boredom of retirement finally sunk in, but then the wave of analytics pushed him out the door. So now he was a special advisor to the GM and the face of the business side of the organization. Not exactly a mascot, but Jim brought in more when his gravitas and old-school knowledge of the game mattered. Which wasn't all the time, and Jim knew that.

I tried not to have the hard-drinking ways that a lot of guys in baseball do, but it was a good occasion to let loose. I was feeling good, and I'd probably get drunk by nighttime. Thank god for Uber.

It was well-earned, but the problem was my sexual thoughts were coming to me with less filter than usual. Jim was making those sexual thoughts come hard and fast. I didn't even go for older guys, at least not that much older, not older like Bowers. The man was in his late 60s, old enough to be my granddad. But there was something powerfully sexy about the man. 6'2" and still had a decently muscled build from his daily gym routine, even if yeah, Bowers was getting his granddaddy on, more by the month.

And, damnit, that day, he was going commando in his shorts. I didn't try to scope him out, I swear, but Jim Bowers had a huge package. Thick, heavy genitals that looked obscene in his khaki shorts. Maybe the man was a show-er and not a grower, but the part he was showing looked pretty damn oversized. I'd forever think of him as Big Jim now.

I wasn't some green virgin. I was 28, with one long term relationship under my belt. I'd gotten my PhD in Applied Math at Minnesota and a plum job with the Royals right off the bat. It was why I'd studied what I'd studied. It was my dream job, doing analytics for a major league baseball team. From my little league days and collecting baseball cards, through playing baseball at my prep school to too many hours spent at college playing fantasy teams... it all led up to this.

My boyfriend Tom wasn't eager to switch jobs and move, and I wasn't eager to do the long-distance thing. We talked it out and, a week before I packed up my belongings, we broke up.

Breakups suck, but the consolation prize was rediscovering the world of hookups in a new city. I'd developed a fondness for Midwestern guys, and as a somewhat nerdy Jewish dude from New England I had fun having a different blond hunk every other weekend. I even hooked up with some older guys. I preferred guys my age but responded to a guy's personality and a shared sexual vibe over looks. And sometimes a daddy fit the bill.... Different looks, different body types and different sexual energy. It was all great.

But for me, Daddy meant like 40. Jim Bowers was rearranging my self-identified age range. Or maybe it was the beer.

"Here ya go," he said as he sauntered back with two beers in hand. Goddamn, the veteran looked FINE. I mean, no one would mistake his body for a 40 year old's or even a 50 year olds. It was mature muscle, but fit. Platelike pecs beneath the man's team-logo polo shirt, and pumped arms stretching the tanned, almost leathery skin that was covered in gray hair, matching the thicker silvery fur on his legs.

And, damn, that package: I could make out the contours of Jim Bowers' junk. There had been rumors of his heyday with the groupies. For all I knew he still had 'em, though maybe not like the current players.

We clinked glasses and the man looked me in the eye and said, "Now that the draft is done, you gonna stop being a workaholic, Moneyball?" he teased. "Maybe you can finally get a goddamn boyfriend."

Everyone in the front office knew I was gay and that was never an issue, but I also didn't make it an issue. No talk about my private life, no mention of the gay thing unless it was brought up. I was the epitome of professional, and when it came to happy hour drinks, well, I'd learned straight-dude male bonding as a way of blending in years ago.

"Come on, Jim," I said. And he knew exactly why.

"I know you got your work self and keep the rest private, buddy..." he said. "But, man, you're not as different as you think sometimes."

I don't know that I resented his words, but they rubbed me the wrong way. How was Bowers to know what I dealt with? Maybe if I hadn't been perving on the guy, I would have been more bothered.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Take Campbell," he said, referring to Mitch Campbell, who was one of the scouts. "Good looking guy. Goes on dates all the time, but can't think of a goddamn thing to talk about to girls except baseball." Jim gave a smirk. "Girl doesn't call back, and Campbell's back to Square One."

At another moment, Bowers talk would be too old-school I-told-you-so in its condescension. Now, I was amused as hell. "You got Mitch all figured out, huh?" I teased.

Jim's blue eyes lit up some. "Tell me I'm wrong, Moneyball."

I smiled. "You're probably right," I conceded. Then, feeling my guard let down, I added, "You know, with gay guys, they like the idea of a baseball dude, but it's more the fantasy than the reality, you know?" I blushed as I spoke, but something about the drunken happy hour moment was removing my filter. "Maybe if I were a player, they'd be into the jock thing."

Bowers laughed and gave a smirk. He'd been the recipient of jock worship, even if it was from women. "You're just like Campbell, Moneyball... deep down." He patted my back. "But you're a good looking dude, and a good kid... any man would be lucky to land ya, buddy."

I ate up the words but had to reply, "Not the pep talking I was expecting tonight, Jim."

He reflected a second. "Yeah, I guess I dish out the advice easier than I can take it." Bowers had married three times and was now divorced and, as far as I knew, single.

Our conversation shifted subjects, but we got caught up in talking. I ate up his stories from his pro days, and Jim asked me about the math stuff I did. Maybe the man was right, I wasn't good at talking about much other than baseball, but he was a lifer and his whole life was the game, too.

I emptied my pint glass and had to do a mental calculation if I was gonna have another. I was on the fence. I should go home, but if Jim was having another, I knew I would too.

Instead he gave me a questioning look. "Feel like coming back to my place, Ackerman?" he asked. "We can have another one there."

The last part felt like it was added on to save face. In case I wasn't on the same wavelength. Maybe I'd been dumb in not reading the signals. Maybe I was misreading them now. But that was my first inkling that Jim Bowers was making a pass at me.

I blushed as I replied. "Sounds good, Jim," I said. "But neither one of us is driving."

"Yeah," he admitted. He was buzzed all right. He patted my shoulder. Kind of paternal but with a definite look of sexual interest in his gaze. Damn, this was not what I'd been expecting. He broke that look as he pulled out his phone to get an uber.

The guys had all gone by then and we stepped outside to wait for the car, it was getting dark out. We'd been in there a while.

"Damn, I'm starving," Jim said. "Maybe I can order us a pizza."

"Sure," I said. Hands in my pockets out of nervousness more than anything. This was probably a really bad idea, but I felt crazy attracted to Bowers, more than I'd let myself admit before tonight. This was playing out so different than a gay hookup, so I was feeling out the dynamic. But his touch between my shoulder blades as he guided me first toward the car... that touch alone was enough to make me chub.

Jim's place was big, too big for a bachelor. But it felt surprisingly homey.

"Let me get us some waters," he said. I wasn't overly drunk but he was right, it was good to drink something besides beer.

I chugged down a few sips from the plastic bottle and looked at Jim. "Nice place," I said.

"Thanks," Bowers said. Then with a soft voice, he added, "Damn, you're really fucking cute, Dave." He set down his bottle and stepped up to me.

I hadn't expected Bowers to be into dudes, at all, and I definitely didn't expect him to kiss. But he had no hesitation pulling me into a soft, wet kiss. It was a little drunken, but it was the surprise sexual attraction that made my head light. Fit as he may be, Jim was a mature guy, and I knew I was kissing a 60-something man, a man nearing 70. It was a strange thrill.

"You're into this, right?" the man hissed as he pulled back, giving me an up close view of his handsome features: roman nose, round cheeks, and gray hair growing more silver by the year, cut in a medium-short style. His hairline receded just a little but remarkably he still had a full head of hair. "I'm not looking for any HR issues," he chuckled.

"Oh I'm into it," I answered. "I guess it's just between us, right?" I was asking for his assurance as much as I was giving him mine.

"Absolutely," he said. His eyes were on me but his arm was reaching down. In my peripheral vision I could tell he was unzipping. And pulling out his dick. His grin cocked. "I'm really horny, man," he said.

I looked down. There it was, that pro-veteran baller cock. Heavy was an understatement. Jim Bowers packed a very thick, powerful 8 inch tool that jutted out of his open crotch. It was big and spongy and rock hard all at once. I wondered if he took a pill for his erections. I didn't fucking care. Bowers had an amazing cock.

I gave him one last look, a playful, sexy look, then crouched in front of him. I reached out and touched that meat, holding it. It had a soft give to the erection, but also twitched in my hand. It was my first mature cock, and I decided I liked it. Jim was hot to the touch as I angled his erection down to my lips.

"Oh yeah, buddy..." he hissed. "Lick my cock... like that."

The more I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, the bigger and heavier it felt. He tasted salty but then as I bathed his dick the flavor was cleaner. I finally figured I'd given enough foreplay and pulled that dong between my open lips.

He had enough girth to challenge me. I liked sucking dick, but I wasn't an expert at it. I guess lately I'd gotten more into anal and more into topping in my hookups. Even if I still went down on a guy, as foreplay or the main event, Bowers was bigger than I'd encountered.

But it was like riding a bike, I suppose. My initial difficulties gave way to a steady bobbing on his fat rod, feeling a good four or five inches push the confines of my throat with each motion of my mouth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

Nothing compared to the pleasure Jim was feeling. "Oh God... hell yes... work my fucking cock, man.... like that, yeah.... "

As I bobbed up and down I could see the silvery hair in his crotch, just a few darker hairs among them. And my hands felt up his mature legs, still strong, and now very furry. I was sucking a 68, maybe 69 year old and I realized I fuckin' loved this.

I always figured old guys took a long time to cum. Jim wasn't a quick cummer, but after about three minutes of giving him head I sensed the telltale signs. The urgency in his voice, the quiver in his quad muscle.

"FUCK! Here comes my fucking load, bud," he announced.

That heavy fat mature dong jerked in my throat as Bowers fed me his seed. I did my best to keep working him through that ejaculation, accentuating his orgasm with my mouth and suction.

He finally pushed my off with a friendly laugh. "Easy there, man... I think you got it all."

I looked up, knowing I felt proud. More than I'd been with my hookups. If I was honest, happier in sex than I'd been with my ex Tom. "Fuck, that was hot," I hissed.

Jim nodded. Face flushed red, his gray hair looked whiter. He somehow looked younger and older at the same time.

