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juletheghoul · 7 months

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AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox.

(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)

Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)

Warnings; sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man.

People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled.

The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front.

“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him.

“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.

Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside.

“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room.

“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”

“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?”

He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble.

“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now.

“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside.

“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.

—

“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more.

He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground.

“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.

“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.”

“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child.

“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.”

“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile.

“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.

It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own.

The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.

The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed.

“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair.

“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face.

“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house.

“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.”

The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well.

There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been.

You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years.

Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole.

Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through.

—

The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it.

He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things.

With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens.

He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those.

By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep.

It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest.

Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.

He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out.

The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known.

You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return.

He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away.

She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away.

A very brief moment.

The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury.

His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good.

–

The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall!

“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop.

“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again.

“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face.

“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.”

“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights.

“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love.

It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.

“Will you listen to me at least?”

“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place.

“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.

“That’s an understatement.”

“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”

“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.

“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?”

You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man.

“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.

“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed.

“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.”

“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

—

Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh.

“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.”

“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go.

Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down.

Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away.

“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”

“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.

“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms.

“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip.

“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.”

He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.

“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–”

“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”

“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”

“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.

“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words.

“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury.

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again.

“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“What?” She frowned.

“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”

“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?”

“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”

“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day.

“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.

“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.

The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–

You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind.

Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes.

Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.

He didn’t let you wonder.

His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door.

He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.”

“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence.

“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”

You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house.

“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists.

“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space.

“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.

“I, uh, I had some coffee.”

“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it.

“Well, no–”

“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work.

“Can I help?”

“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment.

Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam.

When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out.

“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice.

“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.

“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite.

You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat.

He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him.

“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet.

When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy.

“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile.

“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.”

“I know.”

–

He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing.

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke.

“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response.

“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up.

“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”

“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”

“Good, now let's get to work.”

Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again.

He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system.

“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound.

A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching.

“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-”

“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face.

“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who’s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip.

The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere.

“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.

“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”

“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.”

“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed.

“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician.

You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.

“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself.

“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly.

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.

“What was what?”

“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned.

“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.”

“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him.

“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.”

You sighed, ignoring just how right he was.

There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it.

“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger.

“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo

“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.

You set down your things.

“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find.

“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you.

“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.”

“Yes, but I can do it–”

“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well.

Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up.

He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon.

You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs.

“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.

“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.”

By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone.

“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit.

“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him.

“Are you done with the windows?”

“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.” He gestured to the pile on the counter.

“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment.

“But your hand–”

“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.

The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad.

He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”

“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?”

“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice.

“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house.

He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again.

The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours.

It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly.

The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze.

He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you.

“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”

“...You…?”

“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring.

“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly.

“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms.

“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.

“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way.

“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.”

He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.

“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you.

“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him.

“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps.

You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it.

“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”

Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck.

“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes.

“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin.

“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss.

“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born.

“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom.

Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation.

He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation.

“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.

It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.

“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair.

“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.

“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day.

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.

“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything.

You moaned at the way he filled you.

The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock.

There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.

“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm.

He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.

“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside.

You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.

“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork.

“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?”

“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“

“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer.

“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.”

“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“

“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.

“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.

He’d fucking blown it.

By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes.

He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back.

He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted.

Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away.

No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again.

You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it.

Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing.

With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–

He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that–and his pleas for a response from you.

Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–

You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters.

Bluebell, my love,

I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–

It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him.

The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour.

There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.

“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?”

“I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed.

“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.”

“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again.

“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done.

“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was.

“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house.

Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another.

“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly.

“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”

“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?”

“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.

“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.

“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed.

“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression.

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow.

He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache.

“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy.

“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle.

“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours.

“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted.

“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside.

“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game.

“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”

“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him.

“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured.

“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue.

“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy.

“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most.

“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed.

You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke.

“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words.

You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts.

“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him.

His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press.

“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding.

He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him.

He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax.

“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words.

“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out.

You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you.

There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider.

“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable.

“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged.

