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rogueddie · 2 years

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"Something is really wrong with Steve," Robin says.

The party look up, startled. They wait for her to continue, but she starts pacing nervously. It immediately sets the kids on edge, glancing at each other uneasy.

"What do you mean?" Dustin eventually speaks up. "Is he... ill?"

"No, no, it's... his parents came home, right?"

"Yeah, we know," Max snorts. "Dustins mom had to ban him from the house because he wouldn't leave."

"He can't avoid them forever," Dustin points out. "I get that it's hard to talk to them when you have to lie all the time but they're, like, paying for all his shit."

"No they aren't!" Robins voice cracks. "They cut him off years ago! Dude, he hates them and now he's writing up a resignation letter so he can go work for his dad."

"Why is that a bad thing?" El asks, eyes a little wide.

"He'd have to train for a few months in New York for one."

"New York?!" All of them burst out. They all try to speak at once, loud and panicked. They're so loud that Hopper bursts out, confused and tired and panicked.

"What the hell is going on?" He snaps.

The kids all look a little guilty. El stands up so he looks at her. "We are worried about Steve."

"What? Jeez, that's what you're yelling about?"

"He's moving away!" Mike snaps. "To New York! For months!"

Hopper frowns at him like he's not making sense. "New York?"

"To work with his dad," Robin adds. "I didn't know if I should talk him out-"

"They're back?" Hopper asks. He's gone still, voice devoid of emotion and dangerously calm. "How long?"

"A month? Maybe more, it-"

"And they're home now? Do you know if Steve is there with them? It's not one of his shifts, is it? That'd make it easier."

"What? No, he's home. Make what easier?"

Hopper ignores the question, grabbing his coat and shoes. "Stay here, I won't be long."

He ignores the questions that grow frantic and panicked when he picks up his gun, stomping out the door at a fast pace. Robin is yelling from the door as he climbs into his car. She's too taken aback to even begin to think of how to answer to avalanche of questions the kids throw at her.

Hopper gets to the Harrington house in record time, having sped just a little to get there. Mrs Harrington is the one who opens the door and looks a little guilty when she sees him.

"Where is he?" Hopper asks.

She steps back, letting him in. "In his room."

Hopper pushes past her, taking the stairs two at a time. Steve is sat at his desk when he enters the room without knocking, head snapping up and looking startled. He looks a little ashamed when he realizes that it's Hopper.

"Hop," Steves voice is strained. He frowns when Hopper ignores him, pulling his closet open. "Uh, Hopper? What are you doing?"

"Taking you home," Hopper mutters. He pulls out the three bags he knows Steve has been keeping hidden, just in case. "Come on, pack up."

"I can't just-"

"Yes you can. Pack. Up."

Steve only hesitates for a moment. He slowly fills up one with his few sentimental things and some things he considers important (his scoops uniform, the drawings from Will). Hopper stuffs the other two with clothes. It doesn't take them long.

"I'll come back for the rest, if you want any of it," Hopper hands Steve his car keys, waving him toward the stairs. "Wait in the car. I'll be a minute."

Steve hesitates at the door, glancing between Hopper and his mom. He leaves though, doesn't say goodbye.

"Right, here's what's going to happen; I'm going to come back for the rest of his things. I've seen that room, I'll know if somethings missing. And that shit is his, don't try to bullshit me." Hopper eyes her with visible distaste. "He's an adult now. You can't take him back and if I hear that either of you've been trying to harass him again, I'll press charges."

She nods, which is enough of an answer for him. He throws the two bags in the back with the third before climbing in the drivers seat. The air is thick with tension as he pulls out the drive, starting the drive back to the cabin.

"Um... could you, uh, drop me off at the trailer park?" Steve asks, quiet and timid in a way that is horribly familiar to Hopper. "I, uh... I need to see Eddie."

Hopper grunts. He grits his teeth to stop himself snapping. It wouldn't be fair on Steve. So he drives him there, quiet and tense.

"Thanks," Steve mumbles.

But Hopper climbs out too, gently grabbing Steves jacket lapels to drag him over to the Munsons trailer. Hopper knocks.

"Oh," Waynes eyebrows raise. He looks Hopper up and down before turning his eyes on Steve, who he gives a soft smile. "Harrington, you doing alright?"

"No," Hopper answers for him. "Could we come in for a moment?"

"Sure?" Wayne shuffles out the way, shutting the door behind them. "Eddie's in his room, if you want me to get him?"

"You want your boy to see?" Hopper asks Steve.

Steve ducks his head, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. He mutters, "he probably will anyway."

"Ok. Do you want him here for this?"

"Here for what?" Eddie asks, hovering in the doorway, worried. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Steve tries to say. "It's... really, it's nothing."

"Steve," Hopper calmly says. Waits for Steve to look back at him, simply raises an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Hopper, it's fine, really."

"Where?"

Steve tries to stare him down, unsuccessfully. He huffs, annoyed, glancing at Wayne and Eddie who, understandably, look confused.

He slowly takes his jacket off, keeping his eyes on the floor. There's a sharp intake of breath when the dark, almost black, bruises on his arms are revealed. They litter the entirety of both arms, the ones around his left wrist and right bicep standing out the most- the ones shaped like hands.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, walking forward slowly. He's careful, brushing his fingers against his skin. "Oh, baby, who did this?"

"It's fine," Steve tries to insist.

Hopper clears his throat though. "Where else?"

Steve doesn't try to argue this time. He grabs the back of his collar, lifting his top off. His ribs have the worst of his bruises.

"Fuck," Eddie carefully, gently, pulls Steve into a hug. Presses gentle, ever so soft kisses to his neck. His hand is just as gentle when he rubs his back. Steve clings to him, grip looking almost painful, but Eddie doesn't complain.

Hopper turns to Wayne, who is also pointedly looking away so the two can have their moment. "His parents are gonna try to find him. Direct them to me if they try here."

"Don't worry about Steve," Wayne glances at the pair, still wrapped around each other, at the bruises. "Worry about them. If they try to come by here, they'll be leaving in a body bag. I'm sick of assholes treating my kids like this."

Hopper looks over at Eddie, who's pulling back so he can hold Steves face, eyes painfully understanding. He nods at Wayne, pats his shoulder. "I'm getting the rest of his stuff, he's got no reason to go back there. It's my cabin he's coming home to."

"I'll drive him there myself," Wayne glances at the pair, who think they're being subtle and sneaky as they giggle their way towards Eddies room. "Tomorrow."

Hopper chuckles, glancing towards the hall the two disappeared down. "Tomorrow."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #jim hopper #ficlet #angst #steves asshole parents #well #hopper and wayne are steves real parents now #hurtcomfort

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externalmemorycomic · 10 months

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Image description: a five page comic with messy writing and messy line drawings coloured with gouache. Each page has four panels and each panel has a caption and an image. Page one Caption: Mouse and Ruth go for drives a lot. Image: a red car drives down a country road. Caption: to stores and beaches and the dump where you can find cool things. Image: a white mouse looks up at a wall with doll’s heads nailed to it, labeled “wall of dolls”. Caption: I almost never join. Ruth asks, “isn’t My going stir crazy?” Image: a deer is driving a car, and the mouse sits on a pile of pillows on the passenger’s seat. Caption: but I’m so used to this I forget there’s anything to go crazy about Image: an orange cat lies in bed.

Page two Caption: When we lived in Malmö there were weeks I didn’t leave the apartment Image: the cat peeks out a window, looking at a pigeon that’s pooping on the window ledge. Caption: months I didn’t see anyone besides Mouse. I just couldn’t manage the stairs Image: the cat looks down an exaggerated, maze-like staircase. Caption: Mouse wasn’t much better off. I took up indoor “gardening” so we wouldn’t miss nature too much. Of course I often couldn’t water the plants. It felt bitter and symbolic when they died Image: the cat is in a different bed, looking at a house plant on a side table that’s beginning to wilt. Caption: here there’s no stairs and I have plants and bees right outside my window Image: the cat is in the first bed, drawing a comic. There’s a flower, a butterfly and a bee outside the window behind it.

Page three Caption: people tend to get frustrated with my acceptance Image: the cat takes down a half finished painting from an easel. Caption: even after we’ve talked a lot about my illness, they think I should plan ahead as if a cure is right around the corner Image: a rabbit is standing beside a table covered in unfinished canvases, looking at one of them. The cat stands behind them, looking nervous. Caption: often it’s the same people who respond to tragedies you CAN fix by saying “life’s not fair” Image: the cat is rescuing bugs from drowning in a water barrel and the rabbit looks over its shoulder, looking annoyed. Caption: but when I let go of what I can’t have, they see it as defeat. Image: the cat is curled up and hiding in bed while the rabbit stands over them, frowning, holding the unfinished painting and waving two paintbrushes.

Page four Caption: I understand the impulse to say “maybe some day”. When it’s kindly meant, I value the intention. Image: The rabbit has its arm around the cat’s shoulder and waves towards a thought bubble. In the thought bubble the cat is floating and happy at the end of a rainbow with pink clouds, flowers and a smiling sky in the background. Caption: but few things are more dangerous to my soul than “maybe some day” Image: the cat huddles on the ground and hides its face. Right above the cat, as if pushing down, is a bigger thought bubble with images of the cat looking happy - dancing, being held, proudly painting, holding a baby. Caption: There is no greater wisdom in life than: fix what you can and accept what you can’t. Image: the thought bubble is breaking up and shrinking. The cat is sitting up, smiling at a dandelion beside it. Caption: some times, giving up isn’t just the only way to survive but to thrive, and leave room for joy. Image: The half finished canvases are burning on the ground and the cat walks away without looking back.

Page five Caption: today I’m sad because I’m in pain and I miss moving and doing Image: the cat is crying in bed. Caption: but when I thank God for giving me this life filled with blessings, it’s from the heart. Image: the cat wipes away some tears and looks a little happier. Caption: I am happy more often than not. I mostly cry from gratitude. There is no contradiction Image: the cat closes its eyes and is surrounded by a pink glow and red cartoon hearts. Caption: life will ask me to let go of much bigger things and maybe I can come with to the dump next time Image: the cat looks at the wall of dolls and says: “cool!” End ID. Here's some disability thoughts I had during my latest flare (hence the wobblier-than-usual lines and messy writing). I hope it makes sense even if I was pretty confused when I made it! I have POTS and ME/CFS, as well as ADHD and being autistic. Accepting the reality of being bed/housebound and hard-of-thinking often is going to be a life long effort but I'm getting there. Happy disability pride month!!! Reblogs are much appreciated! (if you wanna help me live and stuff and make more art and comics I have a Patreon. I post comic pages there on average once a day for the 3€ tier as well as other fun things! Link in my pinned post)

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harlowcomehome · 2 months

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Jack sat at his family kitchen table, nursing a warm mug of throat coat tea in his hands as he ran his shaky fingers through his tousled curls. He was using a mug that you had bought him for your one year anniversary, one of many gifts you had gotten him that day. He smiled looking down at it knowing you were beyond irritated with him right now it provided some comfort.

