#no one puts up with her bullshit these days and how sad is that? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pierregazly · 7 months

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1+ 2 = ...4? ꨄ pierre gasly smau

pierre gasly x wife!russell!reader

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of twins, george having a meltdown

in which pierre put his tripod to use and caused two major outcomes, george has a meltdown, and all the fans just want to know what's going on?

ynrussell

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tagged pierregasly

ynrussell joyeux anniversaire mon amour. three years ago today i married the love of my life and became the official mrs. gasly, so excited to give you your present tonight 🫶🏻

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username omg babes post the present!!! let us all be jealous

username happy anniversary mom and dad

charles_leclerc 🥳💗

username feel like it was just yesterday that i was jealous out of my mind about their wedding... still jealous tho

pierregasly joyeux anniversaire ma chère, i am the luckiest man in the world

pierregasly can't wait to give your your own present tonight

pierregasly it rhymes with tierod

username TRIPOD PIERRE

username im SCREAMING send this man right to PRISON

georgerussell63 god every time i see anything to do with you two i have to bleach my bloody eyes. happy anniversary you two, im disgusted.

username poor george, him and carmen are so tame compared to these two... i love the polar opposite sibling trope

ynrussell has posted a story

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pierregasly i hope the pizza was good ma chérie, and hope it satisfied the little bean's cravings

ynrussell it was delicious... but we kind of want chocolate now too :(

pierregasly ill check ubereats and see what i can do

ynrussell mine and the bean's saviour 🫶🏻

pierregasly

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tagged alpinef1team

pierregasly unfortunately not the finish we would have liked, the 15 second penalty cost us significantly and i apologize to my team and all our fans for it. will come back bigger and better next time 💪 now time to go and spend some well deserved time off with my family

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username thank you for pushing through and giving us an awesome race to watch pierre!

username loved your helmet this weekend pierre!

username sad that mother ynrussell wasn't here this weekend, but happy to see her in the likes

username 'well deserved time off with my family' do we think that's alluding to something else????

username girl he's obviously talking about his wife and his family??? like what

username ummm sorry he almost always says 'my loved ones' gotta push the pregnancy rumour agenda some more

ynrussell we're all so proud of you pear 🫶🏻 the track limits and penalties are bullshit and i'll be sending a strongly worded letter to whoever costs you anything good

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pierregasly 😂😭🤍

username who is 'we're all' who is the plural that she's referring to omg

username i'm telling y'all... mother is becoming a real mother idc what any of y'all say

pierregasly has posted a story

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ynrussell omf make sure you get extra cheesecake... and extra elcairs, and a few brownies... maybe get a few of everything??? the bean's want them!!!!

pierregasly well if the bean's want them....

username this SCREAMS my wife is pregnant and sent me on a late night snack run omf

username tell us your secret!!!!

ynrussell

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tagged pierregasly

ynrussell sorry just have to appreciate how incredibly sexy it is seeing my super sexy amazing husband with kids!!! like how lucky am i!!! can't wait til' you're holding our future babies (my ovaries are exploding, i am crying, it's going to be a long day)

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username girl this seems a little feral idk

georgerussell63 this is certifiably disgusting. please grow up.

username you know who would post something like this??? a wife expecting a baby who is getting more excited about that baby seeing her husband with kids

username seems legit idk

pierregasly is this your nice way of asking me to pickup more eclairs on the way home?

ynrussell cinnamon buns too?? please?? je t'aime

pierregasly can't wait to hold our future bean's too ma chérie

username pierre as a dad is going to be so sexy, ynrussell is so right??? those babies are going to be beautiful omf

ynrussell and pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt, georgerussell63, and 566,493 others

pierregasly october 2024 / gasly thing 1 and gasly thing 2 🐣🚼

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ynrussell omg i'm pregnant???? SURPRISE

ynrussell maman is begging for them to come sooner, her poor back.

username AH I KNEW IT. I CALLED IT. MY HEART.

username THING 1 AND THING 2 AHHHHH

username pierre is gonna be a girl dad AND a boy dad?????? we're so blessed

georgerussell63 excuse me????

georgerussell63 you knocked my sister up????

georgerussell63 i told you to stay away from her??? this is outrageous i am disgusted

pierregasly sorry, tripod's work well.

ynrussell pierre delete this comment rn, i swear to god.

georgerussell63 (i am so excited to meet my baby niece and baby nephew. uncle georgie loves you both so much)

lewishamilton congratulations! roscoe is so excited 🤍

charles_leclerc uncle cha reporting for duty 🫡 congratulations, you two.

georgerussell63 i'd like to emphasize i'm still having a meltdown from when you casually gave me a bottle of gin to announce this. gasly genes should not be casually mixed like this.

username i dont think anyone understands the joy im feeling??? im honoured to be alive to see this

username they're gonna be such amazing parents im literally ????? so excited??????

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ynrussell thank you for the beautiful baby shower, auntie carmen already has spot number 1 🫶🏻

username omg omg omg omg

username this is SO CUTE

ynrussell has posted a story

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username girl u look like ur about to pop (lovingly)

pierregasly my beautiful wife

ynrussell i don't feel very beautiful right now. i feel huge and tired and exhausted.

pierregasly still the most beautiful woman in the world

ynrussell

liked by pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux, georgerussell63, and 56,439 others

ynrussell things are getting very, very real (not real enough for my back to not hurt, thing 1 and 2 you both are killing me)

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username this aesthetic is so CUTE (that room is fucking beautiful i want a house tour????)

username they're literally due in like less than 2 months???? pierre is gonna be a dad that soon???? praying for u ynrussell

charles_leclerc im personally demanding compensation for the bruises i have from putting the nursery together

ynrussell shut up cha, you literally offered and begged to be involved

pierregasly yeah shut up cha

alexandrasaintmleux can't wait to see my art piece up in the bébé's room 🫶🏻

ynrussell knew i could always count on you angel

username im so invested in this pregnancy none of you even understand

username starting a poll asap on the babies names omf

ynrussell and pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, roscoelovescoco, and 675,487 others

ynrussell 2024.10.16 / welcome to the world my precious théodore and éloïse. maman and papa love you so much.

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username omg congratulations!!! such beautiful names.

username they share a birthday with charles im crying

lewishamilton congratulations! so beautiful, you are a rockstar ynrussell

charles_leclerc truly the best birthday present i could've asked for. ellie and théo should be so proud of their maman.

pierregasly the happiest day of my life, given to me by the most important woman in my life. thank you for blessing me.

username again i am so invested in this. i am so happy for these two, they're going to be incredible parents.

alpinef1team welcome to the family baby éloïse and baby théodore!

mercedesamg welcome to the family x2

username oh girl the racing teams are gonna FIGHT over these two just you wait

and there she is! after weeks of gasly!twin asks, i finally decided it was time to bring them to life in the realest way i could. i hope you all loved this as much as i loved writing it. thank you to everyone for all the incredible inspiration, and for continuing my obsession.

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @princessria127 @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh @fangirl125reader @imagandom @motorsp0rt @jspitwall @glitterf1 @christianpulisic10 @carlandonorri-s @smoothopz @eugene-emt-roe @epitios @myloverjk-blog @glow-ish @goldenmclaren @mercunty @success78 @nicolereinara

if you're missing from the taglist, pls dont hesitate to send me a message!!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #f1 x reader #pierre gasly smau #f1 smau #f1 #f1 x you #pierre gasly x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smau #smau #my writing #f1 imagine #pierre gasly imagine

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 3 months

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Broken Hearts and Valentines Cards.

Steve sends you a card for Valentine's day, it's just as a friend... Eddie isn't so happy and his mouth runs away with him, which you overhear.

Eddie Munson x Reader, Jealous Eddie, Kinda mean Eddie at the end, sorry 😌 bit of an angsty fic instead of a fluffy Valentines.

❤️

Steve had overheard you speaking to Nancy and Robin about Valentines Day. It was a few days before the big day, and you were mentioning that you hadn't been sent a card before.

"It would be nice wouldn't it? Even to receive just one card, normally it never used to bother me but-'' You trail off, your chatty demeanour soon becoming shyer, hesistant to speak.

"But you wouldn't mind a card from a certain metalhead'' Nancy teases and you nod, then sigh.

"Never going to happen though" you reply, and Steve stays in the background so you don't realise he's heard. Robin catches his eye and must realise he's scheming after hearing your confession.

If you wanted a card then Steve was going to send you one. After all what could go wrong?

...

Valentine ''cupids'' were wandering the cafeteria handing out Valentines cards. The cupids in question were some reluctant and some eager students, they were holding indivual boxes labelled Valentines mail.

Eddie was ranting at the Hellfire table, he dreaded this day and all the bullshit consumerism that came with it.

"I can't stand this shit. It's just another day that corporates use to trick the gullible into buying manufactured shit" he snaps.

"Tell us how you really feel dude" Gareth jokes, then quietens at Eddie's sharp look, Eddie doesn't notice how quiet you've grown, the sad look on your face at his words.

Then something unexpected happens, one of the cupids comes up to the Hellfire table and drops a card right in front of you.

There's a stunned silence, you pick up the card and hold it gently. You've never had a card before... Who sent it?

You open it and smile at the cute picture of a kitten and puppy snuggled up together. Hearts surround them, it's really adorable.

The card is signed from an Admirer, heat floods through your body and you beam. Even if it's from a friend, it's still very sweet and you hold it reverently.

"Who sent it?" Jeff asks curious, he peers over your shoulder. ''Ooh an admirer" he teases.

Eddie frowns "Why not just sign who it's from then?" his big brown eyes narrow at the card. You tuck the card into your bag and shake your head.

"It's romantic, or just being sweet. People can be sweet and not have a motive Eddie" you point out to him.

Robin passes you and grins in delight.

"I'm glad you got it! Steve will be pleased, he was like an anxious mother hen this morning" you blink surprised, oh.

"Harrington sent it" Eddie yelps and Robin nods to you, beaming.

"Mmm, overhead you saying about Valentines Day, got it in his head to send you a card" she explains.

"That is so sweet" you beam, remembering to thank Steve next time you see him. Meanwhile, Eddie was still quiet, which with him was never a good thing...

❤️

Family Video was one of Eddie's favourite places, he loved finding new horror movies that he hadn't seen yet, along with D&d and playing the guitar, it was one of his favourite things to do to pass time.

Steve was working today with Robin and Eddie discreetly watched him. Dustin sung Steve's praises and Eddie had gotten to know Steve, knew he was a good guy-better than Eddie ever thought. Rich, goodlooking and the chick's loved him but he was a genuine nice guy.

So Eddie couldn't explain why he was so angsty at the thought of Steve sending you that card. Did he like you as more than a friend and wanted to ask you out or something?

"Hey Steve, what's the deal with you sending that card?" he blurts out. Steve raises an eyebrow, folds his arms across his chest and frowns.

"I don't see the problem? I was being a good friend" Steve shrugs and Eddie follows him around as he puts away the videos.

"Do you like her? Is this what it's about?" he demands. Robin, who's listening to the whole conversation is quiet. Until Eddie keeps going on about it and she finally snaps.

Robin rolls her eyes. "Eddie, I'm going to be completely blunt, because you're annoying me right now with how much of a dingus you're being. You're jealous. Sooner you admit it to yourself, the better you'll feel"

Jealous, there was no way he was jealous Eddie scoffs. Robin didn't know what she was talking about.

"Jealous of what? I don't see yn like that at all, she's not my type. She's too into romance, fairytale shit. Nope, no fucking way" he doesn't notice Steve's wide eyes or Robin's furious look.

Confused he turns around, you're standing shock still, looking at Eddie with heartbreak in your eyes.

"Nice to know what you think of me Eddie" you murmur quietly and leave. Robin curses him out as she follows you, leaves Eddie with a horrid sinking feeling in his chest.

Fuck.

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x y/n

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delulujuls · 3 months

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it's just us | mv33

hi! i can't get enough of my dutch duo, so here comes the third part of the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess and if you didn't read the second part of it but you wanna catch up, here it is!

you can read each of this solo and you can read it all like series. it work well both ways!

so yeah, as usual, bon apetit and enjooooy x

summary: y/n is upset by some media nonsense she read online but max is here to remind her that at the end of the day its just them and the rest doesn't really matter

warnings: i tried with a smut but im not sure how it went, sexual content, +18, eating p, praising, comfort sex?

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

The kiss didn't change anything between Y/N and Max.

In the other hand, it changed everything, but it absolutely did not affect their relationship. There were no nervous questions, no timid behavior, no checking whether a quick kiss at the strategists' table was okay, or whether it was necessary to count down the seconds of the hug they exchanged with each other after the race so that it wouldn't last too long.

To be honest, their entry into a relationship was a kind of relief for the entire team. Christian Horner himself, the team father of the two flying Dutch, seeing them kissing after winning the podium, just shook his head and with a slight smile admitted "Finally, fucking hell".

Of course, the media did not leave a single dry spot on Red Bull drivers. The couple, of course, did not flaunt their feelings left and right, because it was absolutely not their style, but it was difficult to take a seat in the car without a quick kiss and wishing each other good luck. And we know how hungry reporter hyenas are.

"This is absurd"

The girl shook her head and threw the phone into the pillows. It was already late in the evening and the couple was getting ready for bed, as they had a long media day ahead of them tomorrow.

"I told you not to read this nonsense."

Max replied, emerging from the bathroom in shorts and drying his wet hair with a towel.

Y/N didn't answer. She kept her eyes glued to the sheets and felt her stomach begin to ache from nerves. Max knew perfectly well that the lack of an answer meant only one thing. The overthinking machine already started.

He put the towel aside and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her temple.

"Look at you, a fearless Dutchess worrying about some stupid texts. That's not in your style at all"

He spoke jokingly, trying to cheer her up a bit. However, she was really touched.

"It's just making me sick when someone is saying made up bullshit"

She replied bitterly, feeling tears forming under her eyelids. She could deny with her arms and legs that these were tears of anger, but in the reality she was simply hurted. And Max knew this perfectly well.

"You know very well that this bunch of idiots will write anything for views. At the end of the day, only you and I know the truth. It's just us, remember?"

He said calmly and stroked her shoulder. Y/N sniffed. Max was absolutely right. It's just them and that was all that mattered. Even though she received numerous criticisms in the media over the years, newspapers and Internet portals often trashed her, all this did not make any impression on her. Unfortunately, it was different in this case, because it was no longer just about her. It was about them, about her and Max.

She raised her head and met a pair of blue, gentle eyes. The ocean was calm, july was dominating the cloudless sky. She herself slowly began to feel calm, accepting that it was just meaningless nonsense.

"I love you, but you already know that, right?"

She asked, smiling slightly.

He nodded and returned her smile, kissing her forehead.

"The only thing that matters is that we have each other and we love each other. And as a certain genius said, fuck 'em all."

"Fuck 'em all"

The girl repeated and smiled wider, causing the last tears of sadness and anger to leave the corners of her eyes. Max wiped her cheeks and lifted her chin, kissing her.

Y/N kissed him back, touching his rough cheek. He easily pulled her onto his lap and she sat on his soft thighs, laughing quietly. She knew exactly where this was going.

"We have a lot of work tomorrow, Max."

"We will boycott media day tomorrow. 'Red Bull drivers protest against idiotic headlines' sounds better, doesn't it?" he asked, being so serious that the girl burst out laughing, "Or better yet, 'Red Bull shock!' Couple had sex until dawn to boycott the media', yes!"

"With the link 'see photos', definitely," she added, laughing.

Max took her face in his hands.

"I much prefer it when you smile, you know?"

Y/N nodded and leaned in, kissing him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she tangled her fingers in his still damp hair. Their kisses were slow and tender, filled to the brim with love. Years of arguments, making up and standing up for yourself only to argue and slam doors again led to a place where there was an incredible amount of love to give and receive from both sides.

Max slipped his hands under her shirt, squeezing lightly her soft flesh. The girl sighed quietly into his mouth and he smiled at her reaction. If he thought that after so many years, he would fall in love overnight with the girl he always had by his side, he would laugh at himself.

He took off her shirt, so there was no longer any blockage between their heated bodies. Skin pressed against skin, lips pressed against lips. These moments were incredibly soothing for both of them. One might think that after so much time spent together, both in good and bad relationships, one cannot count on any elation. What wrong thinking this is.

Max grunted softly as he grabbed and pressed her closer to him. His soft purr, which lightly touched the girl's ear, gave her goosebumps. He moved from his mouth to her neck, leaving wet, slightly pink traces on her skin. Y/N involuntarily closed her eyes, feeling both the softness of his lips and his rough, scratchy stubble.

"I love the way you smell"

He said quietly, almost in a whisper. She smiled to herself and gently grabbed his hair, tilting his head back, making him break away from her neck and they were able to look into each other's eyes again.

"I taste even better though"

She lunged seductively and crashed into his mouth again. Max easily grabbed her thighs and lifted her, throwing her onto the bed.

"You always have to do this, right?"

He asked, his breathing a little quicker. His aura instantly darkened, and his eyes seemed bottomless. Y/N frowned a bit, not knowing what he meant. But seeing him like this, she only wanted one thing. Him.

"You always have to throw something away, set me straight. Always."

She raised herself on her elbows, looking at him with a slight smile and thus posing a challenge to him.

"You could try to humble me"

As soon as she finished speaking, he pressed her body against the mattress and kissed her deeply. The girl wrapped her legs around his hips and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted to be closer, as close as possible.

Their kisses were still full of love, but now the tenderness gave way to passion. When Max moved to the girl's neck, she felt her lips burning and swollen. It didn't help when she bit down on them, feeling Max suck on her nipple. Blue eyes carefully followed the girl's rosy face, wanting to make sure she was giving her nothing more than pleasure.

When his teeth hit the soft skin, a long groan filled the bedroom. Max smiled, licking her breast while massaging the other one with his hand. He much preferred to hear her moans rather than Dutch insults. After a few moments, he moved lower again, kissing his way across her stomach. He tightened his large hands on her sides and buried his face in her stomach. She smiled at his gesture, running her fingers through his hair.

"You're soft, so soft. Fuck, so soft."

Max murmured, his face still pressed against her stomach. Y/N couldn't help but laugh quietly. This whole situation, the very fact that they were now apparently a couple, was unthinkable to her. And the fact that they were both adults and now they were acting like a couple of teenagers.

"Simply, simply lovely"

He shook his head and placed a few more kisses on her skin until he reached the waistband of her panties. He looked up at her face again, wanting to make sure she had her consent, but she, still smiling slightly, just nodded in answer.

Max undressed her completely in one move and spread her legs, hugging her thighs. As soon as his tongue passed over her clit, she closed her eyes and licked her lips. This wasn't the first time they had had sex, but Y/N had already become familiar with certain behaviors Max displayed in bed, and one of them was the desire to please his partner. Max loved to take, but God, he loved to give even more.

As his tongue moved over her clit in smooth, circular motions, his eyes studied her body carefully. Her hard, pink nipples, uneven moving chest, her dry, parted lips, rosy face, her tightly shut eyelids. Max smiled slightly, proud of himself of turning her into such mess. Y/N involuntarily opened her eyes and looked down her body, causing their eyes to meet.

"Do you like it, schat?"

He asked, pausing his movements. He blew lightly on her pink, swollen clit, making her shiver.

"Mhm, please -just, just don't stop"

"As you wish, love"

He replied, going back to work. Her hand involuntarily tightened on his hair and it didn't take much for her back to arch and an orgasm to fill her body. A loud, long moan broke the density that had reigned in the hotel bedroom. Her head felt heavy and dizzy, and it was hard for her to breathe. Max pulled himself up and kissed her, moistening her dry lips with her own juices, which made him all wet. Y/N smiled and hugged his neck, giving him wet, sloppy kisses. He was resting one hand next to her head, and with the other he was trying to free himself from his suddenly too tight and slightly soaked shorts. When he succeeded, he slowly inserted himself into her hot, tight and incredibly wet interior. She broke the kiss, parting her lips at the sudden sensation, digging her nails into his bare, muscular back.

"Fuck, Max, oh my god-"

"Yeah, i know baby" he muttered, stopping his movements "I'll be gentle, take your time"

Max kissed her, wanting to help her relax. She returned each of his kisses, which were now delicate and tender. Max was incredibly gentle and had countless layers of love inside him. His tender touch, sweet nothings whispered straight into the ear, the certainty that his partner is happy and feels incredible pleasure. Max seemed to her as an incredibly selfish asshole at times, but in this case it had absolutely no effect. The only thing he cared about at that moment was pleasing her and distracting her from negative thoughts. After some time, he began to move slowly inside her, feeling that she is not so tense anymore and soon any discomfort disappeared and was replaced by incredible pleasure. Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply.

"I'm all yours now" she said, smiling slightly into his mouth.

"You are and always been mine"

He replied and kissed her back. His movements went from slow and calm to faster and more decisive, increasing in intensity with each passing minute. Single moans that had been thrown into the thick air filling the bedroom some time ago now cut through them like bullets. Max felt the sweat that had formed on his back sting the scratches left by the girl's nails. He sat back on his heels and wrapped his arms around her thighs, now fucking her to the point where they skin were clapping on each other. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs, his still damp hair falling into his eyes. His lips were bitten and every now and then a low moan escaped his throat. His arm and abdominal muscles flexed and relaxed steadily, and numerous love marks adorned his fair skin.

"You look so good, and feel -fuck, feel so good, too"

Y/N moaned, clenching her hands on the sheets, feeling how he perfectly hit her inner, sensitive spot with each movement.

"And you are doing so good by taking me so well, baby"

The truth was that she was a total mess underneath him. She wasn't even fully aware of her words or of her actions, all of this was feeling so good, he was feeling so good.

It didn't take much for either of them to reach their orgasm, which came over them almost simultaneously. A moment later they were lying next to each other, Y/N resting her cheek on his chest and her hand lying limply on his stomach. He was hugging her, tracing lines on her arm.

"I hope you won't worry anymore about any stupid things said by other people"

Max said and kissed her temple. She smiled and raised her head, kissing him on the cheek.

"At the end of the day it's just us, right?"

