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hellfireghoul · 1 year

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I've always hated that nickname - part 2

rookie!Leon x f!Reader

Summary: As the winter months fast approach, Y/N is still having a rough time and Leon is determined to cheer her up. The entire S.T.A.R.S team are invited to a staff Christmas party.

Warnings: Suggestive content. Reader has an asshole ex so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, be warned. Only a small part of the fic. Alcohol mentioned, reader gets v drunk.

Word count: 5.2k

Read part 1 here.

Notes: I'm so bad at writing summaries lol but this is a straight continuation from the first part. Thank you all so much for the love on the first part! I love writing rookie Leon he's so cute. Enjoy! My requests are open.

taglist: @thelightofmylife

message me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

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This Monday morning was a particularly chilly one as you hurried through the police station to reach the office, you smiled at the receptionist on your way in, clutching your hot coffee in a death grip as you made your way upstairs. It wasn’t a day you were particularly looking forward to, knowing the sheer amount of filing that would have to be done today.

Things were somewhat back to normal. With being out of the office for the past few weeks, whether it due to serious issues happening in the city or due to your time off, it was pleasant to go back to the familiar feeling of routine. The incident in the city last week, that had had you and nearly every other S.T.A.R.S agent in the office stretched to the limit, had surmounted a horrendous amount of paperwork. Paperwork however, was something that eluded you. You despised it, despite the fact it was at least 60% of your job.

But another thought struck you as you made your way up the stairs, one that you couldn’t seem to shake and it made you almost giddy. Paperwork and office time meant more time seeing Leon. Leon was always really sweet when it came to helping you filing, he always lent a hand wherever he could and it really helped you out. Feeling decidedly brighter, you hurried through the corridors of R.P.D whilst clutching your scarf a little closer to your chest, the station being converted from an old museum didn’t leave much room for heat retention.

“Morning.” You smiled as you entered the S.T.A.R.S office on the second floor, greeting every familiar face.

“You’re in a good mood this morning.” Chris commented, an eyebrow slightly raised and his tone not matching your distinctly happier one.

“Am I?” You said, brushing off his comment as you slumped your bag down on your desk and turned on your computer.

“I’d say so. Any particular reason?” Chris pressed. You shrugged nonchalantly, placing your coffee down carefully before sitting yourself in your chair. You caught Leon’s eye from across the room, his piercing blue gaze watching you, giving you a small smile and you felt yourself flush a little. You grinned at him. You weren’t entirely sure where your sudden good mood had blossomed from (or weren’t willing to admit it to yourself) but you weren’t complaining, from how shitty you’d felt over the past week or so, this was a more than welcome change.

The morning went surprisingly fast all things considering, and it wasn’t until around 1pm you even noticed you were due for a break.

“Is that the time? You wanna get some lunch?” Jill asked, locking her computer screen and pushing herself away from her desk with a short sigh.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed as the two of you got to your feet, it wasn’t until you noticed another one of your colleagues pinning some sort of flyer to the notice board by the door when you stopped.

“What is that?” You said, eyeing the new addition to the notice board and reading carefully. “A Christmas party? Since when do we do Christmas parties?” You laughed quietly to yourself but you were overheard.

“We do now. Gotta boost morale, right?" Chris appeared from his office with a smirk, leaning closer to Jill in a way that was painfully obvious to everyone but the two of them. "So, can we expect the two of you to grace us with your presence?”

“Are we having it here?” You asked, the thought of that seemingly utterly unbearable.

“Pfft. Course not. Be breaking about a million rules if I let a bottle of booze past that door. No, the bar across the street, figured that would be the best place.” Chris informed you, and you nodded. At that moment, Leon approached the three of you.

“Hey, Leon. You’ve been quiet today.” You beamed, greeting him, and Leon’s chest once again swelled at hearing you use his name.

“Sorry, snowed under over there.” Leon smiled. You nodded for a second, before bursting out: “Oh! The Christmas party, you coming?”

“I didn’t know there was one.” Leon chuckled as you gesticulated towards the poster pinned to the board. It was like music to his ears hearing you this happy for once.

“When is it?” Leon questioned, and you hummed to yourself noticing that the flyer did not in fact have a date on it.

“Oh, this Friday. Dumb ass didn’t put the date on it.” Chris muttered, ripping the flyer from the board and scrunching it up in his fist, before retreating back to his office and sitting down, busying himself on his computer.

Leon seemed rooted to the spot, and you noticed him clutching some papers.

“Oh, did you need help with something?” You asked, softly.

“I was just gonna get this checked by the boss.” He murmured, eyeing Chris who seemed to be very invested in whatever he was aggressively typing out.

“You want me to take a look?”

“Nah, it’s good. You’re just about to go for lunch right? I’ll take it to him later.” Leon protested, but you weren’t having any of it.

“I’ll help you, it’s fine. Jill, you mind?” You asked, turning to your friend.

“No not at all! Honestly, I said I’d meet my Brad in fifteen.” Jill smiled as her hand reached for the doorknob. You feigned shock and offense, clutching your chest.

“Oh! So you were going to leave me anyway!” You gasped dramatically, causing Jill to roll her eyes before smiling and heading out the office with a quick 'Bye!'.

“Catch you later.” You called after her, and quickly set your bag down before following Leon to his desk at the end.

“You know, you really don’t have to help me. I feel bad you’re delaying your lunch.” Leon said, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

“Nonsense. I won’t hear anymore of it Rookie. What do you need help with?”

You stood leaning on his desk, hand on hip and Leon had to avert his eyes and focus hard on his blank computer screen in order to form words.

“I just needed some clarification on if I’m filing this correctly, it’s quite a bit of reading-“ Leon began, but you interrupted him by taking the file from him and hoisted yourself up on his desk, perching on the edge whilst you read. Leon couldn’t help but notice how your pencil skirt hugged your hips, and how your black tights stretched sheer around your plump thighs. His throat became dry once again.

Once you’d finished reading, you sat the papers down in front of Leon just beside you.

“That’s perfect. You’ve done a good job there Rookie.” You complimented, as you hopped back down off his desk and smoothed your skirt down.

“All good? No mistakes?”

“Nope. Absolutely perfect. Couldn’t do it better myself, and I mean it. I couldn’t do it better myself.” You uttered, and Leon chuckled whilst shaking his head.

“I doubt that.” He muttered under his breath, so quietly you didn’t hear.

“So, lunch?” You proposed, and Leon looked up at you with doting eyes.

“Err- sure. Yeah. I’m starving.” Leon hesitated before returning your smile, and throwing his coat over his uniform. You lead the way out of the office, Leon just behind and the two of you headed down the street for lunch.

This was something new, something unexplored. Just you and Leon, not in the station together. It seemed like the most mundane thing in the world as you joined him on the short walk to the cafe on the corner, but yet, your tummy filled with butterflies when your hands brushed together for a second. Or when he insisted you walk on the inside of the pavement away from the road. A warm feeling was lingering in your stomach, and as smiley as you were today, you weren’t sure you were ready to welcome that yet.

The two of you entered the cafe, the warmth engulfing you as Leon held the door open for you and allowed you in first. It was strange being in here with company for Leon, he usually only came here to grab you your favourite coffee and sandwich, opting to find an alternative for himself (that usually being leftovers from the night before pre-packed.)

Of course, he knew your order off by heart by now. This shocked you when he asked if you wanted your “usual”, to which he reeled off your exact order and then proceeded to get it for you. Mildly horrified, you thrust into your purse for some cash to cover what he’d just paid for. He refused it, which you knew he would so you slipped it into his coat pocket when he wasn’t looking. Perks of being a specialised trained agent you supposed.

The two of you wandered back to the police station, goods in hand as the cafe was always too small and too busy to sit and eat in. The office was mildly quieter when you both returned, most of your fellow colleagues out on lunch or being dispatched on duty. You decided to join Leon at his desk, pulling up a spare chair and you sat cross legged as you ate. The two of you were having a great time, conversation and laughter flows naturally between the two of you. That was until you felt your mobile phone buzz in your pocket, and you frowned as you took it out to see a message from the last person you wanted to hear from.

I’m really sorry about last week. Let me make it up to you?

You stared at the screen for a second, anger rising from your stomach before you snapped your phone shut and shoved it back in your pocket.

“Sorry, you were saying?” You muttered, returning your attention back to Leon.

“You okay?” Leon asked, placing his coffee back on the desk after taking a sip.

“Yeah, fine. You were saying?” You repeated, your lips now forming a hard line that Leon couldn’t help but notice. He desperately wanted to ask what or who it was that kept putting you in a bad mood, dare he offer to go solve the problem for you. But despite his burning curiosity, Leon kept quiet. He respected your boundaries too much to pry, and he figured if you wanted to tell him, you would. You continued your earlier conversation and nothing was brought up about who text your phone.

You couldn’t help the nerves fluttering in your stomach as you made your way out of your apartment towards the bar for the staff Christmas party. I mean, God you saw these people every day, why the nerves now? You checked over your appearance before going inside in the window reflection, your hair was tied back in a high ponytail and your lips painted red, you figured it was festive. You weren’t in your usual work clothes, opting for a nice pair of figure hugging jeans, heels and a lightly sequined cowl neck tank top with a jacket. It was as dressy as you got.

You opened the door into the bar, and a wall of sound hit you. Of course with it being a Friday evening, it was packed.

Eyes scanning over the sea of people, you spotted a familiar dark haired man standing at the bar with a drink already in hand.

“Chris, hey! How’re you?” You called out as you approached. You were forcing your outgoing nature to emerge and it seemed to be working, thankfully.

“Y/N, hey! First rounds on me. What you having?” Chris asked, gleefully. You returned his smile, and asked for your usual of a whiskey and coke.

“A girl after that one’s heart.” Chris uttered, although loud enough to be heard over the chatter and music. He spoke casually and jerked his head in the direction to the right of him, before taking a sip of his own drink and you frowned.

“What?” You asked, and Chris just laughed to himself, leaning forwards slightly further over the bar so that Leon came directly into your view. He was sitting at a table chatting with Jill and Sarah from the case admin team. You felt your cheeks flush violently, at that moment the bartender pushed you a whiskey and coke in a small glass. You thanked them and took the glass in your hands, suddenly wanting to down it in one drink.

“It’s very obvious.” Chris said, simply, taking another sip.

“What? What is?” You practically hissed, as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other impatiently. “What’s my drink order got to do with anything?”

Suddenly, Chris shuffled to the side and turned as Leon approached. Leon noticed you instantly, and gave you a beaming smile before catching the bartender’s attention.

“Double whiskey and coke please.” Leon requested, and suddenly it clicked. You were furious at Chris’s implications, and your fury only blazed further at the smug look on his face as Leon grabbed his drink.

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?” Leon greeted you, his blue eyes as bright as ever as they rested on you. It was odd to see him dressed in anything other than his RPD uniform. Tonight he was sporting a casual shirt and blue jeans, with a teal jacket over the top. He seemed confident. Probably the alcohol you thought, in retrospect.

“Hey Leon.” You smiled back but it was half-hearted as you were slightly flustered, you shot Chris a look before slipping round him to join Leon, heading back to Jill and Sarah who were sitting in the corner.

“You’re welcome for the drink, don’t have too much fun with the rookie.” Chris called after you, and you stopped quickly, retreating a few steps and you pressed your mouth to your boss’s ear to ensure no one else could hear.

“You know, I hear Jill is very single. It’s also very obvious you’re obsessed with her. Would you like me to mention it to her? She is my best friend after all, she might want to know.”

Chris froze in his seat, and you grinned as you made your way back over to Leon who looked very confused.

“What was that about?” Leon laughed, glancing back at now a very stiff looking Chris. “Never seen the boss looking that scared.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The night flew by as you sat amongst your co-workers. Others turned up as the night went on, and the racket coming from your table was quite frankly obscene. Chris didn’t mention a word about you and Leon for the rest of the night, and kept nervously eyeing you and then Jill as if trying to sus out if you’d spilled his little secret yet. In terms of drinks, you couldn’t remember how much you’d drunk. Or what you’d drunk. You knew it was bad, but you were thoroughly enjoying the buzz you had. Everything was funny, and everyone was so nice. Especially Leon. Leon was nicer than he’d ever been right now. He even smelled amazing. You’d never noticed this before. Had he always smelled this good? Any excuse to touch him or be close to him in your drunken state, you were taking.

You were sandwiched between Leon and Sarah, Brad and Jill opposite. In your fits of drunken giggles, you kept resting your hand on Leon’s thigh or leaning into him and whispering stupid things in his ear. It was driving him absolutely insane, your touches sobering him and putting him in a euphoric state simultaneously. He didn’t know how you were doing it, he was just utterly enamored with you.

As the night went on, a few people began to drop off and leave. The clock had just gone 1am, but you were blissfully unaware as you attempted to down yet another whiskey and coke. Leon intervened and passed you a water instead, to which you just pouted. He didn’t give in, finishing your whiskey himself so it wasn’t within reach anymore and you succumbed to reluctantly sipping your water.

You were clutching your stomach, laughing at something Jill had said that wasn’t nearly funny enough to warrant such a dramatic reaction, until you felt that familiar buzz of your phone again in your pocket. Groaning, you contorted yourself to fish around in your pocket to retrieve your phone. You flipped it open and groaned again loudly, your face screwing up in an almost caricature like way, and you seriously debated throwing your phone across the bar. You clung to the faint rational thoughts that were still lingering in there somewhere and kept hold of the device.

The phone screen was blurry, but you could clearly see the text on the screen. It was the guy you’d been seeing for the past six months before you broke things off a few weeks ago. You'd really, really liked him. He'd turned out to be a raging asshole and cheated on you. He’d been begging for a second chance from you for the last week or so, and it was getting too much. You knew what you could be like, and you didn’t want to give in to the temptation of familiarity and lingering feelings. You truly thought you were somewhat okay after finding out you’d been cheated on, opting to throw yourself back into the dating game almost immediately as a way of just moving past it. Not a great idea. Plus the fact that most men within a five mile radius seemed to be vastly immature and unbothered didn’t help.

Things hit a breaking point for you when you took sick leave the other week, another date went bad and it was definitely the straw that broke the camel's back. You’d had enough, feeling worthless and not strong enough to block your ex. It had been a vicious cycle and you’d had enough, needing a few days to yourself to recoup and collect your head. You were doing better, avoiding dating strangers all together but you still couldn’t bring yourself to block that number.

The text read:

I always knew you were a stuck up bitch. You were a pity fuck anyway.

You scoffed at your phone screen, earning a few glances from your co-workers, but you weren’t paying attention. You flipped your phone shut and immediately retreated from the table needing fresh air. You didn’t say a word, just clambered away and to the front of the bar, desperate to be outside and away. You went around the side of the bar, in a quieter alley, and sunk to the ground taking deep breaths, the alcohol hitting you hard in the cold winter air.

You laughed humourlessly, the words on the phone screen bouncing around your head like a banner. You whipped your phone back out again in fury, quickly unlocked it and returned to the offending text message. You read it again, and started chuckling this time in disbelief. With ease, you moved the button over to “block contact” and pressed “OK”. The message and everything else disappeared from your screen and you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, and you sunk back into the wall. You sat on the ground for a while, the cold air feeling nice on your face as you let the dizzy feeling engulf you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” A familiar voice interrupted your peace, but you weren’t complaining. It was the only voice you would be able to stomach hearing right now.

“Yeah. I’m good Leon” You murmured back.

“You say that an awful lot for a person who clearly… isn’t.. good.” He huffed the ending of his sentence as he came to join you on the pavement.

You opened your tired eyes briefly, lids still heavy as you chuckled softly and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Hi.” You said, eyes closed and smiling.

“Hi.” Leon chuckled, his chest swelling at the way you were resting against him. “So, you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Just.. stupid men.” You grumbled, your words almost slurred.

“Who do I need to knock out?”

“No one.” You laughed quietly.

“Seriously, Y/N, I’m worried about you. Have been worried about you. You’ve not been yourself for a while.”

You sighed, knowing he was right. A small part of your sober self has been wanting to tell him for weeks. Your drunk self definitely would.

“Leon, truthfully,” you sat up from his shoulder, your tired eyes meeting his.

“I’ve just had a shit time recently with dating. And it’s not just been bad dates it’s… well. My ex long story short, cheated on me and is now being really really shitty sending me texts, trying to “win me back". Although this last one actually was just straight up mean." You sighed, feeling relieved slightly to get this off your chest, you hadn’t told anyone about what’d been happening.

“Wait, seriously?” Leon scoffed, turning to look at you, you nodded weakly, closing your eyes slowly and returning your head back to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You deserve so much better than assholes like that. You deserve someone who will cherish you, take care of you and…” Leon trailed off, sober thoughts wedging a barrier between his slightly inebriated brain and his mouth.

“What? And what?” You almost whispered as you sat up from his shoulder once again, staring at the blonde man next to you, your thoughts in a jumbled mess. You couldn’t tell if you’re dizziness was due to the alcohol or from being this close to Leon. So close you could see every detail on his face. Leon opened his mouth again hesitantly, preparing to continue before someone rounded the corner.

“There you two are.” It was Jill, she was hugging herself against the biting cold as she stood staring at you both on the floor. “What are you doing down there? It’s freezing out.”

You and Leon both met Jill’s stare, she was distinctly fuzzy in your vision as you looked up at her. Your stomach flipped and you sighed, the alcohol really taking its toll now. You felt Leon’s hand move to your knee and give it a hard squeeze.

“We’re good, Jill. Thanks. I think Y/N’s ready for home.” Leon said, his hand never leaving your knee. The warmth was a pleasant contrast to the cool evening air. You nodded weakly at your friend, agreeing with Leon. Nothing sounded better than being wrapped up in the warmth right now.

“That’s all good. Want me to call you a cab?” Jill asked, her teeth jittering now.

“No, it’s fine, thanks. I’ll make sure she gets home safe, don’t worry.” Leon reassured Jill. “We’ll see you back in there to say bye to everyone.”

Seemingly satisfied you were okay, Jill nodded briefly and hurried back inside into the warmth. Leon turned back to you, you’d slumped your head back onto him in complete exhaustion.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

Leon helped you to your feet and steadied you as your entire world spun. He lead you back into the bar and the pair of you quickly said goodbye to everyone that remained. You got a few comments about your ‘early’ (as Chris called it) departure but you laughed it off. Bed was calling. Leon’s hand slowly made it’s way to the small of your back as he lead you back outside to wait for a cab to take you home.

Leon dialled through to the local taxi rank as you stood close beside him, confirming your address. You were shivering madly, not dissimilar to how Jill had been mere moments ago. The cold was getting under your skin now, your light jacket not doing much to aid you in keeping warm.

“Will you be okay by yourself?” Leon asked quietly, after he’d put the phone down. You looked at him for a moment, the thought lingering in your mind but you were afraid to propose it. He looked distracted momentarily, his brows knitting together and he suddenly started shrugging his jacket off and draped it over your shoulders. The heat was glorious, it fitting over your shoulders just like you’d want and it smelled like him. You could’ve slept right then and there if you’d have been sitting.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, pulling the jacket round you, closer together. “And no, I - well I will be okay on my own but … I want -“ you sighed, taking a deep breath trying to collect yourself and your words as Leon’s eyes fixed on you.

“I want you to stay with me, would that be okay? I just don’t want to be alone.” You spoke very softly and quietly, almost embarrassed at your confession. Leon’s eyes immediately softened at your words, and he exhaled a short breath before saying: “Of course that’s okay.”

The taxi ride back to your apartment was a comfortable silence, Leon sat in the backseat with you and you almost fell asleep on him during the journey. You may have done at one point, who knows. Just being leant against him and engulfed in his scent and warmth relaxed you to a point you didn’t think was possible. Leon gave you a gentle nudge when the car pulled to a stop, waking you from your dazed state to let you know you were here. He helped you out of the car and into your apartment. You practically collapsed through the door in relief.

“Make yourself at home.” You slurred, heading straight for the couch and collapsing on it. Leon shrugged his coat off and hung it on the coat rack you had by your door, and he made his way into the open plan kitchen to search for a glass.

"Am I okay to grab water?" He asked, politely, eyeing your deflated frame on the couch.

"Whatever you need, help yourself." You mumbled. Leon nodded, and proceeded to fill a glass from the faucet and bring it to you. You smiled weakly, accepting it from him and taking a sip. Thanking him quietly, you adjusted yourself on the sofa and patted the cushion next to you, extending a silent invitation to the man standing in your living room. Leon accepted, easing himself down into the cushions.

"Why are you so nice to me Leon?" You blurted out, glass still in hand. Leon's expression faltered into one of surprise, just for a brief second, and then he smiled softly.

"I'm nice to everyone." He chuckled out, nervously. You considered this for a moment, nodding slowly. Now you thought about it, maybe he was nice to everyone. You did see him bringing coffee to Sarah the other day, maybe that was just his thing. He was the nice guy. Suddenly, an emotion overwhelmed you that you weren't expecting. It was like someone had started a fire in your belly, it was an unpleasant feeling. One your intoxicated self couldn't quite place. The possibility of Leon not being interested in you romantically, quite frankly hurt. And then it's like everything hit you all at once.

"Leon, what if I said I want you to be nice to me?" You muttered, your phrasing not quite coming across as you'd wanted. You took another sip of water in a feeble attempt to gain back some sobriety. You desperately wanted to have this conversation when you were sober but you both knew that wasn't going to happen.

Leon chuckled again at your remark, this time it was more genuine and less nervously fuelled.

"I'm always nice to you, Y/N. I think it's time we got you to bed."

"No," You grabbed Leon's arm as he began to shuffle to the edge of the couch to get up. "Leon I mean..." You trailed off, not wanting to say words you'd regret in the morning but they were coming out of your mouth before you'd even given it a second thought.