You’re going to mess this up, why can’t you juggle a relationship and your career? The thoughts swirled around in his brain, making him almost physically ill until the sound of his mother’s voice interrupted his thought process.

“Someone who loves me got me this mug” Maggie read out loud, a giggle escaping her as she knew her son was sitting in his regret. She overheard the argument between you two this morning, no matter how much you tried to keep your voice down Jack’s deep voice carried throughout the house. The pouty look on his face and prominent eye-bags were also an immediate tell.

“She’s pretty pissed at me so I thought I’d remind myself that she still loves me” he flashed her a fake smile, trying his best to make a joke out of the situation as he usually did.

“I can’t exactly blame her” Maggie spoke to her son in a soft tone, knowing he was already upset from the fight that the two of you had. “Where is she right now?”

“With Neelam, working on some stuff” He sighed, “it’s not like I intended for the other place to fall through, and with filming the movie and the album dropping, I don’t see the rush. I just feel like it’s not fair for her to be upset about it” he nervously fidgeted in his chair, the wood cracking underneath his tall frame.

“It’s also not fair for you to expect her to agree with you on everything. She has to realize that with your career there are a lot of sacrifices that have to be made and you have to realize that not everything is always about you. Sometimes she just needs her feelings validated and heard” Brian chimed in as he started to wash off the dish he had used for breakfast.

“It’s a rarity but your dad’s right” Maggie teased, giving Brian a nod. This was a topic that both Maggie and Brian had already discussed privately, seemingly being able to feel your frustrations before Jack was aware of them.

“I know you want your own space, so what’s stopping you?” Maggie sat down with Jack at the kitchen table while Brian continued to wash what little dishes were in the sink. It had already been a little over a month, and while she was happy to have you both she knew the two of you needed your space.

“I just want things to be perfect. I already made her move from Atlanta to here and I don’t want us to end up in another place that doesn’t feel perfect” he avoided his mother's gaze, knowing she’d draw the entire truth out of him and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit it. He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he just wished y/n would give him more grace.

“And what else?” Maggie was patient, knowing he’d get there eventually.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her. I feel like what I’m looking for in a place isn’t out there. Maybe we should’ve built a home?” He stretched his long legs out, becoming fidgety once again.

Brian shook his head, knowing Jack and his mother were alike in that aspect. It is always hard to be content when you want more and more and more.

Jack's phone vibrated, interrupting the conversation as he excused himself to answer it. “Hey baby, what’s going on?”

You did your best to put your eavesdropping of his acting lessons to work, frantically making your voice go up an octave as you lied about his jeep getting a flat tire. You both were sharing a car right now after selling yours before the move.

You hadn’t spoken to him in hours and he was still on edge but when he heard your worried voice on the other end his heart dropped. “I’ll be right there! Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

Maggie and Brian looked at him curiously as he ran to get shoes on. “Can I borrow the car?” He was panicked and didn’t wait for an answer before running out of the door.

You shared your location with Jack and he showed up almost immediately surprised when he found you calmly sitting inside the jeep.

He pulled up beside you, confused as all four tires were fine. He got out of his parent’s car and knocked on the window, scaring you briefly before you got out of the car.

“I thought you had a flat?” His brow was furrowed, and a look of confusion spread across his face as he walked around the car to take a second look.

“I had a big strong man help me instead” you teased squeezing his bicep and pushing his buttons on purpose.

His cheeks became red in an instant, “stop playing with me. Why did you really call me down here?” He pulled you into his chest, rocking back and forth with you.

“Are you still grumpy?” You pouted, knowing he wasn’t as emotionally strong-willed as he’d like to think as you stroked his beard with your nails.

“Are you still bratty?” He joked, knowing both of you were full of emotions and regret.

“I hate fighting with you and I’m sorry” you blurted out knowing you hated the space you were in.

“I’m sorry too baby, but umm where are we?” He turned toward the apartment building.

“The landlord gave me the keys to a unit for an hour so we can tour it. If you don’t like it, that’s fine and we can keep looking. It looked nice online” You held the keys up in the air still giving him the same pouty face.

“Let’s go tour this place” he turned to his parents' car making sure it was locked with the click of a button before the two of you walked over to the empty apartment.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to start envisioning a life in it, expressing where the couches could go or what bedroom would be the office space but when Jack went silent on you, you were worried something had gone wrong.

You turned to him as he had gone quiet, he was leaning against the wall, watching admirably as you babbled about kitchen appliances, and taking mental note that you wanted a kitchen aid (preferably in lavender.)

“Do you not like it? We can keep looking, I have another viewing after this one. I was trying to be proactive but if you’re not sold on this place that’s okay too” You nervously rambled especially when he didn’t speak to you in return, even after all this time together his icy blues had that effect on you.

“I love you” he hummed, walking toward you as he threw his head back, a soft laugh escaping him. “I really, really love you” his hands explored your body as he pulled you into him.

“I love you too babe” You kissed him, pulling on his lip as you pulled away. You pushed his curls out of his face.

“Do you want another apartment or should we look at houses?” He wanted to know your honest opinion.

“Well this year, we will hardly be home and it’s just the two of us right now, so I think an apartment is perfect! But do you want to check the other one out to be sure?”

He nodded, knowing that was the responsible thing to do. “We are probably going to spend a lot of our time in LA this year with the movie” he reminded you.

“Neelam said about three or four months so that’s not bad and then we can tour in the fall, right?” You walked back to the cars holding hands, Jack had become less concerned about who saw you two and you followed his lead.

“Nail tech drops the 18th so I have to finish that music video this week and we have the Turks and Caicos trip at the beginning of March” he was trying to remember everything important, but wore his stress on his face.

“I remember, I have your schedule. Don’t worry about it” You pushed the same stray curl out of his face, as he opened the jeep car door for you.

You had no idea what made him decide to actually take a vacation, you had hopes your convincing had something to do with it or maybe because life was about to be incredibly hectic he decided he deserved it. You were surprised when he took Drake's offer to come, and even more surprised when he asked you to come with him.

So imagine your surprise when you find out the real reason he invited you on this trip…. 💍

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #Jack Harlow series #Jack Harlow fanfic

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makethemhoesmad · 2 months

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not while i’m with you

hugeee shoutout to that anon

i can’t not write angst

good luck gang

nsfw

of course, after any big win, especially at home, the team has to go out and celebrate. and of course, when you’re one of the best known teams in the country, people are bound to talk to you. but when some redhead girl came up and asked if she could buy azzi fudd a drink, paige bueckers didn’t like it one bit.

“no, she gets drinks on my tab, she doesn’t need you to buy her one. thanks though! we’ll be going now,” paige says to the girl, placing her hand on the small of azzis back and leading her away, downing her third shot as she goes. “what was that for? maybe i wanted to talk to her,” azzi says. she’s not actually frustrated, she’s more into blondes. “maybe ill go back and talk to her!” paige rolls her eyes. “maybe you will.” azzi turns around and marches back to her.

paige didn’t think she would actually do it, gosh. she orders a drink, stronger than normal. she’ll need it for this train wreck

azzi did not want to talk to this girl anymore. her name was stupid. who names their kid clementine anyway? all she wanted to do was go home and watch a movie or something with paige. she’s thinking about making her escape when she feels two arms wrap around her from behind.

“azzi! let’s goooo, i want to do something!” she’s resting her chin on azzis shoulder, trying to press her lips into her neck. “paige let’s not do this right now, you won’t want this tomorrow” azzi whispers, trying to get the point across without drawing any more attention to them. “you didn’t care when that girl was chatting you up! plus, i always want you.” with her words, paige slides her hand up azzis shirt and starts kneading the spot on her back she had said was sore earlier. “come on, let’s just get out of here” that breaks azzis reserve. she stands up and maneuvers them to the door, waving goodbye to the rest of the team. in the car, she drives, which is a rare occurrence, but paige is much too drunk. she’s busy trying and failing to subtly unzip azzis jeans without her noticing, but can’t seem to figure it out.

when they finally make it to paige’s apartment, paige drags them straight up to her bedroom and backs azzi into the wall. she crushes her there with her lips and her hands, all while taking off both of their clothes. once they’re both naked, she pushes azzi into the bed and puts her fingers into azzis mouth. “suck. make them nice and wet to go inside of you darling.” azzi whines around them, taking them so deep she gags over and over. when paige decides she’s done waiting, she removes her dripping fingers and slides them into azzis soaked pussy.

“do you think that she could have fucked you like this baby? would you rather be screaming her name tonight instead of mine,” paige asked azzi while pumping her fingers in and out of her. “nn-no love, only you can make me feel like thi-nnnnnmm,” azzi shrieked as she came, going limp against the bed. “good girl, coming on my fingers, right where you’re supposed to” azzi just grunted, then rolled off the bed and onto her knees, pulled paige towards her and into a sitting position, edging her legs apart. “let me return the favor angel.” azzi admired paige for a moment, then leaned in and closed her lips around her clit. “mmmm baby you taste so good for me” paige moaned at azzis words, fisting the blankets. azzi continues to suck her clit, even after paige comes, even after she’s begging for a rest. when she finally breaks off, paige has tears in her eyes and drool running down her lips. “you look pretty baby,” azzi says, grabbing paige’s face in hers and kissing her, long and slow, as she pushes paige back onto the bed and tucks them under the covers together, skin to skin.

“i love you azzi,” paige whispers into azzis mouth

“i’m sure you do,” azzi says, looking sadly up at the ceiling, because she knows in the morning, paige won’t want to remember.

#ask #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi

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arlana-likes-to-write · 10 months

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Second Chance - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Warning: mention of blip, death, life support, jealousy, panic attack

Word Count: 3.9 k

So the problem with taking a long nap, it was hard to fall asleep. It also didn’t help that your stomach was a little upset from dinner. FRIDAY informed you that the common floor had ginger ale and crackers. You sat on the couch with your sketchbook on your lap and crackers next to you. You preferred drawing comics or line art, realism wasn’t your thing. But drawing portraits of people helped you remember them and the memories. You were drawing your mom when she was in the courtroom. It was rare that she let you come with her and watch her do her thing. She was afraid that you were going to be a target if people connected you to her.