"Give me a second and I'll take care of you," he announced.

Not what I was expecting but I wasn't going to turn down the offer. I stood up, feeling drunk and light headed from the BJ. I started undoing my shorts and pulling them and my briefs off.

Jim grinned and reached down to grip my boner. "You 27 year olds are always rock hard," he teased, pulling my dick down to let it thwap up at the release.

"28," I corrected. "And how many have there been?" I laughed.

"Enough," he grinned. He gave my meat another look then said, "All right." And like that, the former baseball star, a man whose card I'd collected as a kid, was now getting down to suck me off.

If it hadn't been for the alcohol, I would have blasted in 20 seconds. Instead, now, I enjoyed getting head from Bowers. The slow suckling, the gentle bobs, the vision of his mature muscled bod in front of me. I ran my hands through his silvery hair.

Grandaddy was gonna work for my load, all right, and that idea was enough to get me to cum.

"Jim!" I gasped, surprised at how quickly orgasm snuck up on me and wanting to warn him.

He was a trooper, readying himself or my cum and then steadily sucking it down as I shot good and heavy into his mouth.

"Like I say," he teased when he finally pulled off. "You fucking need a boyfriend, Moneyball." He gave my leg a gentle pat then stood up. Reaching over he picked up his water bottle. To rehydrate or to wash down the flavor of cum, I wasn't sure.

Sheepishly, I pulled my underwear and shorts back on. Crossing some boundaries with Bowers had been naughty fun and all, but this part felt awkward. I started imagining what life was going to be like in the clubhouse from now on.

But Bowers stood in front of me, unabashed being naked from the waist down. His pJim hung fat and heavy, past his low-hanger balls covered in silver hair. He was definitely a show-er, even if his hard on had measured big.

"The offer for pizza still stands, Ackerman," he said, his blue eyes now normal friendly rather than lusty in their gaze. "If you wanna stay."

"You sure?" I asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'm not gonna be offended if you dash off," he said. "I've done it plenty, you know."

"It's not that," I started to say. Then, "Well, maybe it is.... but if you're OK, I could definitely eat."

That made Jim chuckle. "All right. You a peperoni man?"

****

The drunkenness was wearing off as we scarfed down the pizza. As I worked on the last slice, Jim came in with a freshly opened beer can for me, and one for him.

"I promised you a drink," he said.

"I figured that was just a pick up line," I replied. Something about sex made me feel I could be familiar with the man.

"Oh, it absolutely was," he said. "I'm not the most original guy in my lines."

I looked at his body. Relaxed on the couch. I calculated how his current body compared to a couple decades ago. I liked what Bowers had going on now, the contrast of hard and soft, muscled and aging. "You don't need killer lines when you have a killer bod," I said, flirting some.

Jim laughed but seemed into what I was saying. "You think I have a killer bod, Moneyball?"

I nodded. "Definitely." I looked at him openly. I wasn't gonna bone for round too but I was still feeling sexual. "That bug you?"

"Not at all," he said. He took a sip of beer and seemed to be looking me over, too. "You into older guys?"

"Not really," I answered. "At least not before you." I blushed as I admitted that. "Let's just say you're expanding my horizons, Jim."

He seemed to take that in. "You know, I haven't seen all your goods, Ackerman... feel like showing off a little for me?"

"You wanna see my body?" I confirmed.

"Yeah, I wanna see your fucking body," he said, leaning back into the couch cushion and spreading his legs.

I set down my beer and stood up. I peeled off my T-shirt, then undid my shorts. I spent a lot of time in the gym and had a pretty good body. By most standards it would be considered a great body, but being around professional players, I seemed more ordinary in comparison.

"Nice," Jim said. Genuinely into what I had going on. "Not just a pretty face, huh?"

I blushed. "I try, Jim."

"You do more than try... turn around," he instructed. He took in the view of my backside and my ass, before I turned back to face hi.

"Sorry, I'm getting a little chubbed." My dick was rising up and fast.

"That's hot," he said. With a concerted look he peeled off his polo shirt. I practically gasped when I saw that white-furred muscle. It was magnificent and everything I imagined Jim Bowers would be bare chested. Still had a lot of that ball-player power to him.

"Wow," I gasped. My dick was standing full up at the sight. "OK... I definitely have a thing for older men," I said. Then, "I hope you don't mind my saying that, Jim."

He gave a soft smile. "I don't mind, Dave." He leaned back and showed off his upper body some, inviting my gaze before he reached down to undo his shorts once more. They slipped off easily. I noticed that his legs were strong and sinewed but he had more muscle loss there than his upper bod.

His prick was fully and semi-firm but not throwing hard. "Think I can feel up some of that 28-year-old muscle?" he asked. Scooting down, he lay on the couch, face up and bared in his magnificent nakedness.

I took the invitation and went back to the couch to lie on top of this former star. I still had to pinch myself this was happening. The sex, but the whole evening. We both groaned as I made body contact, my hands on his chest and his on mine, while our cocks touched.

"So, Jim..." I started. "I don't wanna kill the vibe, but what's your deal?"

His hand traveled along my upper chest and over my arms. "I guess I reached a certain age and decided to stop having hang ups. Sex with guys is just easier these days."

"Yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "A young guy... you can fool around with and he doesn't expect anything, you know?" I could feel his dick move against mine and instinctively I knew our heartbeats were synching up. "I'm not gonna lead you on, Ackerman.... not looking to date or anything, you know?"

"No offense, Jim," I said. "But I probably should stick to guys closer my own age to date."

"Probably, yeah," he laughed. His hands were now openly feeling up my back muscle as I lay on top of him. He was taller than me by two inches and had some more weight to him. It felt comforting and relaxed being naked in this position. Sexual but not we-gotta-fuck-now sexual. "If you ever feel like having fun with an old man, though..." he started.

"I definitely do," I answered. "I didn't think I'd be into this, actually," I blushed.

"Be into what?" he asked.

"The age gap," I said.

He got an impish look on his face. "You into the Granddaddies, huh?"

Fuck, I hissed. It was such a naughty thing, but it made my dick jerk, which made Jim laugh.

He patted my bare ass. "Listen, bud. I'm 69. I'm not gonna be able to get it on twice in one night. But if you feel like staying over..."

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said.

He kissed, softly. And soon we were making out. Feeling each other up. I could have gone for a round two for sure, but I didn't need to. And that made this all the better, just connecting nude body to nude body with Jim's mature veteran-baller build.

By the time we got up off the couch, I was dripping precum heavily on that swirl of silvery hair on Jim's stomach. I was rock hard as I helped him up and helped him tidy up everything and take plates and cans back to the kitchen. Eventually my erection flagged but Jim didn't make a move to put clothes back on, so I didn't either.

I was starting to second guess myself. This was a man I'd see around work. Maybe this was gonna get complicated, real fast, even if we weren't looking for anything serious.

He had a spare toothbrush for me and set out some towels if I wanted to use them. I looked in myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I often went back and forth in my self esteem, feeling cocky about my looks, then feeling all sorts of self doubt about my body and how I compared to whatever perfect guy I imagined or lusted after. But I saw myself in Jim's eyes. Maybe he went for me because I was an out gay guy, maybe an easy target. Maybe he liked that I had that nerdy but fit thing going on. Whatever it was, I was glad I'd spent the last couple of years hitting the weights and eating well.

He was already under the covers when I joined him in the king sized bed.

"Thanks for a fun evening, Ackerman," he said, his voice now sleepy. It was later than I realized.

"God, Jim, it's been wild."

"I don't normally have guys sleep over," he said. Maybe wanting me not to get any ideas.

"I don't always sleep over when they ask," I said.

He smirked. "All right, bud... ready for some sleep?"

"Yeah," I said.

And I watched his thick muscle bunch as he leaned over to turn off the light.

"Hey buddy," Jim Bowers said as he ushered me inside. I didn't always come over to his place. Sometimes the legendary veteran would swing by my condo for some no-strings fun before work, or after playing golf. I'd enjoying giving him a nice BJ - it was kind of my big challenge and thrill, getting used the girth and length of Big Jim's meat and getting off on our age gap. The latter was just as thrilling when Jim would have me kick back for his turn at reciprocating.

We even snuck in a BJ in a parking lot once, but while the risk felt fun, it was, well, risky.

I'd worried this would mess up things at work. Bowers wasn't my boss, but he held a senior position in the front office org chart, an advisor to my big boss. Yet the man was completely normal after our first hook up. It relaxed me for when he hit me up for a second time. Then another.

Sometimes it felt like a booty call, sometimes we grabbed a bite and a beer after sex. It was all good.

But today was different. Big Jim said he wanted to fuck me.

He was looking incredible now, shirtless and showing off that mature muscle, dusted with silver hair.

"Hey Jim," I said, stepping in. We met for a quick kiss, which became not a quick one. I could tell the ex-pro was really worked up today, and despite my nervousness, I was, too. We laughed a little at how horny we were when I finally broke the connection and stepped back.

"You look amazing," I said.

He flexed a little. Best of all, I could see that heavy dick in his mesh shorts. Not hanging either but boned up into a hard ridge. The man was in heat.

"How much you work out?" I asked. It had been on my mind for a while. For a man his age, Bowers was very well preserved.

Big Jim didn't miss a beat. "A hell of a lot, Moneyball," he said with a smirk. He cocked his head back toward his bedroom. "Feel like getting down to it? Or you want a drink or something?"

My heart fluttered a little bit. "I'm horny as fuck," I replied. "But I won't lie: I'm a little scared."

"Scared? Why?" Jim asked. I realized he was sincere in his question. Like it hadn't occurred to him.

"For starters, I don't bottom much," I said, then nodded down to his crotch. "And then there's that beast you got between your legs."

That made Bowers smile. I probably wasn't the first to compliment his endowment and wouldn't be the last. But the ego boost was appreciated. "You seem to like it."

"Hell yeah I like," I said. "I love it," I added in admission. "But that's a lot of dick to take."

He chuckled, stepping up to me, and running his fingers along my cheek. "You're overthinking it, Ackerman. Let's just enjoy this."