"Leon no I like you. I like you, like you."

"Oh..." Was all Leon could muster, he was stunned, his brain not quite processing your words and all he could do was let his gaze sink into yours. He was subconsciously leaning back towards you, and you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him towards you and closing the gap. Your lips collided and you felt Leon relax immediately into the kiss, kissing you back with a level of passion and softness you don't think you'd ever experienced before. He tasted sweet and a hint of whiskey lingered on his tongue. You parted softly, catching your breath. That had done the trick in sobering you up slightly at least.

"Y/N... Listen," Leon began, and your heart immediately sank, expecting the worst to come out of his mouth. You let him continue, your throat tight. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying."

He began to pull away slightly. Leon had thought for a brief second that all of his dreams had come true. I mean it was you of all people. You, saying that you liked him back. You, pulling him in for a kiss. But there was no way someone as pretty and as kind as you could possibly be interested in someone like him. You were drunk, very drunk. Leon knew this, and there was no way on this Earth that you could mean what you were saying, in his eyes.

"What?" You breathed, attempting to pull him back again but he had shuffled too far out of reach and was now sitting right on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. "Leon. I know I'm drunk out of my mind right now but, you know what they say..." You placed your water on the table beside you and shuffled forward to sit directly next to him again, "Drunk words are sober thoughts. And I mean every word of what I just said. Some things are just easier to say when you're wasted." This earned you a small smile from him, and he looked at the floor briefly before meeting your eye again, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Now stop looking at me like that and kiss me again."

Leon didn't need to be told twice, he leaned in and cupped your face with his palm as he kissed you deeply, somehow more passionately than the first time. It was euphoric. It felt as if everything was falling into place and it just felt right. You felt positively stupid for even worrying about confessing your feelings mere moments ago.

Your eyes fluttered open as you both parted again, faces still inches apart and breathing heavy.

"Can I tell you something?" Leon breathed. You nodded.

"Of course." You whispered, prompting him.

"I've been wanting to do that since the minute I laid eyes on you."

Your eyes softened and you melted into his touch, his palm still resting on your cheek as he traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner, Rookie." You grinned as you spoke in almost a whisper, giggling at the nickname in your still slightly inebriated state. You pulled him in again for another kiss, but his hand pressed on your chest softly, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes immediately scanned his face, searching for what was wrong.

"Is this a bad time to mention, I've always hated that nickname?" Leon said in a low voice, a smile creeping on his lips, one which you matched as you shook your head and laughed softly.

Grabbing his shirt again, your lips connected perfectly with his. Your hands wandered into Leon's hair and you gave it a gentle tug, deepening the kiss and earning a low moan from him against your mouth that drove you insane. You straightened up, breaking away from his swollen lips for a second before you pushed him back onto the sofa, and swung your leg over his lap so that you were straddling him.

"Okay then, Leon." You said as you pulled your shirt over your head and threw it on the floor.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #jill valentine #chris redfield

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

Note

Hi can i request number 12 from the prompts list with Rooster please? Thanks

12. Mapping out your lover’s features while they sleep in your arms, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose.

"You do this every time," Rooster sighed, rubbing his honey-coloured eyes. "'Bradley, baby'," he mocked in your over-exaggerated tone as you scoffed. "‘Put on a movie, I wanna snuggle’. Five minutes later, you're out across my chest," he accused as you rolled your eyes, unable to hold back laughter. He had known you long enough... was hard to deny him.

"What am I supposed to do? I cuddle in and you're so warm and smell so good and I just doze off. Sue me," you huffed, inflating his ego at the same time (usually didn’t take a lot), opening the wine and pouring you both a glass. "I don't know why you just don't take it as a compliment and move along, Bradshaw."

He laughed. "Because you put some shitty romcom on and I'm trapped under you until you wake with three minutes left of the movie and pretend you were awake the whole time."

You could only make a face. He was 100% right. No argument was going to help you now.

"I dunno why I'm even asking you this, but humour me, baby: what you wanna watch?" he asked with dread, finding the remote and flicking through movies that were on your watch list. He had picked the last movie (Reservoir Dogs, thanks for asking), so he didn't have a leg to stand on. May as well toss it out there and admit he knew a romcom was in his immediate future if the list he clicked through dismally had anything to do with it.

"It's Flashback Friday, let's watch a classic," You danced around the couch, excitedly and put the wine on the coffee table with the charcuterie board Bradley would eat 93% of himself.

"Shortlist," he insisted.

"Fair," you agreed as he plonked on the couch, and you sat beside him. "Point Break, you'll be hot for Keanu. Will put you in the mood. Point, Bradshaw," he goaded as you tried to get the remote off him. He pushed you back gently. He bopped your nose. "Absolutely not. I'm controlling the remote, thank you."

"Point Break," you contemplated thoughtfully. A twofer really... Keanu, Patrick Swayze -

"Nah, too easy. You don't get to lull me into a false sense of security like that. Keep going," Bradley rolled his eyes.

"Breakfast Club?"

"Not a dealbreaker," Rooster admitted. "Back to the Future?"

"God, you are such an 80's kid," you rolled your eyes.

"Wasn't just my decade, babe," he hissed back as you squinted at him, a man with a death wish. "But of course, you're the latter end. May as well be 90's," he rushed, as you laughed. "You're not getting older, you're just getting sexier," he overcorrected, hoping he'd bridged the gap with his loose lips, his nose from your earlobe to your jaw, leaving a wet, warm kiss against your pulse. He was the dirtiest player in the game and he laughed against your skin, as you enraged him a moment later, dragging your nails into his scalp, giving him a bit of pleasure in return. "God, you're so full of shit…” you somehow managed to get out.

He laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, you’re hating every minute,” he reckoned.

"But it's a short list," you pretended to growl as he kissed your pout. “What about Stand by Me?" you tried, his lips still mashed against yours and you fell into his soft kiss, God, his lips were magical, you loved kissing Bradley Bradshaw. His soft lips, the caress of his tongue -

"Baby, are you actually considering me and what I would like to watch?" he asked, almost touched, he pulled back, a smug look of satisfaction laced all over his face.

"Footloose?"

Apparently not. "Veto."

"Oh, Dirty Dancing!" the tone in your voice telling him that this was your decision, but he couldn't resist, because he kind of loved it when you argued and got all cross and cute... and sometimes if he riled you up just the right amount, a little frisky too.

"VE-TO."

"Bradley Bradshaw, how dare you!" you exclaimed as he broke into a grin and put his hands in the air.

"I give, baby," he admitted. "Just love you all wound up and - "

"Yeah, yeah," you said bashfully. He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple and he raised his arm to put it across your shoulder to nuzzle in under, pressing play on the flick. The Ronettes 'Be My Baby' started in the background with a noir 1960s underground dancing dirty montage (if you will), flitting across the screen.

"Credit where it's due, this soundtrack is fuckin’ awesome. They just don't make them like they used to."

"Movie soundtracks?" you tucked yourself into his ribs as he adjusted to bend to you. He'd be kidding himself; this was the best part of watching a movie as you curled yourself around him. Maybe the movie would be forgotten and some sexy making out would take over, he wondered.

"Yep," he nodded, plopping a kiss in your hair.

"Yeah, 80's definitely had that going for them. Best 80's soundtrack?" you asked, quickfire.

He frowned while pondering. "Good question... anything John Hughes," he said obviously.

"Flashdance."

"Lost Boys."

"'Purple rain, purple rain'," you sang as Rooster chuckled. You had already missed a good chunk of the movie although you continued to lower yourself until your cheek was resting against his powerful quad and eyes trying in vain to stay open as the movie played on, both of you really not giving it too much of your attention, his large palm sliding under your tee and tracing the back of your ribs, along the bone and the seams of your bra.

Bradley was a human furnace, he was divine to creep up next to, so you did just that only encouraging him. It didn’t surprise him that you’d dozed off.

Fuck. And the remote was just out of his reach to turn off the movie. He lived for times like this. He’d be able to watch the game. Any goddamn game would have been just perfect. He didn’t care if his teams weren’t playing. Baseball, football, basketball. Oh, were the Lakers playing tonight?

Slumbering partner, booze and the inability to reach the remote. He struggled to reach but it was just out of his grasp. “Shit,” he muttered as you wrapped your soft palm around his knee and he sighed, taking you in. A rare beauty, he knew, momentarily caught up that you were his. He must have done something right in a previous life to have you walk into this life. His fingertip tenderly traced your eyebrow and the slope of your nose as you mumbled in your sleep and he hesitated, pulling his hand back.

You adjusted your posture to rest your cheek on his thigh, your face towards his tummy and he chuckled quietly. “You’re not that asleep…”

“Little bit asleep,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his waist, cool fingers drifting against the golden soft skin of his lower back.

“Bed?” he murmured, his thumb drifting across your soft lips as you shook your head, eyes still closed. A moment later, you yawned, but clearly weren’t interested in being roused so he kept playing with your features, his hands sinking into your hair and he bit back a grin as you almost mewled like a kitten. He didn’t say anything but was surprised at how much of a sucker for his touch you were. You only encouraged him, by cuddling in further and he reached down to press a kiss into your forehead, against the scar on your eyebrow. You hated it, but he loved it. The mar of perfection against your sweet features would always be his favourite. It matched his.

He felt your breathing change against him and knew you’d fallen asleep again, deeper and he knew you were out. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, the smell of your 45-step hair care routine wafting into his nostrils and feeling a little dizzy himself, warmed. Luckiest bastard he knew as he spied the small remote you never used and his eyes widened, excitedly. Within reach, he swiped it and turned down the volume of the film.

Within a few moments and the apps changed, the Lakers were on his screen. He pushed the remote into the side of the couch so he wouldn’t lose it, took his wine in his free hand and made himself comfy. May as well make the most of his Friday night…

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

#notroosterbradshaw #5 min ficlet #rooster fic #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster #rooster imagine #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster x oc #rooster x female reader

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separatist-apologist · 3 months

Text

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Arina decided it was better to do as Eris asked and meet him outside her bedroom door after she and Elain had a private lunch in Elain’s bedroom. Eris turned the corner mere seconds later, eyes sliding down her body so intimately it made her shiver. He could do something with his eyes that made her nervous, turning that look on and off like igniting a candle. This time, though, Arina knew he disapproved of the yellow dress.

“Change—”

“No.”

Eris looked upward as if he was asking the gods to grant him patience. “Your clothes are impractical—”

“I don’t walk around prepared for battle. If you’re going to teach me to defend myself, teach me as I am, tangled skirts, long hair, and all.”

Eris paused, cocking his head to the side like a predator. “You’re taking your hair down?”

Oh, did he want her to? She was tempted to tell him no, though she’d put very few pins in her hair today to make it easy to let her hair down once they were alone so she could simulate being alone in her bedroom like she’d been when someone tried to strangle her.

“Does that offend you?”

His cheeks darkened for just a moment as he cleared his throat. “I don’t care about your hair.”

Liar.

“This is probably pointless to say to you, but I would prefer it if you didn’t go easy on me.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Eris promised, falling into step beside her. She expected him to take her outside—somewhere public. Somewhere people could see. It hadn’t occurred to her that Eris would take her to his lavish apartments across the palace, nor that he would close the door behind him.

“Eris—”

“Oh who cares?” he said with a roll of his eyes. “There is no escape for either of us, so what does it matter if they think I’ve had you now or in two months?”

“I care.”

He shrugged. “Where would you prefer we go? To the common hall? The courtyard? Somewhere anyone with eyes can watch? The point of teaching you this is to catch your attacker off guard so you can escape, not help them hone their skills so they don’t make another mistake.”

“I care,” Arina admitted. Her reputation was all she had left—and she knew her father would be furious when the rumors reached him. Eris could still change his mind, but Arina would be unmarriageable if anyone believed Eris had her first.

Eris’s look of frustration wasn’t enough to cow her. “I told you, this marriage is happening—”

“Until it doesn’t,” she countered quietly, stepping closer to a long sofa she could imagine him lounged on, book in hand. “Are you telling me that you’d still honor this contract if your father freed you?”

Eris ground his teeth together. He couldn’t lie to her, so he wouldn’t. Instead, he said, “He’s not going to—”

“He might—”

“He won’t!” Eris snapped, some of his anger getting the better of him. “If only to piss your father off. He is taking that shitty piece of land one way or the other and you are the most convenient way to do it, and unless you think your father is willing to trade it for less than his daughter sitting on a throne, you will be my godsdamned wife.”

Arina hated him a little bit right then. His anger was palpable, a flame burning hot in his gaze. She wanted to hit him, wanted to make him feel every ounce of her own fury and fear until he stopped talking to her like she was a simple, stupid child.

“I don’t want to be your wife,” she whispered, which was the wrong thing to say. Eris advanced on her until he was inches from her face.

“I don’t care what you want,” he whispered, gaze not on her eyes but her mouth.

“I’ll make you miserable,” she threatened. Eris only shrugged, the spell broken. He looked around the room as if trying to find something. It gave Arina a moment to appreciate the shelves of books, the rich rugs of red and cream, the high ceilings and open windows—all of it tastefully appointed and betraying someone with taste far more refined than her own. She couldn’t help herself, gravitating toward one of the shelves to see what he liked to read.

A lot of philosophy, she found. History, too, and more than a few books on poetry. She was particularly fascinated by a cracked blue spine that read Romantic Poetry, the silver letters peeling and worn.

Arina reached for it just as a pair of arms wrapped around her body, holding her tight against a torso. It was Eris, she reminded herself—Eris’s forearm pressed to her throat, Eris’s torso she was pinned against. He wouldn’t kill her.

He’d promised he wouldn’t.

“Are you scared?” Eris whispered, lips brushing gently against the shell of her ear.

Arina couldn’t speak, could only nod her head.

“Relax,” he ordered, pressing his arm harder against her throat. “Go limp.”

Arina tried, but every inch of her demanded she fight him, that she twist and thrash until he let her go. Eris sighed when he felt her rigidity, holding her so tight her ribs groaned.

“Make me work for it, Arina. Go limp.”

Something about the way he said it—with such authority—made her listen. The part of her brain that wasn’t panicking recognized help. Her whole body flopped toward the ground, causing Eris to groan beneath her weight.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise warming that same alert part of her mind. “See how I have to drag you, now? Do you feel how my hold has to shift?”

“Yes,” she rasped. He’d loosened his grip on her neck just enough for her to take a deep breath.

“If you had a knife, this would be the time to use it. Let’s pretend you have one hidden in your skirt. Reach for it.”

Arina did as he told her to, fumbling for her pretend knife. Eris tightened his hold with a disapproving click of his teeth. “Too slow.”

And then, without warning, he drew his fingers across her neck like he was slashing her throat. Releasing her, Arina collapsed to the ground, heart racing.

“You need to be quicker,” he said dispassionately.

“You surprised me,” she accused, rubbing the skin of her throat.

“Do you expect your killer to send an invitation beforehand? You need to be prepared, your instincts razor sharp.”

“My governesses must have missed the lesson on not being murdered,” she snapped, though there was no real ire to her words.

“I’m not surprised to learn your father is inadequate,” was all Eris had to say in response. “Get up. We’ll do it again.”

Arina almost wished Eris had wanted to have sex with her. It would have been easier, would have been over faster. They spent hours going through the same scenario over and over. Sometimes he walked her through what she needed to do step by step and other times he promised her a break, let her drop her guard, and then attacked her all over again.

She left his room wrung out and exhausted. Arina didn’t dare let Eris see it—he wasn’t exactly warm—but the moment she was safe in her own bedroom she fell face first on the mattress and cried her eyes out. Nothing was going the way she’d thought it would and every time Arina tried to make the best of her circumstances, it was like fate decided to add another complication as a little test.

Oh, you thought you could connect with this man? Well, he hates you.

At least he didn’t want her dead. She could mark Eris off her list of the people trying to kill her, which made it a list of four—maybe five if she took Eris at his word regarding his fathers priorities.

Beron Vanserra needed her alive in order to make good on the contract. Her father needed her alive in order to secure position and wealth, as well as continue ruling as a vassal lord. Eris didn’t want to marry her, but he didn’t want her dead either. And Elain and Lucien were outsiders entirely.

But the palace was massive and teeming with people. Was it someone angry she was the one marrying the prince? An angry courtier? A political rival? Just having a direction would have been helpful.

Arina fell asleep turning the question over in her mind, forgetting to go down for dinner or changing out of her clothes. Perhaps she ought to have known Eris wouldn’t give her peace. In retrospect, Arina figured Eris had noticed her absence at dinner and decided it wasn’t enough to torment her during her waking hours.

She felt the weight of the mattress dip moments before he swung his legs over her body and pressed his blade to her throat. Apollo didn’t intervene, raising his head only to look before laying back down in his spot at the edge of the bed. Useless animal.

“Eris,” she whispered, fingers curling around his wrist.

“What happened to your dresser by the door?” he replied, his voice low. She knew what he wanted—or, she thought she did. She didn’t have a real weapon to stab him in the thigh with so she used her pretend one, slamming her fist against his leg before shoving him off her. Eris grunted but didn’t fight her when she straddled his hips, his knife now in her possession.

“If you ever wake me up like that again,” she whispered, her hair falling between them like a curtain, “it’ll be me who kills you.”

Eris’s chest rose and fell rapidly, palms raised upward in defense as she held his knife to this throat. She could have killed him—it would have been so easy to end him right then and there. Eris held her gaze, his eyes cat-like in the dark.

“Eris?” she whispered.

He blinked. “I…shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why did you?”

Slowly, Eris reached for a strand of her unbound hair and pressed it against his nose. “I’m a fool.”

And with that, she was on her back, knife flopping harmlessly to the bed. Eris stood, adjusting his pants before turning back to look at her sprawled over the mattress. “Keep the dagger.”

“Eris—” He left before she could finish her thought, which was just as well. Arina had no idea what she would have said if he’d stayed. It was strange, though, sitting in the dark wishing he’d come back to do the gods only knew what.

Stranger, still, to realize that the man she was about to marry wanted her.

And that she wanted him, too.

ERIS:

Eris couldn’t focus. Standing in a packed ballroom, all he could think about was Arina’s legs wrapped around his waist and how close he’d come to dragging her back to the mattress and doing every wicked thing he could imagine to her. That was made worse by the woman herself, standing beside Elain and his brother in a golden gown that tapered to a dusky rose the further down the beading went. The neckline was low enough he could see the swell of her breasts beneath the soft slope of her collar bone and when she walked, a slit revealed a tantalizing peek of her legs.

He sighed, half relieved when his father approached. “Have you seen your mother?”

Eris scanned the crowd again. “She’s probably fretting over wine again.”

“I’ll handle it. You handle her,” his father ordered, glancing toward Arina.

“Problems?” “With the girl? Not one. With her father? It never ends,” Beron muttered with a scowl. “All he does is complain.”

“Maybe you should kill him,” Eris suggested dispassionately.

“After the wedding,” Beron said with a roll of his eyes. “Finish things with Novak’s daughter.”

“She doesn’t want to be alone,” Eris informed his father, not betraying his own regret. Oh, how he wished Arina acted more like the ladies at court. Their propriety was just for show, their skirts easily lifted. Even now, Eris knew if he made eye contact with any number of the ladies he’d grown up with, they’d be staring right back.

Unlike his betrothed, who hadn’t spared him a glance once.

“You’re charming. I trust you can engineer some scenario that silences her obnoxious father.”

Eris resisted the urge to snap at his father. It wasn’t worth the inevitable pain that would follow. Maybe not right then, maybe not for weeks—but down the road, Beron would make Eris pay. There was only one right answer, and that was whatever his father wanted to hear.

“I’m sure I can manage it.”

His father reached for two goblets of wine off a servant's passing tray. Thrusting them into Eris’s hands, he ordered, “Now.”

Great.

Eris knew his father was watching just as he knew Arina’s father was watching, too. How far would he go to keep Eris from defiling his daughter? Not far enough, given Eris had successfully gotten into her bed chamber unimpeded twice. All he really needed was to get her alone long enough that it suggested something happened. Though it made his stomach churn, he figured he could get her just drunk enough that she’d let him bring her to his room. After that, all Eris had to do was close the door and let her sleep off the wine on his sofa or the floor or anywhere but next to him.

“You win,” Elain said glumly to Lucien as Eris offered Arina the wine his father had given him.

“Pay up, princess,” Lucien replied with a grin.

“Do I want to know?” Eris demanded, his temper getting the better of him. Did Elain always need to be hovering over Arina? Couldn’t he have ten minutes alone with his future wife without a million people staring him down?

“We made a bet—”

“I don’t care,” Eris interrupted flatly, catching the way Arina smothered a smile before taking a drink. “Dance with me before I go out of my mind.”

Arina gulped down the rest of her drink, setting the empty gold cup on a nearby table. Eris followed suit, wondering if she needed alcohol to tolerate him. The thought bothered him even as she turned, flushed and beautiful, and said, “Just one dance?”

Her hand was in his before Eris knew what was happening. He abandoned his drink beside Arina’s, catching sight of a quick-fingered servant whisking them away.

“For now,” he agreed, distracted by the way the lights gilded off her golden hair and how bright her eyes seemed to be. Had her mouth always been so pink? Her skin so smooth? Eris wanted to run his hands up her arms but settled for putting one on the curve of her waist and pulling her just a little too close.

Suggestively so. Arina didn’t seem to notice, staring down at her feet before looking up to meet his gaze. “Can you dance?” he asked.

Arina’s pretty smile shifted and he swore it was disappointment that flashed over her features. “Of course I can.”

He supposed he had been a little mocking when he asked. Eris couldn’t help that. When he was nervous his words came out in a sneer. There was no apologizing, which left him only with a challenge. “Prove it.”

“I hate you. Do you know that?” she asked, stepping with him as the music began. She was fluid like water, eyes on his face, grip pleasant on his shoulder. Eris nudged her a little closer, inhaling the scent of vanilla and lime.