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #mv33 #mv1

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breadbrobin · 3 months

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skipping stones

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

summary: it’s been a rough day for you, and clarisse doesn’t know how to help, as much as she wants to try

warnings: none really, just fluff and a little sad slander oops, oh and maybe slightly ooc clarisse as always

word count: 783

(hiiii it’s been a minute. i wrote this after skipping stones at a river for like an hour while my friend sat around next to me and i wanted someone to support me in my skipping endeavours so here we are)

————————————————

clarisse could always find you skipping stones.

you weren’t good at it. hell, you were even bad at it. but that never stopped you.

you’d told her once that it kept you closer to your family, since you hadn’t been able to get back to them since coming to camp two years ago, and you missed them more than words could describe.

she wasn’t even sure how it happened; how you became her best friend at camp, and she became yours, despite your differences.

where she was hard, you were soft. where she was cruel, you were kind. and where she was cold, you were as warm as any fire she’d ever known. warmer, even.

she didn’t even know when those feelings had shifted—from indifference to care, from friendship to love—but it didn’t really matter. what did matter was she could always find you skipping stones. and that’s exactly where you were.

she sat next to you on the shore, staring out at the long island sound ahead of her. you were looking down at the rocks, no doubt searching for your next ones to skip. your knees were bent and pulled to your chest with your arm under your thighs to lean forward. she couldn’t help but smile. if anyone saw she’d be made fun of, but with you, she didn’t care too much. she picked up a flat stone by her foot and nudged you.

you looked up at her with a smile, taking the stone and preparing to skip it. “thanks.” this one skipped maybe three times. she wasn’t really paying attention. her eyes were on your face, mapping your features, the light freckles, the crease between your eyebrows as you searched for another stone. she was watching your hands as you weighed two up before choosing one. she was staring at your lips, seeing them pout, press together, curl into a slight smile as the stone skipped.

“what’s wrong?” she asked.

“do you wanna try?” you extended a flat stone to her, about half the size of her palm. she was tempted to take it and put it in her pocket.

but she shook her head. “i’ve never had enough patience to learn to skip stones. you know that.”

“i do,” you nodded, your lips pressed together again. gods, what she wouldn’t give for those lips to be pressed against hers. “worth a shot.”

you skipped it, pouting as it crashed through a small wave and disappeared into the sea.

“what’s wrong?” clarisse asked again. “you can’t avoid the question forever, n/n.”

“yes, i can,” you said, skipping another rock.

“no. i won’t let you. what is it? did someone mess with you? i’ll kill them—“

you cut her off by laughing. “no, clarisse! no one messed with me, and please don’t commit any crimes in my name.”

“yours is the only name i’d ever commit crimes in,” she said firmly. you believed her. “now, tell me what’s wrong.”

you sighed and looked out at the grey horizon. it wasn’t a beautiful day, but it was warm for early spring and it hadn’t rained yet. “my dad called camp. he wants me to come home.”

“i thought your dad didn’t know where you were.”

“so did i.”

it was silent.

“so, what? he sent you away? that’s bullshit!”

“yeah,” you didn’t drag your eyes from the horizon. your knuckles were tight around a stone in your grip. “it is.”

her red-hot anger died in her throat as she saw your face and the blatant hurt on it. she wasn’t good at comforting people. she was actually really bad. it was easy to comfort clarisse: just let her yell about it and punch things until she feels better. but you… she’d seen you upset before, but never defeated. you looked defeated.

she was stumped.

“do you… do you need, like, a hug?” she offered awkwardly.

a snort escaped your lips. “a hug?”

“yeah! i mean… what do you need? how can i help you?” she asked, trying to save face.

you paused, turning your gaze to look at her face. “a hug would be nice, yeah.”

she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around you. she was worried it’d be awkward, that you’d both be tense and uncomfortable and it would be terrible, but you settled into her arms like you were made to be there. and god you were warm. it was like hugging someone who’d just gotten out of the drier.

“and if this doesn’t help we can throw rocks in the sea and yell about how angry we are,” she suggested after a moment. “that always helps me.”

she took your laughter as a good sign.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn

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thankskenpenders · 5 months

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Help me out here: Why is there so much Ian Flynn hate going around lately? I thought everyone loved that he was contributing to the games. Now suddenly they aren't. I guess that's par for the course for this series but I don't get it. He isn't perfect but I like what he's done. Am I a weirdo?

Ian Flynn has always had a lot of fans, but any creator putting their work out there is going to have detractors as well. That's just the nature of being an artist. To some extent, it's no big deal. He's not a perfect writer. Nobody is! I consider myself a fan of his work, but I've criticized plenty of individual writing decisions from him on here.

But Ian doesn't just have critics. He has his own obsessive hatedom. And the specific nature of Ian's hatedom is... interesting.

A decade ago, Ian was only the guy writing for Archie Sonic, meaning any debates over his work were quarantined within that tiny niche of the larger Sonic fandom. Only people who kept up with the comics month to month had any real reason to have an opinion on the guy, which means we're talking about merely thousands of fans as opposed to millions.

Within that group, he had some haters. You had the people who were mad about story changes made during his run, particularly things like ancillary characters getting killed off (although over the years we've learned that most of those were editorial mandates from Mike Pellerito). You had the people mad that Ian didn't push their favorite ship, with feuding SonAmy and Sonally fans claiming that he was CLEARLY biased towards one or the other. You had the people who just really, really liked one of the previous writers way more - usually Penders, as hard as that may be to believe today. That sort of thing. Pretty normal comic fandom type stuff. Again, it comes with the territory.

Unfortunately, many of those haters only got worse over time, morphing into reactionaries who constantly try to incite Comicsgate type culture war bullshit.

There are people still mad at Ian for making Sally bi and pairing her with Nicole instead of Sonic in the later Archie comics. There have been elaborate MS Paint red string conspiracy boards explaining how people like Ian and Jon Gray have apparently been destroying the franchise from the inside for years by Making Sonic Woke. (Jon gets dragged into this because people are still mad about him drawing The Slap 20 years later. Yes, really!!) There was an unhinged change.org petition trying to get Ian fired, specifically from people who were mad that the Freedom Fighters aren't in the IDW comics. There was even a very sad little fan campaign from these people trying to get Sega to move the Sonic comic license away from IDW and over to Udon, because they thought Udon would bring Sally and Bunnie back and also make them sexy again. There's a lot of this.

(Unfortunately, Penders has also exacerbated this by gossiping about Ian on Twitter and giving these fans ammo, but that's a whole 'nother discussion.)

The thing is, for years, people who only played the games or watched the cartoons had no reason to pay attention to any of this. Now, though, Ian isn't just writing for some weird spinoff comics that only the super nerds read. Now he's writing comics that are canon to the games, and ALSO some of the games themselves, and ALSO consulting on other tie-in media like Sonic Prime, and ALSO writing the official Sonic encyclopedia, and ALSO serving as part of the new Sonic Lore Team at Sega. And on top of all this, he's got an increasingly popular podcast where he fields questions about his work on all of these things, which serves as one of the fandom's main windows into creative decisions being made behind the scenes.

As a fan of Ian's work, it's been really cool to see him rise in prominence. But the dark side of this is that his obsessive haters from the Archie days now have WAY more of a potential audience of their own. Now, every Sonic fan has to have an opinion on Ian. What this frequently means is that you'll have the Comicsgate types taking things Ian writes or says out of context, attempting to get more of the general fandom to yell at the guy.

Unfortunately, there are a wide variety of Sonic fans who take the bait:

You've got hardcore fans who disliked basically any recent piece of Sonic media and are looking for someone to blame.

You've got the people who are concerned about the sanctity of Sonic's canon, who shoot the messenger any time Ian mentions a new retcon from Sonic Team on the podcast - or any time he even mentions the THOUGHT of changing anything about the canon, as we saw recently with the Sol Dimension nonsense.

You've got people who romanticize some sort of mythical artistic vision that Sega of Japan supposedly has (or had) for the franchise. To many of these fans, American contributors like Ian just don't "get" the heart of the series and are trying to turn Sonic into something different. (This "heart of the series" tends to be some mix of Japanese instruction manual lore, the cinematics from Sonic CD, the OVA, and/or the games written by Shiro Maekawa, depending on what Sonic media the fan in question grew up with.)

You've got fans of specific characters or ships who pin the blame for how their faves are depicted entirely on Ian - most vocally fans of Shadow, even though the root problem is that Sonic Team hasn't known what to do with Shadow since 2006. At best this stops at regular old criticism, but at its worst this devolves into claims that Ian has an agenda against certain characters.

You've got fans annoyed by a perceived over-emphasis on comic-original characters in the IDW comics, ignoring the obvious facts that these characters exist because the game cast is so tightly controlled by Sega, and also, you know, that people just like the IDW characters and want more stories about them.

You've got a LOT of discourse over IDW's Sonic being a hero who tries to give his enemies second chances, as if half of Sonic's closest friends aren't already former villains and rivals. Honestly this is very transparently just reheated Steven Universe discourse lmao

You'll also see people who just think they could do Ian's job better. They can't believe that THIS GUY is the American fan working on all these Sonic projects, when clearly THEY understand the characters and lore and themes SO much better than this charlatan.

All it takes is for someone in one of these categories to be unhappy about some recent piece of Sonic media, and for them to come across an out of context quote or comic panel that rubs them the wrong way, and suddenly the leftist Zoomer Sonic fans will join the latest dogpile on Ian alongside the reactionary Comicsgate types who are mad at him for Making Sonic Woke.

In general, when fandoms get upset, they tend to want a scapegoat. A person or two to point a finger at and go "THAT's who ruined the thing I love!" This tends to be based less on reality and more on which contributors are the most visible online. You'll sometimes see teenage and adult fans of children's cartoons single out a storyboarder who's particularly vocal on Twitter, blame them for every story decision they don't like, and harass them off the platform out of a sense of retribution for their favorite ship or whatever. Failing that, fans might choose to blame every nitpick, down to individual lines of dialogue and frames of animation, on a showrunner, just because that's the name they associate with the show. And unfortunately, when it comes to Sonic, Ian is now arguably the most prolific and outspoken contributor on the English speaking internet, and therefore a common scapegoat.

Some of the things I've seen Ian blamed for are truly wild. A lot of people have claimed for YEARS that he's just lying about the existence of creative guidelines and restrictions from Sega - or, as fans call them, The Mandates - even though they're just an inherent aspect of working on a licensed property. Others claim that The Mandates are real, but somehow Ian's fault. A vocal minority of fans have convinced themselves that Ian is the sole reason the Freedom Fighters don't exist in the IDW comics, even though Ian says he's been pushing to bring them back since day one.

Sometimes you'll see people say he ruined shit he didn't even work on. A few weeks ago on Twitter I saw someone claim that Ian had written a rejected script for Sonic Forces in which Tails died. I could not find a source for this for the life of me. As far as I can tell, the rumor seems to have been born from an alleged leaked script for Forces with margin notes from Aaron Webber that criticized the way Tails was written, and also an old tweet where Aaron joked that Tails would die in an upcoming episode of Sonic Mania Adventures. These merged into "Aaron Webber criticized a draft of the Forces script in which Tails died." How'd Ian get dragged into this? Who fucking knows!

It's all just a big game of telephone. All it takes is some asshole to make something up about Ian on Twitter or YouTube or a DeviantArt journal or some forum, and at least a couple people will believe it, and then it gets repeated as fact. Again, this used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie Sonic fandom, but now there are WAY more people who are receptive to this shit.

It's just sad to me that Ian tries to be so open and honest about his work, to try to explain the rationale for certain things, to keep fans looped in on the direction the franchise is headed, and this just gives the Flynnspiracy types more quotes to take out of context and try to paint him as the devil. If it sounds like I'm being overly defensive and dismissing his critics, man... some of the things I've seen people say directly to him are just unbelievable. People will send paragraphs-long angry screeds in to his podcast that completely tear him apart, and he has to sit there and be like "Well, that's your opinion, and you're entitled to it." People literally pay for special guest interview episodes where they just rapid fire complaints about his writing at him directly to his face. I don't know how he does it. I would snap.

All of this over Sonic the fucking Hedgehog of all things.

I don't know how to wrap this up. Engaging with fandoms online is very tiring, which is why I tend not to do it. Things like this are too common. I guess, just... remember that making art collaboratively is a complicated thing. The people involved are generally trying their best given the circumstances, but they're only human. They make mistakes. But please treat them like humans. Criticism and dogpiling are not the same thing.

#anon #ask #tkp asks #tkp post

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wynnyfryd · 1 year

Text

hey, quick question but what if Eddie hadn’t just said “make him pay” at the end? what if he’d actually done it, screwed up his face and his single scrap of courage and kissed Steve hard, one desperate press of lips before he stepped back out of Steve’s space? Only…

Only Steve’s not gay. He’s not. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if Eddie is, but he isn’t. Steve likes girls, is kind of hung up on one girl in particular, actually, and she’s standing right behind him watching this go down, and oh, God is this awkward now.

He squares his shoulders, gives Eddie a nod that he hopes conveys something like “sorry” and “it’s okay” and “I’m not gonna punch you when this is over, man, I’m really not,” but Eddie’s eyes cut away and he clears his throat and then Nancy’s saying, “Steve? Steve, we need to go.”

So Steve goes.

Steve goes, trudges through the woods with Nancy radiating uncomfortable energy all down his side, and Steve’s got a pit in his stomach and a scorch mark on his mouth where Eddie’s lips left a fucking brand, the kiss repeating on a loop in his mind. He starts thinking about how he’s probably about to die, how he’s gonna die feeling all upside down in the Upside Down and it’s a really stupid joke but it gets him mulling over the fucked up weird life he has now versus the one he always kinda thought he wanted. He tells Nancy about it: the crawling backwards, the thump on the head, how she’s always his co-captain in his Winnebago dreams.

She looks at him with soft, sad eyes — God, her eyes are always so sad, have been ever since the day Barb disappeared — and she rests a delicate hand on his forearm and asks, “Do you think… do you think maybe it’s always me in your dream because I’m the only person your mind thinks it’s allowed to put there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Steve.” Her eyes aren’t so soft now. They’re shining with that hard glint they get when she’s lost patience with Steve’s bullshit. It’s a look Steve knows well, and his hand comes up to touch his lips.

“But I- I’m not…”

“Just go,” she says, her jaw set, all that unbreakable resolve on display. “Robin and I can handle this. Go.”

Robin turns back to look at him over her shoulder, gives him an encouraging nod, and Steve takes off running, sprinting through the trees, following the sound of screeching bats.

When he bursts through the treeline, panting and sweating and clutching at his torn-up sides, Eddie’s in the middle of a maelstrom, his makeshift shield held in a shaking grip as an army of bats encircle him.

“Eddie!” Steve shouts, lungs burning as he begs his feet to move faster, to run fucking run because one of the bats dives at Eddie’s head and another takes a bite out of his leather sleeve; a third one whips a tail around Eddie’s ankle and then Eddie’s going down, pulled to the cracked, filthy earth by gnashing teeth and bloodied claws, and they’re eating him, getting at all those squishy vital bits around his middle when Steve finally hacks his way through the horde to get to Eddie’s side. Armed with an ax and Eddie’s spear, Steve strikes and slashes blindly at the wall of shrieking monsters as they start circling tighter, caging them in, and he’s dead they’re both dead they’re so fucking screwed—

The bats drop. All at once and with no reason Steve can discern, their screams fall silent and their bodies squelch all around them as they slap the hard ground like dead fish on a dock.

Steve drops to his knees beside Eddie, and Jesus Christ, there’s- there’s so much blood oh God oh fuck.

“Bad, huh?” Eddie asks, and how is he still smirking when there’s blood spilling out of his mouth? When there’s a chunk missing out of his jaw?

“Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,” Steve mumbles frantically, not sure if he’s praying or panicking or both. He gets his shirt off, rips at the remaining scraps of Eddie’s, too; starts using them to make bandages. “Shit, Eddie, just- just hold on, okay? Stay with me.”

He wriggles a scrap of fabric under Eddie’s brutalized torso, and Eddie screams when Steve pulls it tight around his sides, ties it off and presses down, trying to slow the bleeding. There’s so much fucking blood. His knees slip in it as he ties a tourniquet just above Eddie’s elbow, hoping it’ll save Eddie’s mangled arm, and he bunches the last of the fabric up and presses it to the shredded edges of the wound on Eddie’s face.

Eddie smiles up at him with tears in his eyes, with blood on his lips. “Pretty- pretty grand gesture for a guy you don’t want to kiss.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, and he’s crying, too. “I don’t- I just…”

“Steve,” Eddie chokes, his breath whistling out with a sickening wheeze, and Steve doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to get him through the gate and back to safety without making him bleed out. “Steve, it’s… s’okay. M’sorry I kissed you, man.” His eyes are glazing over, and no, please, please, don’t—

Eddie looks up at him, brow furrowed, like it’s taking a lot of effort. His eyes are still so pretty, even now, as Steve hovers helplessly and watches the light slowly leave them. “Actually, I- I guess m’not,” Eddie slurs. “Had to do it at least once b-before I- before I—”

“EDDIE!!!!” a furious, cracking voice echoes through the empty park. Eddie’s trailer door bangs open, falling off its hinges, and a limping Dustin Henderson comes storming across the lot.

“Dustin!!” Steve hollers back, relief flooding his veins like maple syrup straight from the tap, and incredibly (hysterically, he’s probably in shock), he’s laughing when he looks back down at Eddie. Eddie, who’s half dead in his lap, whose blood is all over Steve’s pants. Who Steve might be able to save now.

He shakes Eddie’s shoulders and says, “You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here, man,” his voice all high-pitched and full of phlegm and trapped somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Eddie’s eyes go wide at the promise in Steve’s words.

“Dustin!” Steve yells again, pleading, “Dustin, come on, come help me move him!”

It’s slow going, but they get Eddie through the gate, get him taped up so he’s more bandage than boy by the time the ambulance arrives. A medic claps Steve on the shoulder and says ‘You did good, kid,’ and Steve cries at that and then spends an annoying amount of time crying over the next few days, curled up in a rickety chair at Eddie’s bedside in the hospital.

More tears when Eddie finally wakes up. Happy ones this time, and there’s a parade of people coming in to hug Eddie and give him flowers and even Hopper gives him a grudging hair ruffle and an attaboy, and then Steve’s driving Eddie home in the Beemer; gets all the way to the driveway before Eddie brings it up.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, his voice timid and barely audible over the hum of the car.

Steve cuts the engine. “Hmm?”

“Did you, um- the thing, that you…” Eddie spins a ring around on his finger, lets out a frustrated huff. “I mean, I didn’t die, right? I made it out of there, so…?”

You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here.

Steve’s ears burn at the memory, his mouth going dry, and he must take too long to answer because Eddie starts trying to backpedal. “Sorry. Sorry, you said you’re not— I just thought, maybe— shit, uh, f-forget I said-”

“No! No, um.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Turns out I kind of am. Or, like. Well, I mean, Robin said liking both is its own thing, it’s not a mix of the two, but…”

“…But both?” Eddie finishes, and his eyes are sparkling.

“Yeah. Both,” Steve shrugs. It’s getting easier to say. “…Mostly just you, though.”

“Oh, just mostly, huh?” Eddie teases, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can lean into Steve’s space.

Steve’s face feels too warm. His neck is probably all splotchy. “Whatever. Are you gonna shut up and kiss me already or what?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie grins and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Many times as I want, right?” He brushes Steve’s hair behind his ear, his calloused fingers so gentle against Steve’s jaw as he lines their faces up.

“How many times is that?” Steve whispers.

“Mm….” Eddie’s mouth brushes against his. “Start counting and let’s find out.”

#‘hey quick question’ she says and then writes 1400 #lmao whoops #steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson #happy sunday i know i promised more yogi steve he’s COMIN but in the meantime have whatever this is

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gi4hao · 1 month

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☆ SEVENTEEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A BAD DAY (vocal unit)

click here for the hhu version!

— JOSHUA

• all it takes is one text about how much your day sucks. one text and joshua comes to pick you up from work himself

• and you’re so surprised to find him waiting in front of the building (with a small bouquet of flowers in hand) that you instantly tear up

• “day’s finally over, beautiful. let it all out”, he tells you as you hug him tight. and no he won’t let you apologize for being so emotional (he never does)

• once you’re back home, he gets to properly cuddle your bad mood away, which obviously makes you feel better in a matter of seconds

• there’s something about the way he strokes your cheek and interlaces his fingers with yours that makes you completely relax to his touch

• he just wants you to feel safe with him; safe from every single worry that this day has brought you. and you absolutely do, knowing that at the end of the day, he’ll always be there for you to rely on

— JEONGHAN

• lots and lots of communication: if you’re facing a problem, he’ll take some time to figure out a solution with you

• but also lots and lots of affection because he knows that’s what you crave

• i feel like he would offer to take you to your favorite restaurant, so that you can enjoy your favorite food without worrying about cooking or cleaning the dishes

• he’s also big on compliments. no matter what you do or say, jeonghan will have something nice to say to you. and he always makes sure not to only compliment your looks, because that’s not what makes him so smitten about you

• i also think he’d be the type to run you a nice bath when you get home, which may or may not include a shoulder rub because he knows (too well) that stress is never easy on your back

— SEUNGKWAN

• your problems are his problems.

• “she said what?!! ugh, i can not stand her, you’re such an angel for putting up with her bullshit everyday”

• so yes, he’ll be angry with you if you’re angry. but it’s a whole other story if you’re feeling sad (cue cuddles)

• he’d do this thing where he leaves so many tiny kisses on your temples that his lips practically never break contact with your skin

• would definitely hum a slow song to help you relax, and hearing the vibrations of his voice in his chest greatly contributes to the relief of any tension

• i think at some point he’d offer to tell you about his day, not to make the conversation about him but because he wants you to try and think about something else

• he’d pull out his phone while still keeping you close to him to show you the pictures he’s taken during the day; but you’d end up scrolling back to some old pictures of the two of you, which is probably the best remedy to any kind of sadness

— DK

• definitely an entertainer. making you feel better is a good start, but making you smile and laugh is the real goal here

• that being said, he’ll never dismiss your feelings. this man will dry your tears and kiss your salty cheeks before even attempting to take your mind off of what’s bothering you

• but once you start to feel better, he’ll make it its priority to entertain you for the rest of the evening

• so yes, he’ll blast your favorite songs in the kitchen and invite you to dance with him, in a way that’s way too formal for you to take him seriously

• he’ll grab your hand and spin you around until you’re so dizzy he needs to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from falling (how convenient right?)

• and just the sound of him giggling as he kisses the tip of your nose is enough to make you forget every upsetting thing about your day

— WOOZI

• jihoon usually comes homes pretty late. and sure, he might not be able to immediately come home after you tell him about your awful day, but he’ll definitely tell you to join him in his studio

• there’s something inherently comforting about being in his studio. everything’s calm, organized and just so woozi-like, it’s automatically working its magic on you

• “wanna keep me company?” he asks with a smile, and you know this is just him asking if you want to sit on his lap while he works (and YES YOU DO)

• he’ll probably do some basic things on his to-do list while you’re here, that way he can focus on you too, listening to whatever it is you have to say and leaving a couple of kisses on your shoulders and cheeks if he feels you tensing up again

• i feel like he’d come up with some sort of date activity that you guys could do together on the weekend, like a day trip to the beach or dinner at a fancy restaurant

• you know he prefers to stay in during the weekends but as long as you’re with him, he’s home <3

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eddiesghxst · 8 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 2/12)

hiii here's these two again, enjoy!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie still hates you, you're way too nice, and gareth fucked up big time

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, reader gets injured (nothing crazy), eddie hooking up with someone that's not reader, mean eddie, sexual themes, a glimpse of needy n sad eddie, mild violence (eddie punches someone), and Eddie being nosey <3

word count: 5.6k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie can’t do it.