You missed her so much and you wished she was here to help you through this. When the doctors came into her room at the hospital and told you your options, it was the hardest decision you had to make. But you knew your mom better than anyone, she was your best friend, and you knew she wouldn’t want to be in a vegetative state. So, she was taken off life support and her organs were donated to help save lives. You whipped a tear from your eye before it fell onto your sketchbook. “Why are you crying in the dark?” A voice laced with a Russian accent asked. You jumped, not expecting a voice. In front of you was a blonde-haired girl wearing sweatpants and a SHIELD training shirt. She was fresh out of a shower; her hair was damp and braided.

“Maybe because I don’t like crying when it’s bright outside,” she shrugged and made her way to the kitchen. You spun around to lean on the back of the couch. The blonde was taking out the leftovers from dinner. “Who are you?” If you were to make an educated guess, she was related to Natasha in some way.

“Your Stark’s kid,” she deflected your question with a statement of her own. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of you running around.”

“Probably does,” you said. “I wouldn’t put it past dear old dad,” she placed her food in the microwave and turned to face you, arms crossed against her chest. Her green eyes flickered to the beanie you still chose to wear. “I find it unfair you know who I am and I don’t know you.” She smirked and turned to take her food out of the microwave.

“Where is the fun in that, Stark?”

“Easton,” you corrected her. She raised a questioning eyebrow at you. “I go by my mother’s maiden name since she is the one who raised me and Tony didn’t.” Your mom never spoke ill of the man when you questioned why he was never around. Instead, she told you the truth that she never told him she was pregnant. You stopped asking questions because you didn’t need him. Your mom was all you needed.

“Well, Easton,” she smiled. “It was nice meeting you. Try to get some sleep.” She walked back over to the elevator and stepped inside.

“Sleep tight, blondie,” you sat back down on the couch and focused on your drawing. But you didn’t miss the look of surprise on her face as the metal doors closed. You chuckled, popping a cracker into your mouth. You weren’t worried about the mysterious blonde that got food quickly and left. You figured she was supposed to be here since Tony’s AI didn’t alert anyone or alarms didn’t go off. Now you weren’t an Avengers super fan but you knew of them through the news and research for your comics but you didn’t recognize her. She must be a new addition post the Blip. You sighed, biting the end of the pencil.

You weren’t part of the half of the population that was taken. There was a part of you that wished you were. The car accident happened a few months before the Blip. So you grieved your mom and those you lost. It was hard. You threw yourself into your drawings, and your research, and traveled the world to help others to ignore your grief. It worked. Was it unhealthy? Yes. But you helped a lot of people, wasn’t that worth it?

You cleaned up the crackers and cleaned the glass you used. There was an ache in your bones and you knew it was time for bed.

You were back on the common floor in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and waiting for your oatmeal to be done. You thanked every god that existed that your taste buds still liked coffee. The microwave beeped and you took it out. As you ate it you made a list of things you needed to do before the weekend was over and your doctor appointment tomorrow morning. Your new room was fully furnished even with kitchen appliances so you could donate your furniture except the desk and bean bag in your office. You could put the desk you had in your bedroom or near the window in the living room. The hall closet would be before seasonal clothes, extra supplies, and a few things you kept that were your mom’s. You had a lot of stuff which meant you needed to go through everything and donate the stuff you didn’t need. But you weren’t sure how long you would be at the tower? Was it a permanent placement? Or until you got better, if you got better. You didn’t like to think about that. “How did you sleep?” Natasha asked, walking up to the coffee pot and pouring herself some.

“Okay,” you took a bite of your oatmeal. “I think that nap messed up my sleeping schedule.” You giggled. You couldn’t help but stare at the redhead in front of you, trying to compare features from the blonde you met last night. They had similar eye color and teasing look in their eyes. They even smirked the same.

“You're starring,” Natasha smirked. “I’m sorry but I’m spoken for and I don’t think Tony would like that.” You looked away from her so she didn’t see your embarrassment but a playful smile danced on your lips.

“Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you looked back at the Black Widow. “Or you're just that mesmerizing to look at.” Natasha groaned, gently slapping you on the shoulder.

“You flirt better than your father, I'll give you that,” you giggled. “Well I was thinking if you weren’t that tired,” she leaned against the counter. “We could borrow a few of Stark’s cars and go to your apartment to get your things. I can bribe Bucky, Steve, and my sister to help.” Sister? Interesting. But you didn’t dwell too much on that.

“Why are you offering to help?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“This can’t be easy,” she stated. “With your diagnosis, reaching out to your biological father, and moving into a new place with new people,” you smiled. It was not easy. “But I bet having stuff you're familiar with can make it easier.” She was right. The bed was comfortable but you missed your mom’s guilt. The walls were bare, missing your photos and artwork.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll go round up the delinquents. Do you need clothes to wear?” You looked down at your sleeping clothes. You could change into the clothes you were wearing yesterday but they were dirty.

“Uh yeah,” you scratched the back of your head. “I wasn’t expecting him to offer me a place at the tower.” It was common practice for you to take an overnight bag when you went somewhere due to your random spots of fatigue. You expected to be back at your apartment by lunch night. Natasha frowned.

“Did you not expect Tony to help you?” The Black Widow asked. You shrugged.

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you told her. The frown remained on Natasha’s face.

“Wanda will have something for you to wear. FRIDAY, can you inform Wanda to meet Y/n at her room with clothes?” The AI confirmed she would alert the witch. You smiled.

“Thanks again, Nat,” you weren’t expecting this level of kindness from the other Avengers.

“Just tell FRIDAY when you're ready,” you finished your breakfast and cleaned up the dishes. By the time you took the elevator to the floor you were on, Wanda was outside your door with an armful of clothes. You laughed.

“Got enough options?” You teased, opening the door for her. She huffed with a roll of her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure what would fit or your style,” she dumped the clothes onto the couch. “So I brought a lot,” she surveyed the mess she created. “Okay, I may have gone a little overboard.” You giggled and started to go through the pile. You settled on a SHIELD shirt, that matched the blonde’s last night, and a pair of black shorts. But a few dresses did catch your eye and you made a mental note to ask her to burrow them. After a quick shower and changing into clothes, you informed the AI that you were ready.

“Miss. Romanoff and company are in the garage,” you grabbed your wallet, keys, and phone. “Step into the elevator and I’ll bring you down.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you said, walking out of your room and to the elevator. Once inside, your mind began to race. You leaned back on the metal wall, looked up at the ceiling, and stared at your reflection. Was your apartment clean? You couldn’t remember. It was another effect of chemo - you called it chemo brain. Sometimes you couldn’t remember if you turned off the oven or locked the door. It was why drawing helped so much to pinpoint and focus on specific memories.

So was your apartment clean? Gods, you hoped so. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You tried to push down your anxiety at the thought of 4 Avengers walking into a messy apartment. The elevator doors opened and you saw Natasha, Buck, and Steve next to a moving van and the blonde you met leaning against a red Mustang. The sight made you smile. “Hey Blondie,” her head snapped to you.

“Blondie?” Natasha questioned looking at who you assumed was her sister.

“Easton,” she smirked. “You are the reason I was pulled out of bed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I believe that was your sister,” you tilted your head to Natasha. The three Avengers watched the interaction with confusion all over their faces. “We met last night. She knew who I was but refused to tell me her name so from now until she tells me her name she will be Blondie.” Natasha shook her head with a defeated sigh.

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” she said, hitting her sister’s arm. Whatever she said made Bucky chuckle. It was Russian that you knew but you and Steve looked at each other, the only ones not understanding the language. Her sister frowned, rubbing the spot Natasha hit. “You’ll be riding with my sister,” you huffed. Her name was still a mystery but the blonde looked smug. “We’ll follow you.”

“Sounds good, you smiled, getting into the passenger seat. You didn’t catch whatever Natasha said to her sister before they got into the van. The blonde got with a sigh and turned on the car. “What did she say to you?”

“Put your address in,” she handed you her phone with the maps app already up instead of answering. You did as she asked and plugged it into the charger. “She told me to stop being difficult.” She began the drive to your apartment.

“Difficult?” You didn’t think she was. “Why are you being difficult?” But you were curious why she kept her name a mystery. You couldn’t find much about her online with a quick Google search.

“It’s more fun,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Do you not think so, Easton?”

“Whatever you say, blondie,” you smiled. “Whatever you say.”

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped out of the way for the Avengers to enter. It was a 2 bedroom, 1 ½ bathroom. You used your second bedroom as your office and art studio since no one was coming to visit you. You were lucky to afford a place like this on your own and a glance around it wasn’t a mess. Bucky carried in some moving boxes. “So all the furniture is gonna stay beside the stuff in my office. The pots, pans, and utensils will be donated. I guess we’ll pack as much as we can today and I’ll come back another day to finish it.”

“Anything you want to prioritize?” Steve asked.

“My clothes,” you smiled. “As much as I love Wanda’s clothes, I don’t think this is my vibe.” Natasha laughed.

“I’ll handle your clothes.”

“Steve and I will get your furniture from your office,” Bucky suggested.

“And I’ll stand here and look pretty.”

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” you teased. Bucky, Natasha, and the blonde looked at you, mouths open. “I pick up on languages easily,” A quick Google search also didn’t help. “It’s Russian for idiot,” you told the blonde super soldier. Steve smiled, shaking his head with a laugh.

“She’s not wrong.” She gasped, clutching her chest.

“Steve Rogers, how could you?” You smiled.

“I’ll buy pizza if you do some work, blondie.” You said and walked over to your hall closet to get a cooler and some reusable bags. Packing up the kitchen was going to be your job so you could go through the fridge and pantry. Natasha headed off to your bedroom and Steve and Bucky went to your office which left the blonde in your living space. She put a box together and began to take the pictures off the wall. You couldn’t help but watch her. The living room was decorated with pictures and items from your travels and the research you’ve done. She would look at the picture for a little bit before putting it into the box. It was odd, a stranger was going through some of your most prized possessions, packing them up so you could move into the Avengers’ tower. What a strange life you were living.

“So,” you looked at the blonde. “What languages do you know?”

“I’m fluent in English and German but I’ve traveled a lot and I can put up with delicate differences.” She nodded, picking up a handmade mug you got while volunteering in South Africa. You continued to watch her. There was an odd look on her face. You frowned, going back to cleaning out the fridge not wanting to think too much about it.