“I like a passionate woman,” he heard himself saying.

Arina narrowed her eyes. “What else do you like in a woman?”

Eris knew better than to answer that question honestly. “I like you. Isn’t that enough?”

“I would hate to see how you treat women you don’t like.”

Eris couldn’t help himself. “There’s very little difference.”

“Now that I believe,” she said, the softness returning to her expression. Arina gripped his shoulder just a little tighter as the pair lapsed into silence, focused on their combined steps through the music. They weren’t alone—couples twirled alongside them, talking just loud enough to be heard over the band. There were things Eris wanted to tell her inexplicably—things he’d never told anyone, secrets he’d been keeping his entire life.

It was nothing dark, nothing deep. There were things Eris never wanted to say out loud, circumstances he intended to keep alive only in his mind. His throat burned as he lowered his head and murmured, “My favorite color is orange.”

Arina’s brows shot skyward, eyes widening with obvious and open delight. “Really?” she asked him.

Eris felt immediately stupid. He pulled back, heart pounding. That was a stupid thing to tell her, the regret instantaneous. Arina, though, was never going to let it go. She was grinning, her fingers digging pleasantly into his shoulders.

“Mine is green,” she confided as though admitting some terrible truth. Eris exhaled the breath he’d been holding. It sounded like a laugh, maybe because it half was.

“I’m starting to see the merits,” he murmured, taking in the mossy green of her eyes. Arina’s cheeks flushed and when she rubbed her palm over his shoulder, sliding down his back, Eris thought he was going insane. He needed to get out of the ballroom before he did something unbearably stupid.

Like kissing her in front of everyone. There was no doubt in Eris’s mind that the wine had made Arina sweeter just as he knew for certain that if he tried to touch her like she was touching him, he’d earn little more than a slap to the face.

“Have you ever been to the garden?” Arina asked him, pulling Eris from his thoughts. It was tempting to ask why she wanted to know that. Surely she must be aware that Eris had been in that garden hundreds of times for a myriad of different reasons.

He wasn’t stupid, though. When a lady was asking a gentleman if he’d ever been to the garden, what she was really asking for was to be alone. Well. Maybe he was a little stupid, because Eris’s response was, “Not with you.”

“Would you like to see it? With me, I mean?” she asked, her voice sweet and breathless.

“Yes.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, Eris remembered this was what he was supposed to be doing. Getting her alone, creating just enough doubt as to what they’d been doing when no one had eyes on them. It didn’t matter if it was true—he’d have her one way or the other—only that people believed it. Eris wished he could say everything was going according to plan but when Arina slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, once again gripping his limb just a little too tightly, all Eris could think about was being alone with her.

Stupid, given he’d been alone with her before. Not like this—not when she was touching him, smiling at him. Arina kept close, following as Eris led them from the ballroom with murmured excuses of getting some air. They certainly weren’t the only ones trying to slip away—it was practically a right of passage for couples to find some private place before their chaperones caught up with them. The only difference was Eris himself, who was a prince and therefore could do whatever he liked.

Well. Not anything. If Eris truly had that kind of power he could have simply pressed Arina against a wall and kissed her like he wanted to and no one—including Arina—would have stopped him. Still, it was a pleasant little fantasy that might have carried him outdoors had Arina not pulled him toward a hall that led the entirely opposite direction.

“Don’t move,” she whispered, yanking him close as footsteps approached. Eris was too distracted by her nearness, unable to look at anything but her palms laid flat against his chest. Obscured by shadows and half hidden behind a rather large pillar, a gaggle of older men filed past, arguing about the latest book written by a poet Eris thought was rather overrated. He might have told Arina so, too, had he not gone to look her in the eyes only to find she was staring back at him.

Oh.

He should have asked. Eris knew it and he didn’t care. If he asked her permission she might have said no and right then every inch of her seemed like an invitation. It was the sweetest she’d ever been, the most inviting and he wanted her. Deciding it was worth the risk, Eris lowered his face and kissed her amid the fading echoes of the crowd, still close enough to the party he could hear the music echoing around them.

Bracing himself for the inevitable outrage, Eris decided to press his advantage and reach for her face. It felt good to press his mouth against hers, to feel her soft skin beneath him. Eris was so distracted that it took him a minute to realize she was kissing him back. His eyes flew open at the realization. Eris needed confirmation that what he was feeling was, in fact, his reality.

Her eyes were closed, fingers curled in the cobalt blue of his jacket to keep him close. It was right there that ruined Eris—that look on her face, the way she was holding him, kissing him, breathing him in.

“Open,” he breathed and the hells help him, Arina did exactly as she was told. The kiss was a mess at first, betraying her inexperience though she was a quick study. Eris had her pinned against the wall, her wrists in his hands as he held them over her head and knee wedged between her legs before he could think about his next move.

All he wanted was to take down her hair and watch it tumble over her shoulders. Well—and then to watch her dress pool at her feet while he slid to his knees and— “Eris,” she breathed, pulling him back to reality. There was something sweet about her mouth.

A familiar sweetness mingled among the wine. Eris kissed her again, taking another taste as he tried to place it. Some part of him didn’t care so long as she kept kissing him…but the other…the other reminded him that she didn’t like him. And now she was half desperate, rubbing herself against his leg as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his jacket and—

“Fuck,” Eris snarled, turning his head in a desperate attempt to catch his breath. The syrupy sweetness betrayed itself—he should have recognized it the moment his tongue first slid into his mouth but Eris was too excited to notice. Myrrah—from the root of a regular berry plant—was a powerful aphrodisiac a lot of people took recreationally at court. Husbands sometimes slipped it in their new brides drinks after a wedding to make things easier, though Eris had never liked that practice.

For one wild minute he considered turning back to the ball and drinking some himself so he could finish what they’d started. He might have, too—the idea was powerfully tempting—had he not felt Arina’s fingers slide into his hands. Catching her wrist without thinking, Eris knew he needed to stop her before she took things too far.

“With me,” he panted, cock twitching desperately.

“Anywhere,” she said, opening her eyes to look at them. Eris swore softly at the sight of her blown out pupils and flushed cheeks. She tried to take a step, but Myrrah made everyone a little disoriented, made the room seemed to swirl in a way that was more pleasant than it wasn’t. Eris scooped her up before she could fall flat on her face, took a deep breath, and began walking her toward her bedroom as quickly as he could.

“I want you,” she said, the pretty little liar.

“Tell me again in the morning,” Eris replied. “Tell me when you wake up and I’ll give you anything you like.” “Anything?”

Yes, anything. Gold, jewels, land—whatever she wanted. Maybe that was his own arousal talking, but Eris would have made her an untold number of promises if it meant she’d willingly put her hands back between his legs.

“Where are you—Eris!” Arina shrieked, but Eris had dumped her onto the floor in her bathing chamber and slammed the door before she could stop him. “Open this door right now!” she demanded, pounding the palm of her hand against the door.

“I can’t,” he told her, sliding down the wood to keep it closed.

“Please—”

“Don’t,” he managed, closing his eyes. “Don’t beg.”

“You don’t want me?”

“Fuck—yes, I want you,” he admitted, forcing the words from behind his teeth. “And if I take you this way, you’ll hate me in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” he replied, saying the words as a reminder to himself. She wouldn’t forgive him, would be furious he hadn’t stopped her. “You’re out of your mind right now and don’t know what you want.”

There was blessed silence for a moment. Eris knew better than to think Arina had fallen asleep—he’d been in her position before, though he’d, at least, been able to relieve himself with a partner. Eris had no intention of freeing her so she could roam the halls like a cat in heat, nor did he intend to help her. She’d simply have to handle things herself.

And like an utter degenerate, he was going to stay exactly where he was and listen.

“I like you,” Arina said softly, still too breathless for his liking.

“Liar.”

“You have nice hair,” she protested, voice rising with irritation. “And I like your eyes…your hands…”

“Stop,” he breathed, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

“Open the door, Eris. Let me show you—”

“In the morning,” he groaned, his willpower shredding with each sultry word that poured from her throat. “Ask me in the morning.”

“Do you not like me?”

Eris groaned again. “Too much,” he admitted, spreading his legs apart. It did little to alleviate his need. “But not like this.”

“Then how?”

Fuck it, he decided, reaching for his belt. If he couldn’t touch her, he could at least touch himself. He could still talk to her, could make it a little bearable at least on his end. “In your right mind, to start with.”

“Maybe it’s better this way. Get it over with—”

“Trust me,” he half panted, gripping his cock in one hand. Eris stroked himself to the sound of Arina’s little gasps behind the wood and the image of what she must be doing to elicit such noise.

“Will it hurt?” she asked him breathlessly.

“No,” he swore, closing his eyes so he could imagine it. “Trust me.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Will you be angry if I have?”

He’d never considered that prospect before, maybe because he’d never expected his wife to be untouched. He’d assumed he’d end up with one of the ladies at court and while virginity was the official expectation, it was a rule too often skirted around in favor of hedonistic fun.

“It seems unfair. Maybe I should be allowed—”

“No.”

“No?”

Eris stroked himself again, exhaling a soft, shuddering breath. “No,” he agreed. “It’s too late now. I want your first time.”

“You’re selfish.”

“Jealous, too,” he agreed. “I don’t want to share you anymore.”

“Maybe you won’t be such a bad husband.”

Eris’s hand stilled for a moment, cheek pressed against the wood. There were a million things he wanted to say, all of them choked by emotion. He couldn’t accept the compliment nor could he find the words to assure he would do his best. What if he failed? What if he was no better than his father?

“Where are your hands?” he asked instead, retreating to comfortable, familiar territory.

“Under my dress,” she replied. Eris groaned loudly for her benefit, knowing damn well he shouldn’t.

“Next time it’ll be my mouth,” he told her with more conviction than he’d ever felt. So he couldn’t tell her the truth about himself—maybe he could show her, then. His actions could be enough, he decided, and if not his actions than the way his body touched her own.

“Your mouth?” Arina asked breathlessly. It wasn’t really a question and still Eris gripped his cock tighter, pumping faster.

“Yes,” he agreed, eyes closed as he imagined her legs spread for him. What did he want more? His cock in her throat or the taste of her cunt smeared across her lips? Both, he decided. He wanted it at the same time, wanted her thighs straddling his face as she took him, unable to move while Eris spent half an evening eating her.

And then he’d flip her over, breasts pressed to the blankets, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk the next morning. He could practically feel it, was lost to the fantasy and the sound of Arina’s own soft, desperate moans.

“That’s it,” he rasped, unsure if he was talking to her or himself. “Come for me.”

Arina did—or, he thought she did. He was so used to loud screams that her breathless gasps of air seemed like a revelation. Was this what it was like when the woman he wanted didn’t care if he was a prince or not? Eris came, too, hips jerking off the ground as come splattered against his hand.

The timing was terrible. Arina turned the door handle, tumbling on top of him just as a servant burst into the room, eyes wide with horror.

“I—”

“Well, fuck,” Eris snarled, trying to shove himself back into his pants without making a mess of the woman tangled up in his lap. “It’s not…”

What it looks like. He never managed to get the words out—the servant scurried away, leaving Eris alone

“You feel better now, don’t you?” he dared to ask, buttoning his pants as Arina stood, cheeks burning red.

“I—”

He reached for her chin, squishing her cheeks gently beneath her fingers. Eris kissed her, ignoring how wide her eyes were.

“When you wake up, don’t regret this.”

Though, if he was honest with himself, Eris regretted leaving her in a heap on the floor.

Still.

That was for the best.

#eris vanserra #chapter 4!#halfway done yay!

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theloveinc · 11 months

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bakugo x reader - i guess a lil drabble related to my succession!au here! caitie writing? it's more........ no jk im just as surprised as you...

(warning - toxic relationships, sex as business tactic, you wear a thong but gn otherwise i think, made up business lingo idfk)

You’re already waiting for him by the time Bakugo makes it back to his office.

Blazer off and strewn across the arm of the leather armchair you lean against, fingernails clacking away as you type a message on your phone; you look busy, you look sexy, you look mad, though he already knows why you’re here and you waste no time either in looking up from your device to absolutely scour.

“Fuckin' what?” he grumbles, throwing his own jacket and stack of files next to yours, refusing to give in to the thought of looking into your eyes, something he knows will cause more of a fire to light up in his veins rather than put him into a business-like mood.

“You said no.”

“‘Course I did," he responds before you can say anything else. "Your write-up was crap, and I don’t feel like wasting time entertaining unnecessary shit.”

“It’s a good plan. Would make up the public outburst you had that tanked our stock fifteen percent. You and I both know that.”

He does, but he doesn't care enough to risk another move that might cause more harm than good. It's not like his sour personality is a secret from the business world or has stopped him from getting what he wanted in the past.

“If you care so much about it just go ‘n get Deku to approve it. Fuck knows all you do when I disagree with your stupid ass ideas is cry and get him to start signing shit, anyway."

“That is not true!” you hiss, one of Bakugo’s very-clearly-plucked eyebrows immediately raising at the annoyance in your voice. “My advice is great, and yeah, I do think you should take it sometimes.”

“It’s average at best and you fucking know it"—it's actually better than average, way better, it's just hard to say now that Deku's got top spot in the running for CEO, a fact that pisses Bakugo off so badly that he can't even think about your talent lest he lose his mind even more—"You’re just one of the board's little brats. Spoiled rotten.”

You purse your lips at that, eyes narrowing as he stands up tall. “Like you’re any better. Getting mommy to call competitors anytime one of your shitty deals doesn’t go through.”

He approaches you, hands leaving his pockets as he walks you back into his desk—your ass meeting the oak just as he begins unlocking his cuff links and pushing his sleeves up to the bend of his elbows. You stand there in silence, in faux-battle through your glares, though it’s not much longer before he puts his hands on your waist and jerks you to his chest.

“Least I do my damn job instead of sucking dick on company time.”

(You don’t remind him that it was actually him on his knees the last time any inappropriate workplace intercourse occurred… nor that it was Kiri’s idea—not yours—to screw your way into Yo Shindo’s board of investors. He already started a fight the first time it came up, lord knows he’d have an aneurysm if used it against him in an argument, too.)

“Fine,” you wiggle your hips in an attempt to loosen the static between your bodies, but he only seems to get closer: the newly-tenting fly of his slacks digging into the soft dip of your own pants, instead. “Next time I’ll go ask Todoroki for advice then and you can work alone.”

He nips at you where his mouth presses against your cheek, hands splayed on your back to keep you from being pressed into the hard line of wood at your hips. You inhale at the contact, turning your face away from him if only to let his mouth fall next to your ear.

“Talk to that half and half fucker in front of me, baby,” he whispers, “and you watch what fucking happens.”

His fingers dip themselves into the band of your panties, tugging the elastic away from your skin in such a manner that the string of your thong gets pulled taut between your ass cheeks.

“Bakugo…” you warn, pulling back to glare at him though simultaneously giving into the fight, your hands leaving your hips to swat his away from behind you before they’re allowed to do anything more lewd.

He huffs, though his chest rumbles in the most silent of laughs as he catches your palms in his, swinging them back around til he’s holding them between you at your front.

“You’re such a damn tease,” he leans down close enough to touch his nose with yours, your breath warm and enticing on his lips. “Gimme a kiss for wasting my time.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m reporting you to HR.”

“Like hell you are. Kiss me.”

“I’m gonna kiss Deku.”

Hands still tangled with yours, he tears away for only a moment to fake a gag over his shoulder.

“That’s even worse!”

"You deserve it."

And he doesn't exactly disagree.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo #ooga booga sfjailsdhflafhu iwiehfkjhdhfj adje *monkey noises* *banging on my cage*#the beginning is bad sorry i just hhad to add it to get to the dialogue #it made me want to switch directions to angsty but i already had everything written #anyway #caitie post #caitie things #gen #succession au

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sugurusdiscordmoderator · 4 months

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barista suguru and reader has the biggest crush on him that they try to ask him out but got too nervous to do so!! however.. reader suddenly see him at a party they were invited in, and what does alcohol do to a person sometimes? confidence, and they hook up (eventually got together??) I'm not sure if this request makes sense, and English isn't my first language..

omg hi anon thank you for the ask - not sure if you're an AOT fan but @humanitys-strongest-bamf has an amazing fic similar to this w Levi and its god tier

anywaysss here we go <3

(The ages in this are all fucked up lol, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji are 22 and Gojo, Geto, and Shoko are like 25)

content warning: Haibara and Nanami are lovers lmao, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, hookup culture

(this is my original drawing please do not repost)

Being well known on your college campus is a blessing and a curse. You loved being involved in a lot of clubs and participating in social events. Going to the library or trying to study was nearly impossible with how many people knew you. However being a senior, you needed to focus and get things done. You lived a little ways off campus to save money and started frequenting a little coffee shop a few blocks from your apartment.

The first time you stopped, you had been walking home from class when a storm with bad winds blew in, and you decided to just study in this cafe until the storm passes. There are little tables all throughout, you grab one near the back and pull out some of your course materials and get started writing notes and going over chapters for your quiz in a few days. That is when a yawn washes over you and the exhaustion from late nights sets in. You figure you might as well get a drink while you're at this coffee shop.

Walking up to the counter you squint up at the menu board trying to decide what you're in the mood for.

"What can I get for you?" a man's voice asks.

Lost in your indecisiveness you don't even look down to make eye contact reading between Americano, Latte, Cold Brew, etc.

"Mmmm, not sure yet, I may need a few minutes," biting your bottom lip thinking about how much caffeine you want to intake today.

"We also have a list of specials down in front of you," he says politely and you see him walk away out of your peripherals.

The thing is, you're not a huge coffee person. Half the time it's too sweet, half the time it's too bitter. The caffeine gives you jitters and makes you anxious. Also sometimes coffee just messes your stomach up so you just have given up on expensive coffee places and opt for making your own shitty coffee at home.

You glance down at the specials list, reading them to yourself,

"Almond Joy Latte

Sparkling Green Tea Refresher

Pink Velvet Cold Brew

Barista's Choice"

You finally look up at the employee, a tall man that is turned around cleaning the espresso machine. His hair is pulled back into a cute bun and his frame is just large. You look at his hands, so large and strong with some veins protruding. He has a black button up on with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tattoos on his forearms. Matching it with black pants and a black apron, he looks kind of dark and mysterious.

He turns around and catches your eye, forgetting all the words that were about to form in your head.

"Still need a minute?" He squints his eyes a little and smiles softly as your eyes rake over his whole face. He has a piece of black bangs sticking out from the bun, pierced ears, a lip ring, amber eyes, and an amazingly chiseled jaw. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks.

"Uh, I, sorry," you shake your head and try to laugh at your own stupor, "Can I do the barista's choice?"

He nods, "Any preferences?"

"Uhm, no, whatever you like," you completely lie through your teeth trying to seem chill. He taps in the order on the iPad at the register and flips it over for you to pay and sign. At least it isn't too expensive if you don't like it, but you eagerly press the "25%" tip button hoping Mr. tall, dark, and handsome appreciates it.

"I'll bring it over to you when it's ready," he smiles and nods his head towards where you were seated.

"Thanks," you smile awkwardly walking back to your course materials, although it's not like you'll be focusing on anything other than the barista soon. You not-so-casually watch him work, obsessed with a man you've hardly spoken to once.

A few minutes later he brings over a cute tea cup and saucer, and you immediately smile when he sets it down, seeing the little design on top.

"It's a dirty chai...like a chai tea latte with a shot of espresso in it and a little special touch. Let me know if you like it."

The man smirks and walks away before you can even properly thank him. You burn your tongue eagerly taking a sip too soon, trying to find another excuse to talk to him. You try to take your mind off of it by scrolling through instagram for a bit while drinking your latte but around this time of year its all couples and engagements and babies which only adds to how down bad you feel. You get a text from your friend Nobara letting you know that a friend of her friend, Megumi, is having a party Friday and the friend told Megumi who told Nobara that they could bring whoever. After deciphering the word vomit of a text she sent you you send back a "thumbs up emoji" letting her know you'll be there because nobody else has invited you anywhere yet.

You finish your drink and decide to pack up your stuff and head home, a few blocks in the rain won't hurt you. It might cool you off from thinking about the dreamy barista you just met. You set the cute mug on the counter, and he turns around when he hears the noise. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking 'how was it?'

"It was great," you smile, "uhm, have a good one," you slightly shrug and turn around to go before he can add anything, just like he did to you earlier.

The next few days are uneventful, you walk by the coffee shop every day on your way to campus, wondering if he is working or if you should go in, but not wanting to struggle to pick a drink or pay for coffee again.

On Friday Nobara walks back to your apartment with you, she commutes in to town so whenever there is a party or something going on she crashes on your couch. She eyes the little cafe, "Want coffee? I think tonight might be pretty fun from the sounds of it!" She practically squeals and you find it adorable how excited she is. "Sure" you grumble, holding the door open for her.

She waltzes right up to the counter, decisive as always, and knows exactly what she wants. You trail behind her, not seeing any employees at the counter, squinting up at the menu board yet again. That's when you hear giggling come from the back room and see the handsome barista come out with some supplies, followed by a cute girl with a short brown bob who seems to be helping him.

You can't help but think about his beautiful laugh, and how you can hear it again.

"See ya tonight Shoko" he says, putting his apron back on and refocusing his attention to Nobara.

"Bye Geto!" This so called Shoko calls back to him as she walks out the front door. You cant help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the way he was in the backroom with his apron off and laughing with a girl.

Like girl - quit being delusional, you just heard his name for the first time and he probably doesn't even know who you are.

"Y/n, what do you want?" Nobara interrupts your talk with yourself.