Easy for him to say, I thought. But something about him was charming me. The weathered face, the sea blue eyes, the craggly voice. I was gonna go with it. "All right, lead the way," I hissed.

I peeled off my T-shirt and shorts as I stepped into his bedroom. I'd learned to go commando for these hookups and as I freed my meat, my dick firmed up quickly as Jim pulled down the sheets and then slid down his shorts.

I saw one reason for that massive hardon. Bowers had a cock ring on, which made that dick firmer than normal. He saw where I was looking. "Hope you don't mind the ring, bud. Just gives a little more insurance at my age."

I crawled on the bed and showed how little I minded it. Scooting forward, I let Big Jim guide that hard meat to my mouth.

"Yes...." he grunted as I sucked in a few inches, then choked down another. I was getting better at this. My face blushed as I sucked, my bare ass up for Jim's gaze. I wasn't used for being so bottomy, so open in servicing with a guy, but it was a fun new mode. Particularly as I smelled Bowers' clean soapy scent and could see the silvery crotch hair in front of me.

He put his hands on his hips and let me do the work. The man loved a BJ. I mean, who doesn't? But Jim seemed to really crave oral sex. I half thought he'd change his mind today and let me get him off with my mouth. I'd cleaned myself out and prepped for anal, but a part of me wouldn't have been upset with a change of plans.

But I felt his hand on my head, nudging me back.

"Lie back," he urged.

I scrambled back, letting Big Jim see my naked body. The man got off on my youth, on the fact he had a 20-something stud in his bed. He'd told me as much, but his eyes confirmed it now as he stood next to the bed and pumped some lube into his hand, fisting that rock hard granddaddy meat.

"I hope to god you don't think you're just gonna ram that thing up me," I said in a nervous joking tone.

He grinned and shook his head. "Relax, Ackerman, I know what I'm doing." He got on the bed, his core contracting as he shifted his weight forward. Our lips met for a second and I took a moment to feel up that mature brawn. It was still a head fuck that I was having sex with THE Jim Bowers. Even if he wasn't quite my main childhood idle or on my favorite team growing up, I used to watch watch him play all the time, and it felt like I was in the presence of a legend.

He leaned up and I took in that view of Bowers's strong shoulder muscle and thick arms. He gave a couple of soft kisses along my abs as he scooted down. "Lift 'em up, buddy," he urged.

I was nervous but I wanted this, I decided. It had been a solid year since I'd bottomed, but I was getting in the mood now. As I pulled back my legs, Big Jim was gonna get me all the way there. He leaned in and I felt his breath and his five o clock stubble before his tongue darted out to lick me.

Here was a man of surprises, all right. Jim Bowers was really into eating ass. It tickled at first, and I fought to keep the tickling sensation from overwhelming me. It was just my body's defensiveness. It was half mental, but also the unfamiliarity of having my ass stimulated. But Jim's tongue pressed deeper in, and the feeling changed. Rawer, more overtly sexual.

"God," I grunted. It was a mind fuck, too, looking down at this older man, almost 70, going to town on my hole. And me letting him.

He took his time but I could tell he was horny now. After a minute or so he leaned up and let out a soft growl of approval. "Hot hole, Dave," he said, timing the pressing of his first finger perfectly. It was lubed, and I enjoyed the thickness of his digit entering me. He dug around some, worming my sphincter open more before diving in for another rim job.

"You got nice and clean for me, buddy," he said with approval.

"Yeah," I replied, holding my legs back and letting him prepare me. Alternating rimming with more fingering. Pretty soon he was focused on the latter, two then three then two then three fingers, drizzling more lube at the connecting spot.

He looked down at me, horny. Maybe that cock was viagra-ed up or maybe the cock ring was doing all the work. But it was steel rigid.

He pulled his hand back and lined up that heavy, hard meat. "You got this, man..." was all he said, before I felt that dull stinging of his penetration.

"Fuck!" I cried. Not in pain but more in fear.

He held steady, an inch of that fat dick wedged in my ring. "You're tight as hell," he observed. "Just relax, Ackerman."

"I'm trying!" I laughed.

Jim smiled. God he was so handsome and sexy. I didn't think I'd ever be into a guy pushing 70, but at that moment I knew I really was. He pulled back and fisted that big meat. I felt bad I was extra work to get in. But he leaned in and kissed me some. Sensual, tongue-heavy kissing while his fingers went back down to work my hole again.

I was ready this time. He broke the kiss but didn't pull back entirely. Deftly he placed that dong at my hole and applied just the right amount of force. And like that I had three solid inches of Jim Bowers' fatness in me.

I clenched my teeth and gripped his biceps in automatic response.

His eyes challenged mine. "You got this," he assured me. More confident than I was. More pressure was pushing that very wet, very lubed phallus into me. I was tight but also enjoying that stretching feeling. Maybe because Big Jim was going slow.

He nodded at me, his face now serious, not very sexual and horny. "You feel SO fucking good on my dick buddy," he growled in a low voice. That gravely Bowers voice. "You gonna make your Granddad feel good?"

We'd tossed back the granddaddy term. For me it was an extension of "daddy" - a daddy with a few extra years. Mature like Jim. But now that term hit me in a pervy place. My bowels unclenched and welcomed all of that magnificent cock into me.

"Yeah you are," Big Jim hissed.

"God, Granddad..." I moaned, hesitant at first, trying it out.

"I got ya, boy," he said, more aloud as he began his first thrust. Not hard, but a real fuck thrust into me. With Jim's size, it felt like a lot and was rapidly rearranging my previous assumptions - of being mostly top, of not being into grandpas.

His hips swiveled slowly as I held his muscular body and welcomed him into me. I felt like we weren't just having sex. We were mating. I was being owned from the inside out. I didn't normally feel whorish with a guy, but Big Jim was pushing some button deep inside me. Physically and psychologically.

"Fuck me, Jim!" I said, more assertively now. "Fuck me, Granddad."

His lips curled up and he threw more force into his thrusts. I was ready for it now. Unbelievably I was enjoying this. It was intense as hell, like it could become uncomfortable at any moment, but my ass felt alive, and I felt alive beneath this man, who was fucking for his pleasure. The lube on his cock kept my guts from clenching down too hard on his pistoning shaft, or when I did they didn't have anything to grip onto. The man was fucking me unimpeded.

I looked into his wrinkled, weathered, handsome face. Imagining how many groupies he'd nailed over the years. How easy it must have been for him to get laid in his prime. How easy it was for him now.

I didn't think a hands-free cum was a possibility for me. Maybe technically it wasn't since Big Jim's soft belly fur and belly were rubbing against my rigid cock. But I started cumming hard.

"Jim!" I exclaimed, feeling that immense pleasure rising up from deep within me.

That excited him all right. He fucked me and fucked me hard. Fast even, eager to maximize the sensations on his mature cock. "Right behind ya, kid," he grunted.

The idea he was gonna nut in me thrilled me and made another shot of cum push out of my cock.

I love watching men cum and seeing Big Jim in full orgasm was incredible. His older muscle tensing up and his voice sounding older as he cried out. Then him relaxing in tired stillness on top of me for a second before he moved his head to give me a soft kiss and pushed up to relieve the brunt of his bulk on top of me.

I felt that thickness retreat and plop out of me. I felt slutty and maybe not in a good way as Big Jim's cum ran out of my used hole. But in every other way I felt happy and satisfied. Especially seing the smile on the man's face as he rolled off and lay next to me, nudging my chin playfully.

"You were a trooper, Moneyball," he said finally.

"I don't know if I should have enjoyed that so much," I admitted.

"Why the hell not?" Big Jim challenged me.

"Long answer or short answer?" I replied.

"Let's start with the short."

"Maybe I'm a little kinkier than I realized."

Jim shrugged and leaned up, sitting back against one of the pillows. "Nothing wrong with that, fella."

I copied his move, but not before shaking out the cramps from my legs. My ass hole felt loose and wet but the new sitting position made it less exposed. "So the Granddad thing..." I didn't even know what I wanted to ask, but I knew I had to check in with Jim.

He chuckled. "Seems to get you going, buddy. It's a little weird, I guess," he added. "I mean, I have grandkids and all. But I figure this is something different altogether."

"It is," I assured him. I looked down at my body. Dick well sated, cum smeared on my belly and chest. "I'm a fricking mess."

Jim agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up, Moneyball." He slid out of bed and extended his hand to help me up. At that moment, despite being much younger I felt weaker from the sexual exhaustion. "If you have evening plans, that's cool, but I feel like I owe you a nice dinner for putting out like that."

I enjoyed this camaraderie and enjoyed the shower we shared together. A chance to soap up his mature body. A part of me worried if I should be seen in public extensively with Bowers, alone with him, but we did work together and I'm sure could come up with a reason if anyone saw us.

Then as Jim soaped me up from behind and pulled me into his sudsy wet body, that fat dong there, the one that had given me what felt like a second deflowering... I realized Big Jim was right. I was overthinking it.

#drakestories

284 notes · View notes

mikalame · 5 months

Text

I'm Scared

so this is like reader going to a music school where she meets bill and tom and they start Black Question Mark its mostly implyed that they start it never really said tho.

Reader is a nevrous wreak and may seem like a cry baby SHE JUST SCARED 😭 this isnt realy a tom x reader and tom is kinda mean

i may make a pt2

"Dad i'm kinda scared" You say holding your dads hand tight, sweat forming in your palm making you even more nervous. Your family had just moved to Hamburg and you had shown some interest in singing so after a look around on posters and talk around town you found a music school for 10-15 year old, beginners and more experienced musicians.

You were buzzing with excitement with the days counting down to when you could start your first lesson but when the day came all the excitement left and was turned into a big bubble or anxiety.

"Come on sweets what's wrong you've been waiting for this since last month you were so excited"? your father asks, staring at your knitted eyebrows, the frown on your lips paired with your bottom lip shaking and your eyes watering he'd have to be blind to not notice you were scared.