He can’t fucking stand you. He hates that you’re everywhere, always around, always lingering— like a fucking hawk— just silently watching and waiting for one of them to fuck up. And he hates that you carry that fucking journal everywhere, always jotting down notes about whatever bullshit you write about— and he’s sure it isn’t any good either way because most of the time, the band does the same shit every day. There’s nothing for you to write about. They do a show, hang out backstage, catch wind of some party, stay out until they can’t physically walk anymore, and crash as soon as they get to the hotel.

It’s the same shit. Yet, you’re always writing something down as if something new has happened— as if it’s something intriguing and eye-catching.

You barely talk for the first few days; you just watch and observe, and Eddie thinks this must be how animals at the zoo feel— on display and putting up some fascinating show. He hates it.

After the third show, you start to loosen around the edges and start actually talking, like a normal human being. You talk to Jeff the most, laugh at his shitty jokes and ask him questions about songs and lines he’s written in past songs, and Eddie hates that. He hates watching you sit next to Jeff and scribble in your journal as Jeff strums out a new hook.

He hates that whenever he brings you up to Jeff and makes some snide comment about you, Jeff never joins in— just shrugs and says, ‘She’s not too bad, actually.’

As if Eddie would ever believe that.

Gareth hardly pays any mind to you; he's too busy checking out chicks and just… being Gareth, but you’ve talked to him on multiple occasions. Eddie’s caught glimpses of you two chatting at rehearsals or in the green room. You even sat with him at breakfast the other day, and Eddie— Eddie almost blew a gasket because that was his fucking seat.

You’re ruining everything, and nobody seems to notice except for Eddie, and it’s driving him nuts.

“Dude, you’re gonna scare her away if you keep glaring at her like that,” Jeff mumbles, turning back to his guitar as he runs a dust cloth over the neck of the instrument.

They’re in the studio today because there’s no show tonight, and against all of Eddie’s wishes, Richie still invited you to come sit in for their session. Eddie watches through the glass of the sound booth as you settle in on the brown couch, pulling out that stupid journal and a pen, mindlessly clicking it a few times before writing a note. Ridiculous.

Eddie glares at Jeff and works the gum in his mouth as he pulls a face, “Good. She can blow off the face of the earth for all I care.” He grumbles, sitting down in the metal chair beside Jeff.

Jeff looks at him, raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and shakes his head, “She’s not going anywhere, man. You’re gonna fuck it up if you keep being so… hostile toward her.” He points out. Eddie leans back in his chair, pulling out a box of cigarettes and sparking up. “I’m not gonna be the one to fuck it up,” Eddie mumbles through smoke, “You guys are practically feeding her all the information she needs on a silver fucking platter. She’s a goddamn shark.”

Jeff scoffs and says nothing more as he continues cleaning his guitar. Eddie glances at you and watches you talk to the producer, smiling and laughing at something that Eddie can’t hear because the mic is off and the door is closed.

Aside from how annoying and creepishly lurk-y you are, Eddie can admit you’re pretty. You have a pretty face, pretty smile, pretty hair, a bright look in your eyes that Eddie can’t stand because you look at the rest of the band like they hung the fucking moon when they speak. You look at everyone as if they’re so important, and Eddie thinks that’s dumb.

He glances at Jeff, watches him silently for a moment, and glances back at you, takes a hit of his cigarette before speaking, “You like her?” he asks.

Jeff glimpses at Eddie and laughs with a shake of his head, “Isn’t that precisely what you’re pissed about?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, like,” he kicks the heel of his shoe into the floor, “Do you wanna fuck her?”

Jeff pauses his task and watches as Eddie puffs on his cigarette. “I have a girlfriend, Eddie.” He reminds the boy. Eddie glances at him and scoffs, “That chick from Chicago? Thought that was just for fun.” He responds.

Eddie remembers the girl from a few weeks back, remembers Jeff sneaking her on the bus while they had dinner. He didn’t know they were serious.

Jeff shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, “No, man. She’s come to like every show— and her name is Naomi; she’s not a chick.”

Eddie grunts in response, burning to the end of his cigarette when Jeff stands up and nudges him with his foot, “Just talk to her, dude. She’s not as bad as you think she is, and she asks good questions— actual questions, about the music and shit. None of that,” he waves a hand in gesture, “stupid shit we get from reporters. She’s good. Just try.”

Jeff leaves Eddie to mill about it and finish off cigarette, snuffing it out in the ashtray sitting on the amp. Eddie doesn’t believe Jeff one bit; he thinks you’re a liar who’s mastered the art of manipulation and has weaseled your way into gaining his friends' trust. He doesn’t believe you are here for the music, as Jeff had said; he thinks— knows— that you’re here to find the cracks.

You’re here to find the cuts and bruises and press into them so you can tear them apart piece by piece. A starved monster, preying on his band for some sick and twisted story to feed the media so you can climb the ladder of your industry. Eddie has met and knows people like you, and he can call your bluff from a mile away.

He doesn’t believe Jeff. But he does, however, know how to play your game.

The next day is show day— the fifth show of the residency, and Eddie is in a good mood. He woke up with a girl in his bed, got high, went for a short walk to a nearby cafe, and even signed a few autographs for some lovely fans. On top of that, you haven’t shown up for rehearsals yet, and Eddie thinks the world is working in his favor today if you skip.

He’s playful today. He jumps on Gareth’s back and makes him run down the rows of the arena, screaming and hollering like wild animals. He and Jeff take Richie’s golf cart and go for a spin backstage, giggling when the security chases them and tells them speeding backstage is prohibited. They don’t listen, though; Eddie ignores everyone’s warnings and keeps hauling ass down the nearly empty hallways, swerving around boxes and equipment like a madman.

And Eddie may be mean sometimes; he may push people's buttons for the hell of it and do things he knows he shouldn’t just to get a reaction out of it, but Eddie isn’t cruel. He isn’t a psychopath who likes hurting people, so he doesn’t mean to speed past you and spook you badly enough to stumble into a stack of road cases.

Eddie saw you, and he tried to warn you, yelled out for you to move out of the way, and even honked, but you had a pair of headphones stuffed over your ears so that you couldn’t hear the squealing wheels of the golf cart or Eddie’s warning. He almost took you out. Almost. But he didn’t because he swerved at the last second, and you panicked and stepped back, stumbling on the heel of your shoe and falling onto the cold cement floor, slamming your back against the black boxes.

Eddie curses and comes to a screeching halt, parking the golf cart and following Jeff as he jogs over to you, quickly asking if you’re okay and helping you to sit up. As you speak, your face is twisted in confusion, wincing and sitting up, “I’m fine, I just— I just fell, it’s fine.”

Eddie watches from a few feet back as Jeff helps you stand up, face pinching in an expression of pain when you put your weight onto your ankle, and Eddie doesn’t believe it for a second. “I think you might need to get that checked—” Eddie cuts Jeff off and speaks the first thought that comes to his mind, “Why didn’t you move out of the way?”

You look at him, anger replacing your look of pain as you glare at Eddie. You grip the band of your headphones and wave it at him, “Because I didn’t fucking hear you, jackass.” You snap. “What, you couldn’t see the big ass machine hurling your way?”

“No,” you seethe, “You shouldn’t have been driving that fast anyways; this isn’t my fault. The least you could do is say fucking sorry.” You spat. And Eddie just thinks you’re a brat. Before Eddie can respond with an even bitchier response, Jeff is cutting in with a wave of his hands, “Okay, this is fucking stupid,” he scoffs, “just let me drive you to medic so you can get checked.”

Eddie doesn’t even bother helping Jeff get you to the golf cart; he simply watches as you fake your limp all the way to the vehicle and thank Jeff for helping you get in. Jeff looks back to Eddie and raises an eyebrow, “Are you coming, man?”

Eddie wouldn’t willingly spend a minute with you if someone paid him to do it.

He shakes his head with a scoff and tells them to go on, he’ll meet them at the stage later on, and Jeff takes off without another word.

“Did you try to hit the journalist with a fucking golf cart?”

Eddie’s good mood is long gone.

After the whole golf cart fiasco, Eddie took his time walking around backstage and burning through cigarettes before finding himself in the room filled with snacks and drinks. He’s standing at the table filled with chips and sodas when Richie storms in and starts causing a goddamn scene.

“What—” “You know what I’m talking about.” Richie snaps. Eddie’s face twists in annoyance, “I didn’t try to fucking hit her; she didn’t move out of the goddamn way because she’s an idiot,” Eddie grumbles, returning to his task of sifting through the different brands of chips. Eddie doesn’t believe you’re actually hurt. That pathetic fall was as minor as a fall can get, and he thinks Jeff and anyone else who believes your shitty acting skills is dumber than a rock.

Richie snatches the bag of chips out of Eddie’s hand and tosses them onto the table, ignoring Eddie’s protest as he speaks, “She sprained her fucking ankle, man.”

Eddie scoffs, “She’s faking it, Richie; anybody with brains can see that from a mile away.” He rolls his eyes. Richie looks at Eddie as if he’s lost his mind, as if Eddie is the worst villain to ever grace the goddamn planet, “You’re fucked up,” and Eddie’s stomach twists in some weird way he can’t explain.

“You have some serious fucking issues, man. That girl did nothing to you, and you treat her like shit.” Richie spits, and Eddie hates how his throat feels tight, like someone shoved a golf ball down his throat. “Get over yourself.”

Richie leaves Eddie in the empty room, silent and, against Eddie’s wishes, feeling like the shittiest man alive.

Eddie’s good mood feels like a dream now.

He’s silent throughout rehearsals. He sings his parts half-assed and plays his solos half-assed, too. You watch from the side of the stage, propped up on one of the road cases to take the weight off your ankle, and Eddie doesn’t even glance in your direction the entire time. He avoids you at all costs, leaving the room when you walk in, going the other direction you’re walking in, and even skipping lunch to avoid crossing paths.

You’ve been like a ghost all day; everywhere Eddie goes, you’re somehow there, walking with a shitty limp as if trying to rub it into Eddie’s face that, ‘You did this. This is your fault.’ and Eddie can’t stand it. By the time the doors open to the arena, Eddie is more than ready to finish the show and steer clear of all traces of you.

You watched the show on the TV in the dressing room, silently snacking on a bag of Ritz crackers with your foot propped up on the coffee table beside the couch. The medic advised you to avoid putting pressure on your ankle for the next few days so you couldn’t have your usual front-row view of the show.

The boys do good; they perform a new song they’re working on, and the crowd seems to have loved it. As usual, they get up to their ritual backstage antics, pregaming for whatever party they’ll attend, loud and obnoxious music, and cheering on whatever drinking game they’ve made up. You’re silently writing in your journal, updating the last entry on what you’ve witnessed today. Interpretations on the new music, drabbles on what you and Gareth briefly discussed about his childhood, and quick notes on whatever comes to mind while writing.

You hardly notice Eddie stumbling through the dressing room door until you hear him bumping into the side table with a curse. You look up, silently watching as he looks around the room, searching for something you’re unsure of. You try to keep your voice level to not scare him, but he is startled either way, “What are you looking for?”

His eyes are low, puffy around the edges from the alcohol he’d tossed back earlier, hair tousled with curly strands clinging to his lips. His lips are slick, swollen, and red, clothes askew on his lean frame. His jeans are unbuttoned, belt clinking as he sways a bit, licking his lips as he stammers, “Uh… my uh, my jacket—” he blinks, stumbling to lean against the door and blinking hard, “M’looking for my jacket.”

Your eyebrows raise as you watch him, the disheveled and captivating mess he is, bleary eyes gazing at you through a cloud of eyeshadow and whiskey. You breathe and point to the chair in front of the vanity, “It’s over there.”

His gaze follows your lead, landing on his strewn jacket, cursing as he walks across the room. You busy yourself with your journal, picking up where you’d left off. You can hear Eddie rustling behind you, and you try to avoid glancing back at him, but you fail, glancing in time to watch as he leans forward into the mirror to tug at misplaced strands of his hair.

He’s silent for a moment before clearing his throat, glancing back at you through the mirror, “I’m uh… I’m sorry about,” he gestures to your elevated foot, forgetting you’re not even facing him, and rubbing the back of his hand to rub his nose and sniffling, “About your foot… Was really shitty of me.”

You glance back at him, a ghost of a smile gracing your lips, “Thank you, Eddie. I appreciate your apology.”

Eddie scoffs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and shoving a stick between his lips with quivering fingers, “Yeah, well, that’s the first and last apology you’ll ever get from me so…” you silently watch as he lights his cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke and glancing at you through the mirror, “cherish it.”

You quietly sigh and shift in your seat, ignoring his remark, “You going out tonight?” You ask.

You watch as he steps away from the vanity and walks over to the couch, plopping down on the farthest side from you with a deep sigh, “That’s the routine.” He mumbles around a cloud of smoke.

You nod, an uncomfortable silence settling over the two of you as you continue writing. Eddie is slumped down in his seat, quietly puffing on his cigarette as he gazes at you through low lids, “What are you writing?”

You look at him; pen paused over the sentence you’d been writing as you tilt your head, “I’m working on my piece… you know, the piece you’re starring in.” Eddie grumbles in response with a single nod of his head, and his eyes are so low you’d almost think he’s falling asleep if it weren’t for his determination to finish his cigarette.

“Why— why haven’t you asked me anything?” Eddie asks.

You look at him, doing your best to keep a neutral expression as you fold your hands over the paper of your notebook, “I wasn’t under the impression you wanted to be… bothered.”

Eddie glances at you, scoffing, and you remind yourself that you’ve already somehow made the man despise you, so it’d be better to hold your tongue, opting not to remind him of the shitty attitude he’s had since you met. “I’m part of the band, aren’t I?” He shrugs, picking at the loose threads of his ripped jeans. “Shouldn’t I have as much coverage as… Jeff?” He mumbles, and you think he might be under the impression that you can’t hear him, but you do either way.

Your eyebrows raise, and you shift in your seat once again, “Well… would you like me to ask you some questions?”

Eddie is more gentle when he is drunk, you think. More pliable, softer. The stone-hard deflective shield he has thrown up for you has withered beneath the alcohol. Where his eyes are usually cold and sharp, they are now softer and telling— of what, you’re not sure yet. He shifts further into the couch and shrugs, and you take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, scribbling Eddie’s name in the corner.

“Okay, Eddie,” you begin, turning ever so slightly to face him. “Tell me about yourself. Tell me about who you are aside from the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” You glance between your notebook and Eddie, patiently waiting as he takes a drag of the burning paper. He looks at you, the majority of his face shielded behind unruly dark curls, and the room is so silent it’s nearly deafening.

Eddie shakes his head so gently you almost don’t notice the movement, “I don’t…” he bounces his leg once, “I thought this was about the music.”

You nod, “It is.”

Eddie gently blinks, like if he blinks too hard, the earth might shatter, and you think it’s beautiful, and you think you might hate that.

“It’s about the music, but I can’t write about the music without knowing the creator, can I?”

Eddie looks at you, eyes almost clear with lips parted around smoke. He blinks again, and you smile in encouragement, situating the pen in your grip. He looks at you, studies you, his gaze dropping to your awaiting hand, and his face twists in some expression you can’t put a finger on.

Before Eddie can speak, the door opens, both of your heads snapping toward the door as a tipsy Gareth pops his head inside, “Eddie, come on man, the car’s here.”

If Gareth had noticed the odd combination of you and Eddie sitting on the same couch, willingly enduring each other's presence, he wouldn’t mention it.

You look back to Eddie, and you almost want to stop him as he gets up because, god, you were so fucking close. So close to finally touching Eddie. But he’s gone quicker than he came, the scent of his cologne and smoke lingering like a ghost, and despite Eddie giving you absolutely nothing to write about, you find yourself writing about him either way with nothing but his scent to aid you.

Eddie is drunk, and he can not, for the life of him, stop thinking about you.

A girl is climbing over him in the back of a taxi, and Eddie can only think about you. The look of pain you had when you stood up after falling, the way you looked at him as if he was the bane of your existence— it makes Eddie’s stomach churn, and he wishes the culprit for his nausea was the alcohol, but it’s not. Eddie knows it’s not because the second he thinks about the way you smiled at him in the dressing room, the way you said his name, the way you spoke so gently despite how much of an asshole he’s been to you, Eddie’s sick stomach settles and erupts in this annoying warm flutter.

Eddie can’t think of anything but the fact that he wants you to smile at him more, wants to hear you say his name again, and talk to him in your gentle way.

His face pinches in frustration, fingers gripping the girl's waist as she mouths at his neck. She moans against his skin, grinding down against his bulge and grinning when she feels him rut up against her. Eddie mumbles something, he’s not sure what he mumbles because his brain is split between worlds of scary feelings and arousal, but the girl laughs, scraping her teeth against his thumping pulse, “That journalist?” She asks.

Eddie blinks away the foggy cloud, “Huh?”

Lany pulls away from his neck and looks at him, biting her lip and tilting her head as she rubs up against him again, Eddie grunting in the back of his throat as his face twists in pleasure. “The journalist. You said her name.” Lany hums, drifting her hands up Eddie’s chest and grappling at the collar of his unbuttoned sheer top. Eddie blinks again and shakes his head, “I didn’t,” he denies.

Lany giggles, “You did, Eddie.”

Eddie glances over her shoulder, making awkward eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and he slightly grimaces and looks back to Lany as she leans in, ghosting her lips over his and tauntingly whispering your name. Eddie grunts in protest, squeezing her hips in a warning. Before he can say something, Lany kisses him with a hum before pulling away to where her lips brush against hers as she speaks, “Did you fuck her?”

Eddie pulls away from Lany, a look of distaste on his face as he glares at her, “Did I— what? No,” Eddie cringes as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard— and it’s not, and Eddie… Eddie hates that, he thinks. “No, I didn’t fuck her. Are you serious?” “You want to fuck her then?”

“I want you to stop talking about her,” Eddie counters, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip and watching as he drags the plump flesh down, grinning when Lany nips at his fingertip. “Maybe put these pretty lips to good use, hm?” He taunts, grin widening when she nods and sucks his thumb down to the last knuckle, his jeans tightening at the feeling and sight.

And if Eddie did say your name, he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that he’d been thinking of you for whatever odd, fucked up reason, and he doesn’t try to figure out what that weird flutter feeling is when he thinks about your softness, the softness he’s been depriving himself of.

He doesn’t dwell on any of it because Eddie is drunk, and when Eddie drinks, he thinks of and does stupid things, things that sound good at the moment but will screw him over in the long run.

And Eddie wants nothing to do with you anyway, and it’s not like one half-assed drunken conversation changed that, right?

Eddie’s got a blistering headache and a churning stomach as he stands outside the studio the following day. It’s drizzling, gloomy clouds drooping over the looming buildings of New York, and Eddie always hated this kind of weather; he preferred a full storm over the tease of a shower.

New York has never been Eddie’s favorite place, it’s dirty, and reeks of trash, and the people are shitty, but he likes how easy it is to blend in with the crowd; not many people notice him here, and that’s rare these days.

He’s leaning on the stoop of the building, tiny drops of rain dripping from the portico onto his leather-covered shoulders. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he watches the traffic go by, taking slow puffs to ease his body.

He hardly notices you when you bounce up the stairs until you stand just two steps below him. He glances at you and sees the coffee cups in each of your hands. You extend one out to him, “Would you like one? They accidentally gave me two.” You offer.

And you’re fucking nice. Despite how shitty Eddie has been towards you, you’re still nice to him, and Eddie, for the life of him, can’t stand it. He thinks you’re weird, insane, stupid. Thinks you were probably dropped as a baby more times than anyone can count because there’s no way somebody in their right mind would willingly give him the time of day when he’s treated them as shitty as Eddie has treated you. He nearly ran you over, for Christ's sake.

Still, Eddie doesn’t falter, “No. Probably spit in it on your way here.”

You laugh, and it irks Eddie in a way that makes him want to shiver as if the sound were nails scraping against a chalkboard. He distracts himself with a drag of his cigarette as you say, “I didn’t, but thanks for the idea.”

Eddie grunts in response, focusing on the last of his smoke as you tell him you’ll see him inside before walking up the rest of the stairs. Eddie barely acknowledges you as you pass him, but he acknowledges the sound of something dropping beside his feet. He looks down with pinched eyebrows, eyeing the notebook lying on the wet ground.

It’s your notebook— obviously— he’d know that stupid journal from anywhere. It’s a pale yellow with two leather straps you like to tie in a lousy bow, and Eddie believes it’s an annoying color, but he thinks that has more to do with the fact that you chose it. Mindlessly, Eddie picks it up, shaking off the rainwater before it seeps into the pages, and he turns to give it to you because he’d assumed you realized you dropped it, but you’re gone.

Eddie blinks, eyeing the door and the book in his hands, and Eddie knows he should just follow you and give it back because that’s the right thing to do. Knows he shouldn’t peek inside to see what your mind is like, knows you’d probably kill him because Eddie would do the same if anyone looked into his thousands of journals back home, but his fingers itch, and before he can stop himself, he’s flicking his cigarette bud away, leaning against the building and cracking the front page open.

Eddie’s not sure what he’d expected. Maybe something interesting, like a list of dudes you’ve fucked or some rant about a friend, but Jesus, how much more boring could you get? Grocery lists, reminders to book appointments, dates for work meetings, boring shit that Eddie could care less about. He flicks through nearly half of the book before anything piques his interest, snickering when he comes across a page of you talking about a guy named Danny, “What a sap,” Eddie mumbles to himself, softly chuckling and turning the page.

He flips through a few more pages before halting because Eddie's name is right at the top of the page.

The door opens, and he jumps, fearing you might be searching for your lost journal, but it’s only a staff member. Eddie watches them trot down the steps before returning to the treasure in his hands, eagerly reading as if the book will turn to dust before he gets a chance.

And Eddie thinks he’s fucked up, screwed up in ways he never really wants to address. Despite Eddie’s outwardly attitude of thinking he’s the best at everything and knows all, there are still ugly parts of him that he so badly wants to reach inside and pull like weeds from a garden, crack his chest open, and take it from the root; pieces of him that can make him crumble quicker than a house of cards on a rickety table.

However, the way you write about Eddie— the words you use and the so careful placement of each thought— it makes Eddie feel something he forgot he ever could about himself, and he doesn’t like how it makes his insides twist. He hates it. Eddie hates that you can read him as if he’s a fucking children’s book. Hates that you can see and point out parts of him that have been lost for so long he’d thought it was a dream. He can’t stand it.

But as much as Eddie swears he hates what you’ve written and as much as he hates that it makes him feel something other than disdain, he can’t stop reading. He wants to read all you can say about him and only exist in the imagery you create of him because Eddie, for once in a long time, is someone in your eyes.