"I'll have what she's having," you say overly confident, smiling at Geto. They both side eye you and you just remain oblivious, opting to go on your phone as you let your friend pay for your coffee as payment for her 'hotel' for the night. The two of you move out of the way and stand off to the side waiting for your drinks while Nobara talks about how Megumi's other friend Yuji is going to be there tonight with his big brother Sukuna and how excited she is because they're both sooo attractive. You nod your head along with what she says while scrolling on your phone. It's not that you don't care what she's saying, it's just that she knows so much about everything. All the gossip on campus is at your fingertips because of her, good or bad. You zone out staring at whatever drinks the barista is making, watching his damn good looking hands do his job. He walks over to you with two cups and you can't help but just stare at him. His outfit today consists of jeans and a tight black tshirt with a flannel jacket over top.

"Two iced matcha lattes with coconut milk and a strawberry cold foam on top," He smiles as Nobara eagerly grabs both of the drinks and hands one to you.

She sips it right away, "This is the best I've ever had thank youuu," she dramatically draws out while pulling you out the door heading to your apartment again. You look back to see him watching you leave and give a small wave with the hand that is holding your drink. You can't tell if you're imagining it but you think you see a faint blush over his cheeks.

You and Nobara enjoy your typical pregame activities, getting ready together, listening to music, and sharing a blunt.

"The guy at the coffee shop was checking you out," she half slurs, talking while applying her lip gloss.

"What makes you say that?" You think she's messing with you but you also hadn't told her about your little crush.

"When I was ordering he was staring at you the WHOLE time. Like he didn't even make eye contact with me I don't think!" She wines, "God it's not fair he's so gorgeous."

"To be fair Nobara, you think most guys are gorgeous" You giggle and walk towards the freezer to grab some liquor. "Speaking of gorgeous men, who's party are we even going to tonight?"

"I think it's at some guy named Satoru Gojo's house? I guess he's good childhood friends with Megumi from when he didn't really have a dad." There goes your friend, sharing other people's business when she didn't really need to.

"Mmm," you nod and throw back a shot of liquor, "I think I had a class with him when I was like a freshman and he was a senior. A real interesting character."

"Maybe you can introduce me and I'll get lucky," Nobara raises her eyebrows at you.

"You will not be having sex on my couch." You say sternly before you both erupt in a fit of giggles. Gathering a few last minute things before heading out, you also grab a reusable shopping tote and fill it with a little bit of your own alcohol, you never know what they may or may not have at these kinds of parties.

Walking there was a little chilly but overall a nice night for the time of year. This guy must've gone to your school and hadn't left yet given the proximity of his house to your apartment and to campus.

You walk in and see Yuji Itadori right away with his friendly smile and big personality. He gives you both hugs and you know at least if Nobara doesn't get lucky with anyone else she can rely on Yuji.

Your energetic friend holds your hand as she searches the rest of the party to find her friend Megumi. He stands in the kitchen with a white haired man that you faintly think is this Gojo guy, both getting ready to shotgun a beer together. You and Nobara wait to see who wins before interrupting, grabbing drinks out of the cooler and setting down your bag with liquor and hard seltzers in it. It appears that Gojo finishes just a second before Megumi and you hear Nobara interrupting, "Gumi what was that?! You lost like a little bitch?"

He groans in response but ultimately smiles, "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because you've been stuck with me since high school."

Watching the altercation, Gojo comes up to you and asks, "You're with them?" Nodding his head at the two immaturely arguing.

"Sadly." you respond taking a swig of your drink.

"I'm Satoru Gojo, this is my place, thanks for coming." He eyes you over top of his black round sunglasses, making you feel like you may be wearing too revealing of clothes.

"I'm y/n, thanks for the invite by proxy," You giggle as Megumi makes his way over to you.

"Y/n, good to see you," the spikey haired boy gives you an awkward side hug, and a little kiss on the top of your head. Satoru raises his eyebrows at the two of you and you roll your eyes. When Megumi and Nobara get distracted and head into another room you fill him in. "Megumi and I may have hooked up once or twice when we were drunk," You blush, revealing your secret that hardly anyone knew to this stranger.

"Mhmm, seems like more than once or twice," Gojo sips his drink and sighs dramatically, leaving the kitchen to you alone.

Just then the back door of the kitchen that leads to the back yard creaks open. You turn to see who it was out of instinct, and recognize the girl with the brown bob from the cafe earlier today. She carries on past you not even really looking at you with her cigarette still lit in her mouth.

You see Nobara in the living room from your spot on the kitchen and mouth to her that you're going outside to smoke. She nods and thumbs up, but it seems that Yuji also read your lips and is interested in joining you.

You head out to the backyard, very dimly lit despite the pretty lights Gojo tried to hang up to make it look more aesthetic. You pull out a dab pen and a cigarette and hold them up for Yuji to take his pick. His eyes light up at the weed pen and he takes a huge inhale.

"God Yuji, careful," you laugh and proceed to take a smaller hit.

Your laugh seems to attract the attention of another group standing outside, and you immediately quiet yourself.

"Do you have a light?" One of them asks although you can't make out names or voices and even if you could you don't know many people here.

"Yeah," you respond, digging out a baby pink lighter that has a "Daddy's Girl" sticker on it, a joke that one of your friends gave you. Hopefully its dark enough that they can't see it.

A blonde guy approaches you to grab it, "Thanks, we have some seats over here if you guys want." Yuji happily follows but you're a little apprehensive. However they do have a firepit going so it is a little brighter over there.

"I'm Kento, this is my boyfriend Yu," the two introduce themselves, lighting their cigs at the same time with your lighter. You take another small hit of your pen as the brunette one comments, "Nice lighter." It makes you cough on your smoke a bit but eventually turns into laughter, "Thank you," You smile grabbing it back from them.

Yuji seems to be a little high from his rather large puff earlier, and you ask, "I'm going to go check on Nobara, you need anything?" He smiles and shakes his head and starts some conversation about an underground fight club with the two guys as you walk back inside. You enter back into the kitchen, grabbing another drink and heading into the living room where you last saw Nobara. She is having a heart to heart with some girl that graduated last year that you know of named Maki. They both have been drinking and just are smiling and agreeing with everything the other says.

She suddenly turns to you when she realizes you're standing there, "Your lover, he's here." She abruptly turns back around ignoring your inquiry of who she is referring to. You see Gojo and Megumi talking in the kitchen and decide to go talk to them instead of standing there looking awkward. You couldn't see from the angle you were at, but the brunette bob cigarette girl was also standing with them chatting.

Gojo waves you over to the conversation, putting a playful arm around your shoulders. "So sweetheart," Satoru starts, slurring his words a little more than he was the last time you talked to him, "Were trying to place bets on who's going to hook up with who tonight."

"Shoko has money on Suguru and Yuki, Megumi bets on Nobara and Yuji, and me, well I have money on you and Megumi." The four of you errupt in laughter and yelling over top of each other of who is correct.

"What are we arguing about?" Another voice asks that just came into the kitchen. You turn to see who it is with Gojo's arm still loosely hanging onto you.

"Suguruuuu" Satoru coos, "Finally joined the party! Shoko here thinks you're going to hook up with Yuki tonight."

"Like hell," he mutters looking to see who his best friends choice of girl is for the evening, before his eyes land on you. You can't help but drop your jaw at the beautiful barista from the cafe standing in front of you. It looks like he just showered, wet hair which is half up half down, and you can smell the fresh body wash radiating off of him.

"Who'd you bet Satoru?" Suguru questions, still having his eyes focused on you.

"I bet little miss y/n here and her boy toy Megumi." He responds and your cheeks flush at the fact this beautiful man may think you're not interested because of Gojo's fat mouth.

"Who'd you bet on?" Shoko asks directed towards Geto.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," he turns to get a drink from the cooler before taking a step outside, you assume to smoke.

You excuse yourself from under Satoru's arm, leaving him Megumi and Shoko to talk about more random gossip. Heading to the backdoor, you try to build up some courage to introduce yourself to this Geto guy. Much to your dismay, as you are walking out of the door in your own thoughts, another person was coming through the door to go inside but was a lot more solid than you. Bouncing back onto your ass you giggle, "I'm so so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you look up to meet the amber eyes you've been thinking about for the past week. It feels like the wind has gotten knocked out of you seeing how close your faces were with him grabbing your hand to help you up.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to knock you over like that,” he slightly laughs. “I’m just grabbing a lighter,” letting go of your hand holding the door open.

“Oh I have one here!” You pull it out of your pocket kicking yourself for showing it to someone else again. Well maybe it will at least start a conversation. You hand it to him and he lights his cigarette, not making a comment and hands it back to you. You also decide to light a cigarette, trying your best to look cool doing it but because of the wind you’re having a little trouble. Suguru sticks up his hand to block the wind for you. His damn hands. It’s like as big as your face up close and you say “thanks” with the cigarette hanging out of your mouth now lit.

“Y/n? Is that your name?” He breaks the silence first.

“Yes, are you Suguru?” You ask sweetly back

“Suguru Geto, the one, the only, barista extrodinaire,” he laughs and draws a puff.

“I like your laugh.” You blurt out, now realizing your judgement is a little impaired from your weed alcohol and nicotine pairing. “Sorry that just kind of came out.”

“That’s okay,” he stares at you with kind eyes ashing his cigarette against Gojos house.

“Did you like the matcha today?” He asks after you don’t respond.

“Actually no,” you bust out laughing, “I don’t like matcha I was just distracted when she was ordering.”

“Distracted by what?” He asks.

“You,” you realize how close your faces are and how intimate the moment is with your glowing cigarettes and how intoxicating the mix of his smell is.

He nods and smirks at your response, glancing down at your lips. “I think I want to get to know you more y/n.”

You gather all the courage that you haven’t had with this man for the past few days and put it all in your lips and lean in to kiss him. He kisses back, graciously, putting his hand against the back of your head as you place your hand on his hard pec. He depends the kiss, moving his lips passionately before entering his tongue into your mouth. His free hand wraps around your waist.

Just as things are getting intense you hear Nobara squeal in the kitchen, “GOJO LOOK!” You both break the kiss laughing, but still pressed up against him.

“I think I may know who my bet is on for tonight,” he winks and gives you another kiss, making your knees weak and release a tiny whimper into his mouth. You pray he didn’t hear it, but instead he asks, “needy daddy’s girl?”

You feel your cheeks grow so warm and cover your face with your hands. “Just kidding pretty girl, your lighter was cute though.”

—

reblogs and comment for a part 2 ?? 🤭🤭

#geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #suguru geto #geto smut #suguru fanart #jjk fan art

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celandeline · 2 years

Text

Pretty Handsome Awkward (Eddie Munson x Reader) (Smut)

If you wanted to get your hands on some bud at Hawkins, you had a couple of options to go to.

There was Reefer Rick, of course - your general sleazy twenty something with a shitty day job and a shittier car. There was Margot Roser - a junior who was really into art classes and had glasses thicker than a car windshield. A couple of the jocks would sell if they were short on cash, but by far the safest and best priced option was Eddie Munson - your dealer of choice.

Unlike Rick, he never made you feel uncomfortable. Unlike Margot, he had never judged your for buying. And unlike the jocks, he was actually friendly, occasionally waving to you in the hallways or saying hi in class. Definitely the best option out of the few available.

He made you look forward to buying your weed for more than one reason. It was always good to have weed (especially on a Friday before a long weekend, like today), and it was always good to see Eddie.

You flipped your notebook closed as the clock above the board hit three, and the bell sounded through the halls, signaling the end of the day. You rose from your seat, sliding your book back into your bag and joining the flow of your classmates leaving the room, spreading out into the hallways to their respective lockers.

You made your way to your locker, putting in the combination and opening the door, taking out the rest of the books you would need to bring home with you. Of course, you had no plans to touch any of them until Monday night, but it was good to be prepared.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You responded automatically, recognizing Becca’s voice without having to turn and look at her.

“Doing anything tonight?” She asked. “Me and a few other girls were going to go see that new horror flick if you wanted to come. I could pick you up.”

“Depends on when it is.” You said. “Cuz I’ve got tutoring after school, so…” A lie, of course, but you weren’t going to just put and say you were going to a drug deal after school.

“Oh right…” Becca said. “We we’re going to go around four, but you’ll probably still be in tutoring huh?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, feigning disappointment. Sure, you would have liked to go to the movies with Becca, but you wouldn’t miss your weekly weed deal with Eddie for the world. “Definitely next time.”

“Yeah, next time.” Becca said. “I guess I’ll see you this weekend sometime then.”

“Totally.” You said, closing your locker and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Call me when you want to make plans.”

“I will!” Becca said, heading off towards the doors that lead to the bud circle. “See you!”

“Bye!” You said, turning to head the opposite direction, towards the back of the school.

The walk to the secret little picnic table where you met Eddie wasn’t long - you traveled the halls until you reached the double doors next to the gym, and then it was a simple trek down the hill and into the woods behind the school. You had walked the path enough that it was familiar.

Eddie was already waiting for you as you approached the table. Catching sight of you, he smiled. “Fancy running into you here, huh.”

“Come here often?” You returned, letting your bag slide off your shoulder and sitting on the bench across the table from him, returning the smile.

Just seeing Eddie was enough to make your mood lift. His goofy smile, his big brown eyes, the frizzy hair that he played with often - it was safe to say that you had always had a little crush on him. It was a small thing - the sort of crush that one might develop on a stranger on the street. But it was still there, sending little butterflies through your stomach every time you sat down to buy weed from him.

“Same amount as usual?” Eddie asked, popping open the black tin box he constantly carried with him.

“Yup.” You said. You never bought more than enough to get you through a week - both to keep your use under control and as an excuse to see Eddie at least weekly. Plus, it was kinder to your wallet.

Eddie popped open his box and you dug your wallet out of your pocket, opening the clasp to sift through the bills. You pulled out two twenties, laying them on the table and looking for the extra ten you needed to finish paying. But all you found was two singles.

Eddie slid a little bag over to you and scooped up the money in the same fluid motion. “I’m missing ten, sweetheart.”

“I can give you two.” You said, shooting Eddie your sweetest smile.

“Wow.” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“I’m sorry!” You said. “I thought I had enough but I guess I must have spent it on something else! I get paid next Friday, so I can give it to you then-“

“This is unprecedented.” Eddie said, grinning at you. “You always have the money.”

“Can’t I get a discount or put it on credit or something?” You asked.

Eddie paused, thinking. “Well, you are one of my most loyal customers…”

“I would argue the most loyal.” You said.

“Tell you what.” Eddie said, folding his arms on the table. “I’ll let you have the stuff-“

“Sweet!”

“- on the condition that we smoke the ten you can’t pay for right now.” He finished.

It wasn’t an awful proposition- you’d still be getting your weed, you’d just have to share some. And it was Eddie. While you’d never smoked with him before, you couldn’t imagine that he’d be bad company.

“I’ll take that.” You said.

Eddie grinned. “Awesome.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The words slipped out of your mouth as you thought them, no regard for how they would be received. You were too high to care.

Eddie exhaled smoke into the air, sprawled out on the table. “Tell me.”

You leaned back in your seat, resting your back against the edge of the table and your head on Eddie’s stomach. Giggling, you spat it out. “I have a mini crush on you.”

Eddie sat up slightly. “What for real?”

“Yeah for real.” You said, sitting up to look at him. “You’re like, cute. And nice to me. And you sell me weed for cheap.”

“Yeah, but all that doesn’t mean you have a crush on me.” He said.

“Pretty sure it does.” You said. “Cuz I definitely have a crush on you.”

A moment passed, and you stole the joint back from Eddie, taking a hit and exhaling it up into the branches of the trees above you. You weren’t really expecting him to say anything about it, but you just figured he should know. Seemed like the polite thing to do.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” You said.

“I kind of have a little crush on you too.” He admitted slowly, watching your face.

“That’s crazy.” You said, grinning. “We both have crushes on each other.”

“Pretty weird.” Eddie agreed, shifting on the table to slide off and plop down onto the bench next to you. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear. “How is this the first time we’re smoking together?”

“Dunno.” You said, taking another hit. “I guess it just never happened.”

Eddie leaned closer, stealing the joint from your hand and putting it between his own lips. “Shame. We could have been doing this every week.”

“Well, we’re doing it now.” You said.

“Yeah.” Eddie placed a hand on your thigh. “C’mere.”

You leaned closer to him, letting him place his other hand under your jaw and guide your lips together. It was only a moment before he was breathing smoke into your mouth, letting you steal the hit. You held it for a moment before leaning back, exhaling with wide eyes.

“That was hot.” You said.

Eddie swallowed, his eyes stuck to your lips. “You wanna do it again without the smoke?”

“Yeah.” You said, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie crushed your lips together, kissing you. You met his energy, deepening the kiss almost immediately. Between the pleasant buzz of the weed and the fact that it was him kissing you, you felt like you were floating.

Eddie groaned low in his throat, hands falling to the small of your back and pulling you halfway into his lap. You finished the job, swinging your leg over to straddle him.

“God.” Eddie said, breaking the kiss to tip his head back slightly and look you in the eye. “You’re like… really pretty. And sitting on my lap. And we just kissed. This is crazy.”

You giggled, leaning forward to sling your arms around his neck. “Yeah.” You agreed. You were sitting on Eddie Munsons lap, having just kissed him.

Your thoughts were broken when Eddie started mouthing at your neck, leaving wet kisses under your ear and trailing down to your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath, tipping your head back. “Fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. “You wanna?”

You giggled, looking back at him. “I don’t have a condom or anything. And we’re in the middle of the woods. At school.”

Eddie wriggled under you, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, flipping it open and sliding out a condom. “Gotcha covered babe.”

“We’ll in that case…” You wiggled on Eddie’s lap, beginning to grind against his crotch.

Eddie hummed low in his throat, eyes dropping to half mast as he watched you work yourself over his jeans. You could feel him getting hard underneath you, dick beginning to poke at the denim covering it. It hadn’t even taken a full minute for him to get hard.

“You’re so hot.” Eddie said, winding a hand behind your neck to pull you back down to him, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss. You let him, stopping your grinding to focus on kissing him.

“So are you.” You said. You could feel your heartbeat between your legs - a surefire sign that you were violently turned on. You weren’t surprised though - it was Eddie, after all. You ran your hands through his hair, playing with the curls. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You could have just asked.” Eddie said, tipping his head so that his hair cascaded down his shoulders, letting you play with the waves.

“Would’ve been weird before.” You said, beginning to grind again.

Eddie stopped you with a hand on your hip, the other working at the button of your pants. “Help me out here, would ya?”

“Sure thing.” You said, getting up from where you were straddling him to easily shuck your pants off, leaving them on the table. You watched as Eddie’s eyes skipped down your legs and he sucked in a breath. “You too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie said, getting up to slide out of his jeans, tossing them where you had put yours. His hard on was even more evident now that he was just in his boxers, dick making a tent in the fabric.

Placing a hand on your hip, Eddie sat back down, pulling you back down to straddle him. “This can’t be a one time thing.”

“Definitely not.” You said, getting back to business pulling the top of Eddie’s boxers down to free his dick. Taking a hand, you wet it with your mouth before wrapping it around him, stroking slowly.

Eddie breathed out a sigh, tipping his head back for a moment. “Fuck.”

You hummed low in your throat, enjoying watching his reaction. He was so pliant like this, almost putty in your hands.

Not all the way though. Eddie snaked a hand into your underwear, feeling around. Even just the exploratory touches made your blood thrum, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. Maybe it was the weed, but you felt extra sensitive. Or maybe it was just the effect Eddie had.

“Shit.” Eddie said, beginning to really stroke. He didn’t even have to look to know what he was doing.

“What?” You breathed, leaning forward to mouth at his neck.

“You’re like, really turned on.” He said. “It’s hot. When you said you had a crush on me I didn’t really believe you but like, shit, I’m feeling it.”

“So are you.” You said, stroking him a little faster. Eddie keened at the motion, thighs shaking a little.

“Fuck,” He breathed. “Fuck fuck fuck- you gotta stop or I’m gonna bust.”

You slowed to a stop until you were just holding his dick. “Isn’t that the point?”

“I don’t wanna be done.” Eddie said, reaching for the condom he’d pulled from his wallet. “I haven’t got to fuck you yet.”

It was your turn to bite back a groan as Eddie began to finger you, stretching you open in preparation. He leaned forward, attaching his teeth to your neck and sucking a patch of skin into his mouth. You sighed shakily, the feeling making you clench around his fingers.

“God you’re so hot.” Eddie said, lips moving against the bruise he’d just sucked into your neck. “You’re so beautiful, and nice and it’s crazy that you even talk to me-“

“God shut up.” You groaned, fucking yourself back against Eddie’s fingers. “Of course I talk to you idiot, you’re one of my favorite people ever.”

Eddie just about whimpered at that, sliding another finger into, really stretching you open now. You could feel his dick jump against your thigh, a reminder of just how badly you wanted him.

Leaning close to his ear, you whispered, “Please fuck me Eddie.”

Eddie pulled his finger from you then, reaching for the condom he’d pulled earlier and tearing open the foil. In one fluid movement, he rolled it onto his dick, stroking a few times.

You raised yourself up onto your knees more, one hand going to wrap around Eddie’s dick again, lining him up. You sunk down slowly, feeling him stretch out your insides to fit. You groaned in unison at the feeling.

“God.” Eddie said. “Holy shit. Fuck.”

“Gonna last?” You asked, beginning to rock your hips against his gently.

“Maybe not.” Eddie said honestly. “You feel really fucking good.”

“Better fuck me while you can then.” You said.

Eddie groaned again, arms wrapping around your waist as he began to buck up into you, eyes falling shut and mouth falling open. You breathed in sharply, savoring the stretch of your hole around him and the feeling of him bottoming out inside you, reaching far inside.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You said, head falling against his collarbone.