"M-maybe ill come here next year dad, i'm not that good anyway" you say wiping your eyes a bit and ushering you two back to the car. Swiftly dodging your attempts of escape you dad holds you by your arms keeping you in place, moving a piece of your hair out of your face and speaks to you again.

"Look i know you might be nervous and i understand, were at a new place and you don't know anybody yet but this is a good chance to make friends here and maybe some might even go to your school" Your dad whispers wiping the few stray tears that roll down your cheeks and straightens your clothes.

"Okay dad, i can do this" You say more confidently grabbing the little mirror from your bag fixing your hair as well as making sure your face isn't blotched. Taking your first couple of steps away from your dad was hard wanting more than ever to just run back and never speak of this again but you pushed through and opened the door to the music school.

Sitting down on the wooden floor along with everyone else was awkward people around you were sitting in circles with their own friends some peeping over their shoulders to look at you but they majority of them of them talked within their groups.

The first couple lesson of class was torture first when some boy said "Who's that" when your name was called on the role then everyone looking at you when you said here then there was a game where you had to partner up and you were pared with someone who didn't seem to want to get to know you and was constantly looking back at their group of friends watching them as they all laughed and joked.

The week consisted of you wondering why you even came then remembering what your dad had told you and you felling a tad bit more confidant then seeing peoples faces drop when they get pared with the 'new girl' then the cycle repeats its self over and over again.

This week was just like any other seeing some people from your school that you recognise from music class whisper to there other friends while pointing at you not in a mean way but its not very nice to be having peoples eyes on you constantly, not knowing whats being said about you.

Hoping into your mum's car she drives you home waiting for you in the car while you get dressed into some non-school clothes then driving you to your music lesson. Gordon (the music teacher) hasn't really taught us much music so far but instead doing ice-breakers to ease the tension in the class though it hasn't worked well for you yet.

"Today is a big day students" Gordon says walking back and forth his shoes clacking with the wooden floor with each step "Do you know why ?" he questions looking at the facing in the room look at each other trying to come up with ideas on what Gordon was on about.

"Well i have decided that we aren't going to ease are was into talent i want to see your true raw talent that you posses at this very moment in time" his voice booming around the room and hushed whispers or excitement and nervousness flutter around.

Hands shoot up with questions as you look around, Gordon picking the first one he sees "Yes Rebecca" he nods his head at her "Will we be able to pick our bands" a hopeful smile on her face "Yes you will the max for a group will be 4 but f you can manage it you can have 3 though it will be harder" he ends roars of cheers come up.

You are left with worry tho as you look around you see people pairing up into groups you see a couple trios that you could join but you just couldn't muster up the courage for it so you resort back to your slumped position and wait for Gordon to speak again.

BILL POV

Excitement buzzes through me as i shake Tom who's equally exited next to me. "AHH" i scream at Tom who's eyes widen at me before scrunching back into a thinking face making the excitement die down a bit as i wonder what hes thinking.

"What is wrong Tom?" i ask "Who are we gonna go with" He asks stumped as he looks around at all the groups and not seeing anybody without a group. I turn around joining him on the hunt for a band buddie scanning the room looking for any stays but still not seeing any until he sees you slump in the back of the room.

"Her" I pointed at the girl in the back not so much that she would see up straight away but enough that tom could see who I was pointing to. Toms eyes follow my finger and his jaw drops "Bro really her, shes a loser and has like no friends even at school" Tom says letting out a exasperated gasp "Shes our only hope unless we wanna go with Gordon" i look at Tom my eyebrow raised "fine" tom says quietly.

"HI, Im Bill and this is Tom do you wanna partner up with us for the assignment" i was trying to be as nice as possible though with tom behind me staring off into the distance its hard to be genuine seeming. "Oh um sure" The girl says moving over a bit so me and tom have somewhere to sit down. "Im ____ by the way' She says giving us a small smile.

YOUR POV

I smiled at the two boys after i introduced myself and watched as Bill dragged tom to the ground as he wasn't paying any attention to the conversation. "Tom shut up " Bill snaps when Tom yells at him for hurting him. A awkward silence washes over the group you end up listing in to others conversations to try and think of ideas as you just assumed you would be put into a group and them already having an idea.

"Okay what ideas do you have" Tom mumbles looking at him he's cross legged and using his hand for resting his head your eyes lock and you pull away but still feeling his eyes on you unsettled you a bit. "Uhm, not much this is my first time really doing music so i don't really know what to do" you say looking away embarrassed from your lack of knowledge.

"Oh great bill just had to pick a newbie" Tom groans rolling his eyes looking at the other groups. You head snaps at the boy your embarrassment long gone and anger fuels you as you snap back at him "How bout you go find some one else then, i didn't tell you to come over here and quite frankly i don't want you here if your gonna be rude"

Both the boy's jaws drop Bill's eyes slowly move to his brother who stands up angrily and stomps away looking for a new group. You anger washes away quickly and you quickly apologise at Bill hoping he doesn't think your rude "OMG i'm do sorry about that i really didn't me-" "BAHAHAHHAH, omg that was so funny" Bill laugh's in hysterics at you telling his brother off.

"Your all good, Tom can be do rude some times don't worry he will be back everyone else is full or not wanting people to join so there is really know where for him to go" He laugh's grabbing some paper and sitting down with you.

You and Bill had been working on some lyrics after you two came up with an idea following an energetic theme with a catchy chorus that started the whole song. Few minutes go by and you see someone thump down beside you along with a groan.

"So glad to have you back Tom we have started a song song already" Bill says sitting up cracking his back before leaning back down again "What that's not fair i didn't get to add any of my ideas in" Tom whines "Next time don't go have a tantrum and maybe you could contribute your ideas to the group" you faux smile at him rolling your eyes and looking back at the lyrics.

Bill's smile follows the insult and looks at his older brother whose face is screwed in in offence. Toms eyes look to Bill looking for some help but bill ends up laughing in his face even more causing some people to turn and look at the group, Tom buries his head in his oversized jumper.

"Give me the sheet....please" Tom asks holding his hand out to you waiting for the lyric sheet. As Tom reads over the sheet you and Bill talk about other things some being around music and others not really. You find out that Bill sings and Tom plays the guitar and that they go to the same school as you but they are in the year ahead of you.

"Oooo with both of us singing and Tom playing the guitar that could sound super cool" Bill says he thinks about what parts you and him could sing together and separate. Tom hands you back the lyrics and add a few of his own ideas with wording and says what cords he could do for each part.

Tom, Bill and You all talk and practise a bit on the singing tom just had to listen as he left his guitar at home. "This is going so well"you say clapping your hands your first proper smile etched onto your face as you look a what your group has down so far.

"Are you free this weekend so we can practise some more and i can use my guitar as well"Tom asks as everyone starts packing up for the lesson some grabbing there school bags and heading out the door. "yeah i think i am ill need to ask my parent though" you say throwing your little bag over your back heading to your mums car.

"okay well hear is my mums number" Tom says grabbing your hand a writing down the number on your palm "Hopefully you can come....sorry about before by the way it was rude of me to do that" he smiles at you softly before heading over to bill as they walk away.

You quickly hop into your mums car, looking at the number on your hand "Oooo got a boys number huh" you mum teases you. "Gosh no mum!" you yell your face going red. "Today was the best, i have a music group and im not just sitting in the back being all sad, this is the boys mums number i was wondering i could go to their for a practice". You ask nodding your head.

"I don't see why not but your father may not be so happy with you being around a boy just yet" she giggles. "Mum" you groan moving your hands over you face.

HOPE YOU LIKED sorry i was away but i has stuff going on i may make a part 2 if you want.

tag list: @oppopotamus@violentnewmarley@adissonsss@saumspam

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader

108 notes · View notes

beefrobeefcal · 5 months

Text

Dark!Frankie Saga: VII

Chapter Seven: Bring It Home

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 3,740

Content Warning: angst, threats of violence, crime, snark, Major Character Death, stabbing, violence, betrayal, kissing

Author's Notes:

Y'all, I know you had big dreams for this chapter... and I thank you for your patience. Please don't hate me 🥺

The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

thank you to the following for being supportive good eggs & sounding boards: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @xdaddysprincessxx @thehalflifeofloveisforever @rebel-held @gracieispunk

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! when i feel like it👌

On the Waterfront Masterlist | Previous Chapter

--------<3---------

From the time Frankie pulled you onto his lap at the bowling alley to when he stood with you at your bedroom door, you felt like you were in a dream. A beautiful, hazy dream that you were pretty sure was going to end with him fucking you in your bed.

“You did good tonight, Honey.”, Frankie said sweetly, cupping your jaw and cheek in his big hand.

You couldn’t help but stare back, falling further for him through his deep, brown eyes. He but the softness in his gaze hardened as he sucked in a breath and released your face, stepping back. He broke the connection with you and looked away. He cleared his throat and nodded towards your door, leaving you feeling cold and confused. What did you do wrong?

“Night, baby girl...”, he mumbled as he turned, heading towards the lounge.

You opened your mouth to say something to him, but all you could do was feel your body react to the lack of his touch and your cheeks burn from the rogue tears that fell. You were alone in the hallway, and you didn’t know why.

*****

Pope had been outside in the shadows, trying to remain inconspicuous while on his phone, when the blacked-out SUV pulled up at the front doors.

“Yes, I know!... fuck you... I’ll call you back...”, he hissed quietly into his phone before ending the call and focused on the two of you returning.

He watched as Frankie got out of the SUV, holding his hand out to you, and saw the stupid look on Frankie’s face as he helped you down from the vehicle. Pope shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching Frankie pull you in for a disgustingly sweet kiss before he tugged you into the building.

He scoffed as he brought his phone back up to call his contact back, a message popped up on the screen.

Steven is done. Now what?

Pope grinned as his deviously sadistic mind’s wheels turned; he pocketed his phone and walked into the building.