You write about Eddie like he is a person, a human being with real feelings and depth and a history of memories you’ve never seen or heard of before, but you still somehow manage to paint him so clearly. Inside your words, Eddie exists as more than the entity that fame has created him to be, and Eddie can’t remember the last time he read something about himself and didn’t feel like a pawn.

It’s… refreshing.

Eddie flips the page, thinking there will be more you’ve written about him, but he’s selfishly disappointed when he realizes it’s just a personal entry. He scans the page, nearly deciding to close it for the day, when he catches a glimpse of a familiar name— Gareth.

It takes Eddie a moment to fully grasp the words you’ve written, the meaning of what exactly you’re explaining that you’d apparently discussed with Gareth. As soon as he lets the words settle into his chest, he’s storming into the building quicker than he can comprehend.

Bursting through the room of Richie's rented studio, Eddie makes a beeline for the sound booth where Gareth is busy tapping out a steady beat.

Eddie barely acknowledges you and the rest of the band in discussion off to the side, but his abrupt appearance has halted all conversation in the room. He storms up to Gareth behind his drum set and wastes no time gripping the man’s collar, gaze lit with fire and words seething as he leans in and glares down at the man. The room goes silent as soon as the question leaves Eddie’s lips, “Did you fuck Chrissy?”

Chrissy Cunningham was Eddie Munson’s high school sweetheart.

As the story goes, Eddie spent the better part of high school crushing on the cute captain of the cheerleading squad. For as long as he can remember, Eddie had been labeled as the school freak— something to do with his love of fantasy games and ‘odd music taste’— so he’d never imagined he would get a chance with Chrissy, but that all changed after a weird spiral of events they experienced together.

Eddie and Chrissy dated for a few years until Corroded Coffin went big. The long-distance trial of their relationship didn’t last long; Eddie rarely called Chrissy, and when he did call, they could only ever find time to argue about whatever Eddie had been photographed doing. Chrissy never came to watch the band once they moved out to LA, and she broke Eddie's heart the one time she did.

So, it’s no surprise that reading the words in your journal has twisted the knife that’d been lodged in Eddie’s chest for so long that he was sure he couldn’t feel it anymore— he was wrong.

Gareth is looking at Eddie as if Eddie has asked him if the sky is blue and Eddie’s mind is a whirling wind of fire. “What are you talking about, man?” Gareth’s eyebrows pinch in confusion.

Eddie sneers and pulls him closer, Gareth leaning so far off his stool that Eddie's grip on his shirt is the only thing keeping him from the ground. Gareth drops his drumsticks to grab Eddie’s wrists as Eddie speaks, “Don’t bullshit me, Gareth. Did you fuck Chrissy, yes or no?”

Eddie looks at his best friend, and he sees lies, something he’s never had to associate with their friendship, and it almost hurts him more than what Chrissy did. Gareth stutters, shaking his head as if he wants to say no, tries to say no and deny that he slept with his best friend's girlfriend, but he can’t.

Gareth whispers Eddie’s name so quietly Eddie nearly misses it, but the quiver in his voice is all Eddie needs to hear to know the truth. Eddie doesn’t take a second to think before he cracks a closed fist down on his best friend's cheek, sending him back, crashing into the symbols in a clatter of noise.

He doesn’t wait to hear Gareth’s spew of apologies, and he doesn’t wait to listen to the pathetic excuses he makes up because he’s marching over to you next, a scowl on his face as he tosses your journal into your lap, and you look up at him in shock, “You dropped this on your way in.”

And if this is the end of Corroded Coffin, then Eddie’s sure you’ll have one hell of a story to write. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?

A good story.

————

part three

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a/n: AHH U MADE IT TO THE END, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975

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hwavsg4ch4n · 2 months

Text

Awkward|| L.M

Note: hi guys, this is actually a music series (more info linked) bonus. I usually write multiple versions of a smut per song and choose which one fits the vibe the most. this one was actually supposed to be for SYNERGY (linked), but I reworked it and made it better for "Awkward". I haven't been here for a while and decided that I'm the kind of writer that likes to pop in randomly lol. I'm thinking about turning this into a mini-series separate from the music series. After you read this, please follow the link at the end and vote on the pole if you think this would be a good mini-series! ps. word count of 4,783... get a snack.

Disclaimer: I have decided not to no longer put any tags in my works to avoid unneeded spoilers. I will only warn when there are extremely triggering aspects in my work. Read at your own discretion.

Synopsis: You've been single for years, it's sad really. coming up with excuse after excuse as to why you should be okay. Then society introduced the appearance of 'soulmates', and somehow everything got worse. But then there's your boss, what should you do with him...

this is a mature work of fiction (18+), this does not represent any real-life figures, this is just for entertainment.

Music series bonus <masterlist>

You tilted your head back, gulping down the rich red wine as the brisk night air glided across your naked arms.

What was love? It was stupid, at least that’s what you always told yourself. Love is dumb, for the weak; and you weren’t weak. You wished you believed your thoughts, but you couldn’t help but crave love. What it felt like, sounded like, what it smelled like, what it tasted like.

Jealousy was a disease and you hated to admit that you were practically hospitalized and in a coma from said disease.

However, solidarity was alright sometimes. It was rewarding, no arguments, no having to worry what your partner was up to if they were taking care of themselves properly. You only had to worry about yourself… is it bad that was your biggest con to single life? Only having to worry about yourself.

You told yourself this for years. That was until early last year, when the CDC came out with a new phenomenon. They called it, soulmates. You thought it was corny. You watched as scientists explained the symptoms, and how it starts. How it feels, how you can differentiate your feelings blah blah blah, it was bullshit in your eyes. But not many felt the same.

The day after the news of soulmates reached the public, your office became littered with pairings. Mia from accounting and Felix in your branding apartment paired up instantly. Everyone saw that one coming. They were frauds, had to be, the CDC said their research is still new, meaning they’ll need long-term volunteers that they’ll compensate. That's when fake soulmates started appearing. You called bullshit when the news stated authentic soulmates are now being deemed rare. The CDC just wanted to cover its tracks, hiding another economic decline. Soulmates weren’t real.

Your loneliness grew worse because of your slight rebellion. You didn’t put yourself out there, scared someone would falsely claim you as a soulmate. It’s nights like this where you want to let yourself fall in line. Here you are, alone at the Valentine’s Day company party for another year, this time due to self-sabotage. You already hated this holiday, but of course, science had to make it worse. On the balcony sipping expensive wine your boss bought for everyone, you tried your best to drown out the jazz music and giggles as coworkers showed off their engagement rings.

Minho watched you through the glass door of the balcony with hesitancy. He tuned out the conversation he was dragged into. “Mr. Lee, what are your opinions on soulmates.” He looked at the second department secretary, taking in her inquiry, “I’m not quite sure.” He was telling the truth, he didn’t think much of it, if it was true great, if it wasn’t, it didn’t really affect him in any way, probably just another pity thing. The marriage statistic was getting low, he read it in a paper. Minho took one more sip from his whiskey glass before setting it down and excusing himself.

Everyone in the office knew that Minho, the COO of this company, took a liking to you; everyone was jealous in fact. The kind, extroverted, unmarried, painfully attractive man… liked you. The seemingly cold, work-a-holic, introvert of a woman. He’s liked you since before the news came forth with their studies, yet you were oblivious. Your self-esteem is so low that you wouldn’t dare to even think a man like Minho would see you in such a way, not when people are trying to claim the bachelor every day.

You looked over your shoulder as the balcony door opened. You smiled politely, “Mr. Lee, how are you?” You asked gently. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice, not even trying to hide the shivers that trailed down his spine at your tempt voice. “I’m doing well, but I couldn’t help but feel bothered when I saw you out here alone. Are you not cold, Ms. L/n?” You watched as he made his way next to you, leaning against the metal railing. He gazed at the city skyline, awaiting your answer.

You took another sip of wine. “It’s a bit chilly, but I can manage.” Short and simple, polite. That’s all Minho got from you. He's never wanted a person to rant to him for hours so badly, but that would be seen as unprofessional. He clears his throat, standing up straight. “Are you not having fun?” He asked. Maybe it was the wine that compelled you to answer him differently than you normally would. “To be honest, Mr. Lee,” He raised his brows, turning to you fully. “What is it?” You let yourself answer. “I don’t really favor office parties.” You chuckled before downing the last bit of your wine.

Minho frowned before biting his lip. “I hope it’s okay that I call you by your name,” He started, “Sure.” He gulped dryly before giving you an offer. “Would you like to get out of here, y/n?” You finally faced him, brows furrowed as your eyes lingered across his figure, taking him in.

White button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks, dark auburn hair fallen into his eyes, the eyes that were surveying you softly. It would be strange, to ride off into the night with your boss on the night the company is rumored to rename the festive party ‘soulmates night'. But you’ve had about 3 full glasses of wine, and you’re bored plus inquisitive.

“Where would we be going?”, he smiles.

After bidding an awkward goodbye to your coworkers, and avoiding questioning looks about the two of you leaving together; you finally made it to Minho’s car.

“Wanna catch a late movie?” Your head tilted in question, he drove out of the parking lot the humming of the engine fills the silence. Smirking to yourself in disbelief, you agreed.

The ride was filled with conversation, the longest non-work related conversation you’ve had with this man. He spoke of everything you didn’t think he’d speak of. How he missed home, how living in a bustling city was fun, but the sound of waves beat the sound of honking horns. You couldn’t help but ask him questions, you didn’t care if they were the right questions. You were comfortable, too comfortable. Was it the wine you downed? Maybe the grand looking air freshener in his car. It hurts your pride to admit that it might just be him. He smelled nice and spoke to you gently in that voice he would use to remind you of your lunch hour.

You took in a breath as his hands on the steering wheel came into view, “Oh sweet jesus”. You pressed yourself into the black leather seat. It’s the wine, it has to be the wine. Minho turned to you as he finished parking, “You ready?”

No one was there in the theater, no one but the two of you. You couldn’t focus on the movie, all you could focus on was how you were alone with Minho, completely alone with him.

You were zoned out until you were pulled back to reality. “Are you enjoying the movie?” He whispered, not looking in your direction, his eyes glued to the projected screen. You couldn’t help but ask bluntly, “What are we doing?”

Minho looked at you, you felt his gaze so you looked back. “Mr. Lee, it’s soulmates night.” He frowned, chewing on his popcorn. His heartbeat quickened, were you implying something?

It was dark, but you could see him like there was the light of a halo above him. “What do you wish we were doing, Y/n?” Why did he ask you that? Why did he ask like he wanted to fulfill a wish?

You looked away, parted lips and furrowed eyebrows. He couldn’t see your face properly, he took your silence as rejection, and maybe he read you wrong. “I don’t mean to upset you, I apologize. Let’s finish the movie, then I’ll take you home?” You didn’t want to finish the movie, you weren’t even watching the boring movie.

Your heart was pounding, was this what proper desire felt like? It felt different from your crush on the Grey’s Anatomy guy. Was this what being wanted felt like? But he’s your boss… You felt a surge of warmth, a shallow buzzing feeling accumulated in your fingertips, must be excitement. Your conscious almost coming alive, fuck it, give in. You did just that.

Biting your lip you breathed in deep, “I don’t want to continue the movie.” You stated in a whisper. You couldn’t see it clearly, but Minho grew worried, worried he scared you off completely.

“Oh- would you like to, would you like for me to take you home now, Miss. L/n?” He didn’t want to use your first name, afraid of abusing his power. It made you flinch, “I thought you said… you were gonna use my name from now on?” You whispered. Finding his eyes in the slim light provided by the screen.

He licked his lips, although it was out of his nervousness, the action made you gulp. “My apologies, Y/n.” you weren’t aware of it yet, but you held all the power at this given moment. He’d do anything you told him to with no question.

“I do want to get out of here, but I don’t want to go home Mr. Lee.” You said, standing up, and grabbing your purse. Minho stood up as well, eyes never leaving your form as he studied you for unspoken answers.

“I would like to see where my boss lives, I’ve always been curious.” your lashes fluttering, as you peered up at him with a quick pulse and sweaty palms. What if you read him wrong, what if he dismissed you and fired you on the spot? What if this whole ordeal was just because he pitied you for being single for every Valentine’s Day party?

“Well, I should let you overcome your curiosity, shouldn’t I Y/n?” He said with amusement. “After you.” He moved out of the way, letting you lead the way out of the theater.

You continuously asked yourself what you were doing on the drive to his house. Well, you knew what you were doing. You were lonely, and tired of it, taking up a messy offer that could end up in you getting scammed by this man. You’ll apologize in the mirror later. Hitting rock bottom was something you would worry about tomorrow. Your hazy mind only lets you think about his veiny hand gripping the gear shift.

What would happen if you took it upon yourself to place him where you wanted him?

Working up the courage, you sucked in a breath before allowing your fingers to trace his cufflinks, trailing your fingers around his wrist. His fastened pulse boosted your ego, looking to see his reaction. Minho remained focused on the road, with no intention of stopping you as he blinked and took more deep breaths than a calm human would.

You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you brought his hand to the warm flesh of your warm thigh, just under the hem of your black tweed skirt. Your blood pumped at the thought of how he’s letting you have your way. He wanted this too, to touch you. His hand was warm, and comforting. You liked how pretty it was on your skin, admiring the visual as your nails traced his veins.

Minho didn’t mean to squeeze, he did it subconsciously. He didn’t realize he did it until you gasped shallowly, clenching your thighs around his hand and looking up at him with the lowest gaze he’s ever seen from you.

“Sorry.” He muttered, rubbing his hand along the inside of your thigh in an attempt to soothe, not wanting to get you too worked up just yet. But his touch had the opposite effect. You didn’t want to wait anymore. It was known that Minho’s house was in the rich part of the city, all the way across town. Even Though it was a mere 30 minute drive, the distance felt like an eternity.

“Minho,” Minho gulped dryly. Your deep tone sent shock waves through his body, he enjoyed how his name dripped off your tongue. “Yes, Y/n?” His voice remained steady, not wanting to ruin something that could get so good. “I want you to pull into the park, I wanna watch the sky with you.” You whispered. Minho’s heart grew soft as you continued to trance his veins. He nodded silently, ready to take every command you asked of him.

You watched as he parked, the view of the city was beautiful, but that wasn’t your focus as of now.

There was a silence, loud, swallowing the city sounds in the distance. Your body shifted, rotating towards him. Minho turned to you, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly as he took in the view of you. “Kiss me,” Yes you were being blunt, and bold, but you didn’t care. Who cares?

You grinned as Minho pulled you on his lap, his strength not surprising you; considering how his arms looked way too confined in every dress shirt he owned. Your eyes shut as his lips collide with yours. Soft, buttery, warm, so so warm, and buzzing… your lips were buzzing. The feeling of him was clouding your judgment. Minho’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper. Pulling back slightly, he watched as you followed him. Minho smiled, softly chuckling. You opened your heavy lids, growing shy to see his gaze. Your lips parted as he pushed you even closer, rubbing against the growing tent in his slacks, you jolted as your core began to buzz as well. Your lips molded with his once more, and the sounds of what you presumed to be fireworks sounded in the distance.

His breathing was heavy as you disconnected to catch your breath. Minho’s hands tilted your head to the side slightly, breathing you in softly, lips grazing your skin as you shuttered, your fingers gripping his sleeve. He licked his lips before kissing your collarbone, traveling up your neck, absorbing every gasp you let out.

You feel his hand slide to the back of your head, angling your face down so his eyes can meet yours as he lays his forehead on yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, y/n.” Your heart panged, searching his eyes for truth. He wanted you, Minho, your boss, wanted you.

Your hands traced his bottom lip, and you blinked softly, “Take care of me then, yeah?” You whispered. He smiled gently, gripping your jaw and pulling you back.

The both of you suck in a breath as Minho presses his lips to yours once more, his hand pushing your head impossibly closer. He wanted to feel you, meet with you in ways he’d only imagined. You were letting him give you what he thought was impossible for him. Truthfully, he would’ve liked to ask you out on a proper date. But this would suffice if it was what you wanted from him.

The two of you kissed for a while, gradually feeling and touching each other. Feeling what was never seen. Your body grew warmer, the buzzing centered to your stomach as you bunched up his shirt, wanting to feel his skin bare against yours. “Minho,” It didn’t mean to sound like a plea, “What is it? What do you want me to do?” His voice was breathy, low, needy, and ready to please. You couldn’t get enough. “Off.” You tugged at his collar. Barely even a second later, he began to unbutton his shirt. You wasted no time placing your hands on his sculpted chest once exposed, gulping as you stared at his skin. Absentmindedly gliding your manicured fingers across him.

Minho watched your every move, whimpering as your fingertips flicked his nipples. Your nails left gentle scratches, he licked his lips at the sight. He can’t recall ever wanting someone so badly, to the point he was painfully hard, closing his eyes and throwing his head back at the slightest touches you granted him.

You wanted his reaction intensively, feeling his twitching member under you as you pinched and rubbed his nipples. His chest rose and fell at a somewhat hurried pace, the tips of his ears grew red, and so did his lips as he couldn’t stop licking and biting at them. It’s not like the action helped keep him quiet. His heavy breathing began to get mixed in with soft whimpers.

You smiled, “Who knew you’d be so sensitive.” You mumbled. “Sorry… uhm. I’m not usually like this.” You grinned at his hushed awkwardness. “Trust me, I don’t mind.” You whispered back, your hands continued tracing the outline of him. One by one you left open kisses on his neck, traveling up behind his ear. You sucked at his warm skin, “I hope the secretary doesn’t see what I’m leaving on you Mr. Lee, I think she might have a crush on you.” You said playfully, smiling against his clammy skin, sucking another bruise. Minho’s hands travel to the bottom of your skirt in response, pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. He squeezes at your thighs as you find the spot that meets his shoulder and neck, his breath shallows. His hips bucking as you suck and nip at the skin. You were hot to the touch, it heightened the feeling of you on him.

Minho isn’t sure how you got the one up on him, but he lets your hands wander to the buckle of his belt. He looks up at your face, your eyes full of determination as you swiftly take off his belt, unbuttoning his pants. He can’t help but smirk as he feels heat center in his stomach, “You’ve got me right where you want me y/n,” Your movements slow as you start to push his pants down to his ankles, “You’re the only one who’s ever gotten me like this.” Minho watches you bite your lip as he feeds into your ego. His eyes shoot down as you grasp his erection through his boxers. “Haven’t been this hard in so,” his voice shakes as your grip tightens “So long, fuck baby.” Your lips part at his words, looking up to see his head thrown back at the seat. You tap at his tip, the fabric starting to stick to his precum as you admire the bites you left on his skin.

“Minho,” You call out softly, he opens his eyes to see you staring at his member. The look in your eyes almost makes him ask if you want him to take over. Your eyes were glazed over, your lips pouty as you tug at his boxers, he smirks slightly. “I’ll get these out your way, sorry baby.” Your pussy clenched around nothing at the use of the pet name again, it feels so good to be called that, the buzzing shoots to your core before centering again. It almost felt like a boost of arousal, you were too enraptured by the man in front of you to care.

Your hands returned to his stiffened member as soon as it sprang free, you felt Minho tense at your touch. You looked up at him as you began to stroke him lightly. His eyes were hooded, he watched your hand quickly become slick with his arousal as you pumped at a careful pace. Minho licked his lips, noticing through his foggy mind how you still remained fully dressed. Your thighs only exposed because he decided to tease just once. Yes, his words earlier were to edge on your performance, but they were true. Minho has never been on the receiving end, he loved giving, if you told him to take over he’d do it gladly. More importantly, his need to please was strong, if pleasing you meant stepping back a bit he’s happy too. However, he didn’t anticipate his sensitivity to your touch. He hears himself whimper as your pumping speeds up, the rising heat traveling down to his member. He jolts as the pleasure intensifies. A hand hovers over your pumping one before holding himself back and placing it back on your thigh.

He’s starting to lose a battle, don’t cum, not yet, she’ll get bored soon and touch you somewhere else, don’t fucking cum. He chanted to himself, one of his hands moved to your ass, gripping as his other kept shelter on your thigh. You watched as he shut his eyes tight, his lips parting as he huffed out puffs of air. You smiled in triumph as he began to shake his head side to side, starting to lose his internal war, “B-baby… y/n, I’m gonna c-cum baby,” His voice was hoarse.

You tilted your head, sliding your pumping up to only his tip. His thighs jolted, his eyes opening as he started to look at you for pity. He only saw you looking at his dick dreamily, the heat in his stomach pulses. He swallows down his need to overcome you, opting to let himself relax.

Minho cursed, he groaned deeply, throwing his head back. His brain started to become unmanageably fuzzy.

“Y/n.” He whispered, licking his lips.

His smooth thighs flexed.“You’re so good baby,” Your lips parted at his soft whimper.

You grin, slowing down your pumping, giggling as he whimpered trying to fuck your palm the heat causing his tip to pulse. “You like me huh, Minho?” Your words were teasing. You were met with an eager nod. Cooing, you slipped off your underwear. You looked into his brown eyes, just when you thought he let himself surrender fully, he had some fight left in him.

He gripped your waist, biting his lip as he guided you over his throbbing member. You let him sink you down onto his warmth. You whimpered, Minho watched carefully, looking for signs of you needing him to take over. Only for him to get knocked down again, his brows furrowed as you brace a hand on his blushed chest, beginning to ride him. He stared at your clothed chest, your nipples hard enough for the outline to push past your bra and blouse. With heavy breaths his eyes traveled up your littered neck, finally landing on your blissed face. “Pretty,” He whispered, so soft you barely acknowledged it. His brain was swirling with only the image of you, the smell of you reminding him of a warm cabin.

You looked down at him, giggling at his starry eyes and beads of sweat, you were unaware of the state his mind was in. You were enthralled by the thought of him being so pliant. Never in a million years did you think your boss would be under you with a flushed face and a throbbing dick. You feel his dick pulse as he squeezes his eyes shut. Your hands make their way to his jaw, “Are you holding your cum from me, Mr. Lee?” His member throbs again. Your voice and playful words have him shaking his head, gripping your ass so hard you're sure there will be a mark, it stirs you on. “Want you to... To cu-cum first.” He whispered. Your walls flutter and tighten around him, Minho’s eyes snap open, lifting you off him, and you forget about his strength for just a moment.

You peered down to see his jumping member and quivering thighs, precum leaking and he tried to catch his breath. You didn’t let him, you swatted his hold away, ignoring his groan as you seethed him back into your warm hole. “Ah, fuck I can’t hold it, baby.” He rasped out, listening to how wet you were. You didn’t answer him, tuning out his winning, starting to chase your own high that's been building up while watching him. The buzzing started to spread. You gripped his shoulders, pushing yourself closer to him. Minho’s hand placed itself on your sweaty back, bracing himself. His other hand slid down to your thigh, grazing where he was buried into you. His grip tightened, spreading your slick puffy lips slightly. “Min, that's so good.” You whimpered. He hummed, burying his head into your neck. He shifted, widening his legs the best he could, and started to meet your thrusts.