Eddie just whimpered, keeping a steady tempo. Between the weed in your system and the fact that it was him, you could feel the pleasure growing as he continued, pooling in your gut and causing you to begin to clench down.

“Mmm not gonna last.” Eddie gritted out.

“It’s okay- oh!”

Eddie ran a hand down your front, beginning to rub and stroke in tandem with his thrusts, coaxing the pleasure out faster and more intensely. Maybe you weren’t going to last long either…

“Shit.” Eddie panted, somehow fucking into you harder, borderline slamming into you. It was the change in speed that tipped you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you came. It didn’t take him long to follow you over the edge, fucking into you a handful of times before you felt him twitch and still.

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, still connected at the groin. It was Eddie who spoke first.

“That was really good.”

“Agreed.” You said, getting back up on your knees so Eddie could slide out. He pulled the condom off, tying the end and setting it aside.

“So.” He said, looking up at you.

“So.” You repeated.

“We should hang out this weekend.” He said. “Maybe we could go to dinner or something.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Eddie returned your grin, sheepish. “Maybe?”

You pretended to ponder before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Yes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Of course, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things s4 #st4 #stranger things season four #eddie x you #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things smut

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romanarose · 2 years

Text

Leather and Lace: Chapter 5

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X Fem!OC

Pervious chapter here : Next chapter

Fic master list

A/N: I'm so sorry this is just long as hell. I couldn't find a natural end and there was so much I wanted to include. Sorry it took so long. Hopefully a new chatper of Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside will be out this week.

The hat scene is based on a post by @copingchaos and @welcometostayingawake which I will link in at the scene, be sure to give the post a like and reblog!

Final A/N: I want to make a masterlist for this fic but I wanna have some nice art or something for it sooooo if anyone wanna draw something or make a mood board or something for this, I’ll include it in the masterlist and tag/link ur account and any pages you use for your art! Anything sent will be included, even little doodles so don’t be embarrassed!

Chapter Summary: We see Santi and Will's side of the argument when they went inside. Santi and Laci find a special time just for them and have a moment. Laci babysits Rosie will the guys have drinks.

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“Do you have ANY IDEA how close you came to dying, Pope? It’s a goddamn miracle you didn’t get your head blasted open! You and Ben could’ve died! Then what? Do we spit up the money again and give it to your non-existent family and pretend it’s okay? If Ben died, would you just give me a pat on the back and say ‘Oh, sorry!’ and move on?”

Pope couldn’t sleep. The day had riled him up too much. Him and Will, after Frankie chewed them out, had gone to the kitchen. Santi hated leaving her out on the porch. Hated more how jealous he felt of Benny. But he didn’t want to test Frankie’s patience.

“Is that what this is all about, Will?” Santi crossed him arms at his friend. “Jesus, go to therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy, I need to stop watching my friends get shot!”

“Will you shut up? Frankie is going to fucking kill us as it is.” There was a long, pregnant silence. “Listen, I’m sorry Ben got shot. You know I’m sorry. But Ben agreed with me, he said I should’ve stayed with her… Maybe you should-”

“Don’t tell me to take time out of the field, Pope.”

Santi raised his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. But I think we’re all going to maybe take some time off, Frakie wants to spend time with Rosie, Ben’s got physical therapy-”

“You’ve got the girl. Who you want to spend time with” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Pope rolled his eyes. “Can you stop being shitty about Laci? I’m trying to help her”

“Oh please” He countered. “You have way past doing your job. You got a thing for her, even if you won’t admit it.”

“She needs help, Will”

“You saved her life, you were supposed to bring her back to the embassy, and be done. Have you ever stopped to consider you are overstepping? Have you ever considered that maybe there's a reason soldiers aren’t supposed to take back trafficking victims to play house?”

Santi shook his head. He had considered that, of course. “That’s not what's happening here.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t fuck her if you had the chance?” Will challenged.

Santi pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re getting off topic here.” He diverted. “We’re here because you’re being a dick to her”

There was a pause and Santi watched a boatload of emotions dance across Will’s face as he searched for a smart ass answer. When nothing came, he simply agreed. “I know.”

“Then why are you being like this? I know you know damn well this isn’t her fault, and knowing you, you are going to start feeling really shitty about how you treated her.”

Will groaned dramatically. “I don’t know man! I know I can’t blame her for what happened but my subconscious does anyway.”

Santiago’s lips smirked up a bit at that. “Subconscious, huh? You sure you haven't been the therapy?”

Will flicked Santi’s head. “No, I took psych in high school.”

“Nerd.”

The men stood in silence, feeling better but also not feeling like everything had been spoken.

Will broke the silence again. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been. I just… I can’t help it sometimes.”

Santi knew he was sincere, but he also knew he had a duty to her. “Well you’re going to have to help it, man.” Santi crossed his arms. “Because for the time being, she’s going to be here, and if you want to be around me, you’ll have to be around her. And if you’re going to be around us, you’re going to have to be nice, because I’m not putting up with it anymore.”

Will closed his eyes “I know.”

“That girl has been kidnapped, raped, beaten, and god knows what else this last year, I’m not letting her put up with you bullshit too.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Will opened his eyes to look at Santi. He knew the protectiveness his friend felt over the girl was partially due to the loss of his sister, but he couldn’t help but feel there was another attachment here.

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” He nodded out the door.

Will gave a short laugh. “You gonna leave me alone with her long enough to apologize?”

“If you promise to behave.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Will headed for the door.

Laci said things were good, that they’d made it. She didn’t go into details and he didn’t ask. That was their business. But right now, he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t abnormal, he didn’t sleep a lot. Right now, all he could think of was Tom’s head with blood oozing out. Santi shook his head like an etch-a-scetch, and stood up to get some food. Unsurprisingly, Laci was up watching Friends.

He popped back into his room to pull shorts over his boxers and a white tee shirt, mumbling. “Even’n Lace.” As he rubbed his eyes, walking behind the couch in the living room. Lace turned around, hopping up on her legs, looking over the couch. He sees the movement, and looks over to find her eyes following him. He could swear she was looking at his butt. He smirked at her “Need something?”

Her eyes flicked up to his, embarrassed at having been caught, she turned back to the tv and sat down.

“Ah, c’mon Munacita, I’m only teasing.” He waited until she glanced back at him. “You hungry”

She shrugged and smiled. ‘I could eat’

Santi heated up some pizza rolls, and brought a plate over to her. “Bon appetit, mademuasel.”

She grinned at him as she accepted the plate.

“G’night” Santiago began walking back to his room with his plate.

“Santiago?” She called after him, causing him to turn around.

“Yes?”

She nodded over to the seat next to her on the couch, and raised her eyebrows. ‘Join me?’

Santi knew damn well this was a slippery slope. He knew, really, that he shouldn't be indulging her in her little flirts. But she looked at him with her big hopefully eyes, how could he deny her like that? “Yeah, sure Lace” He sat down at the other end of the couch. “But we aren’t watching Friends.”

Laci grinned at him, bouncing over to sit next to him and handing him the remote. “Well you can’t sleep…” She spoke softly. “What do you watch?”

Santi was thankful for the dim lights, he was sure his embarrassment would show. “I um… it’s kinda silly”

She nudged him, urging him on.

“I like to watch old sitcoms”

Laci laughed at this. She smiled, shaking her head ‘That’s not silly’ She pointed at Friends still on the TV.

“Friends isn’t old!” Santiago insisted, suddenly very aware of their age gap, making him feel even more ashamed of the thoughts that had been creeping into his head.

She gave him a pointed look. “It’s older than me.”

Fuck, that made him feel old. “I meant, really old sitcoms. Dick Van Dyke, I love Lucy.”

She nodded to the TV while nuzzling up next to him. “Relax.” She told him, and he tried.

A few hours later, he wondered how he got there. How had Santi ended up laying down, stretched out on the couch, with Laci asleep in his arms?

That’s how they found themselves more nights than not. Santiago would join Laci on the couch, and slowly their bodies would come together, and she’d fall asleep in his arms in various entanglements. There was something natural in it. There was a bit of desire on Santi’s part, how could he not, with a party blonde girl in his arms?

When she woke up the first morning, Laci smiled at him. She looked at Santi like they were lovers waking up on a lazy Sunday morning. Laci climbed off of him as he stood up. Santi’s thoughts were racing. Why did he do that? Why did he let her lay on him? Why did he wrap his arms around her? Why didn't he get up? But when he looked at her all sleepy and smiling at him, he couldn’t find it to feel as guilty as he should’ve.

She looked at him, touching her back.

“Does your back hurt?” He asked

She shook her head and pointed at him. ‘No, does yours?’

Oh. She had been asking about him. “No, actually I feel great. I haven't slept that well in…” years. He thought. Santi didn’t finish the sentence. He changed the subject as he stood up. “Well, the whole day is free. No doctors, no therapy, nothing. What do you wanna do?”

Laci thought for a moment and shrugged.

“C’mon, we can do anything you want. Whole day, up to you, what grand plans do you have?”

Laci considered his words. After a moment, she made scissors with her fingers and went to her hand.

“A hair cut?!” Santi chuckled. “We can do anything, and you want a hair cut?”

She blushed, but shrugged.

“Okay, Munecita. A haircut it is.”

Santi had her pick wherever she wanted for breakfast. Starbucks, IHOP, some fancy brunch place, it was up to her. He tried to express that money was no issue, but wasn’t sure how to go about that without sounding like he was bragging. The moment he got the money, he was set for life. He could have lived in luxery without working a day in his life. But he did work. He needed something to do. They all did, needed something to take their minds off the horrors. Benny still fought. Fought in matches and in bars. Frankie had his beautiful daughter, Santi’s god daughter. Frankie also had coke, something that no one dared bring up. Will always seemed like he had it together, focusing on field work and making sure Benny didn’t get himself killed. Seemed like he had it together, until he didn’t. Incidents like this last week were reminders that Will had a lot of guilt over Tom’s death that no one addressed. And Santi? Santi had work. Constant work. He always had something going on, something to distract him from everything he had seen and done… and hadn’t done.

He knew that the guys thought, or at least wondered if that's what Laci was. A project. But Santi didn’t think so. There was so much more he wanted to know about her, wanted to do with her, time he wanted to spend…

Santiago went to a barber for his hair, but Benny had a recommendation for a hair stylist. He promised that she wouldn’t make a big deal about Laci not talking.

“You must be Benjamin’s friends! I’m Brit. You can take a seat at the first chair, I’ll be with you in a sec, hon” The stylist called over to Laci, then looked at Santi. “You getting a hair cut too? You look like you could use it.” She teased while washing items in the sink. “Nay has some free time, could squeeze you in?”

“No thanks, I’m-” Santo started, but felt a nudge. Laci was looking up at him, grinning and nodding. She looked so excited, how could he deny her. He sighed with a smile. “Okay, yeah I suppose I could use a trim.”

“Excellant!”

Santi walked over to where Brit was cleaning. “Hey uh, did Ben talk to you about her at all?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he told me how y’all found her. Horrible. Don’t worry, her cut is on the house.”

Santiago shook his head. “No, no I’m paying for hers, don’t worry ‘bout that. Thing is, she doesn’t talk much. Sometimes at all, she has pictures for what she wants, but she can’t really reply unless it’s yes or no…”

“Don’t worry hon, I understand, I’ll keep it simple.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” Santi began walking away, but turned around. “Is there any like… hair treatments or something… nice? I asked her what she wanted to do today, all she asked for was a hair cut… Is there anything I can add to make it nicer for her?”

Brit gave him a knowing look. “Yeah, I’ll check out her hair, see what she needs.”

Laci and Santi spent the next few hours in the chairs, it was almost like a spa day. Much of Laci’s hair had been damaged from a year of no care and malnutrition, so she got much of it cut off, holding up a picture for reference on the phone Santi had bought her.. Brit had opted for a keratin treatment to strengthen her hair. Laci had asked (via her notes app) about highlights, but Brit was concerned about the integrity of her hair at the moment, and suggested they come back in a few months and recommended hair skin and nails pills.

Santi got a trim, and Laci gave him pleading eyes to get the keratin treatment. Nay suggested he get a deep conditioning for his curls, and Laci allowed it. Together, they relaxed as the soft music played. Nay and Brit were thankful for not having to make conversation, and Santi secretly enjoyed being pampered.

“Jeez, whatever you and Benny do for work, if you wanna send more coworkers my way, feel free”

Santi had left a generous tip, and he knew Benny would’ve as well. They were very popular wherever they were regulars at.

The next two weeks were something akin to domestic. During the day, they took turns cooking for each other. Well, “cooking” Santi could get by with a few Guatemalan recipes, but he tended to rely on burgers, microwave food, and pastas. He generally was in charge of lunch. Laci took on dinner. She was better at cooking than him. Some recipes, a white girl from St. Louis probably wouldn’t know, and Santi figured she had learned in her year of captivity. It occurred to him that they never really talked about what happened. He supposed that's what her therapists were for. Laci had given him access to all her medical and psych records, something Santi never took advantage of or even asked for. Laci had given permission for her psych to talk to Santi about what they talked about, she signed everything away to Santi. He was all she had. He could, if he wanted, find out everything they had done. But Santiago didn’t want to find out that way. If she wanted him to know, she could tell him. He didn’t want to invade her privacy. She deserved to be allowed secrets, even if she had given up her rights to any.

More nights than not, she fell asleep in his arms. it had become routine. If they couldn’t sleep, they’d meet on the couch and watch old sitcoms. More nights than not, she laid on his chest. And tonight? Tonight he was regretting it. Not regretting it enough to stop, however. Not enough to move, to get up, to get away from her. Not when she was so close to him. Laci had sat up on his chest, her hands tracing over his face. He was tired, too tired, and the soft glow of TV bounced off her face. She was beautiful. Her haircut was chin length, a style that worked well for her straight blonde hair. Despite his best judgment, he reached up to touch her face. Laci’s fingers trailed his hairline, his cheekbones, his jaw, and softly over his bottom lip. He fought her urge to take her fingers in his mouth, but this was more innocent. Something pure, delicate and new. He didn’t want to ruin what was happening, even if he knew he should walk away. Her skin was still pale, but had gained color in its cheek’s, a bit of pink on her face that matched the shade of her lips. A shade that matched the color of pink she generally likes to wear.

Laci leaned into his touch, and before he could stop himself, he lifted his face to hers. For a moment, their lips merely brushed together, an air of hesitancy like a teenage crush, like a first kiss stifled by nervousness and awkward touches. Finally, the hand on her face gently entwined in her thin hair, bringing her to his mouth ever-so carefully. It wasn’t a demand, it wasn’t an insistence, it was a guide. ‘Come here’ it said ‘let me love you, please’. The kiss was a plea. ‘Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you’ from who to whom, Santi didn’t know. Was Santiago asking to let him protect her and love her and help her, or was Laci asking him to open up, to know and be known by him.

There was no tongue, no fever, no wet, hot kisses and lascivious touching. Just his lips on hers, slow and kind, her gentle touch on her face begging him not to pull away. He only did so for moments long enough to check on her, only to see her smiling dreamily at him before one of them went back to the languid affection. There was a tightness in his chest, nervous to be seen so openly. It was a vulnerability he really shared. His job, the way he lived his life, had prevented him from normal relationships. This felt like a new start, a brand new thing not only with them, not only between him and the pretty girl in his arms, but within himself. There was something in him that had been laid to the ground with every military move, everyone had had to kill, everyone he watched be killed. Every kiss he planted on her lips brought new life; the hand in her head secured her to him, begged her to stay, stay, stay with me Laci, please. Something that had been burried deeper with every time he watched his friends get shot, every member of his family who died, all that was being brought to the surface with every faint, soft brush of her lips and the tender touch of her hand on his stubbled face. He didn’t want to stop. He wondered if he could stop time, what he would give to keep them like this, safe in each other’s arms for ever.

But he did stop, he had to. If he didn’t, he’d take things further. He would already regret this in the morning, he didn’t need to give into every carnel desire he had. Laci smiled, giving him one last kiss on the cheek before laying her head down on his chest. Tomorrow was for regret; tomorrow was for feeling shitty. Tonight was for nothing but thoughts of her lips, and the comforting touch of her hand.

The next day

“You two ready yet?” Will called out to Santiago and Laci in the doorway. Will was the DD for tonight.

Ben was already half drunk. “LET’S GOOOOOO”

“Benny, shut the fuck up or I swear to god I’m leaving you here”

“Hey!” Santiago Garcia emerged from his room. “You’re not leaving a drunk Ben alone in my house.”

“He’s gonna get in a fucking fight tonight and I’m too sober to deal with this.”

Santi patted his friend on his back. This was Will’s apology for being a dick at the BBQ.

Laci practically skipped out of her room. She wore white overalls over her pink undershirt, and was beaming. Frankie had asked her to babysit Rosie so the guys could have a few hours out. Santi had he feeling it was primarily for Laci’s benefit, but he was nervous. Him and Laci had been attached at the hip since the moment he found her, hardly being separated. She always had him in the room with her for doctors, and if she was in therapy, he stayed in the waiting room. For any meeting for social workers and things of that sort, he was always in the room, translating or relaying messages, depending on how verbal she was that day. This was the first time they would be separated by anything more than a few yards.

“Frankie is going to fucking kill you” Santi commented when he saw the hat Benny was wearing. It said ‘women want me, fish fear me’ from some tik tok audio.

Benny grinned. “I’m counting on it!”

“You change your goddamn ringtone yet?”

“Absolutely not!” Benny had set his ringtone to “Benny and the Jet’s” months ago, and it was driving the guys insane. Laci seemed to think it was funny. Every time it went off while they watched Always Sunny, Santi groaned, and Laci giggled.

Will started to drag Ben back to the Jeep. “Who still has a ringtone anymore?” He mutters as everyone loads up, heading to Frankies next.

Laci held Santi’s hand as she usually did when they left their house, but as soon as Laci spotted Rosie, his hand and him became irrelevant. She scooped the toddler off the floor, and began whispering praises to the giggling girl. She talked to Rosie more than Santi.

“Two peas in a pod” Frankie commented and he put the food on the high chair. Then he spotted Benny’s hat. “Take that god damn shit off!” He tried to grabbed it off Ben’s head.

Ben yelped but doged Frankies grasp. He ran around the counters, tailed by Fish, mimicking the audio. “Women want me, Fish fears me”

Frankie chased the boy around the living room.“I don’t fear shit, Jackass, fuck off” Frankie grabbed the hat off Ben’s head.

“Hey!” The whole group of men turned to see Laci covering Rosie’s ears. She nodded to the baby. “Language” she scolded.

“Yeah, Fish, l a n g u a g e!” and took his hat back.

Frankie sighed, one battle at a time. He turned to Laci. “This is her dinner, she’ll fight you over it for a while but I promise she’ll eat it, just gotta keep at her. If she gets too messy you can give her a bath, but I think she’ll be okay. Bedtime is 7, but she gets really excited with new people, so if she doesn’t go to sleep, don’t sweat it. Help yourself to anything in the fridge or whatever, remote for the TV is on the coffee table. Don’t worry about dishes or anything. Any questions?”

Laci looked like she was mentally noting everything in her brain. She shook her head.

“Great. Any questions, you have my number, you can text Santi if that’s easier. I’ll set the security before I go, theres camera’s in the living room. Not that I don’t trust you, I don’t trust the outside. Years of military makes me paranoid.”

Laci nodded, smiling and still holding the little girl.

Santi spoke up. “I think I’m gonna sit tonight out guys.”

Everyone, including Laci, turned to him.

“What?” Ben asked.

“I’m kinda tired, I think I’ll just stay in with Lace and Rosie tonight”

“You stay in with Laci EVERY NIGHT, Pope.” The shots Benny had taken had loosened his mouth. “Jesus Christ she’ll be okay for a few hours.”

“No, that's not it-”

Ben scoffed loudly “Oh yes it is! Come one, give her a little freedom”

Santi glared at Ben’s comment. “Freedom? Ben, I’m not keeping her captive.”

Laci handed Rosie to Will, who took her with a smile and a kiss. Laci took Santi’s hand and dragged the irritated man to the hall. “Santi, it’s okay. I can handle a one year old”

He sighed, momentarily distracted by her pink lips, that only last night were on his. “I know you can, I just…”

“I know I havn’t…” Laci shuffled a bit. “I don’t really let you go anywhere, I don’t want to keep you back…” She looked up at him, her thoughtful blue eyes on him.

He softened for her. “Oh Lace, no, you aren’t keeping me back, not at all. I… I enjoy our time… together…” he trialed off, both of them thinking about last night, the kiss… neither had talked about it.

“Santi, I promise it’ll be okay. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong, or if I get anxious or something, okay?”

Santi considered this. It had been a long time since he had a chance to get loose with the guys, and Ben and Frankie promised to provide some entertainment… “Okay, yeah, just… keep me updated, okay?”

She lit up at that. “I promise”

They walked out of the hall, everyone turned to them, Laci smiled “Parties on.”

With a loud bunch of cheers from the guys, everyone got ready to go. Frankie gave Rosie a bunch of kisses and when everyone else had left, Santi kissed Laci on the cheek. “Have fun.” and tickled Rosie before he left. Benny absolutely saw that.

A few hours and a few shots in, Ben brought it up. “So, you two finally kissing” He said out of nowhere.

Everyone turned to Santi, whose cheeks were flushed with a bit of pink. “What are you talking about, jackass.”

“Everyone’s calling me a jackass tonight!” He exclaimed. Benny wiggled his eyebrows. “I saw you kiss her when we left.”

“What?” Will exclaimed. Frankie was not surprised.

“Listen” Santi defended himself. “It was a kiss on the cheek” there was a pause, as no one seemed to beleive him. “There might have been… some kissing last night.” A loud ooooooo from Ben. “No, no, not like that. And I should havn’t done that” Santi shook his head. “That’s not why I took her in.”