Yelena walked into the spare room you deemed as your office. The space was cleaned out of a desk, a bean bag, and an art easel. There was something about you that Yelena found intriguing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She put together one of the moving boxes and began to take the artwork off the wall. They were all line drawings of various sea creatures with watercolor accents. Her favorite was the blue whale with her calf. Once they were safely in the box, Yelena opened the closet. She wondered how you could afford this place on top of your medical expenses. A majority of the stuff was extra art supplies and canvas, all still in their original packaging. But what caught her eye was the flying cabinet. She couldn’t help herself as she knelt in front of it and opened the bottom drawer. Was it an invasion of privacy? Probably but Yelena was a spy at heart and her curiosity got the best of her.

She wasn’t surprised that she found more of your artwork but the contents of the pictures were surprising. It was the Avengers in comic book format. The mission they were on Yelena didn’t recognize so she assumed you made it up. The details were impressive. She put the comic back and picked up another drawing. It was a realistic portrait of a woman. Yelena didn’t know her but she saw similar features of you in her. She made the educated guess she was your mother. Natasha called her on her flight back from St. Petersburg and explained your story to her; diagnosed with cancer and the only family you had left was Tony because a car accident killed your mother. It was weird learning about your life through pictures she had to pack. You’ve traveled and seen the world by choice. You had a loving mother and now a father that brought you in without question. Those relationships weren’t brought together by a Red Room mission. She understood the feeling that grew when she saw you. Jealousy. She was jealous. Jealous of a girl who was dying unless she got a bone marrow transplant. It was ridiculous, uncalled for. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she learned something about you, a warm feeling built in her chest and she envied everything. “For a spy, you're pretty easy to sneak up on,” Yelena jumped, turning around quickly. You were standing in the doorway with a playful smile on your face. “Whatcha got there, blondie?” You asked, walked over to her, and sat down. Smiling, you looked at the picture in her hand. “That’s my mom. It was right before the car accident.”

“They never found out who caused it, right?” You nodded, taking the picture from her. Yelena frowned, not liking the sadness radiating from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff.” You placed the photo back where it belonged.

“Don’t worry about it,” you stood up, holding out your hand to help her up. Yelena hesitated (she wondered if you noticed) but finally took it. Your hand was smooth against hers beside the small callus on your finger. “You would have seen them eventually. The pizza is here. I guess you did enough to deserve it.” You teased her. Yelena chuckled, rolling her eyes. She wondered how you kept your heart. It was what Melina said to her and Natasha before the Red Room took them - ‘don’t let them take your heart.’ Life had not been easy for you but you still managed to keep your smile and sense of humor. It was another thing on her list to envy.

“Your evil, Easton,” you giggled, looking back over your shoulder.

“You don’t know half of it.”

FRIDAY told you that Tony was in his lap. You held a box that was decorated in red and gold, tight underneath your arm. In hindsight, you should have known who your father was based on the color of the box but you only saw it once or twice. When the lab door opened, Tony looked up from his workbench. “Hey kid, how was moving out of the apartment?” He asked.

“Good,” you sat down on an empty stool next to him. “I have to go back again but a majority of my stuff is here.” You watched his eyes glance at the box.

“Well, let me know if I can help,” you nodded, tracing the lid of the box with your finger and looking away from him. Tony pulled up another stool. “Hey,” you looked at him. “What’s wrong?” You sighed, handing him the box.

“The letters she wrote to you,” he took the box, eyes wide as he stared at it. “You can read them or not or destroy them. It’s your choice.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, standing up.

“One more thing,” you let out a shaky breath. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Do-do you want to come?” You were afraid to ask him, unsure of his response. But your mom didn’t allow him to be in your life, you wanted to give him the chance. The ball was in his court. You could tell he was shocked by the invitation.

“Of course. I’ll be there,” you felt the weight leave your shoulders. Since your diagnosis, you’ve gone to your doctor's appointment alone. “Just let me know,” you smiled.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Tony,” you left his lap, hearing a ‘see ya’ from behind you. You took the elevator to the floor and into your room. It was a mess, boxes everywhere. You sighed, grabbed your mom’s quilt, and sat on the couch. The quilt belonged to your great-grandmother, who passed away before you were born. She gifted it to your mom when she graduated high school. It was blue and white with stars. You had great memories of you and your mom wrapped in this quilt reading a bedtime story by the campfire. You sighed, falling deeper into the couch and allowing the quilt to keep you warm. The mess could wait and be dealt with another time.

His leg began to shake as he stared at the box still resting in his hand. He felt a panic attack building inside him. It was a long time coming with everything going on but he didn’t have time for it. On shaky legs, he stood up and opened a drawer at his desk pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It was rare that he drank but he needed something to take the edge off. He picked up the box and sat down on the small couch.

There was a part of him that thought about destroying the box of letters. He didn’t have to know what he missed in the past; he had you now and could look towards the future, no matter how short it may be. No, he couldn’t think like that. He poured his drink. “Tony, your heart rate has elevated. Should I contact Pepper?”

“No, FRIDAY, I’m okay,” he wasn’t sure if he was okay but he opened the box. He wondered if there was an order to the letters. Each one was titled - 1st Christmas, High School Graduation, 5th birthday, and every milestone he missed Jessica wrote him a letter. Tony wasn’t sure how long it took before her words began to blur and he wasn’t making sense of anything. He missed you graduating high school and traveling with Captain Mills to help research how global warming was affecting sharks. He missed all of this because he wasn’t given a choice to be in your life. The beating of his heart was the only thing he heard in his quiet lab. His breathing was erratic as he picked up his full glass and threw it at the wall. The glass shattering startled him as he sat on the ground, back against the couch. He pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes, hoping it would help but it wasn’t. He couldn't stop the growing panic inside of him. It was too much.

Soon he felt fingers running through his hair. FRIDAY must have notified Pepper and he was so out of it that he didn’t hear Pepper enter. “I’m here,” he mumbled. Pepper hummed, pushing some strands off his forehead that were stuck due to sweat.

“That was a big one,” she stated. “Just sit with me, okay?” Tony didn’t have the energy to resist her as he rested his head on her shoulder. The sweet smell of her lavender perfume washed over him. He felt better, felt grounded. His heart rate evened out and his breathing wasn’t as erratic. “Do you want to talk about what triggered it?” She asked softly.

“Later,” he said. “Can we just be?” Pepper nodded, holding him tighter. And they would talk about it later. But for now, they were just Pepper and Tony. Not the CEO of Stark Industries or Iron. Not a mother of 1 and a new father of two. In the quiet and empty lab, they were safe in each other’s arms. Just being Pepper and Tony.

Taglist: @likemick

#second chance #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x y/n #yelena belova #tony stark #tony stark x pepper potts #Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #james bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #marvel #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction

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oftenwantedafton · 27 days

Text

Kismet - Dave Miller/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count - 3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content

Also available on AO3

Dave Miller is waiting for you in the campus parking lot outside of the building you’ve just had your anatomy exam inside.

You can see him leaning against the driver’s side door, his hands shoved into his pockets. Still dressed in his security guard uniform. It’s hot out. You squint against the glare of the sun as you exit, maneuvering your way down the handicapped ramp using the crutches he’d lent you earlier. They’re awkward, a little tricky to get used to, but they do help. Your ankle was actually a lot better today, but you’d also been resting it for awhile now, so you don’t want to push it and ruin the recovery process.

“How did it go?” He greets you when you reach his car.

You draw in a deep breath, then exhale. “I think I did okay. I hope. That was worth a quarter of my grade.”

”I’m sure you did well.” He opens the rear passenger door and you slide the crutches inside across the back seat, followed by your backpack. The vintage luxury sedan had a spacious interior, hailing from an era where things were built bigger, with the intention of showing off, ignoring things like fuel efficiency and compact sizing. Not what you would have envisioned him driving; it just didn’t suit his aesthetic. So at odds with the bike gear, with the sport motorcycle itself.

“So where do you want to go?” You’ve both settled inside the car. The vinyl seats are warm, clinging to the bare skin on the backs of your thighs. You’d worn denim shorts and a tank top today. You don’t know how the older man can stand being so covered up. Maybe something to do with those strange marks he has on him. You want to ask about them, the query nearly forcing its way past your lips on more than one occassion, but you’re still hesitant, uncertain if it was the right time to ask yet.

“You must be tired.” The smudges beneath his eyes still persist. You wonder when the last time he actually got some decent rest was.

“I took a cat nap while you were taking your test. I’m good for now.”

“Let’s go to your house.” You try to make it sound casual, surprising yourself when the words slip out. A little forward, inviting yourself over.

“My house?” A mixture of his own surprise laced with some amusement as well. “On a day like this I thought you’d want to be outdoors.”

“It’s too hot.”

“It’s summer in Utah. It’s always too hot,” he counters.

“Touché.”

“Seriously, though. Where do you want to go?”

You pretend to reconsider, biting your bottom lip, eyes fixing upward. “Mmmm…your house.”

“Okay. If that’s what you really want.” He turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. “Seatbelt on, please.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You drag the nylon strap across your chest, shoving the buckle into place. The material digs into your bare shoulder, pressing between your breasts.

“You’re back to work on Friday, right?” He pulls out of the parking lot, heading north out of the city proper. The opposite direction from where you reside.

“Yes.”

“You think you’re going to be okay getting there?”

“I should be good.”

“Ill give you my number just in case. You should have it anyway.”

“Yeah, I should.” He glances over at you, smirking.

You fuss with the radio for a bit, rummaging with the cassette tapes stashed into the console. A lot of music from the eighties. Something else you don’t recognize shoved way in the back. A large plastic cartridge with a faded peeling label that’s water damaged, the paper wrinkled. “What’s this?”

“Eight track. A largely inferior way to listen to music.”

“So why do you keep it?”

“I had no idea that was there, to be honest.” The car rolls to a stop at the next intersection, the traffic light turning red. “Is this what you’re going to do at my house? Snoop through my things?”

“You said to get to know you. So, this is getting to know you.”

“Hmmm.” He doesn’t sound upset, exactly. Mulling the situation over, perhaps. Deciding what he was willing to reveal.

You toss the item back where you found it. “I know what you did.”

Dave’s eyes snap to your face. “What?”

“They got an anonymous donation of an AC unit at the shelter. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Something like relief washes over the guard’s features, the tense shoulders relaxing. “Oh. That. Yes, that was me. Couldn’t have the bun and the others suffering.”

“What did you think I meant?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

Another mystery for you to solve. You tentatively lift each leg off the seat. Sticking already. There was no air conditioning in his car. The windows were rolled down, but with the automobile at a standstill there was no air exchange.