Your mouth formed an O, tears forming in your eyes as he hit the gummy spot you never reached on your own. Before you knew it your body began to go numb from the pleasure, the buzzing reached every inch of you in what felt like a millisecond. Minho felt your muscles detense, he whimpered as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He chuckled tiredly at the sound of your babbling. You finally needed him, you were close and god knows he is too. He fucked into you like you’ve unlocked a different part of him.

“Gonna c-cum min.” You whimpered, “I know baby, I Know.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, feeling his self control finally coming to an end. He grunts, taking a hand and reaching between your radiating bodies. You moan so loud you're sure any late night hikers would be able to hear you. Your thighs shake as if it feels you’re physically experiencing the color red, the buzzing now being heard in your ears, distracting you from your release covering his thighs as yours shake. Minho grunts before he bites down on your shoulder, seeing sparks of deep green as he squeezes his eyes shut, spilling himself into you as he starts to hear crackles of fire.

When you close your eyes you're met with the visions of the man that’s under you. Images of his life, his milestones, you feel what he felt all in the blink of an eye. The images seize, and you’re yanked out of the dreamy state, catching your breath. You gulp, slowly facing him. His eyes meet yours, “Did you see that?” he whispered. You nodded, your fingertips still buzzing. “I-is this that soulmate thing?” his voice slightly above a murmur. Your body tensed, “What?” He looked into your eyes, he could almost feel your fear, “U-uh nothing.” He lifted you off him gently, ignoring what the sight of his release dripping from you did to him. Minho watched as you straightened yourself out in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes glanced at the foggy windows before returning to your now tense form.

Were you his… soulmate? He thought it was just a speculation that scientists made up to give the single population hope. He cleared his throat, putting his softening member back into his boxers, and lifting his pants up. “I’ll, uhm… I’ll drive you home.” Minho licks his lips nervously as he puts on his wrinkled button down. He looked at the time on his watch, 12:57am. He moves to turn on the engine.

“You believe them?” Minho glanced your way, taking in your question. “Do you believe what they say on the news?” He blinked, thinking of a proper answer as he started to drive out of the parking lot. “I mean,” He turned to enter the freeway. “If it’s on the news, there has to be some truth.” You took in his words, rolling down the window. “Y/n, the… symptoms that they described, that’s what just happened.” You frowned, looking out the window taking in his words. “I saw you, your middle school graduation,” you glower at him, his eyes were on the road, only glancing at you briefly. “I saw your first, and only relationship…” He paused, seeing your hands clasp together nervously out of the corner of his eye. He changed the topic, “When I… finished, I saw green, a forest green. And I heard fire, like a campfire.”

You gazed at his side profile. Without a word, you looked forward. You gave him the directions to your apartment.

As he pulled into your driveway, you grabbed your purse putting it on your shoulder. Minho said nothing when you opened the door as soon as he came to a stop, not even giving him a chance to put the car in park. You stepped out, your heels clacking on the pavement. You took in a deep breath before bending down, coming into his view again. You looked at his longing eyes, waiting for you to say anything to grant him peace of mind. “I’ll see you on Monday Mr. Lee.” With that, you closed his door. Gulping down anxiety as you steadily walk to the entrance of your apartment.

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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

Text

pain, sweet, pain | leah williamson x arsenal team

leah’s return from her acl injury is nothing like what she wanted nor expected, but her team are there to help her up when she’s down.

content: hurt/comfort, angst, sadness, pain.

Leah’s never been a good loser.

Whether it was U8s playing with the boys, or playing for Arsenal, or playing for England.

She knows this, it’s both her biggest strength and weakness. She likes to think that it makes her a better player and person, because she experiences the highs and lows like nobody else, but realistically she knows that's just the part of her that hates that she feels so inherently deeply worthless when she team loses and it feels she's somewhat at fault.

Captain Leah would never in her wildest dreams blame a loss on anyone, because she plays an eleven person game, a team game, one person cannot take the sole blame for a whole 90 minutes plus stoppage time.

Leah, 26 year old Leah, who's just coming back from an ACL injury and feels like her world is ending, can’t do anything but blame herself.

Never in her life has Leah felt so worthless, so scared for the future.

She’s worked so hard, worked every single day of recovery, for her knee and for her mind.

She’d thought she was ready, and physically she is, but mentally absolutely nothing prepares you for the moment when you step back on the field for your first game as a starter and you play like absolute shite.

Leah’s worked for over a year, tirelessly, to get to this point, she’d dreamt about it her whole recovery, dreaming of a pinnacle, a perfect moment at the end of the treacherous path, it had seemed perfect.

Realistically, Leah knows that it was never going to look exactly like that, but she’d hoped for something more, happiness, joy, a good game, fulfilment above all else.

Yet, she’s left feeling the complete opposite.

Leah didn’t wait around on the pitch, she was inconsolable, and she knew it, she didn’t need fans seeing her vulnerable, she didn’t need Sarina who had travelled all this way to see Leah play look at Leah with that look of disappointment that you could always catch in the corner of her eye. Leah just couldn’t do it, she couldn’t ever bear to look at Kim, her captain who cared so deeply at her, she couldn’t face that, couldn’t face a woman who was the person who was supposed to keep her accountable but also pick her up when she’s down.

So Leah slips away, slips into the tunnel before she gets stuck in some stupid surface conversation with Alex or Jill, even though she’s desperate to catch up with them, she just can’t do it right now. Drawing with Man City feels like a loss, Arsenal are second on the ladder, the only team they should be drawing or losing to is Chelsea, or at least that’s what Leah’s brain is telling her.

She slips into the bathroom, going unnoticed by anybody in the tunnel and keeping her eyes on her cleats as she makes her way into the away team lockers.

Leah doesn’t sit down, she moves straight to the bathroom, stepping into the first stall and locking the door behind her before she slides down onto the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and her head down onto her kneecaps.

Leah can’t breathe, Leah can’t think, all Leah can do is sit on the floor, contemplating whether it was all really worth it, whether the fucking months of blood, sweat and tears amounted to this. She doesn’t think so, Leah’s telling herself that all of that time, all the wishful thinking, all of the bullshit that she put up with is pointless.

She is Leah Williamson, England Captain, European champion.

Yet she had never felt more like an imposter in her own body.

Alex and Beth had told her about how playing her first full game would be the best moment of her life, especially after sitting out for a whole year.

It was a big step, sure, she’d been getting on the pitch, but being on for ten minutes of stoppage time hardly counted as playing, when Jonas had told her that he planned to have her start the Man City match Leah was excited, ecstatic even, in hindsight it was false confidence.

“Le, honey, are you in there?”

Leah realises that there are tears rolling down her cheeks, subconscious tears of anguish that she hurries to swipe away with the hem of her jersey.

Leah tries to silence herself, for long enough that Lia will leave her be, but she inevitably knows that even though Lia phrased it as a question, she knows Leah is hiding in the stall.

Leah and Lia are…. confusing.

Especially for Leah.

It’s this weird friends with benefits arrangement that somehow started after Caitlin and Lia broke up, it wasn’t very long after Leah and Jordan had broken up and one drunken celebratory night they fell into eachothers bedsheets.

It was blurred lines, sex and emotions that neither of them were ready to face.

Leah loved Lia, in so many ways, but she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t be vulnerable in front of a person that she had frequent casual sex with.

The sex was a confidence booster, for both of them, it made them both feel better, stronger, and Leah was fairly certain that Lia seeing her like this would wreck that.

“Le, baby, open up for me?”

Leah knows that she’s shaking, it’s the middle of fucking winter in London and she’s sitting in a tiled, cold bathroom in nothing more than her uniform. She doesn’t care though, she doesn’t care about anything, the only thing she is thinking about is how the fuck she is going to return to the locker rooms without looking like a complete fucking wreck.

“Leave me alone Lia, I’m fine.”

It’s a blatant lie, both women know it. The breakage and croakiness in Leah’s voice is enough of a sign.

“Don’t be like this Le, whatevers up, we can sort it out together, just open up the door.”

Leah can feel the sickness rising up in her throat, can feel the pain and anxiety coursing through her bloodstream.

“Lia I told you to fuck off, get the fuck out, I’m fine.”

Leah only just manages to get the expletives out before reaching for the bowl of the toilet, the sound of gagging filling the silent bathroom.

Leah hates the acidic flavour that rises up from her throat and directly out of her mouth into the bowl, the clear white being tarnished with the slightly orange tinged bile, Leah supposed it was probably from the gatorade that had been handed out at half time.

“Le, honey, you can open the door for me, I won’t judge you.”

Leah knows that Lia is just trying to be nice, that the Swiss woman really does have a heart of gold and would never judge Leah, not even at her darkest moment. But her mind is betraying her, everything she believes in seems false.

“Lia get the fuck out.”

It’s almost a scream, definitely a yell.

The overwhelming silence that comes after it is deafening.

Then Leah’s ears are blessed with the sound of cleats slowly trailing away from her, it’s the first time since the whistle blew at the start of the game that she feels just a smidge of peace.

Leah tries to pick herself up from the floor, at least the toilet bowl, but it’s a losing battle, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly forcing more bile up her throat.

Leah hadn��t eaten this morning, so most of it was just bile and liquids that she’d had before the game and at halftime, it burned her throat, making the already abundant ache so much more prominent.

It’s just as Leah is finally pulling her head out, swiping her long blonde ponytail out of the way that she hears the sound of a loud and deft knock against the stall door.

“Leah Williamson, open up, right now.”

Leah’s body shivers more than it was before, whatever gods are up there, she just prays that Kim didn’t hear her vomiting, or crying, or anything.

“I’m fine Kim, leave me alone.”

Leah sounds even more of a mess than she did a few minutes ago when she was trying to convince Lia of the same thing.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, I told you to open the door.”

Kim’s Scottish accent is so deep, so enunciated in the way it always seems to be when she’s using her stern captain's voice.

“Kim, please just leave.”

Leah is pleading, something that she hates to do, but if Kim asks her once more with that voice she knows she’s not going to resist. So she’s not necessarily pleading to be left alone, but she is pleading for Kim to not push, to not force her to do something she doesn’t want to.

“Leah Cathrine, open the door now, if I have to ask again I will exercise other options to get to you.”

Leah hates how responsive she is to Kim’s voice, she doesn’t manage to get herself up from the bowl, but she does manage to reach one of her long and gangly arms up to the lock and flip it to the side, leaving the door unlocked.

It takes Kim a total of a second to fling the door open.

She doesn’t waste time in the doorframe looking Leah up and down, she steps into the stall, locking the door behind her immediately and sitting down against the door, where Leah had previously been sat.

Kim doesn’t say anything, pretends that she doesn’t notice the tear tracks and snot all over Leah’s face. Instead she extends a windbreaker out towards Leah. Leah shakes her head and Kim just shakes her head, still holding her arm out.

“Leah take the fucking jacket, I won’t be the one to tell your mother that you got hypothermia because you refused to put a jacket on after a game.”

Then it hits Leah, there are people here, at the game, for her.

Her mother, grandmother, father, brother.

Keira even managed to make the trip down just for this game, and yet Leah is crumpled over in a loo, having a fucking breakdown.

Kim shoves the jacket at Leah, and Leah just gives in, pulling it around her shoulders but leaving her arms out so she doesn’t have to remove them from the toilet seat, out of fear that whatever is left contained in her stomach will arise.

Leah and Kim stay that way for a while, Kim just sitting and watching Leah carefully, whilst Leah clutches onto the toilet seat.

She vomits once again, but this time it’s just stomach acid, it burns but it makes her stomach rest a little bit easier, easy enough for Leah to push herself up from the toilet bowl and rest against the wall beside her, so she’s diagonal from Kim.

“Don’t you have teammates to pep up?”

Kim just furrowed her eyebrows at Leah.

“Yes, you.”

Leah grimaces at that answer, she isn’t normally the consoled, normally the consoler, taking up the same job that Kim is right now.

“There are people who have bigger problems right now than I do.”

Kim nods, which throws Leah off a little bit.

“Yes, there are, but I think you’ve been needing this a lot longer than you’d care to admit.”

Leah can’t look at Kim’s eyes, can’t bear the amount of concern that is being directed at her, so she keeps her eyes on her cleats.

They’re muddy, and sopping wet, and Leah’s feet are shivering like crazy, her toes numb from the cold.

“Needing what?”

The question hangs in the air, empty but yet also so full with wonder.

“Needing attention, comfort, vulnerability, needing to not be the invincible Leah Williamson for a minute.”

Leah can’t disagree with Kim, even if she wanted to, it’s just a lie that Kim would catch her out on, and she’s dealt with enough disappointment today.

“I should be happy, on cloud nine, it’s my first game back.”

Leah’s voice betrays her, betrays every single thing that she’s wishing she was feeling.

“There isn’t anything you should be, there are things you can want to feel, but there’s no exact way that you should be feeling right now. Remember Viv’s comeback? Recovery isn’t linear Leah, you know that.”

Kim’s scolding her a little bit, she knows how to get through to Leah, she needs tough love, none of the soft pity bullshit.

“I played like shit, you should be yelling at me not sitting on the bathroom floor with me looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy.”

Kim cocks her head, this is how she works her way in, she doesn’t even have to ask the questions, she just slowly works the answers out, she can play the long game.

“You missed a few passes and intercepts, it's not the end of the world, so did everyone. Do you think I should be yelling at them? We had a bad game Leah, it happens.”

Kim’s words are strong, passionate, but Leah knows there is a lingering question hanging beneath them.

“Leah, how are you doing?”

It’s such a bleak question, so simple but yet so impossible to answer.

“I’m fine, I’m good, I’m back on the pitch, I’m happy.”

It’s all lies, Leah is fairly certain that she hasn’t felt fine or good in a few weeks now, and definitely not happy. She doesn’t think she deserves to feel happy, especially not when she’s been playing how she has.

“You know that you don’t have to sugar coat things with me, you don’t need to lie to me for the sake of trying to get me to leave you alone, it won’t work.”

Kim is probably the most stubborn and selfless person Leah knows, it’s normally the thing she admires most about the Scot, but right now she couldn’t detest it more.

“Leah, you do know it’s okay to be upset, or annoyed, you're coming back from a major injury, I’d be concerned if you weren’t feeling some of those things.”

Kim’s words are reassurances, she’s trying to send Leah into a false sense of comfort, enough comfort that she’ll start to open up to Kim, that she’ll finally let all of her walls and mental barricades down.

“Kim, seriously, I’m fine.”

Kim exhales, deeply, she’s letting go of her lenient side, breathing it out and expelling the soft part of her that was dancing circles around Leah’s mental state, hoping that she’d open up on her own, but it was crystal clear that was Leah was not going to be volunteering that information.

“Leah, have you been struggling?”

It’s a blunt question, and as Leah looks up at Kim with complete shock and fear on her face she can’t find anything besides concern and questioning in her eyes.

“What does that matter?”

It’s a deflection, a weak one, an attempt at trying to pivot Kim, Leah knows subconsciously though that it’s not going to work, Kim sees through it.

“I’m worried about you, I know a lot of the team is. I know you’re struggling Leah, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Leah forces herself to take a deep breath, the unwavering depth in her Captain’s eyes is unmissable, tormenting her from a metre away.

“Leah for the last month you’ve looked like you’re on the cusp of a nervous breakdown, and that’s okay, there is nothing wrong with that. But feeling that way for a whole month isn’t normal.”

Leah knows Kim is right, the older Scot is hardly ever wrong, she’s only seven years older than Leah, but sometimes Kim seems wiser than her mother, sometimes she treats Leah like her daughter, this moment is one of those moments.

“Kim, please just leave me alone.”

Leah is pleading, begging, praying that Kim will just leave her be, stop trying to make her feel things that she doesn’t want to.

“I’ll shut up but I’m not leaving you alone, not when you feel like this.”

Leah feels like Kim knows what she’s feeling better than Leah does, and that’s a weird feeling, knowing that Kim knows exactly what swirly weird thoughts are happening in Leah’s confusing brain.

“Leah, you’re obviously not doing very well.”

Leah cuts Kim off before she can say much more, because she’s honestly sick of hearing Kim’s half lecturing half concerned voice in her ear.

“Thanks for stating the obvious Kim, no, I’m not doing fucking well, I’m pretty sure a blind man could figure it out, so please, for gods sakes, leave me the fuck alone.”

In some strange way, it’s like music to Kim’s ear, hearing Leah openly admit her problems, because it means that Kim is slowly easing her up, slowly getting her to hone in on her emotions.

“Leah, talk to me, what’s up?”

All of a sudden Leah’s face contorts into one of genuine pain, and Kim feels her gut drop for a second.

“Kim I need you to just leave me the fuck alone like I’ve already fucking asked you too.”

Kim likes to think that she’s fairly lenient, she knows how much her girls, her teammates, can take. She knows how to handle most situations, and to an outsider, in this situation they’d probably say that Kim should leave Leah alone.

Kim knows Leah, just like she knows everybody else on the team. She knows that Leah, in all of her stubbornness and masking, often needs someone there for her, although she’d never admit it.

“Leah Cathrine, you can be as angry as you’d like, but you won’t talk to me or anybody like that, especially someone who is just trying to look out for you. Now, I’ll ask you once again, and give you the opportunity to answer me honestly before I haul your ass out of here and onto the bus. Leah, you know that I would never judge you, nobody on this team will ever judge you, and if they do they’ll have me to deal with. We all love you so much, you’re our Leah, our baby girl, and we all just want the best for you.”

Leah forces herself to take a breath, she feels more tears falling down her face as Kim’s words truly start to impact her.

“Sarina’s here, and I played like shit. My knee fucking kills, the olympics are in two months and I’m playing like shit. I’ve never had anxiety, never had a panic attack besides the euro finals, and all of a sudden, I’m a emotional fucking wreck and can’t get my shit together, I need to be better.”

Kim takes a good look at Leah’s franticness, it’s so unlike her, but also not unexpected.

“Leah, take some deep breaths for me honey, use your diaphragm.”

Kim’s voice has dropped a few octaves, and it’s lost all of the tension that was previously in it.

“Everyone on the team thinks I’m weak, stupid and weak, fucking useless.”

Kim stops Leah’s ramble before she takes it too far.

“Leah, listen to me. You are not weak, or stupid, or useless, or anything that your brain is telling you. You are recovering from a devastating injury. You are not perfect. You are doing your best.”

Leah looks up at Kim, with big doe eyes full of tears, she looks so helpless, like a young child.

“You are Sarina’s captain Leah, she’s going to pick you for the olympics. She’d be crazy not too, and if she doesn’t, which isn’t going to happen but with the off chance, then we can go watch them, or we can stay in London and work on your recovery. There will be people around, friends, family. You will not be alone.”

Leah doubts Kim, even though her captain sounds so sure she can’t help but feel a little bit insecure. Millie’s been doing her job for almost a year now, and she’s been doing a bloody good job of it, it makes Leah wonder if Sarina is even going to want her back, especially when her and Millie play the same position on the pitch.

“Leah, honey, I say this as someone who loves you and cares about you more than you’ll ever know. If your knee is hurting, then you should be telling the trainers, and not pushing it. You know your body, and if it’s hurting you need to rest. I know that you want to be playing, and you're finally allowed to so it’s this big deal, but you need to listen to your body and not hurt yourself further. I don’t want to have to tell Jonas and the trainers that you are playing through pain, so I need you to do it, before I bench you for endangering yourself.”

Kim hates how broken Leah looks, and if she could she’d pick Leah up and give her a big hug and say sorry for everything that she’s going through, and she’ll get to that, but right now, Leah is the most impressionable, and this is Kim’s chance to get through to her.

“Leah, every single person on this team loves you, no matter what. This team, this family, all of the love is completely unconditional, you don’t have to put on a brave face for them, I can guarantee you that if we walked into that locker room right now all they would want to do is make sure that you are okay. Nobody is here to condemn you, or make you feel like shit. We all care about you Leah, we’re all worried about you, not mad or angry.”

Leah looks up at Kim, her wobbling bottom lip between her teeth and tears, she looks so gutted, so much smaller than she really is.

“I failed them.”

It’s the first words that have left Leah’s mouth in a while, and it sends a sob barrelling directly from her lips.

This sob, this breakage, this sign of outward weakness speaks volumes to Kim, and it has her scooching over so she’s sitting beside Leah, their shoulders brushing up against each other. When Leah leans into the contact Kim raises one of her arms, putting it across the back of Leah’s shoulder blades and bringing the younger defender into her body.

Kim leans down, pressing her lips to Leah’s forehead, letting them linger for a little bit.

“Leah, honey, no matter what, you could never fail any of us, even if you had ten own goals in a final, none of us could care less, your our Le, our super star. You could never fail us.”

Leah forces herself to take a deep breath, to compose herself, Leah Williamson does not cry.

Except today, today she does, for so many different reasons, and yet absolutely no reason.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anybody, everyone needs me to be good, everyone expects me to be good.”

It’s like a mantra to Leah, a reminder, it’s her bible.

Leah Williamson does not lose, Leah Williamson does not disappoint, Leah Williamson cannot be a failure.

Yet today, it feels like she’s done all of those things, and it’s too much for her, too much for her heart to handle.

“Leah, I’m not wanting to rush you, we can sit here for as long as we have to for you to feel better, but the bus is waiting for us, and I know the girls really want to see you. Plus, my old lady knees are starting to cramp up in here.”

It’s lighthearted, but Leah feels the pressure fall down on her chest like a stack of heavy bricks.

Kim sees the change, and she does exactly what Leah needs, she brings her into her lap for a bone breaking hug.

“They’re going to be mad.”

Leah’s voice is a murmur, low and so quiet that Kim almost misses it.

“Leah I can promise you nobody in that room is going to be mad at you, proud, happy, overjoyed, yes. But one hundred percent not mad. We’ll go out there, get you changed out of these freezing clothes, you can talk to whoever you’d like to. We’ll leave the changerooms, there will probably be people there to talk to you, maybe Sarina, maybe so people from the press, probably your mum. Talk to whoever you want to, then we’ll hop on the bus and get back to the hotel. Okay? I just need you to be brave for me and do it, because I know you can, all of us girls know you can, okay?”

It takes Leah a little bit to nod in agreement with Kim, but eventually she does, her head lifting from its spot buried in Kim’s windbreaker.

“C’mon then, let’s get you up.”

Kim uses all of her strength to lift herself up off the floor, the pre match soreness has settled into her bones and muscles and she makes an internal joke about the old age really starting to get to her.

Once she’s stood up properly she reaches to pull Leah up, even if her back is aching and her knees are sore.