“Well…” Will started, but stopped, hesitating.

“Whatever it is, say it.” Santi groaned, finishing his drink and ordering another round for the guys sans Will.

“I just mean, it’s not the only reason. But I think it was somewhere in the back of your mind.”

Santi looked indignant. “I didn’t move her in to coerce her into sex, Will”

“I didn’t say that!” He raised his hands defensively. “I just mean, she’s a pretty girl, you’re a good looking guy who has been very nice to her,” he stifled a smirk “it’s natural that theres gonna be some… attraction.” Will tried to remain polite.

“Listen.” Santi scrubbed his face. “I’m well aware that she might find me…” He tried to find the right words without sounding braggadocious. “Appealing” he said he a smile, earning laughs from the guys. “But” he got more serious. “I don’t want her to feel like she is obligated to do anything.”

“Santi.” It was Fish’s turn. “I don’t think she feels like that. You treat her like a porcelain doll, she feels safe with you.”

Santi wasn’t relenting. “And I plan on keeping it that way. Lace is still in a high emotional state, I don’t know if she’s thinking clearly, and I’m not going to take advantage of that.”

Ben took another shot. “So what you’re saying is, when she gets more settled, you would go for it”

The alcohol flowed through Santi, taking back his usual inhibitions when he spoke. A smile quipped up at his lips. “All I’m saying is… I enjoy spending time with her, and I wouldn’t mind if she wanted toooooo, continue that” Oh yeah. Yeah he was drunk.

This evoked a round of cheers from the guys, and Frankie ordering more drinks.

A ding on Santi’s phone. When he looked at the screen he smiled.

Frankie looked over. “Everything alright with our girls?”

Our girls

“Yeah, they are great.” He show Frankie, then Benny and Will the picture. Rosie was fast asleep in her bed, Laci laying next to her smiling. Yeah, he was saving that picture.

Laci woke up on the couch, Will very softly whispering for her to wake up, careful not to scare her. “Hey”

Laci gave a sleepy little wave, but was concerned there was no Santi.

“Listen, I just got Frankie to bed, Santi is… drunk off his ass.” He chuckled. “Let’s get you guys home so I get throw Ben on his front porch and be done with him.”

Laci’s face falters, and Will assured her he was joking and would get Ben to bed safely. She stood up, glancing over to the room Rosie was in.

“I already checked on her, but you can say goodbye if you want.”

Laci shook her head, she didn’t want to wake her.

When she got in the car, it was clear Santi and Ben were DRUNK drunk. Will had shoved them in the back, opening the passenger door for Laci. The whole ride home, Ben and Santi alternated music. Despite his earlier insistence that he didn’t like Luis Fonsi, he sure sang No me Doy Por Vecino loud as hell. Benny did too, even if he couldn’t pronounce the words. Laci looked over to the older Miller, who was glancing at his brother and his friend in the rearview mirror as they screeched out ‘Una senal del destino’ the top of their lungs, gripping to each other dramatically. Will was not as irritated as he pretended to be. He turned to see Laci catching him smiling.

“They’re funny.” He defended.

Will practically had to carry Santi’s short body to the bed. Laci was grateful for him, there was no way she’d get him there. She took off his shoes as Will practically forced him to drink water.

“STOP WATER BOARDING ME!” Santi half yelled, half laughed.

“I’M NOT WATER BOARDING YOU, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOUR HANGOVER AFTER ALL THOSE SHOTS, DUMBASS”

Laci stood up, gesturing for the cup. She stood over Santiago, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Will watched as she held the cup to his lips with one hand, and carefully coaxed his head back with the other. The way Santi looked up at her… he was done for. Laci had his wrapped around her finger, and likely had from the moment he saw her. His large brown eyes watched her face as she watched the cup, far more careful with him than Will had been. Santi drank every bit of the water, and Laci patted his head, leaning into whisper “good job, baby“ Suddenly, she looked up, turning around to see Will. She had forgotten he was there. Santi laid down on the bed, mumbling something in Spanish they couldn’t understand.

His face flushed a deep pink as her eyes widened in panic.

“Hey, hey,” Will Miller held up his hands, before pretending to zip his mouth shut. He mimiacked locking his mouth, handing over the key to her. Laci smiled and tentatively took the metaphorical key, tucking it in he roveral pocket.

“You guys gonna be okay here?”

Laci nodded.

“Okay, call me me if he asphyxiates on his vomit or something.” Pope had put all the guys numbers in her phone as soon as he bought it, incase of emergencies.

She looked panicked again.

“Oh! Oh no, I was joking. Sorry, dry humor.”

This didn't comfort her. Now she was worried about him choking.

He sighed, but smiled. “Here” Will moved Santi to his side. “If he’s on his side, he’ll be fine” Will promised.

Feeling better, Laci nodded

“Okay, I’m gonna get going. Leaving a drunk Ben alone is a bad idea, he’s probably fighting a racoon as we speak.

Laci laughed and waved goodbye.

When he was out the door, she locked it behind him and set up Santi’s extensive security system. She went back to check on him, sitting on the edge of the bed. When was sure he was asleep, she played with his beautiful, thick hair. “Thank you for everything. I don’t say it enough, but thank you. I owe you everything. Te amo.” A kiss on his forehead. “Te amo, Santiago” Laci climbed into the other side of the bed, not wanting to leave him alone. Will’s joke had worried her. She was going to watch out for him the way he watched out for her.

**************

I hope y'all liked the kiss bc I wanted to write it really fucking sweet. Their first kiss was impulsive, but I wanted this to be slow, deliberate.

I used a piccrew maker to make how I picture Laci when she was found, and then after she had been with Santi and got her hair cut this chapter, which you can find here for reference

Also I'm working on a spotify playlist for this fic, if you have any suggestions go ahead and comment! Its gonna have leather and lace by stevie nicks (duh) some luis fonsi (duh) Selena, etc. if you have any songs you feel fit this fic, comment them here!

Also, writing dialoge that switched between 4/5 people is hard, im sorry if it was confusing.

be sure to follow the leather and lace fic tag, and if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!!! smut is coming i swear

relbogs help a lot and comments mean the world! love y'all and thank you so much for the support y'all have given to this story!

@littlenosoul @bensolosbluesaber @milkymoon2483 @gogh-with-the-flow @itspdameronthings @trinkets01 @p0edameronswife

#leather and lace fic #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #santi garcia #santi garcia x oc #santi garcia fluff #santi garcia hurt comfort #santiago garcia fluff #fluff #hurt comfort #oscar isaac fanfiction #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #frankie catfish morales #will ironhead miller

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whyareyouhere66 · 2 years

Text

Sodapop x Male Reader - Can’t Help Falling In Love

Sodapop Curtis x Soc!Male! Reader

Song fic - Can’t Help Falling In Love, Elvis Presley

Fluff - Part 1 , Part 2

Warning: None, besides the fact that it’s unedited.

I attempted a mood board for this, it’s very shitty and kinda crooked but I spent half an hour on it so-

I’m aware how weird it looks. Anyways, enjoy :)

Wise men say

Only fools rush in…

‘Gosh, he sure is pretty…’

Sodapop leaned against the counter, dirty rag in his hand while the other held up his chin. He stared at you, the h/c boy across the room with a dreamy look in his eyes, almost completely unaware of everything else around him.

You and the rest of your ‘soc’ friends were searching the small aisles of the gas station, looking for snacks. When you came up to the counter, smiling at him brightly he damn near fainted

But I can't help, falling in love with you…

. “U-uh, will that be all?” He asks, mentally cursing himself at how stupid he sounded. “Nah, thanks though.” You say kindly, tossing a couple of dollars on the counter before leaving the small store. His love struck stare lingers on your retreating figure, hand held up in a small wave and a weak smile.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

You are a Soc, and you are a boy. He shouldn’t love you the way he did.

If I can't help falling in love with you?

…but, the way you smiled at him? Are so kind to him, despite the social differences between you two?

It tore his heart to shreds, every fiber of his being wanting so badly to just hold you close to him.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Only Steve and Ponyboy knew of his crush, which was surprising considering the heart eyes he would send your way everytime you were within a 50 foot radius of each other. Whenever he saw you from across the street, or at another table at the Dingo, his legs turned to jelly.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

You could ask for the entire continent of Europe and that boy would do everything he could to get it to you. He’d give up everything, just to hold your hand.

For I can't help falling in love with you

If only you knew what you were doing to the greaser.

… Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

You were the kindest Soc any one in Tulsa had the pleasure of meeting, social status didn’t matter to you. And Sodapop? Well he was the most charming greaser known to man, albeit not the brightest his personality easily made up for it.

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

It was because of this that Soda would stay up at night, fantasizing of the two of you finally becoming a thing. Personality wise alone, you would make a perfect pair. To him, it must be a sign, right?

Take my hand…

Take my whole life, too

Every time he saw you with your friends, he’d have to resist the urge just to go up and hug you. As creepy as it may sound, it was true. He pined after you, day after day.

For I can't help falling in love with you

And while he knew, it was gonna be seen as wrong, and not everyone was gonna like it. At the rate he was going, nothing was to come of it. He was far too nervous.

But for now…

For I can't help falling in love with you

He was absolute smitten.

#Sodapop Curtis #Sodapop x Male Reader #Sodapop x Reader #The Outsiders #fluff #cant help falling in love #song fic

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timotheechlamett · 2 years

Text

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES PT. 3

cover by @softhecreator 💗

PT. 1, PT. 2

WARNINGS: anxiety, pining, mention of trauma, brief nudity.

if anyone could help me w a mood board for this i’d appreciate it (:

———————————————

I finally checked out and lugged our groceries to my awaiting taxi, and yes, I could’ve walked but the soreness in my back and neck along with the weight and number of bags was enough to make me cave.

I put the groceries in the trunk, bringing the last couple of bags with me in the back and buckled in. I make sure to greet my driver.

“Hello.” I say sweetly.

“Hello, ready?” He was an older man and kind of reminded me of my grandfather. I nod and we went off.

After a ten minute drive, we pulled up to the front of the complex. I slipped the two bags over one arm and unbuckle myself to retrieve the rest.

“Do you need any help?” He looks at me in the rear view. I ponder for a second.

He seemed sweet enough and didn’t give off that creepy old-man-preying vibe.

I decide to play it safe.

“I’m okay, but thank you so much.” I give a smile, made sure to tip and he sends a nod at me as I closed the trunk.

The man coming out of the front door was gracious enough to hold it open. My journey to the elevator with both arms full, precariously nudging one bag across the floor with my foot, was almost comical. I knew Tim wasn’t home so I didn’t bother texting to ask for help.

Somehow, I managed to get all our groceries to the front door with minimal damage, though the bread could have looked better and the chip bag could have been less squished between the two juices, but at least the eggs were perfectly intact.

I pull my keys out and fumble with the lock for a second before the door is pulled open, to my surprise, by Timotheé.

“Oh, you’re..home?” My hand is still positioned to put the key in the door.

“It’s grocery day,” He says as if it’s obvious, a small frown on his face as he picks up the bags on the floor, “I always come home early for grocery day.” He walks in and sets the bags on the counter.

I take off my shoes and move to the kitchen to unpack the load I dragged up on my own.

Of course he would be home.

His elbow was so close to mine that if I leaned more to the right they would be touching, his hip nearly touching my own. The thought of physical contact made me heat up from my neck to the roots of my hair.

Anxiety washes over me again, I became hyper aware of just how close we were, just how much I could feel the heat of his skin on mine, and just how much I wanted to kiss him right now.

I can hear how fast my heart is beating and how little air I can breathe in. I feel that overwhelming panic that if I did kiss him I would ruin everything for us, the realization that these are in fact one-sided feelings, and I would make it so extremely awkward to act on them.

So I rake my mind for an excuse to leave, “Hey, do you mind if i go shower? It was a really long day and—“

“No, no go ahead, I got this.” He grins at me and bumps his hip into mine.

“Thank you.” I smile.

I finally breathe as I round the corner from the kitchen. I place two fingers on my neck to check my pulse. Just being out of sight was enough to calm my nerves to a point. I take a couple of deep breaths before walking to the bathroom door.

“But hurry up before I starve to death.” He calls from the kitchen, “Or burn the house down, whichever comes first.”

I grinned to myself and shut myself in.

——

I let the mirror fog a little before stepping into the nearly scalding shower, letting the water drench my head and will my emotions to circle down the drain along with any other dirt and grime covering me.

I could live in a shower. The only place where nothing matters.

If I wanted to, I could forget my entire life under a shower head. Forget how my mom left me to take care of myself growing up, forget how my dad died, forget every shitty thing that has happened to me so far.

But those are thoughts for another time, because right now I feel and think nothing. I wash my body, exfoliate, shave my legs, and wash my hair, wash my face.

Showers are therapeutic.

I turn the tap off, pat myself dry, and continue with my routine until I’m fully lotioned and moisturized. I wrap the towel around myself, it was a little small thanks to a laundry mishap, and step out only to run smack into Timotheé. The impact makes me jump back, which results in me letting go of one side of the towel in surprise, ultimately revealing a glimpse of my left tit.

Why me?

I scramble to regain control of the corner, “Woah,” He steps back and looks toward the ceiling, my hair leaving a wet spot on his shirt, “You’re wet- t-that didn’t sound-,”

“I’m so sorry-“ I started, my eyes wide and cheeks burning so badly I could start a fire.

“No! I’m sorry, sorry I- I was gonna ask if you um add water, um-“ He chokes on his words, he laughs awkwardly and his eyes flicker down to my damp form.

“They’re very nice.” He smirks.

“You- I’m just- goodbye Timotheé- bye.” I stutter. I rush into my room and close the door cutting him off.

I lean my head against the door and shut my eyes tight, “Oh my fucking god.” I whisper-scream.

I take a deep breath and pull on an oversized t-shirt and shorts. I brushed my hair out and set off to making my way out of my room. I grip the handle and pause.

It didn’t happen, just act like it didn’t happen. He definitely didn’t see your tit. Normal, act normal.

Finally gaining the balls, I open the door and trod to the kitchen only slightly awkwardly. He’s bent over the pot, staring confused into the sauce now bubbling.

“Sauce trouble?” I step beside him and peer in.

“Is it supposed to be this watery?” He looks at me. I look at him then back at the pot.

Somehow, he managed to make the jar of sauce soupy. It looks more like V8 than any type of sauce, or even a soup. If anyone could fuck spaghetti up it would be Timotheé.

“Not at all.” I look back up at him with a grin.

Very intellectual indeed.

We both look back into the pot, watching the tomato water boil. At least it still smells good.

“So…pizza?” I speak up.

“Yes. A thousand times yes. Thank fuck, I thought you were gonna make us eat this.” He picks up the ladle and drops it back in, splattering the liquid over the edge of the pot. We both jump back.

“How the hell did you even manage to-“

“Please,” He gives me a serious look, “Don’t ask.”

I laugh and pull my phone out, “Yes, hi, I need two pizzas for delivery please.” I give Tim a pointed look and roll my eyes.

—————————————

taglist: @oddlyenoughiamweird @s-we-e-t-t-ea @shika1200 @softhecreator

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thessalian · 13 days

Text

Thess vs Cauldron KAPPA

I swear, one of these days I am going to actually get back to the main quest. Or at least the side quest I keep meaning to do. Then again, I need to have something to do in limited time periods before work in the mornings. But the last two days? Nothing but sidetracking.

YESTERDAY

Right. Metal flowers across the river from the Carja camp. I go swim now. Underwater, I think, because Widemaws and Skydrifters.

...Wait.

Wait that said "carp". I NEED THOSE; LET'S GO!

Fifteen minutes later and I probably have enough carp to suit me. Really. Metal flowers.

...Is it wrong that I prize the data point over the vendor trash, as rewards for those last two metal flowers?

Okay, I really am going to head out in the direction of Talanah's whole deal, but I should get a couple of campfires first--

Wait. Wut.

Oh. Oh, this is Fenrise. And I don't see Gattak anywhere. Buuuuuut never let it be said that I waited for backup before I started liberating the hell out of a place. I mean, as long as I'm here, right?

Well, I've killed like two-thirds of these fuckers and I still can't find a way in. Sonuvabitch.

I'm kind of amused that they think I'd give up as easily as ... well, as they give up looking for me. Sneak sneak sneak--

Aha! Climbing spot! And here we go! Poonk-time is now!

I think we're mostly clear so let's free that Tenakth dude--

...Sir? Tenakth guy? I get that you're probably in a really shitty mood given the being-taken-prisoner and everything? But you're being rude as shit.

And onward to command ... and there's three more of you, and a lot of stealth grass. Bye, guys! POONK.

Okay, so this Asera woman Erend was telling me about is ... in someplace called First Forge. I've been all over the map and I haven't a fucking clue where that might be. But I figure I'll trip over it sometime--

Or I could ask Erend. Thank you, Quest Board.

...Hang on. It says "Kill the rebels" but I killed all the rebels--

Oh. More rebels just ... materialised ... to give Gattak something to fight.

...And you won't let me shoot the rebels from a distance? What the fuck? I really dislike being forced into close quarters, and doing it with game mechanics is worse than it being forced on me!

Show of force by rebels, huh? Taking over the sacred training grounds. Assholes.

Heh; you're welcome, Gattak. I'll probably come by and visit sometime, when you're re-established. But for now ... I'm going to drop a gizmo by Stemmur.

Here you go, Stemmur. I think there's like one more left but I'm going to have to read a serious wiki or watch a lot of let's play to figure out how to get that piece of garbage.

What do I want to see Horizon-world's take on? ...Halloween, I think.

...Stemmur, you're adorable and I love you.

Unfortunately, too tired to do much. But tomorrow? TALANAH.

TODAY

Right. Collecting a couple of campfires.

...Ooh, Fireclaws.

I FORGOT HOW DANGEROUS THESE FUCKERS ARE!

...I also forgot about hitting left-shift to slow time while firing until, like, just now. Fireclaws exploding is always a win.

Okay, I have blown so much blastpaste for smoke grenades. Need to stop at a shelter for more. ...Maybe the one near the coast; see if I can get those pouch upgrades.

Moonfish skin, carp skin, crab and lobster shells, aaaaaaaaand ... a pelican feather.

No. No. No... I DON'T NEED YOUR BONES, MOONFISH; I NEED YOUR SKIN! GIVE ME YOUR SKIIIIIIIIIIN!

THANK you.

Okay. Now. Before I go any further, there's a question mark up there I keep missing. Do I have to go through the Greenhouse for it?

*fifteen minutes later* Evidently, I do not. What does Google have to say about this?

Thank you, Reddit. Swimming swimming swimming...

Aha. Here we go. Data point. I do love the datapoints.

(Is anyone else amused that DEMETER seems to have spent a lot of its time writing really emo poetry?)

Right. I'll spare myself a swim and head for the nearest coastline. There's a shelter up there and--

And thaaaaaaaat's a Shellsnapper. Time to practice my left-shift time-slow manoeuvre.

................THAT. WAS. EPIC!!!

(Translation: it had, like, a sliver of health left, and it had gone underground. I was on a rock, waiting, holding a draw. It leapt right into my face and I fired, hitting it directly in its chillwater reservoir. This froze it and took its last little bit of health, all about a foot from my virtual face. That was awesome.)

...Oh. Oh, this is the entrance to that Cauldron I got told about the other day.

.........Oh, I might as well get it over with while I have the spoons.

And right away we start with Outlast-meets-Subnautica. Greeeeeeeeat.

Okay, in we go.

Fun with crates, wonderful-- AMBUSH!

Slow-time function is WIN. Die, Spikesnouts!

And UP we go.

Well, at least this isn't Outlast-meets-Subnautica. It's more a really intense physics puzzle.

I am nailing this time-slow manoeuvre.

At least this isn't as tense as some of the others on the jumping puzzle thing-- AAAAAA! AMBUSH! GET OUT OF MY FACE!

Mrr. Not as clean as I'd like, but they're gone, anyway.

You're literally setting up a Death-From-Above for me, KAPPA. Thanks. *DEATH FROM ABOVE*

...Ooooooh fuck. I'm going to have to outswim a fucking Tideripper.

............Which is easier than I thought it'd be because somehow, for some reason, smoke bombs work underwater.

Okay. Out of its reach. A little less water and a little more space for me to stand.

I HAVE NO PREP TIME FOR THIS AND ALMOST NO ROOM! FUUUUUCK!

But I do have good aim, time-slowing, and a very good weapon, so eventually, I win.

Okay, definitely need a break and-- oh hell, is that the time? I require bath and food.

Really, I will get to Talanah and Danur and everybody else who wants a piece of Aloy right now. But ... bath. Food. Work in the morning.

#Thess plays video games #Thess liveblogs Horizon Forbidden West

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yourwinchesterbros · 1 year

Text

➰ Mood board of Tig and Beth’s first encounter with eachother ➰ @witchthewriter

A head cannon which ended up to be more of a drabble.. I let this one get away from me a little bit, oops! Got caught up in that Tiggy love!

You pull up to the animal rescue on your Harley. You chose to ride today purposely for insurance; you were not bringing a dog home today, just looking to see if some pup in there, needed a home for the future.

Upon entering the building, you’re escorted to the kennels. You’re left there to interact with those available. Luckily there weren’t many dogs here, only a few searching for a home.

It brought you comfort knowing Charming had somewhat a good reputation for animal care, as most of these pups were little guys that had escaped from their backyards. Surely their owners would find them resting here.

You hear a roar approaching, sounds like a shitty car. You peer out the window to see a charcoal van pull up.

Hmm, drop off?

To your surprise , you see a tall man possessing wild straggly hair, with dark shades on get out of the vehicle. He’s kinda cute.

You trace his figure and audibly gasp. He’s wearing a kutte, Sons of Anarchy

He slides the van door open, to which he pulls out an absolute unit of a dog. A Rottweiler.