“The downside to vinyl,” he murmurs, seeing your struggles. “There really isn’t an upside. In the winter it’s like sitting on ice.”

“You need a new car.”

“It serves its purpose.”

The light turns green and he shifts his foot from the brake to the gas pedal. At least it was an automatic. You didn’t even know how to drive a standard.

His right hand departs the steering wheel and finds its way to your knee once you’ve left the city behind.

Just a casual reach and drop, that long extremity having no trouble stretching until his fingers close over the bare joint, thumb tracing small circles.

Your body is already reacting. You squirm in your seat, shifting down a little, his hand easing further up with the movement. Now half on bare skin, half on the jean covering. Thumb now worrying at the frayed edges of the hole at the front. Tucking inside. Fingers pressing firmly along your inner thigh. You suck in a deep breath.

You can see the profile of a smile on his features. His eyes never leave the road as his hand meanders further along, stopping just shy of your crotch. Your heart is pounding. Waiting for him to touch the seam there, grind it against you clothed sex.

Instead his hand abandons you, reclaiming its position on the steering wheel and you look at him, mouth open in disbelief.

He shoots you a hurried glance. “What?”

“You know what.”

“There are a lot of turns coming up. I’ll need both hands. We’re almost there,” he adds.

You fold your arms. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Don’t pout.”

“Or what? What are you going to do about it?” Whatever retort he’s readied dies off when you reach over to exact revenge, digging your nails into his thigh. Raking along the inside. You have to lean, you don’t have the length that he does.

“You are…”

“I’m what? What am I?”

He brakes at a stop sign and thumbs the arm of the turn signal even though there are no other cars in sight. The neighborhood looks quiet, a good distance between the houses. Large yards. Lots of trees. Shade. Privacy.

“Unexpected.” He surprises you with how fast he moves, cupping the side of your face and kissing you. Your stomach somersaults, your core throbbing in response. “Addictive,” he adds, kissing you again before he returns his attention to driving.

***

Miller’s house is a three bedroom Garrison with an attached two car garage.

You’re in that garage now, gaining entry once he’d pushed the button on the remote slotted on the sun visor overhead. You see his bike parked inside and a lot of the typical clutter you’d expect. Workbenches. Tools. You’re trying to picture the guard working on a housing project, doing something mundane like mowing the lawn, an expansive front one that rests on an incline, the house set uphill and far back from the road. Finding it impossible to reconcile the image.

There are a few steps into the house. Dave unlocks the door and doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up in his arms again. You laugh, murmuring a little protest that you can manage the task but he persists. You’re carried into a living room and gently deposited onto the nearby couch. It’s dark inside the house. Cooler. A lot of trees surround the property. It’s a relief after the heat outdoors.

“Want something to drink?”

“Yes, that’d be great.” You adjust the pillow beside you, looking around the room while you wait. It’s very modern. Gray and black and white. No pops of color. No personality to reveal what the owner liked. Coffee table devoid of magazines. Bookshelves lacking literature or decor. No pictures on the walls. No plants. It looked like an artist’s unfinished sketch. Waiting to be filled in.

Dave returns with two glasses full of ice submerged in amber liquid. Tea, you realize, taking a sip. “Good,” you say, nodding. He sets a couple of beverage napkins down on the table. There’s already a copious amount of condensation on the side of the glass.

He sits down beside you with a sigh, toeing off his shoes. “You can take yours off if you want. I’m not fussed about where you leave them. And I’m sure you want a break from that bandage.”

You nod, setting your drink down to unlace your shoes, then removing the metal clasps that kept the elastic wrap in place, unwinding the clinging fabric. A little bit of an impression where it had been hugging your skin, but the joint was mostly free of the swelling and redness from before.

You lean back against the cushions, picking up your glass again as you settle back. “Your house is nice. I mean, judging from what I’ve seen of it so far. Empty, though.”

“It’s easier to maintain that way. I don’t need the clutter.” He takes a swallow of his drink. “I’ll give you a more extensive tour when you’ve fully recovered. Unless you want to be carried around,” he adds with a smirk.

“I’m not that crippled. I can limp around pretty well now,” you reply defensively. “What do you do when you’re not working? There’s a lot of stuff in the garage.”

He nods. “Yes. That. I like…building things. I was an engineer once.”

“Really?” You’re surprised. Something else you couldn’t picture him doing. “What do you construct?”

“Oh, this and that. I haven’t completed anything in awhile. I’ve been…occupied.”

“With what?” The cool liquid slips down your throat.

“Some pretty young college girl that came into my path one day.”

You blush at the compliment.

The dark haired man’s drink is already finished. He tucks his thumb and index finger inside of it, tipping it slightly to retrieve one of the melting ice cubes, popping it between his lips.

You can hear him rolling it around on his tongue. The soft click when it collides with his teeth. You can’t stop staring, hypnotized. He sets the glass on the table and rests an elbow on the back of the couch, the fist he makes supporting his head. Watching you. Waiting.

Your half finished drink is back on the table. Your mouth back on his. A little humming noise from him. Satisfaction. Your tongue spears his lips. Chilled from the ice. He offers the remainder to you. Pushing it inside your mouth. That wedge of networked muscles chasing back after it. Relinquishing it. Trading back and forth. You have possession of it now, letting it rest in the curve you create as you offer it back to him. His lips close over your tongue and suck, dragging it back into his own maw.

You’re both breathing heavily. That satisfied smirk is back on his lips again. He’s swallowed whatever remained of the ice, his Adam’s apple shifting with the movement. His eyes are solid black, the rings of gray completely obliterated by the overwhelming dilation of his pupils. There’s a pulse in your sex, beating to match your heart. Every time you’re with him, you find yourself forgetting more and more of the misgivings you’d had earlier. Smothered beneath this layer of desire.

“Ask me something.” His head is propped up on his fist again, back to the casual waiting that you know is a front.

“What’s under this?” You run your fingers over his shirt sleeve. You’re going to ask him now. “The marks. What are they?”

“You want to see them?”

“Yes.”

A pause as he considers. Then that lean form lifts from the couch. Fingers working on the buttons sealing the sleeve cuffs and loosening the knot of his tie. Buckle of pants unfastened, making room at the waist to drag the shirt hem from where it’s tucked inside. The row of buttons down the center now released, pulling each arm out of the sleeves, letting the garment fall to the floor.

You stare at this display of undressing, watching raptly. Your eyes lock onto the scars on his forearms. A pair of rings almost like bracelets encircling his wrists. Circles dotted along each scarred bangle. Jagged lines streaking towards the elbows. Another bracelet ring. More streaks. The rest covered by the undershirt.

“What happened?” You lean forward for a better look, running your fingers lightly down his forearms.

“An accident at work years ago.”

“Yeah, but doing what?”

“A failure in one of the…construction projects.”

He’s still being evasive. “What kind of project?”

“A mechanical suit, of sorts.”

“Are there more scars?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“A lot of them?”

“Yes. Do they bother you?”

You shake your head.

He sits back down and you take another sip of your drink. Dave lifts the glass from your fingers, draining the rest of it. Retrieving another ice cube. Outlining you bottom lip with it as if it was a tube of lipstick. The cold water leaks down your chin, your throat. He licks along that line, pushing you deeper into the cushions at the back of the couch. The fingers holding the ice disappear beneath the neckline of your top, letting it slide down your spine.

“Dave, fuck, that’s cold!” You try to reach the offending object, lifting the bottom of your shirt.

“You’re not, though,” he murmurs, one hand snaking behind to assist you. You can feel the ice drop onto the couch. He doesn’t remove his hand, instead pinching at the hook and eye closures of your brassiere to unfasten it. “You’re so, so hot.” Back at your front now. The ice cube somehow pinched between his fingers again. Slid along your abdomen, making you gasp. He shoves the front of your tank top up, moving the bra with it, exposing your breasts. Now circling your areola, your nipples instantly peaking.

“Dave…” It’s the only coherent word you can form. Your brain is short circuiting, the blood flow shunted elsewhere. There’s water from the melted ice cube all over your torso. Sliding down your ribs and pooling in your umbilicus. You absently try to reach him, any part near his groin you can locate, but he halts you, lapping at your ear before he whispers into it.

“Mmm-mmm. Ladies first.” The waist of your shorts is suddenly looser as he unfastens the button fly and pulls down the zipper. You’re trying to recall what underwear you’re wearing, hoping it’s something cute. You hadn’t really planned on this happening. Not this fast, anyway.

“One of the benefits of riding the bike,” he begins, leaning to retrieve another ice cube, “is that your fingers get a good work out using the brakes, clutch, throttle. A lot of strength built up. Power.” He’s beneath your panties now, his fingers dragging the dissolving frozen object over your clit.

Your spine jerks, your hips lifting up. Bringing him further down the length of your sex. You don’t even recognize the sounds escaping your lips. A calloused thumb circling your clit, middle and ring finger shoving at your entrance, the ice cube tucked firmly between the bridge of his palm. Another spasm. Your wrap your fingers around his forearm, nails digging into the skin. His digits reach so much further than your own. Stretching even more. He massages your g spot with the pads of his fingers. Planting little kisses on your jaw. Watching you with those dark, dark eyes as you writhe and grind against him. The last of the ice gone. The strong pair of fingers inserted into your canal working in earnest, your pussy making obscene noises as it greedily sucks him deeper.

“Is it good?” He knows the answer, of course. He can’t possibly not, with the way your body is responding, the sounds that you’re making, the frantic touches of your hands, your mouth.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp.

“You like my fingers inside this hot cunt of yours?”

“Dave…fuck, yes.”

“Are you going to cum for me like a good girl?”

A whimper. It’s all you can muster. You feel his smile against your neck as his thrusting fingers increase their pace, your unhooded bud flicked mercilessly. Your free hand digs into the pillow now resting against your thigh. It’s so overwhelmingly hot. You’re on fire. Sweating. Spots in front of your eyes, like when you’ve been out in the sun and go indoors, your vision trying to adjust. But it’s all from the man touching you. Burning you. A final searing kiss and touch and you’re there, moaning into his mouth.

His hand remains buried in your sex, resting now, cupping the natural curve, fingers motionless, feeling your walls contract around him, the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through you. Softer kisses. Letting you drag air into your lungs in between them. Eventually removing his hand from your panties and you struggle to sit upright.

“That was…um…Jesus, Dave.” He’s got the fingers that invaded you in his mouth now, slowly sucking them clean.

“Delicious.” He grins at you. “Good?”

“Yeah, good. More than good.” You’re still coming down off your high, trying to collect your thoughts. You can still feel the nerves firing in your pussy, in your thighs.