Leah’s unsteady on her legs, like a baby with sealegs, or a newborn baby horse. Kim has to quite literally manhandle Leah into leaning onto her, her arms wrapped around Kim’s much smaller form.

It’s uncomfortable, but Kim makes do, unlocking the stall and dragging Leah over to the sink.

“Wash your face off honey.”

Leah takes one look at herself in the mirror and is instantly shocked, her eyes are thoroughly red rimmed, puffy and altogether Leah just looks like a complete mess.

She leans down to the sink, turning the faucet and washing some of the ice cold water over her face. It doesn’t do much, it doesn’t really do anything besides wipe the tear stains from her face and make a little bit of the redness subside. Not enough to make it look like she hasn’t been crying herself sick, and definitely not enough to make it look like she has her shit together.

She wants to tell Kim to go ahead without her, but one look at the Scottish captain through the mirror tells Leah that anything she says is going to be useless.

So she swallows and spits a little bit of water to clean the acid taste from her mouth and then she stands herself up, righting her uniform and leaning herself back onto Kim, her legs and stomach feeling as uneasy as her current metal state.

When Kim makes it to the door of the bathroom, Leah feels her stomach drop, plummeting to her feet. Kim doesn’t hesitate, even with Leah draping her studs down against the concrete.

Leah keeps her head down, completely ashamed and unable to look at the faces of any of her teammates.

Kim leads her over to her cubby, sitting her down on the seat gently before sitting herself down in front of Leah, pulling off her soaked cleats and leaving them on the floor for later.

“Leah, honey, look at me please.”

Leah struggles to take her eyes from her lap, where her hands are sitting, fiddling aimlessly with the skin around her nail beds.

She eventually does though, keeping her eyes solely focused on Kim’s face, not letting her eyes travel to any of her teammates.

“You need to get changed, but my knees are really sore so I don’t think I can hold you up by myself, I need to go see one of the trainers. Who would you like to help you?”

No one.

That’s the answer that bounces around Leah’s head.

“I can do it myself.”

Leah’s words come from a stubborn mindset, the mindset that is making her feel even sicker for being so openly vulnerable.

“How about Viv and Beth, or Katie, or Jen?”

Leah hates all of the options, because they all include her having to be vulnerable with more people.

“I can do it myself.”

Kim rolls her eyes, her face still as stern and set as ever.

“It’s not up for argument Leah, I’m going to go get Viv, okay?”

If Leah had to make a choice, it would have been either Beth or Viv, because both of them have been through what she has, but Viv is the better option, because she won’t try and make jokes with Leah.

So Leah allows Kim to get up from the floor in front of her, and wander off to wherever she has too, to find Viv.

It’s about thirty seconds later that a pair of white nike shoes show up beside Leah’s sock covered feet.

“Leah, liefje, kom voor mij op?” Leah, love, stand up for me?

Leah’s not fluent in Dutch, she can’t speak a word of the language besides some simple conversation and basic terms of endearment, but for whatever reason she understands Viv perfectly.

Using the wall of her cubby as a crutch, she stands herself up, looking at Viv with a lot of questioning in her eyes.

Viv doesn’t wait for permission, she just reaches for the bottom of Leah’s jersey, lifting it up until Leah’s forced to put her arms up so Viv can pull it over her head.

Before leah’s left shivering, Viv’s helping her pull a long sleeve top and hoodie over her body, making her once freezing body a little bit warmer.

Once Viv has the hoodie pulled around Leah tightly she moves to her shorts, once again not waiting for permissions and tugging them as well as her compression shorts down.

Before she tugs the sweatpants on though, she secures a knee brace and ice pack to Leah’s knee.

Leah’s almost embarrassed about the fact that she nearly moans when the ice makes contact with her knee, the cold contrast feeling so incredible on her inflamed and sore skin.

Viv then moves onto the sweatpants, pulling Leah’s feet through the bottoms of them and then pulling them up and over her knees gently before securing the pants loosely around Leah’s hips.

Once her clothes are on, and Leah is feeling a little bit happier and spacey from the welcome warmth, Viv sits her back down on the bench.

She pulls Leah’s socks off, dutch simplicity leaving her lips as she gently applies, newer and softer socks to Leah’s feet, Viv’s warm hands gently rubbing over Leah’s feet as she pulls the socks over her toes and ankle, before pulling out a pair of ugg boots that Leah has never seen before and tugging them onto her feet.

Normally, Leah would revolt against the break of uniform, but she’s too tired, too vulnerable, too broken to care.

Viv can apparently tell, because in a few seconds time there is a group of girls flanking her, all with the same soft, calm expressions on their faces.

Katie, Beth, Viv, Jen and Lia.

“Hey baby girl, time to get you to the bus hey?”

It’s Beth’s gentle voice, quiet and soft.

“M’ sorry.”

It’s the only thing going through Leah’s brain, endlessly repeating like a record that keeps replaying.

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for and we’ll talk about it on the bus, but we just need to get you there, okay? So Viv and Jen are going to help you, Katie will grab your things and I’ll make sure that any press stragglers stay away, okay?”

Leah feels defeated, and broken, but she nods anyway.

Jen and Viv reach down to pull her up, Beth leading the way out of the change rooms and back into the tunnel. Luckily, there are no stragglers, and the trip is fairly easy, Kim joining the group somewhere along the way with ice packs secured to both of her knees but she looks as if she's in good enough spirits.

They manage to manhandle Leah onto the bus and into a seat, cocooned between Kim and a window.

Kim whispers sweet nothings in her ear the whole ride home, reassurances that Leah doesn’t really hear with her ringing ears.

It’s actually Viv who brings Leah out of her trance, pulling Kim out of her seat beside her so Viv can sit down.

Leah, liefde, listen to me for a second please.”

Leah takes a deep breath.

“You did everything you could have, we all did everything we could have, this is not your fault nor your burden to take. None of us will accept you taking the burden for this. You can’t allow yourself to, because this,” Viv’s hand falls on Leah’s puffed up knee, covered with an ice pack, butLeah understands what she means.

“Is not going to get better if you don’t allow yourself to heal mentally. We’re all here for you, we’re all going to carry you when you are down, please Leah, for me, for your mum, for anybody, just let yourself rest. We’ll review, and as a team we will get better, but we need you beside us getting better as well, we need you out here leading the team, like we all know you can. Take a night, reflect and then come back tomorrow with the mindset that you have something to prove, to us, to Jonas, to Sarina, yes?”

Leah looks at Viv, looks at how genuine she is, how she definitely knows exactly what Leah is feeling.

The words linger for a few seconds, before a mass of Arsenal hoodies are piling on top of Leah and Viv, a struggle of arms and hands securing themselves around Leah.

It’s warm, happy and loving.

It’s everything that Leah has been working to create in this environment for years, not for herself, for everyone around her. But having it come back to her, it hits her like a freight train, and suddenly, or not so suddenly, Leah realises that she’s not doing everything by herself, she doesn’t have to when this is her team.

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x arsenal #kim little #baby vivi #vivianne miedema #leah makes me cry #i love leah williamson #golden retriever leah vibes #love angst #i love some hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #im hurtin #marry me rn

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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we need you

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Afraid of failing the two of the people he cares about more than anything, Joel decides you and Ellie are better off without him.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SET IN JACKSON. takes place during Kin. arguing, angst. helpful to know reader was not present when Joel and Tommy talked in the garage. NO mentions of age, reader has no physical description.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: welllllp i don't know about you guys, but i am DEAD inside after tonight so to cope i am going to write a little drabble. already put it in the warning/tags section, but once again, just to be on the safe side of things: potential spoilers, proceed with caution if you do not want the newest episode spoiled!

“Just what in the motherfucking hell was that, Joel?” You nearly growled, bursting through the door of the bedroom that he’d chosen to occupy for the night. Having heard the way he’d spoken to Ellie—not to mention, all that he had said to her even after her heartbreaking confession to him, her unspoken cry for him not to abandon her, all you could see in your mind was the color red. Sure, you and Joel had been through your fair share of bullshit over the years, disagreements that caused friction between the two of you weren’t all that uncommon seeing as the two of you shared similar personality traits to each other, stubbornness being one of them. But you could not, for the life of you, remember an occasion where you’d been this angry with him, this fucking livid. As you watched him sink down onto the bed without a word, your hands curled into fists at your sides. You knew it would only make matters worse, losing your temper, but you weren’t all too sure that you could contain it this time around.

The blood in your veins was bubbling, boiling hot underneath your skin.

“Are you going to fucking answer me or what?” You prompted, a cool edge to your tone despite the heat radiating throughout your body. “You’re really trying to hand her off to Tommy?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Find what out, Joel? That you went off and made a decision, and a really fucking dumb one at that, without even talking to me about it first?” You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Despite how incredibly furious you were, the sadness was heavy inside of your chest. Tt was as if Joel had forgotten the fact that for the last few months, Ellie had been under your care too, and you had every right to be a part of any decision that he made regarding her and her well-being. It hurt you to your very core that he’d done this without talking to you first, and it hurt you even deeper to know that Ellie had known about this and she’d kept it all to herself all evening.

She’d come home from the movies and when you offered her dinner, she refused to eat and stomped upstairs, locking herself in the bedroom. You’d chalked it up to nothing more than a typical teenaged girl simply having a mood swing. After all, it hadn’t exactly been the best day for Ellie. She’d arrived in Jackson and the first thing she noticed was how everyone in the colony looked at her, especially the children. She was different. She didn’t fit in, she stuck out like a sore thumb and you knew that had to have been hard for her. Not wanting to push her, you’d figured that she would come out of the room eventually and talk you about it when she was good and ready. But now that you knew the real reason why she had come home so upset, you couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

For hours, Ellie had been upstairs in that room knowing that Joel planned on dumping her on Tommy and you didn’t have the slightest fucking clue about what was going on until you’d overheard Joel and Ellie’s shouting match just moments ago.

“Joel.” You said his name in a tone neither of you recognized.

Low, venomous, borderline dangerous.

You were like a ticking bomb, seconds away from going off.

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “She’s better off with Tommy, alright? And we both fuckin’ know that,” he said. “It’s the best thing to do for her. I’m doin’ it because I know damn good and well that if she stays with me, all I’m gonna do is have her fall into the wrong fuckin’ hands or killed.”

“You’re wrong!” You countered, dropping your arms away from your chest and back down to your sides. “Joel, don’t you dare fucking do this. Ellie doesn’t want Tommy, she wants you. She all but fucking said it right to your face just a minute ago!” You cried, pointing a finger towards the door of the room as if pointing to Ellie herself. “She admitted to you that she wouldn’t feel safe with anyone else, Joel. So don’t you fucking do this to her.”

He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles going ghost white. “She’ll be better off with Tommy,” he repeated himself. He paused for a brief moment, just long enough to avert his tortured gaze from yours as he said, “And so would you.”

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “Fucking excuse me?”

“I can’t keep her safe. Hell, I can barely keep you safe! How many fuckin’ times have I almost lost you? ‘Cause I don’t move fast enough? ‘Cause I’ve made the wrong decisions? ‘Cause I’ve asked you to do somethin’ for me and turns out that I unknowingly sent you into the fuckin’ lion’s den?” He inhaled a sharp breath, and you could hear his voice breaking with each and every word that fell from his lips. “I’ve almost cost you your life how many fuckin’ times now?”

“Joel—”

“Tess died ‘cause of me.” He saw you open your mouth to protest and he quickly added, “You can sit there and tell me over and over that it wasn’t my fault ‘til you’re blue in the face, but let’s just fuckin’ be honest and tell it how it is, alright? I couldn’t get to her quick enough and now she’s dead. I won’t let you meet the same fate.” Joel reached up, raking a hand tiredly through his hair, mentally bracing himself for your reaction to what he was about to say next. “I think you should go with Tommy and get Ellie to where she needs to be. After that, you should—you should think about stayin’ here with him in Jackson. I probably don’t belong here, but you do.”

You let out a small, shaky breath of air.

“Who the hell are you to make that kind of decision for me?” You asked, willing yourself to keep yourself from crumbling into tears. “I’m sorry Joel, but you can’t make that kind of a choice for me. And do you want to know what else?” You didn’t even wait for him to respond. “You can’t make it for Ellie, either.”

“She’s fuckin’ fourteen years old—”

You took a step forward as you challenged him. “Do you really think that girl isn’t smart enough to know deep down inside what’s best for her? Tell me, do you really think that Ellie pulled everything she said out of her ass? Do you honestly think that she could ever trust Tommy the way that she trusts you?” You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek and quickly wiped it away before he could see it. “Ellie is young, but she’s not a baby, Joel. I get that sometimes we need to guide her through shit, but let’s be real. She is old enough to make decisions for herself. Maybe not all of them, but the decision that you’re trying to make for her right here, right now—it isn’t yours to make.” Another tear made its way down the side of your face as you whispered, “And the one you’re trying to make for me isn’t either.”

Joel hung his head, seemingly defeated. “Why can’t you see it’s for the best? Why are you makin’ this so hard?”

Willing your trembling legs to move, you slowly walked over to him and sank to your knees in front of him; although you tried to meet his eyes, he refused. “You care about Ellie. I know it, I can see it and I can feel it. For as much shit as you give her all the time, I know that she’s become so important to you.”

“‘Course she is,” he mumbled. “You’re both important to me.”

You reached for his hands, pulling them forward onto his lap. You placed your own hands on top of his, lacing your fingers together. “Then don’t fucking do this to us, Joel. Please. I’m already down on my knees and I will fucking beg and plead if that’s what it’s going to take.” You crouched down a little further, enough so that you could look up into his dark brown eyes. “Ellie wants to be with you, Joel. And I do too.”

Joel’s gaze glistened with tears that he tried, but failed, to keep from falling in front of you. “I’ll fail you, just like I’ve fuckin’ failed everybody else.”

“Joel, please listen to me. Hear what I am saying, for the love of Christ. We have come so far,” You said, firmly squeezing his hands in yours as if somehow that would snap him out of it. “Whether you choose to believe or not, we’ve only come this far because of you. You have done so much for us. It’s why we trust you, why we feel safe with you. Me and Ellie, we belong with you, Joel—not with Tommy, not with anyone else. We need you, okay? We fucking need you. Do you understand me, Joel?”

Joel exhaled the breath he’d been holding shakily, leaning down to be closer to you. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against yours as he tried to even out his breathing.

Rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs in soothing circles, you lifted your head and lightly pressed your lips against his forehead.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” You murmured quietly against his skin, feeling a slight shudder rack his body as a single whimper escaped him. You squeezed his hands again. “Together, Joel.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal

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raya-hunter01 · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday (Even thought it's Saturday)

Thank you empressdede and @whatdoeseverybodywant for the tag. This has been sitting in my drafts since December. Enjoy!!

The Christmas Present

Jey's Annual Christmas Party

“There is nothing wrong with Sefa, take that back. Your being plan mean now,” I said offended as Tori one of the new divas was talking about him as he stood across the room totally unaware, or maybe he was, and he just didn’t give a shit what people thought of him.

He always moved in silence…Guarded and the halls always cleared when they saw him coming.

“Get real Eden, it has to be something wrong with him. He just stands there like a knot on a log and doesn’t say anything. I wonder does he show emotions when he has sex or is he like a robot,” she said as Trin interrupted her public undressing of the tribal heir.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my brother-in-law, he just ain’t with the drama that ya’ll asses bring. Plus, he likes his women real, not surgically enhanced,” Trin said as I smiled at the offended look and Tori’s face before she stormed off.

“Damn tell her how you feel, Trin,” I laughed as she smiled.

“Girl, she mad because he won’t give her the time of day and he likes you,” Trin said winking at me as I shook my head at her before stealing a glance at the baby brother of the Fatu family.

I have to admit, I liked him too, but he was dangerous. They say the most dangerous man in the room is one that doesn’t know the power he has over others, and I don’t think he knows the power he truly has.

I was drawn to him, there was a sadness to him that just made me want to hold him.

The chaos of the Christmas party long forgotten as I saw him talk to his brothers for a few minutes before going upstairs.

“When are you going to tell him, you like him?’ Trin asked as I sipped on my champagne. “I’m not ready to date yet, Trin,” I said as she scoffed.

“Bullshit It’s been over a year, you need to have some fun,” she said as her thoughts echoed in my mind.

My last relationship had me leery on letting someone into my life again. It’s not every day your boyfriend cheats on you with your cousin. I’m not scared to admit that it fucked me up, but I am slowly working through it.

“I’m going to tell him Merry Christmas, then order me an uber,” I said as she smirked at me. “An uber? Girl, go upstairs and lay up under that man, stop playin’,” Trin said as I sighed.

“Uh, we are rarely home and I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight, thank you very much. Plus, I’m sure Jey don’t want folks having sex in his house,” I said giving her a hug as she laughed.

“Aye, where my hug at?” Jey asked engulfing us both in his strong arms. “I really enjoyed the party boo, but I’m about to head out,” I said as he kissed my cheek.

“Head up and see lil bro before you leave. He’s in the spare bedroom, you know where it’s at,” he said as I gave him another hug before going upstairs. The music becoming fainter as I went to the other side of the house.

How do you tell someone you want them to rearrange your insides respectively without sounding desperate. Gently knocking on the door I leaned up against the frame, my hair flowing wild and free as I anxiously waited.

“Who is it?” He asked opening the door as I smiled trying to hide my nervousness. The shocked look on his face told me all I needed to know I made the right decision to come up to see him.

“Are you alone?” I asked as he nervously gulped but couldn’t resist being a smart ass. “Oh, I got a whole party going on in here, you don’t see all these people” he said smartly as I rolled my eyes “Always the smart ass,” I whispered as he cracked a smile.

“It’s always just me, you know that,” he said as I built up my nerve.

“Well, how would you like to have a real party for two?” I asked shyly as he opened the door wider allowing me inside as I put my coat on the dresser.

“I was just listening’ to some music on the tv to unwind,” he said clearing his throat going over to turn it off. “No, leave it on,” I whispered sitting down in the chair beside the bed as he turned it down a little and sat down on the bed.

“What happened you been avoiding me all night?” I asked truly wanting to know what was wrong. “I got some shit on my mind, I had to take the kids back to their mom and they didn’t want me to leave,” he said as I sympathized with him.

“I know it gets hard but it’s going to get better, I know it is. They know you love them and just keep making sure they know that.” Reaching over I rubbed his knee in support as he stoic expression never changed but he nodded.

“I just hate I won’t get to spend Christmas with them tomorrow, but I guess I should be thankful they got to open a few of their gifts from me tonight.”

“Maybe you should call her and see could you stop in and just be there for when they open their other gifts tomorrow,” I suggested as he sighed pulling out his phone texting his ex-wife.

I hoped she lets him do that, it’s bad enough she moved the kids back here to Pensacola without him knowing.

I saw a small smile pass his face as he got a text alert. “She said I could come in the morning to see them open their gifts, and eat breakfast with them,” he said as I smiled brightly at him, truly happy for him.

“I’m glad she changed her mind, I can’t even imagine being without my baby on Christmas,” I said as he grabbed my hand, causing me to blush.

“Enough about me though, how is Kason?” he asked as I smiled brightly at the mention of my son’s name. “He’s great, my mom has him for tonight. She thought I needed the break.”

“You do, I mean your like superwoman. You make sure all our schedules are good and constantly taking care of us all. Then you’re a mom to a very busy ten-month-old. Hell, when we leave the building, your night is just getting started,” he said as I tried not to smile.

He actually was taking notice and appreciative of my work and who I was as a person.

“Yea, it does but I’m just glad Joe talked them into getting me a bus so I can bring him on the road with me. I love how kid friendly the backstage atmosphere is now under Paul’s leadership.”

“Yea, he has that part down good. Now if only the gossip mill would stop wit they shit, maybe I could walk the halls and not be judged by people that don’t even know me,” his voice trailed off.

I knew he heard the whispers of our coworkers. They were afraid of him, they bought into the persona, but I knew better. He was shy and misunderstood but it was their loss and my gain.

“I wanna dance,” I said standing up and holding my hand out to him as his eyes seemed unsure. It was almost as if he wanted to look around to see if there was anyone else in the room with us.

“Uh, with me?” he asked as nodded, not trusting my voice. “It’s a lot that comes along with this and I know you ain’t ready,” Sefa whispered his eyes piercing my soul as I yearned for him.

“Stop worrying, I’m a big girl and I know what I want,” I said unashamed as he licked his lips. “Is that right? Well, tell me again what you want beautiful,” His deep voice awakening something within me that had been doormat for far too long.

“I want to dance with you…Right here…. Right now,” I declared as he stood up pulling me close, our foreheads touching as I caressed his face.

His nervousness making me almost shy, but I knew if this was going to happen tonight, I needed to take charge. “Sefa, I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I whispered as his eyes found mine again.

Clearing his throat, I waited with bated breath for his answer. “I don’t wanna be alone tonight either,” he whispered nodding as I released the breath I was holding.

“I was hoping you would say that,” I said, my fingers playing with his beard as he caressed my hips.

Building up my courage, I tested the waters with a gentle kiss as a deep groan fell from his lips as we tasted each other.

Suddenly, Sefa pulled me closer, deepening our kiss making it even more impossible for me to gather my myself as he ravaged my mouth with his. My hands gripping the back of his shirt as I whimpered against his lips in pleasure.

His kisses, powerful and intentional as I weakened in his arms.

“Mm, Sefa”, I gasped as he released my lips. Shit, he can kiss, and he knew it by the sly smile that adorned his handsome face as we both caught our breaths.

“You sure?” he asked as I nodded, his hands caressing my face as he claimed my lips again.

“Mmm, tell me you want me and that I ain’t trippin’ right now,” he whispered, his passionate gaze making me fall even deeper under his spell.

“Yes, I want you,” I moaned as his thumb caressed my lower lip. “You want my head between your thighs eatin' that sweet pussy don’t you?”

His deep voice sending shivers down my spine as I purred in anticipation.

“Yes! Please Sefa,” I begged unashamed, yearning to be claimed as he licked his lips.

“You want all this dick up in dat pussy rearranging them tight walls don’t you?”

Fuck, he knew his power, and I was already under his spell, ready and willing as I whimpered against him unable to speak.

“Are you ready for all of me Eden, I can be a lot baby, but I promise you ain’t gon’ never forget me.”

I nodded, rendered powerless as his lips slowly descended upon mine, our kisses becoming deeper and more desperate by the second.

“Yes, take me,” I gasped finally finding my voice as we fell onto the bed. Our lips and hands exploring each other desperately. “You sure?” he whispered against my lips, as I nodded again.

“Let me here you, Eden. Do you want me?” he groaned, grabbing my hands pinning them above my head as he towered over me .

“I want you,” I moaned as a low growl fell from his lips. “I want you too,” he moaned claiming my lips again with urgency as I gasped at the intensity but welcomed it.