Is this thug is leaving his dog here?

Wouldn’t be surprising as he is a criminal. You quickly look away , not wanting to draw attention to yourself. You know very well what the sons are capable of, they’re not known for being the good guys.

“ I just picked her up from the vet , she’s in good shape now..” his voice drifted through the facility as he spoke with the man up front.

“No seriously man, I need to make sure she finds a good home, you gotta call me if anyone wants her…”

You strain your ears as his words suddenly pique your interest.

You jump as the door swings open to the back, where you stand.

There he is, striding in, with her on the leash.

“Oh sorry doll, didn’t mean to scare yah, she’s really friendly”

“Oh, I wasn’t scared of her” you respond quickly, analyzing his kutte once more.

His face shifts, a smirk growing across his face.

“Hey, I don’t bite either sweetheart… well maybe sometimes I do” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes, trying your best to suppress your own grin.

“She is a beautiful girl, can I say hi?”

He takes his shades off and clasps it to his kutte. His pericing blue eyes nearly rock you.

“Absolutely, come say hi, she needs more exposure to friendly people, poor girl was almost killed”

Your jaw drops as you approach the rottie, kneeling to your knees, the dog instantly takes to you, rubbing her face in your hands.

“What do you mean!?” You think the worst, did the sons use her for protection?

You baby talk her as he explains.

“I found her in the backyard of a dog fighting ring, she was left in the dumpster” his voice is deep, gruff, clearly holding back anger.

“What the fuck? Why were you at a fight ring?” You question him, your brows furrowing.

“I mean I could tell yah… but-”

“Then you’d have to kill me, alright I get it. I was born at night, but not last night”.

He cackles at your witty remark.

“So I scooped her up, took her straight to the vet and she’s been there for the past week but this babygirl is all ready for a new home”

Before you can filter yourself, the words come out

“Why wouldn’t you just keep her? I mean you saved her”.

“Doll, trust me. If I could, I would. I already have a pittbull at the clubhouse that I saved a few months ago, my brothers would kill me if I brought another. But don’t worry, I’m making sure she goes in good hands”.

He turns to stare at the owner, brows raised. You hadn’t even realized he was standing there.

“Don’t worry Tig, I’ll make sure” he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Your damn right” he points a finger at him.

You’re in disbelief, gazing down at this beautiful dog who’s spent her young years fighting for her life over blood money.

You shake your head, trying not to let any tears slip.

“Bastards” you whisper.

“Yeah, they are but I make my annual visits there now. Population is less and less each time I go”

“Less dogs?” You look up at him.

“Oh no sweetheart, less men” he smiles down at you “I usually end up bringing a couple of them into the woods” he says ever so casually, his eyes dark.

Through your sudden shudder, you suck on your teeth.

“Alright, maybe you’re not so bad after all” you murmur. You don’t necessarily agree with murder, however you have a deep hate for animal cruelty. It’s good enough a reason in your opinion.

He gazes at you.

“Thanks doll, I don’t hear that often, it’s nice”.

You two share a moment, analyzing each other. His eyes, his dark facial hair, the many scars that have been embedded into his tough skin.

You look down at the Rottweiler, who stares up at you with big loving eyes.

“What’s her name?”

He sighs. “She doesn’t have one.”

You look over at the owner. “Well don’t just stand there, get me the paperwork. I’m taking this baby home” you say sternly.

You look back at Tig. He mouth slightly parted.

“Of course if that’s alright with you… Tig”

He looks at you with utmost appreciation.

“Hell yeah it is” he beams back at you before looking at the owner once again.

“Well get moving man! She doesn’t have all day” he demands, startling him to quickly rush to the front.

“Alright girl, you’re coming home with me” you say to the four legged baby before you.

Tig kneels down, giving her one more kiss and face squeeze before passing the leash over to you. He stands back up, staring down at her, resting his hands on his hips, his lip tight.

You chew the inside of your cheeks, wondering if you’ll regret saying this “Hey.. if you wanna visit her sometime.. I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed” you drawl out.

His gaze snaps up to you “Really? You have no idea how much I’d love that. I’d even bring Mister, my rescue over with me, to play with her”

“Alright then, it’s a date” you smile at him, feeling panic suddenly rise, you quickly rephrase yourself “uhm a puppy play date” you chuckle nervously.

Am I making a move on an outlaw right now?

“Nah, it’s a date” he winks at you.

You look down, trying to conceal the sudden flush in your cheeks.

“Oh shit” you realize that you brought your bike, not exactly a good travel method for a big dog.

“What?“ he furrows his brows “Ah shit, I’m sorry, that was totally creepy of me to say, I mean, I just met you” He presses his palm to his eyebrow.

You laugh “No no, I mean I rode here today, my car is at home”. You smile at him trying to suppress your giggles.

“Oh… OH.. okay I see.. wait hold up, that’s your bike?” He points his thumb over his shoulder, eyes wide.

“Yeah it is” you grin. You can’t deny, it is a sexy ride.

“Well shit, who’s the outlaw now” he chuckles.

In agreement, Tig followed behind you, in the van with the dog in the passenger seat, until you both reached your house.

You kill your engine and swing off the bike removing your helmet as Tig slides the van door open, letting out your newest family member.

He passes you her leash, and she sits right at your side.

“Alright doll, I guess this is it. I never got your name?”

“It’s Beth” you reach out to shake his hand. He ignores it, and pulls you in for a hug.

“Thanks for taking her, it really means a lot” he says gruffly.

“It’s truly my pleasure, now go take care of more those bad guys… Baloo and I will be here, when you’re ready for our date”

He smiles at you before looking down, trying his best to conceal his sudden flurry of butterflies.

“Baloo is it?”

You nod, gazing down at the sweet beast below you. You briefly watch her absorb the nature around. Probably her first time feeling at peace.

“Yeah she’ll take good care of you” he whispers. With a swift move of his hand running through his hair, he turns to the van before looking back at you two.

“Does tomorrow work?” He asks, sliding his shades back on.

“Yeah, it sure does” you nod, with a grin.

He stares at you a moment longer, before shaking his head, his smile still there.

“Darling, you’re different. You’re just my kind of girl”

He fires up the Chevy and pulls out of your driveway before you can say anything else.

And Just like that, your life changed.

One visit to the pound and you come back home, with a rottweiler and a outlaw.

#sons of anarchy #soa #soa imagine #samcro #fanfic #tig trager #moodboard #strangers to lovers

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

Text

No Good Alone 7.8K Eddie-Centric (Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Big Brother Eddie, Corroded Coffin, Light Steve-Pining, Good Uncle Wayne, TW: Homophobic Scene (Dream)) AO3

“What’s got you in such a dick mood today?”

Eddie freezes and looks up at Max; splayed across a chair with her legs hanging off the side, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been way more uptight than usual, and you kind of went off on Dustin. Not that I mind, but…you’re not usually a dick.”

Bristling, Eddie reminds himself that she’s just a kid- albeit a blunt one, and that she’s doing this most likely because she’s worried. That, or just nosey. Swallowing, the dungeon master shrugs, rubbing at his neck.

“The little shit wouldn't stop talking, even when I asked him three times to shut up. And I just want to finish the campaign, I worked hard on it.”

He doesn’t usually talk to the kids like this, so open and exposed. Eddie tries to keep ‘in character’ as much as he can, being showy and dramatic and blasé, but Max is different. She’s the little sister he never had, and he’s acutely aware that he and Billy share some qualities. It doesn’t hurt that they’re neighbors.

“While normally I’d agree and say Dustin needed to be put in his place…you’re just…edgy tonight.”

It’s true and he knows it, even if he refuses to admit it out loud. He’s been exhausted all day thanks to lack of sleep the night before. Normally, the guitarist can blame the insomnia on nightmares and ptsd from the upside down. Last night there hadn’t been any, because he simply hadn’t fallen asleep at all. He laid there desperate for sleep to come, but had only managed to drift for a few minutes at a time.

Lack of sleep mixed with physical exhaustion means he’s getting snappy and edgy and Max is right, he knows he’s being an ass. But everything is just too much, and yeah, maybe he should have postponed the campaign for another night, but he’s never once postponed a club meeting, and just because he’s tired doesn’t mean he can start.

A moment passes.

“I’m sorry. I slept like shit last night. I’ll try to be nicer.” He tries to aim for a smile but it feels too tight on his face. Max nods, looking somewhat pleased.

The boys all hurry back down from their snack break, chips and sodas in hand. Dustin gives him a look that makes him feel bad for yelling earlier.

“I uh, I got you a snack,” the kid gives him a hopeful look, and god, he guesses he should try and be nice.

“Thanks Henderson. Sorry about earlier, I was a dick.” He takes the chips and soda, sets them on the table but doesn’t touch them.

Dustin laughs and shrugs it off, which Eddie’s grateful for. He doesn’t feel like having a heart to heart right now. Clearing his throat, he melts back into his regular charismatic persona, hoping he can just focus on being Dungeon Master instead of letting his shitty mood bleed into the game. An hour later, nearing seven o’clock, the long haired man finally slams his hand down on the table. The boys won’t stop arguing, Gareth and Jeff look lost and kind of annoyed, and Max is studying the board. Everyone jumps.

“I’m done. Take your childish arguments somewhere else. We’ll finish the campaign when you all can behave like you’re not five,” he shakes his head and bristles when Lucas and Mike turn quickly, whining.

“But Eddie!”

“Come o-“

“Shut up!” He clenches his fist under the table and tries to calm himself down. His skin feels too tight and his jacket isn’t helping, even though he’s cold. Rubbing an eye, he lets out a breath.

“Now listen. You’re lucky I don’t just throw the whole story in the garbage. I’m tired of you bickering. You’re not kindergartners. I’m done for tonight. I’ll see you at school.”

With that, Eddie starts packing up. Every other member is silent, either moping or fuming at the leader's decision. Dustin and Max glance at him but he ignores it, putting the figures back into a small box, flipping the lid harshly. When he’s got everything in his bag, he slings it across his shoulder and heads up the wooden stairs of the Wheelers basement, body aching from the tension and muscle clenching.

“You’re done already?”

Mrs.Wheeler’s in the kitchen, working on something over the stove. Eddie bites his lip. He’s never been good with mother figures, hasn’t ever had one to look up to since his own passed away. Fidgeting, the man nods.

“Yeah, everyone has too much going on right now to properly play. We’ll get it done next week. Thanks again for letting us play here,” he gives her a shy smile, to which she returns it.

“No problem. Mike always looks forward to it.” With that, Eddie says goodbye and bolts out the door, not wanting to have any more human interaction.

Of course, when he gets back to the trailer, he walks straight into Wayne, eyes half lidded as he relies on muscle memory to get him through the door and down the hall. His eyes open completely and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, giving his uncle a small smile.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to run into you.”

“S’alright. Didn’t think you’d be home this early, normally I’m gone when you get back from your club,” the older man looks him up and down, making Eddie nervous.

“Yeah, I cut it short. Kids wouldn’t stop arguing and we weren’t getting anywhere,” Eddie rubs his eyes and yawns, surprised to see the clock on the wall shows only ‘7:34’.

There’s some silence as Wayne watches him closely, while Eddie fidgets with his jacket zipper.

“You alright, kid?”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to look at the older man, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem…tired, s’all.”

“I’m okay, really Uncle Wayne. I’ll try and get to sleep a little earlier tonight,” he tries to reassure. The last thing he wants is for his uncle to worry about him more than he already does.

With a nod, Wayne pays his shoulder then heads out with his bag, not wanting to be late to work. Eddie blows out a long breath when the door to the trailer clicks shut. All he wants to do now is shower and sleep, the idea of eating dinner making his stomach churn uncomfortably. Trudging to his room, he sets his canvas bag down then tosses his jacket onto his desk, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth.

The shower only serves to make him sleepy, which he hopes will actually help in the long run. The guitarist feels fuzzy as the hot water runs over him, soap rinsing from his curls. By the time he steps out of the shower, towel around his waist, he can barely think straight. The second the cold air hits his skin it makes goosebumps appear, and a chill goes down his spine.

Yanking on underwear, pajama pants and an old sweatshirt, Eddie crawls into bed, hair still damp. He shivers again and pulls the few old blankets he has closer to himself, eyes flitting over the clock. ‘8:02’. His head gives a throb as his eyes shut and he finally, finally falls asleep.

Eddie walks through the forest, the whole area consumed in a blue hue. Steve is behind him, but only barely. He’s close enough he can feel the younger man’s breath against his neck. Looking back at him, Steve gives a smile that makes his heart beat faster. He’s amazed that even though they’re in the god damn upside down, and Steve’s been half eaten by demobats, he still manages to look beautiful.

“Hey uh, thanks for saving my ass back there.”

“You saved your own ass dude,” Eddie shakes his head, pausing so he can really see him. “Look…uh. I don’t know if I’m reading the signals right or whatever, but…are…I mean…”

Steve furrows his brow and looks at him with confusion but also something like trust. So Eddie decides to take the plunge.

“Tell me if this is me reading it wrong,” the guitarist closes the gap between them, pressing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve kisses back and Eddie melts against him before suddenly everything crumbles. The other man pulls back and his face contorts into disgust, eyes narrowing.

“What the fuck Munson?!”

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.

“I’m sor-“

“I’m not a fag. It’s disgusting and wrong. Guess you really are a freak,” Steve’s words are like ice, and they pierce Eddie’s heart.

“Should have just left you for Carver.”

Eddie awakes with a gasp. The clock reads ‘12:42’. His heart is racing and he’s shivering, tears wet on his lashes. God damn it. His whole body hurts, like he’s really just been in the upside down, his head is aching. His brain flashes back to the face Steve had thrown his way, how utterly disgusted he’d looked. It makes him nauseous.

It’s not real, he reminds himself. None of that happened. They had talked about how Steve was brave and he was a coward. They’d built camaraderie. There had been no coming out, no spilling that he liked Steve. Trembling, Eddie coughs and tries to calm himself down. The rest of the night he drifts in and out in a fuzzy haze, shivering and desperate for real sleep.

His alarm clock rings out at 6:30 am just like every other weekday, the bell jolting him from his semi-sleep. Eddie groans and reaches over, hits the clock and lays there, slowly realizing he feels like shit. His whole body feels like one giant bruise, a deep ache all encompassing. Even sitting up is a chore, and he shivers as he rubs his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Jesus Christ.

Rubbing his face into his arm, the long haired man gets up and stands frozen for a second, letting dizziness pass before turning to his closet to grab a different sweatshirt- a plain black one. After getting new socks and one of his three pairs of jeans on, Eddie catches a glimpse of himself in his mirror.

His usual pale complexion seems even more so, he thinks, or maybe it’s the lighting in the trailer. Dark circles have taken up residence under his eyes that make him grimace. Old Eddie would crawl back into bed without hesitation, not caring if he missed class. Now though, he’s so close to graduating, and he knows missing will just set him back.

Barely remembering to pull his rings on, the guitarist brushes his hair as best he can without it making it frizzy. Eddie pulls his leather jacket on (and adjusts the sweatshirt hood up over the collar), then heads out, not bothering to lace his sneakers. As he slides into his van, he sees Max walking over just like always, and he waits, body shivering in the cold morning air.

“Took you long enough,” she says with her usual attitude, but Eddie just brushes it off, knowing she’s not actually annoyed.

“Mm, not everyone can just wake up and be as amazing as you, Mayfield,” Eddie directs at her, ignoring as she raises an eyebrow and looks at him.

“Obviously. You look like shit.”

“Do you want a ride or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she rolls her eyes and Eddie shakes his head a little.

Kids these days and their disrespect. Unbelievable.

Chemistry is only easy due to this being the third time he’s taking it. As he listens to Stetler talk, Eddie rests his chin on his propped up hand, wishing he was back at home. He zones out for a while, being brought back to the present when someone; some jock on the basketball team, stares at him. Eddie directs a raised eyebrow to the guy, which earns him a scoff.

“Fucking freak.”

“You should see me in bed,” Eddie shoots back, smirking when the other looks scandalized and disgusted. Just what he wanted.

The day drags on. The guitarist barely does anything in socioeconomics, and by the time lunch rolls around, Eddie kind of wants to throw in the towel and go home. He doesn’t know what his issue is, but for once in his life, the long haired man wants to leave not due to drugs or boredom, but plain exhaustion.

Sitting at the lunch table, Eddie forces himself to stay awake, picking at the food on his lunch tray, not at all hungry. Mike, Dustin and Gareth are talking about something but the long haired man doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher what Dustin is excited about. A tickle in the back of his throat makes him turn and cough into his arm, clearing his throat after, and fuck does that hurt.

Leaning against his propped up arm, he zones out, eyes unfocusing as his body aches. Two more classes and he’s done for the day- then he can go home and faceplant on his bed. The first is English, and the other is Latin 4, which Eddie jokes to Steve and Robin is actually Latin 6. English isn’t necessarily hard; he’s great at writing, but it takes a lot of concentration when he has to analyze texts. He thought by his third time around in the class he would be able to remember the prior two years since the books stay the same, but nope, apparently not.

As the warning bell rings out, Eddie and Gareth make their way to Ms.Kingston’s class, the others dispersing to their next classes. Sliding into the desk he’s been at for three hellish years, the guitarist rubs his face and takes out a beat up spiral bound notebook. His head gives an aching throb behind his eyes, one that makes him feel oddly fuzzy for a moment before the feeling retreats.

“-die, dude, you good?”

“What?” Eddie blinks, turning to look at the tall man, who gives him a vaguely concerned look.

“You’ve been weirdly quiet all day. You good?”

“Mm, yeah, of course I’m good,” Eddie waves off the worry, forcing himself to conjure up energy he doesn’t have. “Don’t worry so much, it’ll give you wrinkles,” he adds for good measure.

“Okay, sick. I was saying my parents will probably order pizza tonight for brand practice.”

Oh shit. There goes his plans to crawl into bed.

“Right, band practice,” Eddie nods and resists the urge to kick out his legs like a toddler and throw a tantrum. He’s just so tired.

“Did…did you forget about practice?” Gareth looks scandalized, eyebrows raising almost to his hairline, mouth open.

“No, don’t be an idiot. I just didn’t have time to grab my guitar this morning. I’ll have to grab it on my way over,” the long haired man rolls his eyes.

The younger guy stares at him a moment, eyes narrowing before he finally nods. “Yeah, okay Eddie.”

The rest of class is spent absentmindedly doodling on the inside cover of his notebook, only half listening to Ms.Kingston talk about allegories. His body feels too heavy and he slouches forward, resting his chin on his hand. Her words blend together in his ears, reminding him of the teacher from Charlie Brown.

Latin class isn’t the worst, all things considered. Mr. Morin is possibly his favorite teacher at Hawkins high- he’s kind to him and doesn’t seem to be annoyed by his mere presence like every other faculty member. He’s been in his class the longest, six full years, and he supposes they’ve gotten to know each other well enough by now.

He must doze off, because suddenly Jeffrey Morin is standing by his desk in the back row, putting a hand on his shoulder. He can smell his cologne and it makes him wrinkle his nose, which feels a little stuffy as he tries not to breathe

“Mr.Munson,” his voice is soft but firm, and Eddie used to swear it’s what he heard in his dreams as a freshman.

“Hm? Oh…uh, sorry,” Eddie blinks rapidly, lifting his head up from where it’s been against his arm. He fully expects him to give him detention or reprimand him in front of the entire class. Instead, the man looks at him carefully. He notices his eyes linger on his face, lips turning downward. Interesting. He rubs a hand over his mouth, worried he’s been drooling.

The teacher doesn’t say anything, which is almost worse than him getting in trouble. Eddie doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth though, instead just giving him what he hopes is a smile, opening his text book. A few of the students are staring at him and when the man starts making his way back to the front, his back turned to the class, Eddie flips the nosey kids off. God he can’t wait to get out of highschool.

By the time the bell rings, the curly haired man is a hairwidths away from canceling practice. He can’t seem to shake the chills he’s started shivering from, and exhaustion is making it hard to muster up any energy. But canceling both d&d and band practice in the same week is unheard of, and Eddie refuses to do it. Telling Gareth, Jeff and Tim that he’ll be at Gareth’s place in half an hour, the man gets in his van and lets his head fall back against the chair.

As he drives back to the trailer part to get his guitar, the dungeon master sniffles and coughs to the side. Fuck he’s tired. He can feel his eyes drooping as he pulls up next to his trailer, heat blasting- not that it’s helping. Rubbing his face as he gets out, the van door shuts behind him and the man heads inside.

Wayne’s asleep on the couch, so Eddie stays as quiet as possible while he goes and grabs his guitar, gently placing it in its case. As he picks up his equipment, the weight almost pulls him down. His arms feel like jello, an intense ache spreading throughout his body like wildfire. Five minutes later he’s back in his van with a Mountain Dew, hoping the caffeine will wake him up.

Walking into Gareth’s garage, he sees everyone else is set up. Tim’s got his bass, tuning it, Jeff’s got his guitar, and Gareth’s working on the hi-hat on his drums. The noise seems to already be making his head hurt worse. The sound of the snare drum hits his ears in the most uncomfortable way, and the kick drum is reverberating around in his head.

His hands shake slightly as he gets out his own guitar, fingers fumbling with the latches on the left and right. The weight of the red Warlock hanging off his shoulder makes Eddie have to readjust it a couple of times, already heavy body aching even more. The man wonders just how weird it would be to sit on the floor during practice. He knows it would cause looks and questions, so he continues to stand.

“We’ll go through the usual?” Eddie looks at the three others, who nod back. He turns to Jeff, brushing hair out of his face. “You wanna take vocals today?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah,” the dark skinned man nods, glancing at the other two band members.