*****

Frankie’s heart was beating fast as he walked away from you, and his palms were sweating as he clenched his fists. He didn’t stop until he was standing in his office, shakily sucking in his breaths, and he allowed himself to think about what had just happened. It was one thing for him to go down on you in the bowling alley and hold you as your body came back down – he was still in control. But looking in your eyes as you looked back at him, seeing the same thing he felt staring right back told him he was no longer holding the reigns in this, and it terrified him to his core. He felt like you could see who he really was under his harsh and mean exterior; under it all he was just the former drug addict who battled his demons daily to keep himself upright; just the man who made himself bigger so he could be respected, because no one was going to respect a scrawny junkie. And if you did see it, why did you still want him at all? Did you see weakness? Did you know that just asking him for a kiss would make him weak in the knees? Why did he allow you to get under his skin?

He was finally broken from his trance when the door to the office opened behind him. Frankie whirled around and found himself facing Pope.

“Fish... you got a sec?”, Pope asked, cautiously approaching him, with a judgmental eyebrow raised. When Frankie nodded, trying to shake the weakness of you from his mind, Pope nodded back in kind.

“What d’you need?”, Frankie said coolly as he made his way around his desk and sat down heavily on his chair.

Pope walked up to the desk and leaned heavily on, deciding not to tell Frankie that he saw him come back with you, and how he saw the look on his face and knew what it meant. He instead decided to set in motion what he hoped would be the last thing he needed to.

“I got a message... from one of the grunts under Will... he was making the rounds and checking in on people that owe us...”, he said quietly, trying to sound nervous about what he was going to say. “and, he - uh…”,

“Fuckin’ spit it out, Pope.”, Frankie groaned after a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“He went to Steven’s...”

“Who the fuck is that and why do I care?”, he growled, not looking up at him. “Get to the fuckin’ point!”

“It’s your girl’s brother...”

“What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, feeling his blood run cold.

*****

After being left on your own, you sat in your room, feeling the buzz from the beer slipping away and letting your thoughts drift towards more nefarious avenues. It hurt to know that no matter what happened, you would end up alone; your brother sold you out for more drugs, Benny hated and abandoned you, Will threw you into the lion’s den, and Frankie didn’t want you beyond getting what he could from you. And Pope... you knew what Pope wanted and it made your skin crawl.

The tears that you’d cried had mixed with your make up had dried on your face, leaving your skin feeling itchy and tacky. You needed to clean yourself up and give yourself some comfort, even if it was small. You stepped into the shower and tried to wash away your sadness.

After drying off and getting into your pajamas, you once again sat in your room alone. The weight of solitude was heavy on you, so much so, you could barely stand it. All you could do was pick up your Kindle and try to distract yourself until you fell asleep.

*****

Benny sat back and watched the other guys play a round of foosball. They’d invited him to join but he’d waved them off. He’d wanted to sulk and be angry with no interference; he couldn’t get your face out of his head from the last time he’d seen you the night before, and Frankie’s words to him sounded off like a fire alarm in his skull: She’s not here for you. Stick your dick in literally anything else, but that is mine.

He’d replayed your last interaction with him over and over in his mind over the past 24 hours, building up more rage and fury over how stupid you were being. He didn’t want you for himself; he wanted something better for you. There’s no way Frankie could offer you what you deserve. Fuck, no one in this fucking building could. He sneered as he shook his head, anger rising further each time Frankie’s words bleated in his brain and deafened the rest of his thoughts. Frankie told him to fuck anything like you weren’t even a person. You were just part of the wide scope of anything, like an object he could own and devour like he did everything else he wanted.

Will watched Benny silently from across the room. He saw his brother furiously twisting his hands and clenching his jaw; saw the vein in his forehead pop out as his face turned red with rage. Will knew he was at fault for this; he knew Benny had a soft spot for vulnerable people, especially women. He knew Frankie was wrong about how Benny felt, but he wasn’t willing to correct him and confirm that Benny wanted to fuck her as much as Frankie wanted to diet. But the powder keg that was hitting a critical point across the room in his brother was far more worrisome than he’d accounted for, given even a day going by hadn’t managed to dampen his rage. Benny could be a dangerous man, given the right mindset, and he wasn't afraid of violence or being violent. It was the reason he was so valuable to the Frontiersmen - he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty for the right cause, and Will worried that you were becoming the right reason for Benny to unleash that terrible dog in him at Frankie.

As Will decided it was in everyone’s best interest to try and quell the fire, Pope walked in with a smug grin aimed directly at his brother, and Will felt like he was about to watch a train derail.

“What’s with the long face, fucker?”, Pope crooned sadistically as he sauntered towards Benny.

“Fuck off, Pope.”, he growled in response, his eyes glaring up at the smiling man.

Will saw the determined, toothy smile breakout over Pope’s face as he squatted down in front of Benny.

“What’s the matter, baby Benny?”, Pope mockingly cooed, amusement bleeding from his tone. “You mad that Fish is cockblocking you from that sweet little puss – “

Benny’s hand jutting out and gripping Pope’s throat stopped him from finishing his sentence. He stood up, pulling Pope into a standing position as he stared wide eyed and clawed at Benny’s arm and wrist, gasping and choking.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”, Benny snarled, pulling Pope’s face close to his.

Will ran up beside Benny and gripped his shoulder, shaking him. “Benny! Drop’im!”

He yanked Benny’s arm back and Pope collapsed on the floor, gasping and coughing.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF ME!”, Benny roared as Will’s arms wrapped around him form behind and pulled him back.

“Fuck you, Pope! Fuck you 'n fuck your fuckin’ smug mouth!”, Benny screamed at him as Will continued to restrain him. ‘FUCK, WILL! LET ME THE FUCK GO! I’ll FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

Will knew Benny didn’t mean it. Sure, he’d probably take a swing and hit him – he’d done it before. But beyond that, he knew it was Benny’s rage talking.

Pope shakily looked up at Benny and offered him a cruel smile. Benny saw red; that fucker fueled his blinding rage, and he threw Will off him, storming out of the rec room.

“Don’t move, Pope!”, Will yelled, pointing his finger at him as he turned and ran out after Benny.

Pope smiled, watching him leave after his brother, seeing a brand-new opportunity. Fortune favours the brave…

*****

Benny was on a rampage. Like a rabid bear, he stalked the hallways, making a beeline to the barracks. He’d walked right past Frankie’s office, not even considering stopping there first to tear into him over what he was doing. Will quickly caught up to him, yelling for him to stop.

Frankie sat in his office chair. He heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and he looked up, but they moved past. He thought nothing of it until he heard Will.

“Ben! Stop!... Stop 'n take a fuckin’ breather, man!”

“FUCK YOU AND FUCK POPE AND FUCK FISH AND FUCK THAT STUPID BITCH!”

“You’re not thinkin’ this through! You don’t wanna hurt her, Ben! BENNY!”

Will’s panicked voice caught Frankie’s attention and he stood up, listening to the sounds move further down the hallway. He knew not to get in Benny’s way when he was mad, but he was heading towards you and the idea of Benny being in this foul of a mood and even Will wasn’t able to placate him didn’t sit well with him.

Benny threw the doors to the Barracks open and screamed your name. Even being in a separate area, the volume at which he called you made you jump. You dropped your Kindle on the bed and moved cautiously to your door. You clicked the flimsy lock on the doorknob, and you jumped heard the door to the hallway slam against the wall from how hard it was flung open.

Your heart was beating deafeningly loud in your ears, and you backed away from the door as the thumping footsteps got closer and your doorknob jiggled.

Just as soon as you were mentally thanking what every deity was listening for that lock, the door was kicked open and there was Benny. Breathing hard, his face twisted in a snarl and his fists clenched.

You looked up at him, not sure what he was going to do. “Benny... wha - “

“You're so fuckin’ dumb!”, he yelled, stomping towards you and cutting you off. “You’re fuckin’ smarter than this!”

He stood over you, his hot furious breaths fanning over your face. You tried to back away, but he grabbed at your arm.

“Don’t fuckin’ move!”, he yelled in your face, his hold on you tightening.

You yelped and tried to pull away from his grip. He shoved you back, sending you to the floor. Shock gave way to fear and anger as he stalked towards you, and you scrambled back into a standing position.

“Just fuckin’ stay down, you- “

“What do you want from me?!”, you cut him off, yelling in a cracked voice as tears welled up in your eyes.

His eyes narrowed at you and his scowl set further in his face. “I want you to smarten the fuck up! I want you to stop bein’ a dumb bitch!”

You angrily wiped at the tear that fell down your cheek, and, for a brief moment, Benny’s eyes looked at you almost horrified at what was happening. Your face contorted with a frown, and you pushed him with all your strength, making him take a small step back to keep his balance.

Neither of you knew that Will was in the hallway watching this unfold, not sure how to intervene, and his focus was torn away from you both as Frankie walked into the hallway and stood next to Will, ready to jump in.

“What is your problem?!”, you screamed at him.

His menacing glare returned, and he stepped up to you, challenging you.

“My fuckin’ problem is you’re not thinkin’ with your goddamned brain!”, he bellowed. “My problem is you’re thinkin’ with your pussy like a fuckin’ whore- “

Before you could register your actions, your hand harshly made contact with his face; you slapped him hard.

The room fell silent, and Benny’s head snapped back to you, all fury gone. What was left was the look of hurt and disappointment, and you weren’t sure who it was directed at – you or himself. Will rushed in and grabbed Benny, hauling him back. Benny’s eyes didn’t leave yours until Will had dragged him out of the room, cursing at him for his temper.

And once again, you were alone. Your chin quivered and your body trembled as the rage dissipated from your system, replaced with shame and remorse. What did you do?

Before you could collapse under the weight of your actions, Frankie stepped into the doorway.

You raised your eyes to him and held back a sob as you shook your head, silently saying please – I can’t handle any more.

“Baby girl...”, he spoke softly as he walked slowly towards you and pulled you into his arms. You tried pushing him back, but he gently used his strength against you, holding you in his embrace. His gentleness after the harsh intensity of what you’d just experienced with Benny broke you, and you let out a heavy sob that wracked your body. His large hand held your head against his chest and he murmured softly, trying to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl... come on, Honey... calm down... he’s gone... I know, baby... I know... he’s gone now... I’m sorry... he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, baby... he doesn’t know what he's talkin’ about...”