I was losing myself, losing myself in him and I loved it.

Whimpering against his mouth, he abruptly released my lips and let my hands go. “Why did you stop?” I panted trying to catch my breath as he searched my face for discomfort.

“I knew you weren’t ready for this; I’m moving too fast. Your scared of me, aren’t you?” he asked as I looked at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” I asked not getting how he gathered that conclusion.

“Look, I can take it alright, just tell me your scared of me like everybody els is," he said as I sat up beside him still trying to catch my breath.

“Scared of you? Boy, if anything I needed to breathe so I wouldn’t die on your ass,” I said as he looked at me in confusion.

“I’m serious Sefa, whether you know it or not, your very intense and I like it. It actually makes it hard for me to not lose myself around you,” I confessed as he searched my eyes for any deception in my words.

“I’m not scared of you Sefa, if I was, I wouldn’t have come up her,” I said reaching over and placing my hand on his knee.

“You sure you’re not scared? You would tell me, right?” he asked as I smiled at him.

“Now, if you would have asked me this last year, I would have said yes without a second thought. But, I know you now, and up under that tough enforcer attitude you’re a teddy bear,” I said getting up off the bed and going over to the table to fix me a shot of Tequilla.

“I couldn’t tell that you were scared, you chewed my ass out for not speaking to you the first time we ever talked,” he said as I laughed.

“Hell, its rude to not to say at least hello to someone when they speak to you.”

“A’ight you right, I was wrong,” he said as an idea popped into my head.

“Now, since we got that covered, how bout we get out of here and go to my house. I have a beautiful view of the beach and plenty of privacy,” I offered as he stood up slowly walking towards me.

“Going somewhere more private sounds perfect, I mean we don’t need everybody in our business,” he said as I nodded in agreement. Last thing any of us needed was the gossip mill in our business.

“I’m happy we’re on the same page, let’s get out of here.”

It was easy to sneak away as the party was in full swing, but Sefa shot Jey a text to let him know he was taking me home and would hit him up later.

The ride to my house at first was quiet but something shifted in the atmosphere as leaned over and playfully nipped at his neck as he drove.

“You playin’ a dangerous game Eden,” he growled as I smiled against his neck slowly reaching down, slipping my hands inside his sweats as he groaned.

“Mmhm, a big dangerous game at that and I can’t wait to play,” I whispered in his ear, as I slowly began to stroke him.

“Damn, you like playin’ with danger, don’t you?” he moaned as I smiled against his neck. His breathing became more ragged as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Yes, now eyes on the road, I got you,” I whispered as he groaned in appreciation. “Mm, shit… Well, go on then and do your thang.”

My mama ain’t raised no punk, so Sefa’s bout to get a preview of what’s to come. I just pray it don’t get us killed.

“Make the next right and go about two miles up the road, my house is the last one up on the hill,” I whispered in his ear as one of his hands caressed my thigh.

“I’mma tear dat pussy up, you know dat right,” he moaned. His deep voice echoing throughout the car and making me even wetter than I already was as I continued to stroke him.

“Yes, and I can’t wait,” I whispered as his grip on the wheel tightened. “Are we almost there?” he gasped as I smirked knowing he was close as I decided to talk him through it.

“You like my hands pleasing you, don’t you?” I asked as he nodded in concentration putting his other hand back on the wheel.

“Don’t hold back, I want you to let go,” I encouraged as he melted into me. “There is my house, turn in and park,” I said as he quickly pulled into my driveway, throwing the car in park and cutting it off.

"Now, keep your hands on the wheel,” I said as he turned, resting his forehead against mine, keeping his hands on the wheel as I continued to please him.

“Why did you come with me tonight?” I whispered, licking his lips as groaned catching my tongue between his lips as we shared a sloppy wet kiss.

“Mmm, you know why. Tell me why you wanted me to come?” he moaned, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I wanted you to devour this pussy,” I whispered as he moaned against my lips.

“Now you tell me why you came? Tell me Sefa,” I whispered, beginning to stroke him faster as he gasped.

“I wanted to have you all to myself and make you scream my fuckin’ name all night long,” he growled grasping my face and claiming my lips in a passionate kiss as he came.

His body trembling as he found his much-needed release. Looking handsome more than ever as he rode out his climax as I watched in awe.

Yea, he defiantly needed that, and I was happy to help.

“Damn Eden, that was-” he moaned caressing my face, not able to finish his sentence, I smiled.

“It was my pleasure,” I whispered tenderly kissing his lips.

“Now, let me see if you taste as good as you look right now,” I said as he watched me through heavy lids.

Slowly I leaned down, and licked his cum off of his stomach as he gasped in shock at my actions. Not leaving a single drop, I then slid back into my seat. “Let me see Eden, open up beautiful.” Staring innocently at him, I opened my mouth and released my tongue for him to see.

“Fuck, dats what I’m talkin’ bout. Mmhm, now swallow dat shit,” he commanded as I did as he instructed.

“Mmm, you taste good,” I whispered licking my lips as he moaned. His powerful gaze awakening the woman within me.

“You askin’ for trouble,” he hissed as I smirked, before exiting the car as he readjusted himself back into his sweats.

Anxiously, I went to unlock the front door, before turning around to see if Sefa was behind me, but he was still sitting in the car in a daze.

“Stop overthinking Sefa, it’s no rules here,” I said going inside and heading upstairs, dropping articles of clothing along the way as I made my way to my room.

Hearing his footsteps, I sat down on the side of the bed, crossing my legs wearing only my black stilettos and a smile.

In all honesty I was scared to death, but excited if that made sense.

My heart began to race as Sefa appeared in the doorway in all his naked glory. My pussy drippin’ and throbbing in anticipation, knowing at any moment he was going to completely engulf me within his flame, and I couldn’t wait.

“I see your waiting for me like a good girl,” he whispered as I smiled holding out my hand to him as he came closer.

“I see you’re ready again,” I whispered looking at his throbbing erection as he smirked. “Oh, I stay ready and you betta be ready,” he said his voice making me wet as fuck as I moaned at his words.

“Come find out,” I whispered as he took my hand and smiled. “Are you sure?” he asked once again kneeling before me as I smiled.

“More than you’ll ever know,” I said as our lips met in another passionate kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Sefa.”

“Merry Christmas, Eden” he whispered easing me back onto the bed as I welcomed all of him. His hands caressing my body as raked my nails down his back in pleasure as he nibbled and sucked on my breasts.

“Let me see if you taste as good as I imagined,” he panted moving his kisses to my stomach as I gasped. Fuck, with how this man kisses I know he can give some bomb ass head.

“Are you gon’ give it all to me like a good girl?” Sefa asked dipping his tongue into my belly button as I moaned, running my fingers through his hair.

“Yes! I’mma give it all to you,” I moaned staring down at him in anticipation as he wore a mischievous smirk as my body trembled.

“Well, let me open up my first Christmas present then,” he whispered as his head disappeared between my thighs.

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

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blondieeu · 4 months

Text

winter nights. satoru g.

an uninvited guest showed up that night.

intruder is what they’re normally called but you knew who the person was too well to even call it that.

you didn’t bother to open your door all the way because of how hard it was snowing. the cold air nipping at your nose and your pretty brown skin.

the weather man said it was supposed to snow around 2 inches and counting, and you were pretty prone to getting sick easily—“daddy!”

A smaller voice exclaimed from behind you and the sound of tiny bare feet padding against the wooden floors all came together as you watched a smaller body being scooped up by the man in the door.

Mia, that was her name. She was 6 this coming february and her favorite color is pastel purple.

having her when you were freshly 19 you could argue was one of your best decisions you could've had.

Consequences did however come with the decision but you'd do it all again to have her.

You watched the white haired man slide his dress shoes off and kick the door closed like he still lived there and bring her farther into the house.

"How's my sweet girl?"

He coo'd at her, kissing her forehead and the girl looked up at him with stars in her eyes.

you could hear her ramble on and on about what she did at school, what mommy made for dinner, all the stars she drew, her wanting to watch the princess and the frog for the billionth time.

“mommy made me a tent!”

He took off his shades and set them onto the deep brown coffee table that matched the house's theme without even looking to see if he made it, knowing he did, since he used to live there.

"Oh now did she?"

He challenged her, walking away with her straight towards her room like he lived there, probably considering her bedtime being 7:20p and her still being up at 9:00p.

You sighed when he kicked the door closed once again, hearing giggles and laughing coming from the room as you started off into your kitchen down the hallway.

Opening the fridge you took out leftovers of the dinner you made a couple hours ago, Cajun chicken pasta.

Throwing it into the microwave to heat as you waited, your pretty white nails tapping against the marble counters as you listened to the faint 'vrrrrrrr' and let it soothe you.

"You know you didn't have to do that for me." A low voice came from behind you and before you could turn to tell him off for scaring you he put a finger on his lips.

"She's asleep?"

He nodded, already knowing you were referring to Mia. He smiled a bit, opening the microwave before it hit '00:01' and taking out the meal.

He grabbed a fork out of the spoon and fork drawer, like he lived there, and followed you into the living room plopping down next to you on the couch and starting to watch whatever bullshit show was on the TV while he fucked up that pasta.

tonight it was some episode of 'Lucifer' with the British man as the lead roll, you guys loved him. you could remember being pregnant with your baby and watching this show every night.

"You were away."

you started, not looking at him but not exactly watching the TV, just blank. He stopped eating and sat it on the glass coffee table, sitting up and leaning his forearms on his knees.

"I know..You know how my job goes, m’ sorry baby."

He looked like he wanted to say something else and even though you felt bad you couldn't help but be a little pissed at him, what about his family? his kid?

"What else are you gonna miss, Satoru?"

You asked, no expression readable on your face but he looked a little sad when you said that, his eyebrows furrowing when he quickly looked at you.

"I took some time off."

Your ears perked. Satoru Gojo, your ex boyfriend of 6 1/2 years and now baby daddy, took some time off his job!? What a shocker!

"Got 3 days off."

He added, a cocky sigh accompanied the end as he messed with his watch—like he ever really knows what time it is anyway.

"Why? You made your point on how strict they are so why now?"

"Because I wanted to spend more time with my family."

oh.

You didn't say anything else, watching his snow white hair bounce as the two of you got up, you following him straight into the kitchen, like he lived there. you sat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and watched as he washed his dish.

"So you're gonna just be staying here?"

You asked, spinning in the chair slightly.

"If you'll let me y/n, whatever you want. It's all up to you"

He muttered, his words almost sounding irritated since you kept nagging him.

"What about that lady you've got at home, you should spend time with her too Satoru."

. . .

He paused, his right arm momentarily stopped scrubbing the dishes as he took in a real deep sigh.

"My daughter always comes first, as well as her mother. You know that y/n."

He retorted back, finishing washing his dish and starting to wash all the other dishes in the sink as well. It went silent for a while.

Except the light bickering it wasn't awkward or angry, it was just a moment to cool down so the two of you didn't say anything you didn't mean or would regret on a later date.

Serena was her name, his girlfriend I mean. They haven't been dating for very long, maybe 4 months not that you're counting but you didn't really like her and it wasn't because you were jealous or anything, she just seemed too expensive.

"Mia has a parent teacher conference on Thursday."

You broke the silence when he finished washing the dishes, drying his hands off with the towel that rested near the sink.

"I'll be there."

he put the dish away in the cabinet. finally turning towards the kitchen island where you sat and pressed his palms on it, giving it some of his weight.

with a heavy sigh you put your hand in your palm and stared back at him. taking all of him in since you saw him a couple of days ago.

his haircut he got and never stopped getting since you said it looked good on him, the small freckles he had that no one noticed—there were 17 on them on his face, the matching promise ring he had on his finger from like what 2 years ago??

“i miss you satoru.”

his eyes softened and he started around the island, eventually coming to you. you spun the bar stool to face him and he came between your parted legs.

he didn’t say anything.

you didn’t say anything.

his fingers were innocent at your knees, but eventually grew tainted while they traveled up them. his fingers gliding up your pretty brown skin and under your pajama shorts, grabbing at your ass when he pulled you off of the bar stool and onto the counter.

it was a fast action and it almost had you winded when your hands found the back of his neck, feeling that familiar haircut design with your initial on it.

satoru fixed himself between your legs, his face close to yours. he grabbed your hand and put it on his chest.

“you feel that?”

his heart was beating a-million-miles-a-fucking-hour and he looked flushed but his eyes were only on yours. like you were the only woman to ever exist.

you nodded slowly at his question, taking your other hand off his shoulder and using it to prop yourself up from the counter as extra support.

“that’s how i feel about you.. don’t fuckin’ ask me about another woman when this is how i feel about only you. ain no other woman gonna get me like this you hear?”

you could never forget those icy blue eyes.

bloundieeu xx

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hellfirenacht · 9 months

Text

Wing Man Part 1

Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Tags: Eddie Muson x reader, weirdo!reader, bestfriend!Steve

You hadn’t planned on becoming friends with Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. In your mind, he was still that cocky freshman who happened to be good at playing Basketball during your senior year of high school. You’d never paid much attention to sports or the popular crowd back at Hawkins High, but word had quickly spread about the new kid.

When Steve and Robin approached you to help hook them up with a job at Family Video you were skeptical at first. Robin was a no-brainer when it came to hiring. She had the experience and clearly knew her stuff when it came to movies. Steve you were more on the fence about, as he seemed less cinematically inclined but Robin had vouched for him, and you were tired of having to cover so many of Keith’s shifts. Even when he was here, Keith was basically useless, always hiding in the back.

At this point, you were desperate for any sort of help, so you hired them both.

You quickly took a liking to them- they were easy to hang out with and were able to quickly pick up on what needed to be done. Robin always knew what movies to show on the preview televisions, and Steve was quick to pick up on any busy work that needed to get done.

“I’m always willing to go the extra mile to slack off.” he’d said once, which had earned your approval. As long as shit got done, they could slack off all they wanted. You hated that ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ bullshit. It’s not like the job was especially hard either.

Eventually you and Steve started talking on the nights where the two of you would close together alone. Tuesday and Wednesday nights were good for that sort of thing, they were your slowest days. You learned that he was floundering a bit after high school, struggling to find a place in the world now that he was no longer King Steve. It was also clear by the way he talked that he was still hung up on his ex Nancy, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

That was probably the reason why he kept striking out when flirting with customers. It was actually kind of sad.

“You know, I really should probably tell you to stop hitting on every cute girl that walks through that door.” you said, taking out some tapes from the VHS re-winder and putting in new ones. “People come here for movies, not to be hit on.”

It was a speech you’d given at least a dozen times over the past four months. You’d said it so many times that Steve was mouthing along the words as you said them, and you gave his arm a smack. Your heart wasn’t in it though, in truth you knew that at least half of the young women who came to Family Video were here to see Steve and flirt, which is why you were so baffled that he was striking out so hard.

He was good with customers, great even. When he first started working here he would get several numbers slipped to him between returned VHS tapes. But as the Summer months shifted into Autumn, he seemed to be running out of steam.

“I can’t help it if I’m naturally charming.” Steve said, with over-compensated confidence. “I don’t even need to think, I’m just that good at flirting.”

“Yeah, I think your charisma stat has taken a hit over these past few weeks dude.” you snorted.

“I still don’t know what that means.” Steve said. “But I have plenty of charisma!”

“You know, if you actually paid attention to what me or your children said every once in a while you’d understand us better.” You couldn’t help but laugh. Over the past few months, so many freshman had come in just to bother Steve while he was working. “How is the single mom life by the way? Am I giving you enough hours to pay the bills? Do the kids need new shoes for school?”

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter.” Steve shot back, before realizing how lame that actually was then he sighed. “I think they’re doing okay. Henderson’s the only one who actively keeps up with me.”

You didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. “It’s hard when they grow up.” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t put you in a home.”

Steve snorted and brushed your hand off. “Says the one older than me.” he rolled his eyes.

“See, I don’t have six kids to raise, so I’m going to stay young and fun forever, Harrington.” you teased. “You’ve got a full brood to look after. Oh look, I think I see a gray hair right there!”

You reached over to touch his hair and he swatted you away again. “Like hell there is!” he said, mild panic in his voice. You didn’t let up and kept reaching for his hair and he kept pushing you off.

“Yup, that’s a gray one, you’re about to go full Doc Brown on me before the end of the year!” You declare as he attempted to push you off.

Despite him trying to push you off, there was a smile on his face. A lot of nights ended like this with you annoying him and teasing him for his relationship with so many kids. It was endearing really.

The door to the front of the store rang and you two immediately jumped apart as a girl came in, looking to be about Steve’s age. She was pretty, and you slipped out from behind the desk to put away some movies. He really shouldn’t be flirting with the customers, you know this. But... well it was Tuesday night and you were bored and this was far more entertaining than reorganizing the movies in the back room. Less sticky too.

“Action!” You heard Steve call from up front and you moved casually between the aisles and cringed. Oh, no. He was doing the bit again. How many times have you told him that it wouldn’t work? “Oh, I’m sorry you’re so beautiful I thought you were an actress.”

You had to bite your hand to stop yourself from laughing. You couldn’t handle this, this didn’t work the first dozen times, why the hell would it work now? Steve’s voice carried easily, projecting around the video store and allowing you to hear every single word that came out of his mouth.

You listened as Steve threw everything at this poor girl. Talking himself up as some sort of cinema aficionado when you knew the last movie he rented was Star Wars for the third time to watch with Dustin. And he called you the nerd.

“So yeah, I was thinking, beautiful girl like yourself might enjoy watching this movie with some company.” Steve said, handing over the movie. The girl in question gave a polite smile and declined the movie, renting the two that she had actually came for and left.

“That... was sad, Steve.” you said, as she disappeared into the parking lot. You walked over to the counter and picked up the movie that Steve had tried to offer her. “‘The Karate Kid?’ Really? That was your big plan?”

Steve’s was leaning over the desk, bracing his hands against the side of the counter looking down. “I panicked ok?” he admitted. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I used to be so good at getting any girl I wanted and now I keep blowing it.”

You felt for the guy, you really did. He’d gone from the top of the world to treading water in just a few short months. Steve had told you that he had been at Starcourt Mall the day of the fire, and you had a feeling that it affected him more than he let on. You’d seen him get rejected so many times, but he was always able to brush it off. This time it looked personal.

Well, he was your friend now, and as your friend it was up to you to help him out.

“I think you need to learn how to talk to women now that you’re not in high school anymore, Steve.” you said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “The tactics you used before just aren’t going to cut it now. Welcome to “life after high school” where everything you learned over the past twelve years is socially useless.”

“Yeah? And what would you know about social skills?” Steve said. “I haven’t exactly seen you going on any dates lately either.”

“Rude, but fair.” you admitted. He didn’t mean anything mean by it, but the two of you were very much opposites when it came to how you both approached things such as your social and dating life.

Steve was interested in taking any pretty face he saw out on a date. You had not been on a date in months, and had barely tried. Steve had countless tales about his time dating in high school, you went to Homecoming stag with your friends once. Steve talked about a time where he was almost having too much sex. You shamelessly rented porn from the back room and made Steve ring you up as he rolled his eyes.

He’d asked you on a date once and you almost laughed in his face. He was good looking, in a traditional sense but not your type.After thinking about it, you decided that kissing Steve sounded too much like kissing your favorite cousin. You had politely declined and he seemed relieved.

It’s not that you didn’t have an interest in dating, you did. You had tried to explain it to Steve one night, that so many people were into being popular and caring about things that you just couldn’t. You’d tried to fit in, but your interests were just weird. You could have fun at a football game if you were with friends, but that came from the excitement of being in an excited crowd and being with people you liked. You didn’t blame anyone for it, you were glad that people could care about these things. You just wished someone could get excited about the same things that you did.

You and Steve were both fish out of water, you’d just grown used to not being able to breathe.

“Sorry.” said Steve, standing up straight again. “That was below the belt.”

“You’re a dick, but it’s fine.” you shrugged. You’d been called worse for less. “You know, I may not be the pinnacle of normalcy but I do happen to be a woman.”

“I thought you said you were the Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Steve laughed under his breath.

“Only on special occasions.” you replied. “But that’s not the point. Look, you need help getting your groove back. I’m tired of renting movies from the back. I think we could help each other.”

Steve turned to you, brows furrowed. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking we could try wing-manning for each other.” you said. “I’ll talk you up and help you not make a jackass out of yourself, and you can help me get a date too.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something smart, but he closed it quickly with a tilt of his head. He looked to the side, thinking about the proposal.

“You can’t do any worse with my help.” you said. “I mean, that ‘actress’ line was bad. Really bad. Like, horrible. I don’t know why you keep using it.”

“It worked with Linda Mendelli.” Steve said defensively.

“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” you said.

“She got the lead in the spring musical two years ago.”

“So your actress line worked on a high school actress once.” you laughed. “That explains everything.”

“Like you could come up with a better line!” Steve pouted.

“I can think of a million different lines that would work better than that. And I’ll share them with you, if we have a deal.” you said.

“So you want me to get you a date?” he clarified. “That’s what you want out of this?”

“That’s what I get out of this. Well, that and I can stop nearly puking when I have to listen to you come up with some weird line when a cute girl walks in. It would save me a lot of money on nausea medication.” You smirked.

Steve thought about it for a moment before looking you up and down. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re already not interested in changing anything about yourself to make this easier on me.”

“Again, that’s really rude. That is correct though, you get me a date as I am. No make-over montage, no pretending I’m something I’m not. I spent all of high school trying to be something else, and I’m done with that.” you said firmly.

Steve turned away from you, ran his fingers through his hair, and then turned back, offering his hand. “Fine, you have a deal.”

With a smile, you spat in your hand and grabbed his in a firm shake. “Deal.”

“Ew!” he jerked his hand back as you laughed. Steve wiped his hand on his pants looking disgusted. “That’s so gross, you really are giving me a run for my money.”

“Right then,” you said with an amused grin. “Let’s start with lesson one, and stop with any stupid pick-up lines to get attention.”

Over the next few weeks, in the slow times during work where there was nothing to do but dust the shelves and rewind tapes, you coached Steve on how to talk to women.

“It’s really not that hard.” you explained one night. “It really does come down to just two things; be sincere and be confident. You already have probably too much confidence coming out your ass, but the sincerity isn’t there. You keep throwing these random lines out and hoping something sticks. Fine, that works in high school but not anymore.”

“I’m always sincere about asking them on a date!” he protests. “I’m not just asking every girl I see out on a date!”

“That’s statistically incorrect but I’ll humor you.” you said, as you organized the candy shelf, restocking the skittles. “I believe it when you ask a girl out, but you’re so oblivious about them as people. Newsflash, not all girls are the same Harrington.”

“Yeah, some of them are you.” he said, leaning against the counter, having already given up on pretending to work for the night. “How many times have you seen that Rocky Horror movie now?”