“You want another drink?”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t know how much ice is left. I’ll have to refill the tray.” He winks at you and you shove at his arm. Your touch gentling, stroking down the length. Sated and yet you still want more of him. “I like having you here,” he says quietly, sensing the shift in mood.

“I like being here.” You kiss him.

He moves as if to stand but you tighten your grip on his arm. “The drinks…”

“Can wait.”

A soft smile before he’s back at your mouth again.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #dave miller x you #dave miller x reader #william afton smut #dividers credit @ saradika graphics

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formula1fanfiction · 20 days

Text

Pierre Gasly / Max Verstappen

Title: I'm all yours, i've got no control

Pairing: Pierre Gasly / Max Verstappen

Characters: Pierre Gasly, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton

Prompt: Gasly-Max, fighting for world championship is create so much pressure and to Max the best way is to deal with is fucking other drivers

The best way to deal with pressure of winning world championships? Sex. It's the races that he can't control that get to him the most. His car blowing up on him is not ideal. He kicks what's left of his car in frustration and thinks of potential fucks.

George? He's been a good fuck in the past, very pliant and happy to do anything but George crashed today and he went there after Singapore and George had just cried all over his cock. He doesn't want to comfort someone, he wants to fuck them.

Charles? Another good previous fuck, but Charles has been on the podium today and he's the type of person who can't contain his own excitement and he's not in the mood for Charles' bragging right now.

Lewis would just say no, as would Carlos, Checo and Fernando Alonso. Then it hits him Gasly. He's not been with the Frenchman for a long time, not since he was demoted from Red bull, but it had always been good fun.

"Gasly." He finds Pierre in the lobby of the hotel. "Max?" Pierre turns around a smile on his face. Max has never noticed before, but he's beautiful. "Did you want something?" Max realises his been staring at him for too long.

"Remember in 2019 when you would sub for me when things weren't going well? Do you still do that?" A flicker of something flashes on Pierre's face, something Max can't read but he quickly changes it back to a smile.

"Well I was going to celebrate with Charles and I don't really bottom any more but I guess I can make a one off exception for you." Max is bouncing on the soles of his feet in delight as he leads Pierre back to his hotel room.

"Are we just going to get into it?" Pierre shrugs his Alpine jacket off and lays it over the arm of the chair. "Yes, does the traffic light system still work for you?" Pierre shrugs. "That works for me."

Max decides it's time just to get fucking on with it, Pierre yelps being taken completely by surprise, he's rugby tackled onto the bed, hands pinned either side of his head. "What's your colour on this?" Max asks, his hand sneaking down Pierre's chest, pushing up his team shirt and squeezes his nipple. "Green."

"Do you still love it Pierre? Being tied to the bed and coming on my cock alone?" Max dips his head down and bites Pierre's right nipple, he Frenchman hisses underneath. "Whatever you want, sir." sir, fuck he wasn't expecting that.

"Good thing I came prepared to deal with sluts." Max always comes prepared for his kinky fantasies and takes out two pair of hand cuffs from the draw in the night stand. "Do you always travel to race weekends with handcuffs sir." Max bites his lip to stop himself smiling. "I do, actually."

Max locks the first pair around Pierre's right wrist and attaches it to the bed. "Colour?" Pierre's eyes darken with lust the blue completely disappearing and turning black "Green, sir." Max nods approvingly and repeats the action with the left wrist.

"You look very comfortable for someone who says he isn't a bottom anymore." Pierre shrugs, the best he can anyway. "Maybe, I like the fact you can do anything you want to me sir and i'm helpless." Fuck, Max almost comes in his pants.

Pierre pulls lightly on his restraints just to test them but is cut off when Max lightly smacks his thigh. "Stop that or ill spank you."Sorry Daddy." Pierre whispers. Fucking Pierre, knows exactly what he's doing, driving Max bloody insane that is.

Max decides to ignore the daddy comment, not giving Pierre the satisfaction, instead he takes out a bottle of lube and a condom. Max drizzles the lube over his fingers and pushes up Pierre's hips, until they are pressed up against his own chest. "Daddy..." Pierre whines, like the little brat that he is but Max catches him off guard and pushes a single digit inside, twisting his finger, Pierre accepts the first finger easily, pretty suspicious for someone who is a top but Max doesn't comment on it and, adds a second finger.

Max takes a long time opening Pierre up just to piss of the other man. "Daddy please, I need your cock." Max ignores him completely and strokes over his prostate, drawing groans from the older man. "Daddy." Pierre whines even more, bucking his hips up into thin air, trying to get any type friction. Max only takes pity on him when the bulge in his own jeans becomes too hard to handle.

Pierre watches, his mouth watering as Max pulls down his pants and boxers together, freeing his massive cock. Max takes himself into his own hand and gives himself a few strokes, forcing himself to stop and quickly rolls on the condom. "Colour, Pierre?"

"Green." That's all consent Max needs, he nudges the head of his cock against Pierre's lube slick entrance and slams inside with one hard thrust. Pierre growls and digs his fingers into the metal of the cuffs. "Love it when you fill me up with your cock." Max has to use every inch of his will power to hold back from fucking Pierre senselessly. "daddy, please." Pierre whines and tries to push his hips up and down, however Max has his hips in a tight grip, not letting the Frenchman move at all.

"Such a naughty slut, begging for me like that." Max, just can't take teasing Pierre anymore, his own cock is crying for attention buried inside of Pierre. Max pulls all the way out, only to slam back inside of him this time, picking up a rough, deep pace, slamming inside Pierre with a mighty force. Pierre makes the cutest noises when he's been fucked hard, each little sound only turns Max on even more. Max finds Pierre's prostate petty quickly and angles each of his thrusts to hit the swollen gland, pulling even more noises from Pierre's throat.

"I need to come, fuck." Pierre arches his hips up off the bed, Max quickly puts a stop to it and grips his hand tightly around the base of Robert's cock. "Bad little sluts have to wait until Daddy comes first." He can't believe he's using Pierre's embarrassing words, but he's way too gone to give a shit.

Max pounds into Pierre with all his might as he feels his orgasm building into the pit of his stomach, it only takes three more thrusts and he's coming inside of the condom. Max pulls out and rolls off the condom, making Pierre whine in frustration. "Daddy?"

"Do you think you deserve to come? Sweet little Pierre." Max asks as he starts teasing Pierre's cock, dragging his hand up and down the pulsating member really slowly. "Please daddy, i've been a really good boy" Max starts to stroke the hard cock a little quicker. "Ok baby, come for daddy." That's all Pierre needs to hear and he's coming hard, shooting his load high into the air and splattering all over his own chest. "Good boy, daddy's good boy."

Max cringes as he reaches over and releases Pierre's hands from the handcuffs. "Can't believe you have a daddy kink." Pierre giggles. "I don't, I just knew I could get you to play along."

Somehow, despite Pierre being the one locked up, it feels like Max was never really in control at all but it's made him feel a hell of a lot better.

#max verstappen #pierre gasly #formula 1 fanfiction #fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #mxm #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #mxm smut #george russell #charles leclerc

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strangerthingsn · 4 months

Text

Bruised

Part 5

summary: You live in your car or a hotel, you sell your body to men for money, but got accidentally pregnant by the only one Alan Munson(Eddies dad). He was in jail before, for the same thing he did to you. But lucky he has a son who cares and helps you out.

Warings: 18+ (all parts), throwing up, birth, blood, emotional people

You’re leaning above the toilet throwing up the food that you ate this evening. Eddie is holding your hair and rubs your back. It was already two months ago when Eddie and you ate by bennys burgers and did the baby shopping. Your morning sickness got worser but you loved to feel the little one kicking sometimes. Besides you just needed a couple weeks before giving birth.

“Just a couple weeks to go baby, I know it’s simple saying that for me but you’ll survive it sweetheart” Eddie kisses your shoulder.

“t-towel” you throw up again and Eddie turns around to get a towel from the counter.

“hire” Eddie gives it. “You’re feeling good again.?”

“a little”

“Ill put a bucket next to your bed, yeah?” Eddie kisses your head and grabs one.

“thanks” you wipe off your mouth and you walk into the kitchen.

“You okay kid?” Wayne had walked in behind you and looks worried.

“oh shit, did I wake you up?” You look at him.

“no its fine, just wanted to be sure you’re okay”

“I’m alright, thanks” you grab a cup and you fill it with water.

“Okay, try get some sleep yeah?” Wayne grabs the door handle of his room again.

“I will, good night” you wave.

“Good night” he smiles quickly and disappears in his room. You drink the water and you up the cup down after, then you walk back into the bedroom and Eddie is already laying down. You smile turning the light off and you lay down next to him.

“You seen the bucket?” Eddie looks at you with his brown doe eyes.

“yes” you nod kissing his nose.

“If you’re getting sick you wake me up, yes?”

“You don’t have t-“

“yes?” He interrupts.

“okay okay” you smile, hes so sweet and takes such good care of you all the time. You cuddle up to him and you fall asleep again.

—the next day—

“Can I?” You smile gently putting the beer down you got for Eddie.

“Yeah sure” Eddie nods.

“I mean… maybe you should put this sentence hire and this one hire…” you draw lines on the paper Eddie is trying to write a new song on. You’re with the band in Jeffs garage with all the instruments. That’s were they always practice.

“Yeah that will work I guess”Eddie looks at the paper.

“Ey I think I’ve got something you guys” Gareth brights up.

“let us hear it” Jeff looks at him.

“alright” Gareth grabs his drumsticks and starts playing in a rhythm, it sounded good. After Gareth played it he looks back at you all.

“Yeah that will totally work with the thing I wrote” Grand says.

“go play it together” you smile.

“yes Lets do that” Gareth nods. Eddie suddenly grabs your hips and pulls you towards him on his lap. You look at him trying to get up.

“I’m heavy” you sigh as Eddie pulls you down again. In meanwhile the other boys started playing together.

“you’re heavier then you way months ago but that’s totally obvious with this beauty in your belly” Eddie lays his hand on your belly.

“fine” you lay your hand on his. You notice Eddie started drinking and smoking more, you assume he’s worried about you and the baby.

“but you need to sleep, I’ll tell the boys to be silent when we go upstairs, yeah?” Eddie gives a kiss on your cheek.

“okay” you nod getting up with a little bit help from Eddie.

“guys y/n is gonna sleep” Eddie says loudly so they stop playing.

“good night!” Gareth smiles laying his drumsticks down.

“Sleep well, also for you” Jeff looks down at your belly.

“bye” grand smiles. Eddie kisses your hand and you wave at them all.