“Stop... just stop!”, you squirmed out of his hold and stood back from him. You furiously wiped your face again and shook your head. “He’s right! He’s right about everyth - “

“No, baby girl... no, he’s not!”, Frankie pleaded, holding his hand out to you, beckoning you to come to him.

It made you angrier, his actions seemingly still trying to train you to be his good little bitch, coming when he calls. You shook your head, rage taking over. “I’m not a fucking dog! You don’t order me around like one!”

His voice was so soft. “Baby... Honey, please...”

“No! Mr. fucking Morales! He’s right - I’m just another one of your dumb whores that you can throw away! I’m no better than that bitch you had on your lap at the bowling alley! You just keep me like a pet and bring me out when you need a fuckin’ fix! You don’t want me - no one does!”

You didn’t realize you were screaming at him and walking towards him. Frankie’s hands were held up, trying to calm you. His eyes were wide and pleading, his mouth was open and frowning, as he shook his head.

“Baby girl… shhhhh… no… no, Honey…”, he shook his head, and cooed, moving towards you again. “No, Honey… you got it all wrong…”

“Don’t…”, you warned as you stepped back, glaring up at him. To Frankie, you must have looked like a cornered, feral cat, fueled by rage and fear.

You didn’t intimidate him. He reached out and cupped your cheek, as he’d done countless times before, but this time you pulled out of his grasp.

You didn’t scare him. But he needed your softness back; this harsh and jaded version of you hurt him in ways he didn’t know he could be wounded. His heart ached as his other arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him again. He smoothed his hand over your jaw, his thumb gently caressing your lips. You tried, albeit half-heartedly, to get away, but he saw the softness slipping back into your eyes.

You didn’t deter him. “Don’t push me away, baby girl…”, he said softly, bringing his face close. He ghosted his lips over yours. “I want you here… with me.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours. Your resolve to fight dissolved and you wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping for more contact with him. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, he followed suit, slipping his tongue against yours. You were both desperate. Yes, you’d fooled around in a bowling alley, but this was something that wasn’t scratching an itch or a power play; this was the two of you finally, without words, admitting that you needed one another on a baser, more human level.

Frankie pulled back first, breathing heavily and his eyes scanned yours, asking silently for more. You nodded, and with that, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your room and into his.

*****

After his run in with Benny and making sure his windpipe wasn’t crushed, Pope was back outside around the building in an alleyway. Hidden in the shadows, the only sign of his presence was his phone screen lighting up his face.

As he searched through images confirming Steven’s demise, a call came through. He answered it quietly, keeping his voice low but harsh.

“I need more time - … no, you don’t understand, he - ... I know that was the deal, but you gotta hear me out- … I can’t just… I know it has to look like an accide-… I tried! The fuckin’ little brother… Yeah… fuck, no… No… I know, but I ca-… fuck. Okay… I understand… Yes! Fuck! I got it!”

Will watched from the far end of the building. Pope’s voice, although quiet, carried, and Will’s mind raced, putting piece by piece together, not quite being able to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He didn’t know what he was up to, but he knew he didn’t like it.

He watched as Pope hung up and stopped himself from throwing his phone against the wall, and he clenched his fists and teeth. Will moved on his feet, causing the gravel to shift and crunch under him.

“What do you want, Will?”

He stopped, feeling his body tense at Pope’s recognizing his presence, even in the dark.

“Who you talkin’ to, man?”, he asked. Will tried to keep no discernable emotion or feeling in his tone, trying to keep Pope off his anxious scent.

“No one… one of the grunts fucked up… just tryin’ to set them straight.”

Will hmm’d in acknowledgement; he knew it was a lie and he knew Pope wouldn’t be convinced that he believed him, but he knew saying anything more would probably drive more suspicion.

“I’ll ask again, Will… what do you want?”

Will moved closer to Pope, trying to keep his voice down when he spoke.

“You gotta stop rilin’ Benny up. I know you think it’s funny, but he’s gonna really fuck someone up and we don’t need that.”

“Fuck you, Will… what are you, his keeper? His fuckin’ nanny?”

“I’m the last thing keepin’ him from killin’ someone… If wasn’t there tonight, you think you would’a made it?”

“So, what you’re saying its you’re the one keeping a leash on him?”

Even in the dark, Will knew Pope was facing him. He could feel the breath on his face. He was close – too close.

“If you weren’t around, no one could stop him?”

“Jesus, man… You know he’s got a fuckin’ temper... he needs someone to hold him back.”

“Yeah, he does have a temper.”

“Then stop pushin’ him! Stop antagonizin’ him!”, Will pleaded. He heard Pope huff a laugh.

“You’re in his fucking way, Will.”

Will heard the smile in Pope’s voice, and his blood ran cold.

“The fuck is that supposed’ta mean?”

Pope got close to Will and grabbed the back of his neck and held his face to his.

“You’re in my fucking way.”

Will felt a sharp sting in his stomach, and then warmth. Wet, hot warmth on the skin of his abdomen. The sharp sting erupted into searing pain, and he sucked in a ragged breath as his head spun.

“Santi… wha- don’t….”

“Fuck you, Will.”, Pope huskily whispered, ripping the knife out of Will’s gut. “This is on you. You wouldn’t let him just...”

“San-Santi? Pope? … why?” Will gasped, stepping back and clutching his middle. He stared up at Pope, wide eyed and trembling as he fell against the wall behind him and slid down to the ground. A tear slipped down his face as he watched his friend – his murderer – turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the alley to slip away into the inky darkness.

--------<3---------

TAGLIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @gwendibleywrites @romanarose

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#chubby!frankiedark #dark!frankie morales #dark!frankie still chubby though #on the waterfront #OTWF #major character death #🥩

100 notes · View notes

profoundbondfanfic · 9 months

Note

hi there just wondering what is the angstiest fics you guys have collectively read? I’m in search for the angstiest angst to ever angst

Hey there, sorry for the delay, but here are a few of our fav angstiest fics!

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words] #major character death

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Angels Don't Fear the Reaper by you-cant-spell-subtext-without (ayreisha) [Mature, 144k words] #angst with a happy ending

"When his eyes first open, there is nothing but darkness. Not the velvety, deep black of night, but the steely, thin murk of nothingness. Of cold. Of death. Of Death. Somehow, it feels like coming home."

Every Part of the Animal by Askance (doomcountry), komodobits [Mature, 47k words] #major character death

It’s their first case after the Trials, after Heaven has collapsed: playing back-up to another team of hunters taking out some werewolves in the mountains. It's a routine job, an easy job - at least until the radio goes silent. Sam, Dean, and Cas follow after, but the caves into which the hunters have vanished wind deeper and darker than they could have expected, and something is wrong. Cas can feel it. The Winchesters may not believe what he’s hearing, but there's something down here with them—and it's not the people they came here to find, and it's not the werewolves they've been tracking. It's something else, something older, something violent, and it knows they're here.

Grey by Valinde (Valyria) [Explicit, 65k words] #angst with a happy ending

In a world where people don't see in color until they find their true mate, the first thing Dean sees when he pulls himself out of his grave is the blue sky. When Castiel raised him from the Pit, he inadvertently claimed Dean as his mate.

Man in the Wilderness by OneHundredSuns [Explicit, 68k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean Winchester is fresh out of Purgatory along with every other Tom, Dick and Wendigo that called the cesspool home. As the monsters lay waste to the Earth and eat anything they can get their hands on, Dean sets out to find his only remaining family so that they can hunker down and fight the assholes head on. He doesn’t mean to stumble upon Castiel Novak and his adorable twins in the middle of the apocalypse and he sure as hell doesn’t mean to offer them a ride to wherever they are trying to get to. But the world is a dangerous place now and he’s always been a sucker for blue eyes and cute kids. So he’ll help them out and just hope it doesn’t get him or them killed in the process.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits [Explicit, 401k words] #angst with a happy ending

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

Right Where You Left Me by outdean [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Ten years after the empty swallows Cas up, it spits him right back out—but a lot can change in a decade. OR The "Cas comes back from the empty to find that Dean is married" fic.

The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment by beerenee [Explicit, 122k words] #angst with a happy ending

“Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.” The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?” Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.” Or 1.12 but Dean's faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen, 31k words] #unhappy ending

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

The walk by Persephoneshadow [Explicit, 196k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean's been living on the streets and turning tricks for a while. Most of the time clients just find him. After a job goes wrong he goes looking for work and finds more than he expected with a married man of faith with blue eyes and a trench coat.

To build a Home by intothesilentland [Mature, 383k words] #angst with a happy ending

Twenty-three years of head-over-heels, devastating devotion and love, love, love for the man with bright eyes and dark hair. Fourteen years of friends, best friends, of always together. One moment of rejection. Nine years of apart. Nine years of heartbreak, nine years of continents away, of not speaking, of no acknowledgement, no interaction, no closure, no peace. No happiness. Nine years of Dean’s life entering motions, going through them, constant, cold and mechanic, like clockwork. Nine years of alone. God. Nine years. A lot has changed. And yet Dean still loves Cas just the same. Even if his heart hurts all kinds of different. On the day of Jimmy Novak’s funeral, Dean sees Cas for the first time in nine years. He adored Castiel the moment he met him, at only four years old. But after fourteen years of friendship destroyed by one moment of heartbreak, and after nine years of silence, Dean is convinced Cas will want nothing to do with him. And it’s killing him.

Twist and Shout by gabriel, standbyme [Explicit, 97k words] #major character death

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

What Is Tomorrow Without You by sobsicles [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Cas is dead, and Dean is living through hell all over again. Experiencing hell as he'd first lived it, Dean aches for peace. When Jack enters his life, it only brings him a purpose. A mission for revenge sends Dean spiraling out of control as Jack does everything in his power to help Dean, going as far as to using his power to let Dean visit Cas where he resides after death. But when Dean depends on these visits and learns a few things about how he truly feels for Cas, the line between what's real and what's not starts to blur. Dealing with grief and his need for revenge, Dean struggles to find a way to get his family back together while also coming to grips that he might have to find a place in a world without Cas in it. Fortunately, Cas comes back, and Dean has to learn to navigate through the life he'd been wanting. But things aren't quite what they seem as their relationship blooms, and Dean realizes he's the reason Cas is slowly changing, and not for the better.