“I see it once a month with my friends at the old Cenimaplex right outside town. Been doing that since I was eighteen.” you confirmed. “I’m hoping to get to be part of the shadow cast at some point.”

“See? That’s weird. Most people maybe go see it once in October.” Steve points out.

“We aren’t talking about me, Harrington. We’re talking about the type of girls you’re into. Also, don’t knock it. I plan on dragging you along this month. It’s about time you lose your virginity.” you smirked as you ripped open a box of snickers and handed him one. “Don’t tell Keith.”

He took the candy bar. “You know I’m not a virgin. I have had sex before you know.”

You shook your head, that’d be a conversation for another day. “Let’s get back to the point. You keep asking girls out but you don’t know them.”

“I get to know them when I’m on a date.” he said.

“That’s all well and good, but you need to be able to see what kind of person they are before you go on the date. Not everyone is like me and wears their personality on their sleeves.” you explained, taking your own candy of choice off the rack. “Okay so today for example. Remember the girl that came in with the brown hair and rented out Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure?” Steve nodded. “So, she also rented out The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay? And what does that have to do with anything?” Steve asked.

“It means she has a kid sibling, and is probably a burnt out older sibling.” you said. “Loves her baby brother or sister but is also very introspective and trying to figure herself out. You came on too strong with her, asking her to a high school basketball game was too high energy.”

Steve gawked at you for a moment. “I hate that you just made sense.” He rubbed his cheeks with his hands. “Shit.”

“Dude, just pay attention to whoever you’re interested in and all the pieces will fall in place.” you said. “Pay attention to the movies, what she’s saying, and if she’s giggling at you then that’s a good sign.”

“Pay attention. Right. I can do this.” he said.

Two weeks after this conversation, Steve nabbed his first date in two months. It had taken a little bit of coaching and some hyping on your end but he got a girls number and had set up a date.

Three days after that he had another date set up.

Two days after that, another three dates.

It was the start of October now, and you were decorating the store for the season. You were standing on a ladder putting up a strand of black garland while Steve held the ladder.

“So I’m taking Shannon out on Tuesday to get ice cream at the new place down the street.” Steve explained.

“We work Tuesday.” you said.

“Tuesday morning.” Steve clarified. “Then Thursday I have two dates with Amy and Marissa since it’s my day off.”

He’d been going on about this for an hour. Steve had been going on dates steadily again for at least three weeks now. It had only been a little over a month that the two of you had agreed to the deal. Now King Steve was back, and you were now subject to every detail of his romantic escapades again. You were happy for your friend, really, but sometimes you’d sneak into the back room and organize the porn just to give you a moment away from hearing about your friends new-found sex life.

It didn’t need to make sense, it just needed to work.

“Do you ever stop to sleep?” you asked, taping up the final end of garland and coming back down the ladder.

“Sometimes I sleep before I have to sneak out a window after I’ve-”

“Nope. No more words, Harrington.” you said, holding up a hand as he laughed. “I get it, I’ll give you more hours so that you can expand your condom budget. Your poor kids must feel neglected while you find them a new mom.”

“I thought you said that I was the single mom?” Steve asked as you both moved the ladder to a new spot. He handed you a bat from the box that held the Halloween decorations.

“Oh, you are. Your kids can have two moms, I’ll allow it.” you said, hopping up on the ladder again. “Hey look, I’m Ozzie Osbourn!”

Jokingly you bit at the head of the bat as Steve looked up at you as if you were insane. “...What?”

You frowned and looked down at him. “Black Sabbath?” you asked. “The guy bit a bats head off on stage?” Now he was looking at you like you were a total psychopath. “Oh come on, you didn’t hear about that? The first time it was a fake bat but then he somehow managed to grab a real bat?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.” Steve said, shaking his head. “What movie is Black Sabbath again?”

It was your turn to stare at him now. “How are we even friends?” you asked. “You and I don’t have a single thing in common. ‘What movie is Black Sabbath’ be so for real right now.”

“You asked me last week if the Pacers was a marathon I was going to race!” Steve shot back.

“And I stand by that, because that does NOT sound like the name of a basketball team.” You climbed higher on the ladder to hang the bat.

“You’re thinking of the Fitness Gram Pacer Test.”

“Sports!” you cried out, giving the bat a small bap to make it swing. “Movement like that means nothing to me!” you gave a pause. “Unless you’re actually going to compete. I’ll care for your sake if you’re playing. Otherwise I’m just gonna smile and nod. Give me another bat.”

Steve dug into the box again to pull out another bat for you. “So what’s Black Sabbath then?” he finally asked.

“Look at you taking my lessons to heart and asking questions about a girls interest!” You reached down and pat his hair, causing him to swat you away again with a comment about not touching his hair. “It’s a metal band.”

“I didn’t think you were into metal.” Steve said as you came back down the ladder.

“I’m into anything I like.” you said simply. “Why limit yourself, you know? If I like something I need to learn everything about it or I feel like my brain will explode.”

“You’re kind of weird.”

“I know.”

The two of you continued to decorate the store between taking care of customers. You were going a bit overboard, if you were honest. Keith had handed you a pathetic box of a few paper decorations to use, and you had gone out with your own money to buy more. If you were expected to be here to earn a paycheck you may as well get something out of it, even if it was the feeling of being surrounded by cheesy holiday memorabilia.

“So how are the kids, Harrington?” you asked, untangling a fake spiders web.

Steve sighed, messing with the candy counter. “Dustin’s doing good. He’s made a friend at school.”

“You seem tense about that.” you looked over at him. “Care to share with the class how that makes you feel?”

“I don’t feel anything about it.” Steve said, clearly defensive. “Henderson has a new cool older friend who’s into the same nerdy shit he’s into.”

Steve was so jealous, it was written all over his face. How long had he been the cool older figure in that kid's life?

“Should have taken him up on playing D&D with him.” you said with a grin. “Now your child is going to divorce you for a new dad.”

“You really need to sort out whatever metaphor you’re going to use with me and these kids.”

“Nah, gotta keep you on your toes.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh. “It’s funny you know? One minute I’m the coolest guy in the room to everyone. I was king of Hawkins High, had these kids that annoyed the shit out of me but looked up to me, and the best girlfriend I could have asked for. Then I graduated, the kids took over school, and now I’m single even after going on all these dates.”

“Yeah, life’s funny like that.” you agreed. “If it makes you feel any better I don’t think you’re super lame. You’re actually kind of an alright dude.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“...So speaking of you going on dates.” you started slowly, unsure how to bring this up.

“Right, yeah, so I said I was going out with Amy and Marissa on Thursday-” Steve started.

“No not that,” you interrupted. “Well, sort of but not really. So I’ve held up my end of the bargain, Harrington.”

Steve froze for a moment before looking up at you on the ladder. “Oh, right. So about that, I have no idea what you even like in a guy.”

“Fair enough, I have not exactly been as pro-active as you have been.” The past few weeks had been so busy with the changing of seasons and weeding out old movies that you hadn’t really had time to think about dates. You’d been stuck in a perpetual loop of work and school with the occasional odd movie night with Steve and Robin when they were free.

“So what do you like?” he asked. “If you want my help, you’re gonna have to open up about that.”

“Oh but that involves being vulnerable with King Steve of Hawkins High and that’s not exactly my style.” you sighed dramatically.

“Last week when we got together for movie night you got drunk and cried about how you got asked out to prom as a joke. Is that not opening up or being vulnerable?”

You winced and made a face. “I did that? Yikes. I’m never drinking again.” You did remember renting out Carrie with the others and crying because she had been a very relatable character in your early high school years. Things were a lot better now that you left high school, but you supposed that had struck a nerve.

“Come on, just give me something to work with. I know you’re a weirdo who obsesses over the most random things. You like Rocky Horror and anything with music. But what do you like in a guy?” Steve pressed.

You fiddled with the decoration that had been perfectly hung a moment ago, just to give you something to do with your hands. This was a very good question that you had thought about a lot.

“I guess I want someone who’s as weird as I am.” you finally said. “I’d like to at least meet someone who understood the things I cared about, or was at least willing to learn. I know I’m different, and I’m okay with being different. I want a guy who gets being like that, and won’t make me feel less for it.”

“That’s... specifically vague.” Steve said, thinking. “I was thinking more looks wise.”

“I like guys with long hair.” you said immediately.

That he could probably work with. You hopped off the ladder for the last time and he helped you pack it away in the storage closet.

Steve was thinking hard about what to do about his end of the bargain when the door rang and someone walked inside.

“Steve!” A voice called out, and your co-workers face immediately lit up and ran to the front of the store.

“Henderson!”

You watched as the two boys ran to each other, immediately going into a secret handshake that you couldn’t help but find endearing. The kids that Steve was friends with were always fun, but you had to admit that you had a soft spot for Dustin. That was a kid who knew who he was and wasn’t afraid to be it. You admired that a lot about him.

Deciding to give them a bit of space, you made yourself busy with the horror movie section, making sure that everything was in place. Lucky for you though, those two were still very much boys and you could hear every single part of their conversation.

It’s not eavesdropping if they’re that loud. Probably.

“The store looks great!” Dustin said, looking around. “You guys really went all out with the decorations, huh?”

“Yup, we just got finished. She bought most of this stuff herself.” Steve gestured to you and you gave a wave.

“Hey, Dustin!” you called out, and he waved back.

“They’ve started putting up decorations at school too, but people keep stealing them.” Dustin said. “There are at least three skeletons missing from the science labs.”

“Those aren’t decorations, Henderson. I think those are supposed to be educational.” Steve replied.

“Not when they’re wearing witches hats and cat ears.” Dustin countered. Steve shrugged in agreement.

“So is school going alright? How’s Lucas doing on the team? What about Mike?” Steve asked and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. Steve could deny it all he wanted, but he was absolutely a single mother to these kids. You wished that you had a way to record him so that he could see the way he was fussing over them.

“Lucas is still a bench-warmer.” Dustin said, grabbing a candy bar from the snack stand. You conveniently were too busy making sure that a copy of Sleepaway Camp was properly rewound to notice the blatant theft. “He still goes to practice every week, but he hasn’t been on the court yet. He’s been making a lot of cool and popular friends.”

There was no hiding the disdain in his voice when he said that.

“Well Basketball is the best way to secure your ranking at Hawkins.” Steve said. “I would know.”

“Yeah but it seems like he never has time to even come to Hellfire Club anymore. We’re lucky if he makes it to one or two sessions a month.” Dustin sighed. “He totally blew off me and Mike last week to go hang out with his cool new friends.”

“You know, you have an in with the popular crowd now Henderson. You could use this as a chance to be popular.” Steve pointed out.

“But I don’t want to be popular, Steve! I’m happy with the friends I have and enjoying what I like.”

“Ignore Steve, he’s stupid. Keep doing what you’re doing, kid!” you called out to them, making Dustin laugh and Steve sigh.

“Thank you.” Dustin said before turning to Steve again. “Anyway, Eddie says that conformity is overrated. He says it’s better to be a freak with a few friends than some weird version of normalcy and be miserable.”

“Right, because ‘the freak’ is so wise.” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“He is!” Dustin frowned. “You know, he’s the only person who’s been nice to me and Mike since we started school. And last session he had us-”

That was when you started tuning the conversation out. You looked up at the clock and swore, you had some work to do in the back before your shift is over.

“Steve, watch the front for me. I’ll be finishing up in the back.” you called out, and Steve only waived in response.

Once you were out of earshot, Steve held up a hand to Dustin to signal him to stop talking.

“What?” asked Dustin. “You told me that I get at least five uninterrupted minutes to talk about the campaign when we hang out.”

“Yeah, and I’ll let you have seven minutes if you help me out.” Steve said.

“Seven? An extra two minutes? Make it ten.” Dustin crossed his arms,

“Eight.”

“Deal. What do you need?”

Steve stares at Dustin for a second. He doesn’t want to ask this question, as he never had any interest in knowing anything about Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. Eddie had been a stagnant 2 years ahead of him and somehow still hadn’t graduated. Steve couldn’t comprehend being 20 and still in high school, and he almost felt bad for entertaining this thought. Then again, you had also spent an extra semester at school, so maybe that wouldn’t be a deterrent.

“I need you to tell me more about Eddie.” Steve finally managed to get out. Dustin looked like Christmas had suddenly come early.

“You want to know more about Eddie?” Dustin had a shit-eating grin on his face that Steve hated. “Since when do you have an interest in Dungeons and Dragons?”

“I still don’t.” Steve said firmly. “I never have and never will understand your game. And I’m not asking about him for me, I’m asking about him for her.” He motioned to the door to the back room.

“Her?” Dustin looked at the door, as if he could see you through the flimsy wood. “Is she wanting to play?”

“I don’t know, probably? She’s made enough references to playing before. Listen, no, that’s not what this is about.” Steve sighed. “We have this deal going on. She’d help me get dates if I helped her get a date. And she followed through, and I still have no idea how to get her a date.”

“She wants to date Eddie?” Dustin had a look on his face that was a mix of surprise and confusion. “How does she know him?”

“I don’t think she knows Eddie.” Steve said. “But she wants someone weird and as much as I hate to admit it, your new friend might actually fit her criteria.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Dude, come on.”

“Fifteen uninterrupted minutes, and you let me rent an R rated movie.”

“Jesus, Henderson.”

“Deal or no deal?”

Steve turned and looked at the door that you had disappeared behind. You had been a good friend to him over the past four months, a really good friend. You and Robin had been able to keep him grounded and going after the Starcourt Fire. You’d more than held up your end of the bargain.

“Fine, deal.” Steve agreed.

Dustin smiled and seemed content. “So what do you want to know?”

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile

Part 2

Dividers by @strangergraphics

#eddie munson x reader #nacht fic #wing man

421 notes · View notes

valuunit · 9 months

Text

Mums don’t cry

Summary: Y/n’s mood changes and sicknesses happen to be more than just that.

lmao i don’t know why i put that tittle, but The Cure rules.

Content: soft husband!harry :DD pregnant afab!reader, use of she/her, mention of food and vomit (pregnancy symptom), la la land spoilers(?) and that’s it ig.

Disclaimer: English is not my first lenguaje so if there’s any mistake i’m sorry, i’ll try to correct it.

“No, i’m staying with Y/n, she’s not been feeling good. Enjoy though, oh! And bring some tiramisu.”

“ ’M sorry, H” she said struggling to stand up from the bathroom’s floor.

“No, no, there’s nothing to be sorry ‘bout. Now come here, i’ll help you clean yourself and we can go watch a movie. You said that watching Ryan Gosling everywhere made you want to bing his movies.” Harry kneeled in front of her offering his hand.

“Mhm” Y/n said without any sign of excitement. Her hand reached the toilet’s chain and released her sickness before lean into the sink and wash her mouth a total of four times.

“Think that enough, you’re gonna get sick again if you keep pulling the brush all the way down your throat.” he chuckled taking the brush out of her hand.

“Wait, throw it in the trash, please.” she said before shoving some more water in her mouth.

“But it’s clean.”

“It’s not, but i’ve had it for over 3 months.”

“Okay miss.”

“It’s Missus, Mister.”

“You feeling better, Missus?”

“I think, it was probably all the crap i’ve been eating.”

“The holidays are for something, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” her mood “I’m sorry.”

“I told you, you don’t have to…”

“No, i’m sorry for being so grumpy this past few days, i don’t know what’s happening.” she said as some tears began to accumulate in her eyes and her head goes to her husband’s chest.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry, it was part of our vows, being here through thick and thin, right?” he grabbed her cheek and smiled warmly, with her blurry vision she just saw a charming white downward D but she returned it.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Now you can see me fantasize with Ryan Gosling.”

“No problem, i’ll do the same.”

They giggled like toddlers and went to the kitchen for some snacks.

“Some popcorn will do it?” said Harry grabbing a package of microwave popcorn.

“Yeah, although is there a peanut butter and chocolate? i’ve been craving some of it.”

“Hm, we have a package of truffles but no peanut butter…”

“It’s okay, all perfect.”

“Well, what do you think of you picking the first movie and i’ll be there when these are ready.”

“Okay.” she gave him a peck kiss. “This is like the honeymoon all over again.” and began to walk to the lounge.

“I hope we never leave that stage.” Harry said loudly making sure she heard. She blew him a kiss and sat on the couch.

Y/n grabbed her phone to google in which platform was La La Land on. She didn’t even knew if the villa’s TV had more than 3 streaming services.

“Already picked one?”

“I’m checking where is it.”

“I bring you some water, i like my woman hydrated.”

He let out a little laugh “Thanks, love.”

They snuggled in the middle of the couch and concentrate in enjoying the movie.

Everything went well, they got to the point in the movie that showed what would’ve happened if they had ended up together.

Harry made a pout, watching the montage of the couple having a kid, but beside him Y/n began to sob, but in a concerning way.

“Everything okay, love?”

“Y-yeah, it just...” she went quiet to hear the final notes of song that Sebastian was playing in his bar. And led out another sob. “It’s so sad, because they loved each other, b-but they couldn’t make their dreams come true if the stayed together a-and they will always love each other…”

“It’s okay” Harry couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and a little bit, just a bit, of fun, watching her being so invested in a movie that they’ve watched several times. “Sometimes that’s how life goes.”

“What a bullshit life we live in.” He audibly laughed at that, remembering the joker memes, she also laughed “Okay, i heard it.”

And just like that she was laughing like anything happened.

“Wanna see another movie?”

“I don’t know, ‘m tired.”

“Wanna go to bed?”

“Yes please.”

When they were getting up of the couch Y/n felt sick again, she ran to the nearest bathroom and let it all out. That took Harry by surprise, one moment he was folding the blanket they where using and talking about other movies and the other he was grabbing his wife’s hair.

“Don’t know what’s happening to me, H. It feels like something more.” she rested her back into the cold wall opposite to the toilet

She recalled when she was sweaty and exhausted she blamed italy’s sun, when her mood changed drastically she blamed her personality, when she felt disgust out of nowhere and ended up vomiting she blamed the food and spices she was not used to, but everything as a whole was sign of other thing.

“Like what?” Harry said concerned thinking of the worst.

“I-i… i’ve been feeling weird lately and all my symptoms are, you know, hm, signs of pregnancy.”

“… Like what?” he repeated too shocked to say other thing.

“Mood change, um, craving could be described, the constant exhaustion, vomit…”

“Want me to go for a test?”

“What if paps catch you?”

“Who cares about them?” he said excitedly, this could be one of the happiest days of his life, and he couldn’t wait.

“Pr team, probably.” Y/n said tired.

“Well, I think they’ll understand. You’ll be good on your own? O could ask one of the guys to get a test on their way here.”

“I’ll be good, also we aren’t certain if i’m… pregnant, don’t want to alarm anyone and I’m pretty sure they’ll be back ‘till midnight.”

“You’re right. Well, i’ll be right back, honey.”

“Thanks.”

Harry literally sprinted to the nearest corner store as soon a he closed the villa’s door. Not caring of anything else, he ran through a fairly small business, not more than 5 minutes away, or that what he felt, until he viewed the boxes he was so desperate for, he grabbed three different ones and ran to the cash register, an old man smiled kindly at him. The interaction was short but cute.

When Harry grabbed the tests the man said to him "Buona fortuna." (good luck). With Harry's poor italian he said "Grazie" and ran back to Y/n.

"That was quick" Y/n was waiting by the door when he arrived.

"I always am, hun…” Harry said out of breath.

Y/n laughed and grabbed the bruised boxes from his hands. "I'm nervous"

"There's nothing to be nervous about, love."

"Well, then, there I go." she let a loud shaky breath and entered the bathroom again.

"Love you."

"Love you too." her voice muffled by the door.

Harry was also nervous, but in a good way nervous, what a good timing, he thought, they been wanting to start a family since last year, well, since forever, but actively trying ever since. He remembered the doctor appointments, the times they had sex just because an app told them to, and the disappointment in their faces when the test were negative, over and over again. And now, they were the happiest they've been, he just finished love on tour, Y/n finished her second book and taking a vacation with all their friends and family.

"Har...ry, come in, please." he did so immediately.

"Everything okay?" his voice was shaky. The tests were all perfectly lined up on a counter all of them facing down.

"Yes, I wanted you to be here." she was crying again, but the smile in her face denoted happiness and anxiety.

"Remember that no matter what the tests say, we'll be fine, and keep trying if you want."

"Thanks." she muttered hugging him.

"Thank you" he hugged her back kissing her hair.

"Can you check one first, please?"

"Sure"

While still hugging her he picked one of the tests and checked. His heart stopped when there was just one line across the screen.

"Uhm, what does one line means?" he asked, wanting to be in the wrong.

"N-negative..."

Y/n pulled away from the embrace to confirm what Harry was saying.

"It's okay, we got two more left."

"Yeah." Y/n said not really expecting any different result. She grabbed one and Harry the other.

Y/n's test said 'Incinta 2-3 settimane*' And Harry's had two vertical lines.

"Oh god, this one say-"

"My phone! Where is it." Y/n said quickly.

"What?"

"I need a confirmation."

She opened the translator and typed the test's result, it gave 'Pregnant 2-3 weeks'

"Oh my god! What does yours says?"

"That you're pregnant!"

"This one too!" she jumped into her husband's arms rounding his waist with her legs.

"Two out of three." he said shocked.

"I'll take it. Tomorrow we could go to a doctor."

"I can't wait." he said happily.

"Neither can i."

"Thank you, thank you love." he kissed her nose.

"I couldn't have done anything without your contribution, love, thank you too." she cupped his cheek as he laughed.

"Let's go to bed, tomorrow might be a big day.”

Y/n, attached to him in a koala style, and Harry Styles went to the bedroom full of bliss and expectancy for tomorrow.

“Where were you guys all morning? We waited you for breakfast” Gemma said laying on a sun chair near the villa’s pool, where the radiant couple just arrived.

“Uh, went for some air.” Harry responded.

“Oh, how are you feeling, Y/n?”

“Much better.” Y/n smiled widely to her sister-in-law. “I’m going for some water, want some?”

“I’m good, pumping, thanks.”

“Gem?”

“I have some here, thank you, Y/n/n.”

Y/n walked into the kitchen with a happy pace and Harry admired her silhouette in that white dress he loved so much.

“Are you guys high?”

“What?”

“Why are you smiling so much? it’s creepy.”

“We’re happy.” he said jokingly annoyed. “Also, i have something to tell you.”

“Y/n’s pregnant?” Gemma guessed, siting straight and taking her glasses off.

“How’d you know?”

“I didn’t, but the pregnancy tests in the bathroom gave me an idea. Congratulations!” the siblings hugged tightly.

“Thank you!”

“You’re finally becoming a dad. Ahh!”

“I know, ahh!”

“Why are you screaming like hyenas in cocaine?”

“Y/n, congrats, darling.” Gemma hugged her.

“Oh Gemma, thanks.”

“You’ll be the greatest parents and i’m gonna be the greatest aunt.”

The three laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be, Gem”

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