“see you in the morning guys” you walk out and into Jeffs house, his mom was home but she said he could have a sleep over, she was really nice.

“I got you something, most of the stuff is not used and I bought it for you” she gives your a box full of baby toys and clothes. “I just wanted to do something nice”

“for me?” You smile exited.

“for your baby actually” she winks.

“Right” you chuckle. “Thank you so much” you go through the stuff, finding multiple outfits, toys, pacifiers and other stuff.

“no problem darling, just let it stand hire on the kitchen and we’ll put it in Eddies van tomorrow.

“Thank you” you say again.

“No problem, Don’t worry about throwing up or something everything can in the washing machine” she smiles.

“the floor can’t”

“but I can clean it up, you know what I mean” she winks.

“Okay okay”

“And if you’re tired of the guys you can always sleep in my room” you nod and walk upstairs.

“good night miss”

“good night sweetheart” she waves with a smile. You were so lucky you met such nice people, you were so happy about Mary, your coworkers and the boys.

After brushing your teeth you lay down on a mattress on the ground in Jeff’s room with your pyjamas on. You hear the boys still play and you tied to fall asleep.

—around 3 am—

You wake up from some cramps and the feeling you needed to pee. You open your eyes and get up to see everyone sleeping except for Eddie. You probably woke him up.

“sorry” you whisper. “I need to pee”

“It’s okay” Eddie whispers back. You walk out of the room and into the bathroom.

. “Hey Eddie?” Gareth looks at him.

“oh you’re awake too?” Eddie looks at him back.

“yeah, is y/n okay?” He whispered.

“Yeah I think so” Eddie sits up placing his hand in a wet spot. “What the-“

“what’s wrong?”

“it’s wet hire” Eddie looks down.

“Did she pee or-..” Gareth says after realizing it in the same time as Eddie.

“fuck her water broke” Eddie gets up as fast as possible. Gareth follows him and they both rush into the bathroom seeing you already pushing.

“E-Eddie …p-please help…” you are all sweaty and out of breath.

“O my god, why didn’t you call for us?” Eddie sits down next to you immediately holding your hand.

“should I call a ambulance? Or wake Jeff’s mom up?” Gareth asks in panic.

“Both!!!” Eddie looked so scared. Gareth nods and walks out of the bathroom. Eddie looks back at you and lift your head up and lays your head on his lap.

“it’s gonna be okay sweetheart” Eddie was drunk and high but still acting fine, he got kinda used to all the weed.

“Help Eddie…” you whisper.

“just keep pushing baby” he was definitely trying to stay calm but that didn’t last long…

“Eddie? Gareth? Where are y-“ Jeff walks the bathroom in. “HOLY SHIT”

“I KNOW. WHAT DO I DO?” Eddie couldn’t hold it anymore. “What do I need to do baby?” Eddie looks down at you.

“UH, I DONT KNOW!! I GET MY CAR” Jeff runs out of the bathroom and bumbs into his mom.

“no Jeff you can’t drive her now, she’s already giving birth” She walks into the bathroom. “Give a towel Gareth” Gareth walks into the bathroom and grabs a towel.

“two?” He grabs them.

“Uh.. yes” She takes it from Gareth.

“What can I do miss.?” Eddie looks at his mom.

“You just let her break your hand” She smiles.

“that’s pretty boring, can’t I do something other then that?” Eddie looks at you.

“shut up.” You snap between the breaths. Eddie was definitely surprised by your reaction and nods after swallowing.

“Jeff grab a scissor make sure it’s good cleaned” His mom ordered.

“okay” He grabs a scissor and washes it with water.

“no dude do it with.. like-..” Gareth grabs a bottle “this, you don’t wanna have bacteria on it”

“right.”

“What the hell is happening..” Grand looks at you all, he slept the most of Yall.

“Y/n is giving birth, uh.. can you wait downstairs for the doctor?” Gareth looks at him.

“Yes, okay” Grand walks out again.

“okay, tell me if this isn’t cold anymore Eddie” Gareth lays a soaked cold towel over you and that felt so good.

“no Gareth leave her” Eddies hand is grabbing the towel but you slam his hand away.

“see, she likes it” Gareth smiles.

“Almost, just keep pushing sweetie”his mom says.

“IM TRYING!” You snap again.

“Ouch” Eddie pulls his hand away.

“EDDIE” you grab his hand again.

“SORRY” He looks panicked. This situation was crazy.

“WHERE IS THE FUCKING DOCTOR” Jeff panicks. You were kinda in your own world and forgot everything, the only thing you knew is you need to keep pushing.

You wake up from your thoughts from a loud crying sound.

“I’ve got him, you did a great job sweetheart” You were just laying on the ground still processing what just happened.

“Eddie you can cut the navelcord.” She smiles. Eddie nods and lifts your head gently up and lays it on a towel instead of his lap. “Scissors Jeff”

“hire” everyone was silent the only thing you could hear was the crying sounds of your newborn. Jeff gives the scissors and Eddie cuts it carefully.

“I-i…” Eddie starts crying having the baby in his arms.

“Awh” Jeff his mom rubs Eddie back.

“hire” Eddie whispers giving you your son carefully.

“a boy” you whisper.

“Yes..” Eddie nods wiping his tears. But when you bursted out in tears he couldn’t hold his own anymore.

“uh… congratulations guys” Jeff says still confused and looks at the baby.

“Thanks” Eddie sobs out and looks at him.

“let’s give them a minute alone boys.” Gareth, Jeff and his mom get up leaving the room in silence.

“He’s gorgeous” Eddie kisses your head and rubs your back. You sit up and get comfortable.

“I know..” you sob.

“I can’t wait to see his eyes” Eddie smiles while crying. You don’t know why but the little boy stopped crying, he probably fell asleep.

“He’s lazy” you chuckle a little with the tears in your eyes.

“He’s got that from you” Eddie chuckles too.

“he’s got your dads dark curls” you smile.

“you don’t like that.?”

“I like it, you have them too” you look up at Eddie, he wipes your tears away and kisses your nose.

“I was so fucking scared” Eddie starts crying again.

“me too” you nod. “But we survived it, because of Jeff’s mom, if she wasn’t home I wouldn’t have survived I guess, with you dumb guys skipping school and biology” you roll your eyes.

“Gareth doesn’t skip biology tho” Eddie smiles.

“I noticed, he was the only one who atleast knew about the scissors and he stayed calm” you both look at the door open.

“hire” Jeff’s mom gives some diapers.

“Thank you” you smile taking them. When she walks out you put the diapers on.

“Fuck. We need a name..”

“fuck.” You look at him with big eyes.

“That’s not a problem, what was the name you told me last week?”

“Elias.?”

“yes, that one, I like that one” Eddie smiles looking at the little baby. You look at Eddie noticing he was looking at your son.

“you wanna hold him again?”

“please” he nods and You give Eddie the newborn carefully.

“fuck, he’s really a combination between my dad and you… I wish he looked more like you”

“he’s perfect Eds” you lay your head on his shoulder.

“he has my dads curls”

“makes him look like you too” you whisper, the vibe was still very emotional and special.

—40 minutes later—

“your kid is very healthy luckily” the doctor smiles.

“Thank you miss” you sigh with relief. When the doctor came she helped you with pushing some other shit out. Also she gave you some help with feeding and you learned if he don’t burb after he’ll throw up. Now Elias is sleeping in his ‘dads’ arms.

“Please let us know if you think something is wrong” you nod and with that Jeff’s mom walks her back to the front door. You were exhausted right now.

“I wanna sleep” you sob. You’re laying in the room of Jeff’s mom, it’s 5 pm and she told you she wasn’t sleepy anymore.

“that’s fine, is it okay if i take Elias with me to the boys.?” Eddie sits next to you.

“yes but do not be too loud, let him sleep”

“I will baby, if he wakes up I’ll just come over and gelty wake you up to feed him” he kisses your forehead.

“thank you for everything today Eddie” you give him a kiss on his cheek.

“yeah ofcourse babe, i love you” Eddir waves and walks out.

Eddie walks into Jeff’s room with the boys waiting impatiently.

“okay you’ve gotta be really silent and careful guys but… meet Elias.” Eddie sits down on one of the mattresses. The rest sit around them.

“What color eyes does he have?” Gareth looks at Elias.

“we don’t know yet” Eddie looks at him too.

“His hands a feed are adorable Eddie” Grand holds one of his little hand, he didn’t expect the baby to grab his finger.

“Yeah now he gots you” Eddie chuckles.

“his strong, Jesus” Grand smiles.

“how is y/n doing” Jeff asks.

“she’s fine, just really tired.”

“and they are both healthy?” Gareth smiles.

“mhm” Eddie nods.

“Should I get the box from downstairs and should we dress him? I mean its February, not that warm”

“Yeah that’s a good idea Grant” Eddie looks at him getting up.

“alright I’ll get it” He walks out and the rest are still watching the little one.

“Hes also pretty much identical to you Eddie” Jeff smiles.

“y/n kinda said that too” Eddie chuckles softly. “You wanna hold him?”

“can I?” Jeff looks with big eyes.

“sure be just really careful” Jeff nods and Eddie hands him the baby carefully.

“he’s so tiny actually”

“yeah he is born 16 days early” Eddie shrugged his shoulders.

“How did that happen?”

“probably just happened, they don’t know” Eddie looks at the baby.

—3 hours later—

“baby, your son is hungry” Eddie shakes you gently. You wake up and rub your eyes. Eddie holds your crying son in his arms.

“Oh” you sit up and take the straps of your top down, you already ha don bra on so it was easy.

“also, his eyes opened” Eddie gently hand him to you.

“grey” you smile. Elias immediately starts drinking and looks at you with his teary eyes.

“I changed his diaper already by the way”

“you’re my hero, thank you Eddie” you kiss his cheek.

“I didn’t call Wayne cause he will rush over to hire, let’s just surprise him when he comes home” Eddie plays with your hair.

“okay” you nod. “You gave him clothes?” You smile looking at the onesie and little socks.

“he had a pyjama on” Eddie smiles.

“I see, suits him”

“he’s adorable, the boys love him”

“how could they not” you take his little tiny hand. “Go sleep Eds”

“you sure? What about Elias?”

“I’ll keep him with me” you look at him.

“Really?”

“really Eddie.” You kiss his nose “go sleep”

“thanks sweetheart” he gets up and walks out waving. You wave a little back as much as possible. When Eddie is gone you make some place next to you. You take away the blanket and pillow on the other side so Elias could lay there safely.

“you slept by daddy huh?” You talk to him silently.