What Used to be Mine by someonetoanyone [Explicit, 48k words] #angst with a happy ending

“There is…” he starts; he licks his lips and glances away; his fingers twitch and fiddle, “... there is one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her.” That sounds too good to be true, so Dean waits for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t take long. Cas at least has the wherewithal to look Dean in the eyes when he says, “when Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.” ___ a terrible, evil AU that posits; what if the divorce arc was even worse, what if Dean never apologized in Purgatory, and what if Cas internalized all of that, making his ultimate confession less confident, though no less heartfelt, and he died thinking Dean hated him?

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow [Explicit, 352k words] #angst with a happy ending

Hiatus fic set after the S11 finale. Dean's alive, Sam's alive, they're going to get Cas from wherever he got zapped to, and everything's finally gonna be all right. Dean's on top of the world. A little voice in the back of his head is whispering "It's never that easy," but Dean ignores it.

#asks #group rec #angst with a happy ending #unhappy ending #major character death

156 notes · View notes

roseblancheenfleurs · 2 months

Text

Untold Story Of Magic ✨

Warning ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Nsfw Content, Slight Degradation, later aged characters, fanfiction, toxic, rivals to lovers to enemies to spouses 😌,Muggle insult, cursing by underage etc.

"Stop it sneaky snake" You frustratingly call out the black haired boy who has snatched away your notebook. Now reading all your doodles on the back side with a sly smirk as he has a bunch of secrets in his hands.

He didn't seemed to respond to your insult.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle" You called out the future dark lord , your rival.

You are Y/n S/n , a student at the Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. You are muggle quite a special afterall the sorting hat asked you to choose your own House from Slytherin and Gryffindor because you were both truthful and loyal with high ambitions with necessary scheming.

Wanting to preserve the name of your very past ancestor Godric Gryffindor, you choose the house of the lion throwing major insult to the half blood and pure blood of the Slytherin (as if there were so willing to accept a muggle 🙂).

This made you a respected figure in the Gryffindor house and also earned you a major rival Tom Marvolo Riddle, the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, the future dark lord.

Both of you have been for every single thing . From the last cup of butter beer to the first position at the end of the session.

Like two poles of earth have the climate in common similarly you two also had a habit of sneaking into the library. But unaware of each other until the Sunday night 6 months ago.

"Is the coast clear, Puchi?" You whispered to your pet cat who has the major responsibility of accompanying you everywhere even washroom.

"Meow", the furry creature run through the corridor to the library door.

And you followed with dangling lantern flickering in your hand.

Even though having special permission from Headmaster Dippet, you were advised to go their secretly for the other students to not to break the curfew protocol.

You reached the door where you cat waited for you to open the door and she would feast on some mices.

You twisted the knob and was about to open the door a hand stopped doing so by helding your hand. Like brave lion you didn't screamed instead gripped your wand to obliviate the sudden intruder. You turned back only to feel someone's lips on yours.

It's Tom standing behind and you kissed him.

"WTF" you both cursed rubbing your lips harshly.

Congrats you have kissed you rival.

Also your blood enemy. 🤣

And from that possibly the doom started (For you specially). Having very conservative thoughts Tom was persistent about marrying you as you took his first kiss.

"But we are freaking kids 🙂" You were so done and had enough of this rascal pestering you having a good talk to boys around you, stalking you, stealing your quils and handkerchief (literally you mother is scolding you why you needed 50 handkerchiefs in less than a month).

Born from the affects of amortenia, The way of confessing is a bit different from others. Teasing, ruining your drawings, sneaking wrong ingredient in the potion and many more if someone else was in your place they would have been leave Hogwarts days ago because of the extreme level of torturing.

To his teasing you gave savage answers, restored you hard work by magic spells, adding the neutralizing ingredient to the potion to save progress.

It went well, you loved this challenges.

Until one day you found Tom bullying your childhood male best friend and you slapped him across the face which echoed through the whole hall. Everyone will fear stared at Tom who grabbed your wrist thinking he would twist it painfully only to see him placing a kiss on the back. Rubbing it on his wounded cheek.

"You hands are so soft just as I imagined" he said like a professional creep.

"It's enough I wanna go home" That's your only thought. You later confronted him in the library .

"What do you want, Riddle?"

"You"

SMACK!

You smacked him across the face.

"Date me"

If it saved your friend from his hand that's what you did .

Breaking News!

The world is on the verge of End Tom and Y/n are dating.

It was printed on the monthly magazine of Hogwarts containing important updates.

Even professors were shocked seeing Tom apologizing to your friend in the hall full of students.

At first you were cold to him but due to gentleman gestures it didn't take long for you to fall for him.

He was already madly in love with you.

Every secret... his world domination plan, The story of his heartless birth father and incompetent mother everything he told you. You didn't supported the plan of his word domination but he was persistent that he would dominate the world and you would be his lady, The lady of the great dark lord. He reasoned that in that position you could get everything you wish for but all in vain.

"Damn it why would you take to support our love?" He yelled.

That day you were already in a bad mood, Extra classes, extra homework didn't got enough sleep last night accompanied by the depressing period hormones.

"Let's break up" and you walked away that was the last time you saw Tom.

It's like he never existed, you graduated from Hogwarts with flying colours.

From a muggle to a powerful and prestigious witch .

You had a great contribution to the magic world numerous effective and easy spells.

New books, new wand cores, there wasn't a single field left.

Sucess fame and fortune you earned it all.

But it was too tiring.

You moved to a deep forest away from human civilization with your parents and cat.

Deep inside the jungle you constructed a luxurious castle to lavishly spend the rest of your days.

Chirp!

Chirp! Chirp!

Two sparrows are playing on the balcony railing.

Wind blows fluttering the curtains revealing a figure sitting on the whitewood table designing a new magical device.

It's You, The powerful muggle witch currently 53 years old.

Hoooo! A messenger owl comes to deliver you the latest daily prophet .

You leave the rest of your work taking a short break keeping yourself updated for the new world.

The first two headlines that caught your eyes

Lily And James Potter Found Dead!

Sirius Black,The Traitor.

#voldemort #lord voldemort #voldemort x reader #gryffindor reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #immortality #magic #harry potter #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #yandere #tom riddle x reader #yandere tom riddle

46 notes · View notes

klausinamarink · 7 months

Text

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 next: Part 8

spoilers but a phone call gets through!

“You’re a thousand percent sure?”

Mike groans as he checks down the school halls, “Yes, Lucas. How many times do I gotta tell you that?”

“Well, maybe until I’m positive that we’re not having a collective auditory hallucination or the weirdo isn’t tricking us.” Lucas crosses his arms. Beside Dustin, El mutters “auditory hallucination” to herself with furrowed eyebrows.

“You guys hear that?!” Dustin exclaims too loudly, earning equally loud shushes. “Sorry, but El just said a scientific word without mispronouncing it! She really does have superpowers…”

“Not now, Dustin.” Mike hushes as they finally get to the AV club. He unlocks the door and lets everyone inside after peeking in. He guides El to sit in front of the radio while Lucas and Dustin turn it on.

Dustin won’t lie - he’s super excited to see El use her powers for the radio. He couldn’t believe it when she made Will’s voice come out. Will! Alive and singing!

But he’s still confused over Mike’s news of Will being with someone named Eddie. Eddie who? is their biggest question but El can’t say because she doesn’t know his last name or how to describe him.

“He’s a friend.” She keeps telling them.

Dustin prays it’s not Eddie Tremblay from fifth grade. The little sucker doesn’t deserve to be Will’s new friend after his football landed on their rocket project last month.

“Aaaand we’re in!” He announces, hopping behind El. Mike and Lucas squish against him even though they clearly have much more space.

El closes her eyes and listens to the whining static. Then the static changes through channels, voices quickly overlapping until they get more comprehensive. Then the voices get compressed into six, four, two-

“-Control to Major Tom..”

Dustin shoots his hand forward and grabs one of the speakers. But so does Lucas and Mike and now they’re slapping each other’s hands until Lucas finally takes it and yells, “Will, can you read us? Over!”

“‘Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong..’”

At the sound of the second person, Dustin’s first thought is oh thank God, it’s not Tremblay. Then his second thought is hm, this Eddie guy sounds kinda cool. Then his third thought is oh my god, we gotta talk to Will!

“Will! Do you copy? Over!”

“Will, where are you?”

“You feeling a bit better so far?”

“Tell Eddie we’re saying hi! Who is he? Over!”

“I’m getting cold again..”

“Me too. C’mon here.”

“Will! We’re right here!”

“How the hell are they not hearing us?”

“I wish I could go home…”

“So do I…”

El gives out a painful gasp and the radio explodes into flames. Dustin manages to extinguish it before the rest of the room catches, but the fire alarm goes off.

They all stare at the now-ruined transmitter, their only chance of connecting with Will and his mysterious new friend.

—

Eddie’s definitely missing.

It’s a fact that Jeff grows more sure of every day since Wayne Munson had asked him for Eddie’s secretive hideouts.

He keeps trying to ignore the seed of dread in his stomach, but it’s impossible now with the slightly somber atmosphere in the school after the morning announcement of Will Byers’ death. The fact that Eddie hasn’t shown up for classes or in the cafeteria again today isn’t helping either.

“If Munson’s still gonna be on his bender, he should’ve at least cancelled this week’s session.”

Jeff takes a half-open Skittles bag from Maya’s tray and throws it at Evan, making the two members jump. Maya because those are her Skittles and Evan because the bag hits his chest making more pieces fly out on the table.

“Eddie’s not on a bender.” Jeff hisses at Evan. Across him, Frankie is giving him one of his Don’t-Make-This-Any-Worse looks.

Evan huffs and crosses his arms, “Oh, yeah? Then where the hell is he?”

“Definitely not on a bender of any kind!”