Synching up as they strum random notes, Gareth hitting a few phrases, they start playing once the drummer counts them off. Eddie focuses as hard as he can to hit all the right chords, but his fingers feel clumsy. A few times he can’t quite grip the neck of his guitar correctly. Other times he plays the wrong chords entirely. No one says anything as they change keys for their next song. When he hits the wrong chord for the fourth time in a row, Gareth stops pushing his foot on the kick drum pedal. Jeff drops his hand mid strum, and Tim huffs and mumbles an annoyed ‘dude’, making Eddie’s eyes snap up to the larger man.

“Is there a problem, Timmy?” He feels snarky and prickly. His mouth curves into an almost condescending smile, which makes Tim shake his head and look at the seniors for help. Eddie swivels and looks at them, eyebrows raising as if to warn them. Jeff speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck as if it’s the last thing he’d like to do.

“We’ve noticed you’re a little…off your game today, man.”

“We? So, what, all three of you just…have decided silently that I’m not performing to my best and highest capabilities?” The words drip with sarcasm. When Jeff nods, Eddie finally gets to Gareth.

“Do you agree with them then, Emmerson?”

The wavy haired boy draws in a breath at the use of his last name, then lets it out, lips tight together. He looks like he’s trying to decide if he wants to say anything.

“Gareth! Out with it,” Eddie white knuckles his guitar, skin feeling too tight.

“Yeah, okay? I agree with them. You’ve been weird all day. You were quiet all through lunch, which never happens. Seemed like you forgot about band practice, and even if you didn’t, you left your guitar, which again, has never happened. We’ve been playing together for how long? All we’re saying is we’re worried about you. You kinda look like shit dude. Maybe we should just call it a night, we can always try again tomorrow or something.”

It’s silent. The three band members hold their breaths.

Eddie presses his fingertips to his eyes, covering most of his face, staying silent. His entire body gives an achy throb throughout his muscles, like it’s warning him not to continue. Finally, the curly haired man drags his hands down his face and then shakes his head. He knows they’re just being good friends, he knows they’re looking out for him, but he’s not used to it. It feels foreign and wrong.

“So that would mean two canceled things this week,” Eddie’s eyes flicker between all three of them. Jeff nods hesitantly, Tim bites his lip, and Gareth looks like he wants to sink into the ground.

“Absolutely not.”

All three deflate.

By the end of their practice, Eddie feels like a zombie. He’s been on autopilot, messing up as much as he gets things right. None of them say anything about it, though he’s aware of the others giving one another looks every time his fingers hit the wrong chords. When he messes up for what he’s sure is the fortieth time, and he notices it’s been two hours, the dungeon master calls it.

“Okay, my fingers are numb from how damn cold it is, let’s pack up.”

A cough bubbles up from his chest as he locks his case. Bringing the neck hem of his shirt up to his nose and mouth, he coughs softly a few times, clearing his throat after. He can feel congestion settling into his head, and now that he’s had his Warlock out of his hands, picking the case up makes it feel fifty times heavier.

“Maybe you’re catching that shit that’s going around,” Jeff offers up, as he mirrors the other guitarist, snapping his hard case shut. “I’ve heard it’s been knocking people on their asses this year.”

He snorts, wincing as his throat screams in protest.

Eddie Munson doesn’t get sick, hasn’t been since he was a child, still living with his parents. But, maybe this is what it feels like, the curly haired boy thinks, as he takes stock of how his body aches and his throat burns. The uncomfortable feeling of heat in his face compared to how chilled his entire body is doesn’t bode well for any argument either. Just wonderful.

“Pretty sure half the basketball team and cheerleaders caught it last week and the game was postponed,” Tim chimes in, wrapping his cords up.

“You all worry too much. I told Gareth this earlier, and I really hate repeating myself, but you’ll get wrinkles if you keep it up. Me and my fabulous self are just fine, but thank you for thinking about me in your spare time, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Whatever man, but if you give that crap to me, you’re dead,” Jeff laughs, shaking his head.

Smirking, keeping his facade of the ever-okay, overly dramatic dungeon master and guitarist extraordinaire up, Eddie walks over to the man and coughs dryly into the air. That’ll teach him.

Arriving back at the trailer park, the curly haired man heads into his home, locking the door behind him. With Wayne gone, he drops his bag onto the floor, then sets his amp and guitar in his bedroom, not bothering to unpack it. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Eddie wonders if he really is sick. It’s funny, he supposes (or maybe just embarrassing), that he’d not even given the thought a passing glance before now. His mind flashes back to the couple of times he’d been sick as a child, how his mother had given him soup and medicine, how she’d checked his temperature and rubbed his back while his tiny self curled up against her in the large queen bed. His chest aches with something far more complicated than illness, melancholy washing over him.

Forcing himself up, Eddie heads to the small bathroom and looks in the mirror. A pink hue covers his pale cheeks like a dusting of snow, and his eyes look tired, the circles underneath much more prominent than earlier. Truthfully, he looks like death warmed over, like he should be in bed under a mountain of blankets. Shivering, the twenty year old tries to remember how to check for a fever. They’d been taught in freshman year during health class, but that all seems so long ago. Tentatively, Eddie presses the back of his hand to his forehead, brushing bangs away in the process. He can’t tell if he feels warm, and he knows that they don’t own a thermometer- there’s been no reason to, Wayne doesn’t get sick either, aside from a few mild colds.

Swallowing makes the senior grimace, and he looks away from the mirror. Right, he should shower before he passes out in bed. Slowly, Eddie starts the shower then tugs off his clothes, throwing them into the small hamper they have in the corner. Stepping under the hot spray, the boy makes an almost inhuman noise, his muscles relaxing as they get warmed up. Wishing he could stay in the small shower forever, Eddie works on washing his hair, arms feeling like jello when he raises them to get his scalp. By the time he’s finished washing his hair and body, the water is starting to turn lukewarm, and the shivers start back up when he towels himself off. Damn it.

With damp hair and brushed teeth, Eddie pulls on black sweatpants that hang low on his small hips, and a soft, almost threadbare Black Sabbath shirt. As a second thought, he adds his sweatshirt, sniffling into the cuff while he thinks of what his next step is. The idea pops into his head, and even as he groans, Eddie knows it’s the right choice, so he slips on socks and his white Reeboks, then starts the few hundred foot walk to the Mayfield’s trailer.

Knocking on the door, Eddie stands with his arms wrapped around his middle, the little yellow light attached to the side of the trailer illuminating the space around him. He’s about to walk away, because what a stupid idea, but then the door opens, revealing Max, who’s got a bag of chips in her hand.

“Uhm, hi,” her brow furrows as she sweeps her eyes up and down his figure.

Oh shit, of course he’d had to change into something very distinctly not Eddie Munson before walking over. Blinking, the man rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat.

“Hey, uhm, do you have a thermometer? If not is cool, but I just- we don’t really have one, and I kind of….need…one..,” he finishes lamely, aware of how stupid he sounds.

Max stares at him for a second more before she nods, opening the door wider.

“Get in, it’s cold as hell,” the red head moves further in. “Gimme a second to find it.”

Eddie looks around. It’s the same layout as his own trailer, just flipped. He notices it’s quiet, and the back door in the hallway is open.

“Is your mom here?” He grimaces. “Sorry, no, that was…you don’t have to answer that,” he shifts, knowing that was weird to ask.

“It’s fine, Eddie. And no, she’s not, she’s probably at some bar,” the girl shrugs, and Eddie frowns, chest once again aching.

“Oh.”

Silence falls as Max rummages around in the small bathroom. She steps back out as Eddie admires the art around the walls.

“Here,” she holds the thermometer out, covered by plastic. It looks like it could double as a pen. Curiously, Eddie opens the cap and sees the glass thermometer sitting inside, so he nods and recaps it, giving her a tired smile.

“Thanks. I’ll wash it before bringing it back.” He’d hate to get her sick, though he’s probably spreading germs just by breathing at this point.

“Cool. Uhm…are you okay though? We have medicine, if-”

“I’ll be fine, Red. Just feeling a little off, wanna make sure I’m not dying, so I know if I need to write my will or not,” he jokes, though the second it comes out, he kicks himself. He’s talking to the girl who wrote letters to everyone because she thought she was dying. Way to go Munson.

“Well, if you die, I better get your guitar,” she smirks, and oh thank god he hasn’t fucked this relationship up. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the teen being around. Maybe this is how Steve feels with all the kids.

“Hmm. Well, first you gotta learn to play.”

“I’m uh, I’m saving up, for a guitar, I mean. To learn.” Eddie nods, then gives her a tiny smile before his head throbs again.

“Hopefully I’m around for it. I’m gonna head out, but I’ll bring this back tomorrow,” he informs. He gets walked out and then heads back home, ignoring the eye roll Max gives him.

Whatever energy spike he’s just had crashes as he walks back inside. Fumbling to open the cap again, Eddie sets the plastic down and then examines the glass thermometer, seeing the red liquid at the bottom. Feeling inexperienced at all of this, the guitarist slips the cold glass under his tongue, then sits and waits. When he’s sure it’s done; he can recall the random fact of needing to wait four minutes, Eddie takes it out and brings it close so he can read the number.

100.7-ish. Gross.

He wonders if Steve knows what to do for a fever. He probably knows what to do for anything. Eddie thinks about calling him, but decides better of it, not wanting to be a bother.

Heaving himself up, he goes to the sink and runs it under hot water to hopefully kill germs, then dries it and puts it back in the plastic. Carrying it down to his room, Eddie sets it on his bedside table, moving the small ashtray and pack of cigarettes back so it doesn’t fall. Damn, he hasn’t had a cigarette all day, and yet the thought of one is enough to make him cough into his arm.

Shuffling to his desk, the twenty year old grabs a blanket he’s thrown over the chair and wraps it around himself, rubbing the worn material against his chin. He should write a note to Wayne, letting him know he’s not feeling well and that’s why he’s home, but the need to lay the hell down wins out, and Eddie turns his light off and crawls into bed. Three minutes later, he’s asleep.

Sleep is restless. He’d assumed that he would fall asleep and stay asleep way into the morning, but no. No, he wakes up around 11:00 that same night and shifts uncomfortably, freezing and achy. He swears this is worse than demobats ripping at his flesh. Eddie drifts in and out the rest of the night, small whimpers coming out of his mouth occasionally. He thinks about Steve and how pretty he is, thinks about Joyce and how much he wishes she was there, thinks about his own mother and blinks back tears. He’s never been this sick in his life, that’s for sure, not even when he’d been sick with pneumonia when he was five.

X X X

Wayne’s exhausted from a long shift at the plant. After staying an extra hour to help with a crane issue, the forty threeyear old man had gone by the supermarket to grab more milk and bread before heading to Forest Hills Trailer Park. Upon arrival, he spots Eddie’s van and sighs, running a hand over his face. When is this kid going to learn? He’d thought this year was going to be different, Eddie’s been actually trying, especially now that he has a few friends aside from the ones in his band. Parking his own truck, Wayne sits for a moment, trying to decide what he wants to tell the twenty year old. Jesus, twenty and still in high school. He loves his nephew more than anything else in the world, but one day he’s going to need to get his act together.

Hopping out, he expects for the kid to be sitting on the couch like he usually is when he ditches, maybe playing guitar or smoking some weed. Instead, when he walks in, it’s silent, which is odd. If Eddie’s in the trailer, there’s almost always music of some kind coming from his room, even if it’s on low. The man looks around, nothing jumps out at him as being out of the ordinary. Remembering the guitarist is supposed to be at school, Wayne huffs and goes down to the boys room, opening the door, not bothering to be quiet.

“Why aren’t you in school?”

The words are out before he even gets a real look at the scene before him. Eddie’s laying in bed, face smushed into his pillow, blankets wrapped around him. Long, curly hair is everywhere, and when he doesn’t reply or even seem to wake up, Wayne tries again.

“Eddie!”

This wakes the twenty year old up. Eddie makes a small noise but doesn’t fully move, mumbling. “Wha?”

“Why aren’t you in school, son?”

Sitting up, Eddie looks at him, and damn. His nephew is pale, paler than he normally is by at least four shades, but his cheeks are bright red. Dark circles are imprinted under his eyes that are watching him, big and fever-bright. His mind flashes back to two nights prior, and how tired the poor guy had looked, how he’d said they cut the club short. He wonders if Eddie had been this sick yesterday.

“I…uh,” Eddie’s voice is raspy and he coughs into his arm before wiping away messy curls from his face.

Not knowing exactly what to say, Wayne steps forward and presses his palm against Eddie’s forehead, frowning harder. His heart breaks a little when the boy leans into the touch.

“Jesus Christ, kid. That’s a hell of a fever.” The older man tries to think if they even have a damn thermometer, when the boy in the bed hums.

“100.7 las’night, borrowed th’Mayfield’s thermom’ter.”

Watching his nephew wave a hand towards the table by his bed, Wayne notices the thermometer sheath. Pulling the glass instrument out, he looks at the man in the bed.

“Alright kid, put this under your tongue.”

Eddie does as he’s instructed with no argument, which makes him feel uneasy. Though the guitarist has never been sick while in his custody, he’s always assumed the slightly dramatic boy would be more defiant, or at least be a little more whiny. The kid in front of him is too quiet. Four minutes pass with Eddie lying there as the mercury rises. When Wayne takes it, he can’t help but whistle at the number.

“101.5. Christ, Eddie, how long you been feelin’ sick for?”

The boy blinks, looking vaguely lost as his question. Wayne pushes hair out of his face and sets the thermometer down.

“Day or so? I don’remember..felt like shit yesterday.”

“Others at the plant said the flu was nasty this year. Carol Hagan’s daughter got hospitalized. Guessin’ you caught it too.”

“What’s uh…what’s all goin’ on?”

Wayne’s not used to all this anymore- taking care of people. Of course he took care of Jannet when she was ill, but of course then she went into hospice, and he just sat back and watched as she withered away. Eddie’s been the picture of health since he’s had him, all twelve years and not even so much as a sniffle.

“Tired.”

Wayne grabs the chair that’s sitting a few feet away, pulling it to sit next to his nephew.

“I gathered that much Ed. What else? Your throat? Your stomach? Work with me here kid.”

“Throat, head, whole body hurts.” A shiver makes Wayne absentmindedly pull the blankets closer to him, not even thinking about it. Maybe caretaking is like riding a bike.

“Alright. I’m going to go to the pharmacy in town if you’ll be alright for a bit. And get somethin’ easy for you t’eat. Anything sound good?”

It’s quiet long enough he’s not sure Eddie’s even heard him, but then-

“Cherry koolaid?”

Wayne snorts, then ruffles Eddie’s hair. “Okay kid, cherry koolaid it is.”

The pharmacy is fuller than usual thanks to flu season in Hawkins. Looking around, the older man realizes just how much has changed since needing to buy medicine for anyone. Moving from aisle to aisle, he finally finds the cold and flu section. Wayne grabs Tylenol, then looks to see what else he might need, trying to think of what his nephew had said. He ends up with some throat lozenges and tissues in his basket as well. As he passes the children’s aisle, something catches his eye.

A little plush stuffed bat, black and orange, sits on the shelf. It’s more hokey than anything, far from realistic, but it makes Wayne think of Eddie. Eddie, who’s back home sick as a dog, who hasn’t been sick since he was eight, who never got a real childhood. It always makes the older man’s blood boil to think about his brother and the shit he did to his kid and wife. At least he’s locked up now, and his nephew will never have to worry about that piece of shit again.

At the memories of getting that damned phone call telling him Craig had murdered Sandra, Wayne drops the bat into the basket. He almost forgets the little packet of cherry koolaid but the stand catches his eye by the checkout counter and he grabs two, suddenly wishing he could give the boy back home more.

“How old’s your kid?”

Wayne turns to see a woman smiling at him, probably around his age, holding a basket full of halloween decorations. He gives a somewhat awkward smile.

“Uh, he’s eight,” he decides to go with the age Eddie was when he came to him, in case this woman were to somehow recognize him or put two and two together Eddie Munson is his kid (kind of).

“I bet he’ll love the bat. I got one last week for my six year old and she loves it.”

The plant worker walks up to the counter when he’s called, letting the cashier ring everything up. The total is more than he expects, but he realizes he’s not sure how much the bat actually costs. He hands over the money, taking his change and bags.

“I hope your son feels better!” The woman from the line calls out as she walks up to the counter. Wayne smiles and heads home.

Walking inside, Wayne’s greeted with the sound of Eddie retching in the bathroom, mumbling cuss words in between breaths. Setting the bags down quickly, the grey haired man walks over looking around for one of the others hair ties that’s usually sitting somewhere on the counter. Spying it, he gathers the guitarists curls and ties them back.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” the man murmurs, rubbing Eddie’s back gently. Eddie spits into the toilet and groans.

“S-Sorry.”

“Hush, you don’t have control over this shit. You done?”

When Eddie nods, Wayne helps him up and stands near him as he brushes his teeth. By the time he’s back in bed, the twenty year old looks somehow worse, and somehow so much younger.

“When’s the last time y’drank anythin’?”

“Last night,” Eddie croaks out, coughing.

Shaking his head, Wayne goes and pours some water for the younger man, grabbing the pills and bat as well. He hopes that him throwing up is a one time thing, because while he doesn’t mind dealing with all the vomit; god knows he got over that issue quickly with Janett, he does mind the fact it’ll get Eddie dehydrated faster, which would mean a possible hospital trip.

“I uh, I got y’somethin’,” Wayne informs the boy. Big, brown eyes open to look at him, and Jesus sometimes he forgets how much Eddie looks like his mother. His eyes and cheeks are all Sandra, but he’s got his brother’s nose.

“If ya don’t like it, that’s not a problem, but it…it reminded me of you an’that bat tattoo of yours,” Wayne explains, feeling his face heat up. He’s sure now the kid won’t like it, it’s a damn toy, but he’s come this far, he can’t back out now. Seeing Eddie’s confused but curious look, eyes still bright with fever, he takes out the small plush bat, holding it out for his nephew.

“You got me a stuffed an’mal?” Eddie takes the little toy, running his thin fingers over the fur.

“Like I said, it ya don’t like it…I know it’s a toy an’you’re twenty-”

“N-No…no. Please, I like’em,” Eddie’s grip on the bat goes tight, as if Wayne might rip the damn thing out of his hands. “Thanks Uncle Wayne.”

“‘Course kid. Here, lemme,” the forty three year old opens the Tylenol bottle and shakes out two, then unwraps a lozenge for Eddie, holding them both out. He downs the pills then pops the lozenge in his mouth, coughing a little at the initial coolness of it.

“I’m gonna go make that koolaid, you stay put alright?”

When Eddie nods, Wayne gets up from the chair and stretches a little, starting to amble out of the room. He freezes when Eddie starts talking again, eyes closed and the little bat held tight in his arms.

“Thanks for bein’ such a good dad.”

If Wayne chokes up a little, he doesn’t tell anyone.

XXX

“Open up Mayfield, I know you’re in here, I just dropped you off ten minutes ago! I’m freezing my balls off!”

Groaning, Max rolls her eyes and huffs, setting down her math notebook on the back bench near the window. As she stands, the voice calls out again.

“If you’re wearing those damn headphones again, I swear I’m going to-”

“What? What’re you going t-”

The words die on her lips. Eddie Munson is standing on her steps in his usual hellfire shirt and dark jeans, leather jacket keeping him warm. His left hand holds the thermometer she’d let him borrow a week ago, and the right hand holds a guitar case.

“Can I come in?”

Nodding, Max lets the senior in, watching him carefully. He turns and sits on the couch she has, patting the spot next to him.

“Go ahead, make yourself at home,” she snarks at him, but there’s no heat or annoyance behind it, and she sits, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Uh, so first off, here’s your thermometer back. Thanks for letting me borrow it. Wayne like…super disinfected it, so no gross Eddie germs on it anymore, promise.”

Max snorts, taking the capped thermometer and placing it on the table next to them, stretching.

“And what’s that? I still don’t have the guitar yet, so it’s not like I can take less-”

“This is yours now, at least until you get your own,” Eddie cuts in, looking a little nervous and shy. “And no, it’s not my baby. This is my first guitar. It’s not uhh, it’s not great compared to some of them, but it’s enough for you to learn on. I restrung it last night, so it should be good to go.”

“...you’re serious? You’re letting me use it?”

“I mean, you haven’t even seen it yet. You might hate it, your tiny little hands might not be able to hold it,” Eddie shrugs, but he’s smiling, and she can feel her own smile appear.

Popping open the case, Max’s eyes widen. A Yamaha SG-175 sits inside, bright cherry red. It’s a little banged up and scratched, and the frets all have different colored tape on them, but it’s still beautiful, and for now, it’s hers. Carefully, she picks it up and runs her fingers over the metal strings.

“I got this baby for my eleventh birthday. It was a little big and bulky for me, but I made it work. Wayne saved up for like two years, he’s told me, because he knew I wanted to learn. Oh! I got a smaller amp for you too. It’s one I found yesterday, got it for cheap, but I tried it out and it works plenty for a beginner. And you can use my amp when we practice,” he explains, rambling a little.

She’s never had this before, someone give her something that means so much to them. Max looks at Eddie for a moment, the older boy messing with his hair, his knee bouncing anxiously.

“Thank you.” It comes out rushed and she takes a breath. “Thank you for….for everything. Not just this, but, but helping us with the upside down, and for giving me rides everyday, for being way cooler than Steve, and-”

Eddie leans forward and gives her a hug, the guitar awkwardly pressing into both of them. It’s quick but he squeezes her tightly and then pulls back, grinning.

“Ya know, Mayfield, I’m glad we met,” he smirks, then snaps his fingers. “Lemme go get that amp for you, kay? We can start practicing tomorrow, if you want.”

Max nods and starts strumming curiously when the older boy leaves to grab the other things. Dustin is going to be so jealous.

#my fic #st #em #sh

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eddiewmunson · 2 years

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