“you’re a gorgeous little man” you stroke his hair. He has your grey eyes, Alan his hair and probably lips cause he has the same as Eddie. He was just adorable. You should call Mary tomorrow, and also your coworkers. Maybe you can invite them if Wayne and Eddie are okay with that.

After a little while Elias finished drinking, you let him burb and when he did you lay him next to you. He was already sleeping so that was pretty simple.

“hey” Jeff’s mom walks in.

“hi” you smile.

“tired?” She chuckled.

“is that so obvious?” You joke.

“just a little” she smiles. “I just wanna say I’m going to work, I’ll see you around and don’t forget to take your rest”

“I won’t forget, good luck at your work” you smile back.

“bye bye”

“bye!” You wave while she walks out. You lay back down and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too.

Sorry this part is short and I made it quickly. Thanks for you patience 🙏

tagg list:

@bethexo07 @kellyxo1 @daisyridleyss @ilovetaquitosmmmm

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #mom!reader

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legodamianwayne · 8 months

Text

BATMAN AND ROBIN 2023 #1 (Take 6 (yes))

(im not writing this as i go since ive already read the issue before. ill also be mentioning gotham war since this takes place during it (just a warning for spoilers!))

i just noticed the bat and robin on the cover! so cute

OH........(just noticed this too) that doesn't look good

look at them goofing off n having fun

this is cute but the way bruce acts here and in gotham war is so jarring its kinda funny

bruce in batman #137: can't stand my fake ass family

bruce in b&r: me and my son damian 🤗

bruce is in his "local dilf in the area" era rn

damian having talia's mannerism that bruce noticed is so <3

and here its confirmed that this takes place during gotham war. not sure how to feel about that

STILL INSANE OVER THIS baby first self insert fanfic

damian went from drawing hyper realistic gore vent art to anime eyes in the corner

i think it'd be fun if we see damian write more as the story goes on. like him daydreaming n doodling in class

wonder if theres any meaning with damian putting talia as a hero n bruce as a criminal here...or maybe its just a "totally original character do not steal" thing

you dont say bruce 🙄

"the last few years"?? pretty sure the events shown there all happened not even in 2 years since damian turned 14 around the start of the lazarus tournament

also why are alfred n talia not shown there? alfred's death has huge impact on damian (he literally hallucinated him) n talia was there as much as ra's

i dont like how damian looks here but that white connor should be a crime

"thats enough emotions for tonight father" [slams door]

i wonder why damian is staying with bruce tho (outside of making this book exist) didn't bruce n talia had a custody battle moment™ n damian's like "nah i have my own life (is literally 14)"

HELL YEAH MY BOY CAN COOK

he's quoting alfred ohhh im gonna sob

this is kinda embarrassing for bruce...like ur son is finally living with you again n he's the one up early cooking?? sir u better step up

aw he's making tea the way alfred did

*squints* did bruce get his hand back? thats a pretty normal looking hand to me

did damian's comment on it in batman #137 made bruce think "shit i cant give damian any ideas of getting a robot hand" n he just. magically grow it back

[GLASS SHATTERING SOUND]

gotham...heights? n. not gotham academy? no maps? no damian joining her dnd team?? no detective club finally hanging out with damian??

ik damian got expelled from gotham academy BUT. WHY

okay? whats the point if he's not going to the same school that his friend went to?

interesting how damian fantasize for a normal life in robin 2021 (with him liking the mundanity of shoujo manga) n now that bruce is offering him that he's rejecting it (or maybe he just rly don't like school which is. fair enough)

wellll just cuz we're not getting maps n the detective club doesn't mean damian's other friends arent showing up right? RIGHT? (maya plz come home)

THE ROBIN MOBILEEE it looks so ridiculous i love it

HOLD ON. DOES THIS CAR HAVE NO SEAT BELTS?? BRUCE UR LETTING THIS SLIDE?

ik that thing is rly loud too damian waking up the whole neighborhood here

not rumors abt the batfam fighting getting spread around?? this is so embarrassing omg

am i the only one getting gotham academy flashbacks here? with killer croc n the trio with the fox shark n bird masks

they're very comfortable with calling eachother father n son while in suits huh. ig everyone in gotham knows that batman is a dilf (who's beefing with his adult children) now

not much to say abt the rest: bruce got shot with something n now bats are attacking him

end thoughts: i hope with all the focus on animals here means that we're getting damian's pets back soon n that gotham war wont affect this book much since i rly want to see damian interact with his siblings again. also is it just me or does the day scenes looks very bright? saturated? it kinda hurts for me to read idk. the night scenes r pretty tho

next issue is damian's first day on his new school that is not gotham academy but im still excited for it! (coping)

bonus bestie corner

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman and robin 2023 #FINALLY tumblr keeps posting it while im editing it but its done yippee #this is inspired by makeste bnh/a liveblogs! i remember how much fun it was reading them that i wanna try it with b&r #tho i dont think i could ever write as much for a single issue...#still figuring out how i want to do this

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pixie-dust-and-pain · 2 years

Text

Nothing Proves I'm Dead, Nothing Proves I'm Alive

Words: 1148

Summary: Robin and Finn just have a little well-deserved quality time together (after literally being traumatized also Robin lives shush)

A/N: bro why does tumblr rarely work in my region :(

They're not supposed to mature this fast. That's what the therapist has told them both, their cases alien to all professionals. Their hurt manifests itself in different ways, in Robin, it's the increased anger at the smallest of issues, despising anybody and everybody except Finny. And for Finn? He's an outcast. Children talking about stupid things don't interest him any longer, he's too old for all that, been through far too much to be afraid of the math teacher or giggle over graffitied penises on walls. Okay, he sometimes giggles at the penises (although he's usually the perpetrator, the reason for said drawings), but he's been through hell and back and has stopped caring about things.

Nobody tries hurting Finn anymore, and even if they did, he's far too apathetic to spare them, but Robin still wanders around him, an odd protectiveness making him glare at everyone who even thinks about him with ill intent.

They thought their trauma would change them, make them feel different, resent the other, perhaps, or maybe even be unable to talk, but that's one thing that hasn't happened. It's one thing they have to be grateful for. If anything, it's made them even more compatible. They fit well together. They are old souls, as the teachers call them, always together, seen next to each other in the hallways, after school, understanding each other best, helping the other far more than any therapist ever has. They're no longer children, no longer innocent, tired of the world and plagued by nightmares, according to the psychologists.

They feel like children now, though. Slipping in wet grass, their laughter echoing in the empty grass plains as they race the other to the truck they aren't legally allowed to drive, but even their incompetent police force lets them get away with certain things. It's Robin's truck, anyway. Perhaps they'll never be children, but at least they're happy.

Sliding on a particularly wet spot, Finn hurtles forward, knees bruising and elbows skinning slightly at the impact. Robin hunches down next to him, offering him a hand, and Finn grabs it, dragging the other boy down as well.

Very eloquent words are exchanged as Robin gets up, dusting himself and kicking Finn, who's still on the ground, lightly. He'd never hurt his Finn, not on purpose, not if he could help it. They practically collapse as they make their way towards the truck, sagging against the car seat, rain beating on the windows as they revel in the warmth, the leathery smell familiar and comforting.

They are young and stupid, and they're allowed to make bad decisions and rebel, and they're allowed to be disappointments at times, and fuck up, which is what Finn tells himself as he reaches for the lighter, cigarette pack already in the other boy's hand.

"Your father would kill you if he knew," Robin is the only other person who knows about their dad. Sure, his outbursts have reduced, but haven't disappeared fully.

"If he knew," Finn shoots back, twirling the lighter absentmindedly. "He won't, I won't let him," There's only one cigarette left anyway; it won't last that long.

There's still fear, but Finn's had enough panic attacks, screamed out enough gruesome details about the Grabber to scare his father, and hold his hand back. He has power, now, people fear him. He sees it in the old man, too, sometimes, when he raises his hand, and Finn stares back, fingers flexing and glare menacing. The hands of a murderer, he called them once, when Finn had grabbed the belt, finally able to help his sister.

He doesn't mind. If the hands of a murderer are what hold the bastard back, then so be it.

Robin plays with the cigarette first, a whole-ass acrobatics show between his fingers, before lighting the thing, and breathing in deeply.

Lung cancer be damned, it's not like he wants to live that long, anyway. Plus, it's calming.

Finn's impatient, half his fear washed down the drain, along with the rain and the pain. He reaches over and plucks the thing from Robin's mouth, inhaling the nicotine and leaning back against the seat, ignoring the look Robin shoots him. The cigarette dangles from the side of his mouth, and Robin's playing some song he's never heard before on the radio, quietly, and they feel young and free. It's moments like this, stolen between school and home, moments of solidarity, that allow them to feel truly like themselves.

Sometimes he goes days without talking, tired of himself and all around him, huddled up at home, alone and left to his own devices. Nobody tries coaxing him out, then, not even Gwen. Robin understands he needs his own time, he needs it, too. They get each other, a thought that offers him great solace. On those days he feels barely alive, unreal, connected to the world by strings of spun sugar, a tug and he'd dissolve. He needs reassurance of his existence, pain, sometimes pleasure, but most of the time, nicotine. The smoke is warm, soothing, real, the fire hot and fierce, sometimes helping him wake up from his dull, drowsy existence, sharpening him.

Robin has the same effect on him. He can feel himself slipping, feeling like a ghost again, unsure whether he's actually there or whether he, too, is one of the boys on the phone, whether Robin was the only one who made it out alive, when the other boy acts. A gentle hand on his thigh, the press of his palm against his cheek, a yank on his arm, anything to bring him back, remind him that this is real, that they are real, and that he is very connected to the Earth beneath his feet, no matter how he feels (sometimes he feels as though he could just float away).

"Why do you smoke?" Finn asks, out of the blue, when the cigarette is snatched from him.

"Same reason as you, calms me, keeps it at bay-" they all know what it is, "-and just helps in general,"

"I feel the same,"

"'Bout the smoke?" the other boy leans back, legs propped up on the steering wheel.

"About you,"

Robin nearly falls off his seat. "Smooth, are we?" he chuckles, although he can feel the back of his neck and his face turn hot, "You're fucking addictive, you know? I'd give up this-" he waves the cigarette around, as though highlighting his point, "-for you,"

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I need one of them down my throat, or at least in my mouth,"

They both laugh at that, before stubbing out the cigarette and driving away from the wet grassland, their spot, and getting home. Finn's father asks him where he's been, he says he had a heart-to-heart with Robin. Robin's parents don't bother asking. They meet at the same spot the next day.

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