“Gee thanks, that clears things up.”

Jeff’s about to snap back, but Frankie discreetly kicks his leg with a warning glare. It might be a good call because Jeff doesn’t know what to say next. Another defence of Eddie, for sure, but nothing to quench the rest of the club’s antsy-ness.

“Maybe he’s gone to a concert. Like hitchhiked to Indy or Chicago?” Maya asks after picking up her spilled candy.

“But he has a van?” Daniel, the senior member of Hellfire and their current drummer, frowns pointedly.

“What concert could’ve he gone to? Is there even any band playing in this bum state?” Evan raises his eyebrows.

“I dunno, Dio?”

“They’re touring in the UK right now.” Frankie says. Jeff shoots him a bewildered look that’s the equivalent to screaming are you kidding me? Frankie gives him a Play-Along-With-It look.

“Well, that settles it.” Evan raps his knuckles on the table. “Munson’s saved a fucking ticket to the goddamned Iron Lady’s territory and is breeding chicks in Dio’s mosh pit as we speak.”

Jeff stands up, no longer feeling hungry. He throws his half-eaten sandwich at Evan. The other boy gives out a disgusted shriek as the mayonnaise hits and stains his shirt. “Dude! What-”

“Shame on you.” Jeff keeps his voice even, just quiet enough for only Hellfire to hear him. Maybe it would somehow reach Eddie wherever the hell he is right now. “The only good thing about Eddie being absent is that he isn’t ripping the skins off of you and your characters right now. Especially you, Evan.”

He stares Evan down, who visibly gulps. “Eddie took you in the club’s open arms because he saw you were a loner who needed the right people to hang out with or you would’ve been one of the bullies. And this is how you thank him?”

He looks at the rest of the members and points at them accusingly. “When Eddie comes back from whatever he’s doing, I hope that rest of y’all feel guilty for thinking he doesn’t care. Because he absolutely does.” Then he grabs his bag and leaves the cafeteria without a second thought.

Outside is chilly as usual and the breeze helps relax Jeff’s nerves. For a while at least.

He stands at the parking lot, trying to think what he should do when he hears someone running over. He looks up and groans.

“Frankie, leave me alone, man.”

“So you haven’t heard anything from Eddie?” Frankie’s voice isn’t accusing but his look might’ve been.

“No. Not since the band practice days ago.” Jeff walks away but Frankie still follows him. “Then his uncle came and asked if I knew any places Eddie frequents. I told you guys that already.”

“Doesn’t stop Evan’s stupid theories.” Frankie mutters.

“You should’ve shut him up!”

“Are you kidding? You did better than what I could’ve done.”

“Words are stronger than death looks.”

Frankie snorts. He goes quiet as they reach the end of the school parking lot. Then he says, “Are you going to search for Eddie?”

Jeff stops. Turns and stares at him. “Uh, yeah? I mean, from what he said, Wayne’s probably already doing that. So, I dunno, I’m probably gonna do the bare minimum. Like where am I going to look, dude?”

Frankie doesn’t answer. His face is strangely pale and looking at something behind Jeff. He follows his friend’s phase and feels the dread well up in his mouth when he sees a poster on a nearby telephone pole.

He doesn’t need a closer look to recognize the black and white photo of Eddie from two months ago grinning at him or the large word MISSING written in Sharpie above it.

He tries very hard not to notice that it’s stapled right below Will Byers’ already wrinkled poster.

It’s a very strong feeling to see your best friend’s missing poster a few days after you last saw him alive.

Jeff forces to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s captured monochrome cheeriness. “Know what? Fuck it. Let’s find him. Wanna start at the woods?”

—

There’s something about singing quietly in the nightscape hell mirror version of your bedroom that makes Eddie’s fingers twitch to jolt it down somewhere.

After the meltdown at the house, Will had grew more quiet. Eddie had rocked him until Will complained of motion sickness and then Eddie had held him even when they slept.

After piggybacking the kid and singing “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” (at least until Eddie admitted death by earworms and convinced a change to “Space Oddity”) on the way back to Forest Hills, Will seemed to be back in his original spirits. Still quiet but no longer on the verge of tears next to Eddie. Although his coughs started to sound more wet and shook his small frame like a leaf.

Eddie prays to god that he can speak to Wayne this time. He hopes his uncle to come up with a cooler code system than Mrs. Byers and maybe get them out somehow.

But the trailer is quiet, save for Will’s whistled breathing as he sleeps in Eddie’s arms, the old itchy quilt cocooning them both. He has to stay up. Keep a lookout for the demogorgon in this hell land and for Wayne in the real world. But he feels so tired. If he can rest his eyes for just a moment…

The sound of muffled crying wakes him up.

—

The longer Wayne stares at the posters, the bigger the impulse to rip them up grows.

After Hopper left, he had went back inside and started on making the Missing posters for Eddie. The hardest part of it had been trying to find the right photo of his nephew and he had held back tears at how much Eddie had grown. How happier he looks.

He had printed copies at the library, keeping his head down from curious and pitying eyes. Christi Waldon was nice enough not to charge him for the fees.

Then he started putting the posters up and Wayne had felt like he was making a mistake.

Nobody never said anything how difficult it is to go around town again, putting a poster with your child’s face silently begging strangers who may disliked them to find them, and to do all of this without the police helping.

Wayne had printed 100 copies. He only managed to put up 18 of them before it became too much and hurried home.

Now there’s a pile of 82 posters with Eddie’s face staring up at him on the table. Wayne can’t bring himself to rip them up no matter what his mind demands it. He has a new superstition that if he does, Eddie will never be found alive.

He checks the time. Seeing it’s only after six, he sighs heavily and takes out his cigarette. He’s briefly overcome with the memory of catching a fourteen year old Eddie trying to smoke and how his smart cookie of a nephew swallowed the lit cigarette, immediately threw up, and sobbed while Wayne had to sit down so he wouldn’t break his own ass from laughing so far. After they’d both calmed down, Wayne showed him how to smoke properly and said-

He said…

What did he say?

Something erupts from his mouth. He clamps a hand over, suddenly worrying that he just got sick. But there’s no taste of bile. Only wet salt. He takes his hand off and, ah. He’s crying.

Wayne gives a wet laugh. Then it gasps into another sob. He covers his mouth again, unable to hold the tears back.

Above him, the lights flicker.

It feels almost comforting.

Wayne sniffs, watching as the bulbs hang on to its dear life of electricity. Then one of the lamps next to the couch start flickering as well. Slow and rhythmic.

The sadness does go away, but it makes Wayne feel the back of his neck hairs stand up.

—

Eddie drops his hand from the lights, stomping over to the phone. “Fuck this, now’s the chance.”

Will glances at him from where he’s crouching by the lights, still tired from being jostled awake so soon, “Eddie?”

He turns to him and says, “Little Byers the Vanished, how does one make a landline in the Vale of Shadows?”

“You, uh, just pick it up-”

Eddie does exactly that.

“Wait! It won’t even last-!”

—

The phone rings with a shrill.

Wayne snaps his head over to it. He’s breathing slowly, watching the landline like it’s his childhood spider.

The atmosphere in his trailer feels suddenly colder. As if there are ghosts present. Waiting.

The phone rings and rings until it gets to voicemail, his gruff message for the last decade. “You’ve reached the Munsons. Leave a message after the beep.”

There’s nothing after the beep.

Wayne looks at the lights again. The ceiling light has stopped but ones over the kitchen and door are flickering this time.

The phone rings again.

He stands up slowly, walking over to the phone. It rings louder to his ears now. He tries to ignore the sudden sense of a presence behind and beside him as he picks the phone up and holds it to his ear.

He hears static as if the caller has a bad connection.

He clears his throat and speaks, “Wayne Munson speakin’.”

The static crackles with some kind of harsh breathing. It’s loud to make Wayne cringe away and hang up-

“..Wayne..”

He freezes. The anxiety vanishes in an instant. “..Eddie?” He chokes out.

“..Wayne!”

“Oh my lord…” Wayne clutches the phone closer. “You’re alive, right? Eddie! Tell me where are you!”

“..I’m-”

The phone bursts into literal shock. He drops it with a yell and it clatters to the ground, dead.

That was him. That was Eddie’s voice.

Breathing raggedly, Wayne’s gaze snaps up to the lamps flashing maniacally. The air around him feels desperate and sinks down upon him. Anxiety comes back as quick as it comes, squashing on the brief spot of hope he felt.

“Nah, fuck this.” He mutters as he swipes his keys and runs out of the door. He can’t deal with more ghosts at this hour.

—

“Nonono—NO!”

Eddie slams his hands against the lights too hard. The pulsing glass bulbs nearly crack under the pressure.

None of it stops the sound of the truck engine starting.

“Wayne, it’s me! Can’t you hear me?!” Eddie’s throat is already dry from screaming, but he doesn’t care about it. “UNCLE WAYNE! JUST STOP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

He runs outside to the ever barren yard. He tries not to think about Wayne leaving just like how his dad did in his very last visit. How he had tried to chase after his dad’s car until Wayne stopped him. How he had been a crying mess while Wayne told him that both of them will stay together from now on.

“WAYNE, PLEASE! YOU PROMISED TO STAY!”

The truck drives away, farther and farther. If Eddie can catch him-

His lungs constrict themselves again. He stumbles, scraping his knees and palms on the ground. He coughs, gulping in too many shaky breaths that almost tastes like glass shards. He calls out-

“Come back! Come back!”

It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

His throat hurts.

The truck disappears. The sounds of the trailers’ muted everyday life and his own painful wheezing replace it.

Eddie is vaguely aware of Will shuffling up next to him and wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders.

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost

#hellfire club: oh man Eddie’s an asshole for ditching us #Jeff: YOU are all assholes for talking shit about him #eddie: (getting old traumas resurfacing at an usually bad moment in an alternate dimension with a child stuck to his side) this is fine :)#narration: he is not fine and it Gets Worse #yeah space oddity is on the nose for that bit but shhh #eddie and will in the upside down au #the party #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #will byers #stranger things #klaus writes

102 notes · View notes