–

tag list: @foli-vora @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @quica-quica-quica @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @maievdenoir @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @swtaura @send-me-to-valhalla @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @oliviajdjarin @actuallyanita @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @rosymythologies @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @txtattoostark

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie x reader #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier au #tp au #frankie x f!reader

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fortheloveofhens-zine · 8 months

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Hello!

This is an introduction post explaining this project and hopefully garnering some attention!

🥚 What's this about?

This is a fanzine by Shane fans, for Shane fans. It's a fan project to appreciate this character, his story, and his growth, and how much it means to a lot of us who have been through similar things.

🥚 How will this work?

Like most other zines! The project will begin on a certain date, and artists and writers will have several months to complete a piece of their choosing for the fanzine. We will use discord to communicate, schedule, and smooth out any issues.

🥚 When is the projected release?

I think aiming for spring 2024 would be nice! It'd be nice to release the zine around when Shane's birthday would be.

🥚Will this be a paid zine?

This is a charity zine to raise money for the mental health charity Samaritans! Samaritans is a charity that operates free and confidential phone lines for people to reach out and talk to someone whenever they're having a difficult time. They provide a listening service for those who may be suffering from suicidal thoughts or otherwise unpleasant feelings. Donations will be raised via ko-fi during a certain fundraising period and after that's over, the zine will go free to download.

🥚What format is this zine in?

The zine will be formatted to A4 paper size, HOWEVER this zine will only run digitally and will not have a print release as things stand. (Mod honestly can't afford a print release as cool as that would be...)

🥚Who can join?

Almost anyone can join! There is no requirement on skill, online following, previous zine experience etc. If this is your first zine, that's awesome! We welcome you with open arms. This is a zine for anyone who has ever struggled with their mental health, and has felt comforted by a certain stardew valley character. I do require that contributors be at least 13+. Not only would it be against discord terms of service to have under 13s on the platform, but mod here, as a fully grown adult, would also be uncomfortable with it - sorry!

🥚Are there any other rules right now?

There are a few! Let's list them, and please read carefully.

We have a zero-tolerance policy for racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, fatphobia, and anything else that falls into similar categories. ZERO. This is non-negotiable. This is a safe space and anyone displaying any of the above will be kicked off the project.

That said, proship, comship, darkship etc are not welcome on this zine. This is a safe space for everyone, including minors, survivors, and everyone else.

This is a SFW zine. There will be no NSFW art or writing included.

Every artist and writer is free to depict Shane as they like. If they choose to depict him as trans, POC, mlm, or anything else for the sake of representation, that is their choice and you must respect it. See the first bullet point about zero tolerance.

Ableism also extends to bigotry toward those suffering with mental illness, and addicts. We are trying to promote empathy and acceptance. Ableist comments will be warned (e.g. complaining about Shane's room being messy).

Your piece must include Shane as the focal point! That should be clear already, but just in case! So long as he's the focal point, you can draw or write anything! Ships are allowed.

🥚How do I get involved?

For now, I have an interest check form that I plan to run until the end of September! After that, contributor sign ups will open. Remember to follow this blog to see updates on the zine! You can also send questions to my inbox and I will do my best to answer them. For now, here is the interest check:

#for the love of hens #stardew valley #stardew #sdv #sv #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew shane #shane #stardew valley zine #stardew valley fanzine #fanzine #mod post

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librarycards · 3 months

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what can you do if you want to become a therapist but are a communist lol like i feel like i would probably end up losing my license but i did so much school for this before i was radicalized :\

so, i'm basically recapitulating what my current therapist - an avowed abolitionist and anarchist who does not institutionalize anyone, including pts in 'medical danger', unless they explicitly request it (and even then she'll offer alts first).

you either have or will have to do some kind of rotation/trial period, probably in a congregate carceral setting. you will experience abuse at the hands of your employers. you will witness, facilitate, and/or be powerless to stop the abuse of patients.

when you're done with this, you'll have a few limited choices. you can stick around. you can join somebody else's practice, and possibly be able to accept more insurances / have stability. you can also go solo, which dramatically increases the likelihood that you will not be able to accept insurance, medicaid, etc.

you will have to charge too much for appts. this is inevitable, because everything should be free. but even sliding-scale services offered by private practitioners are unjustly high and out of reach to those who need it most. there is virtually no way to rectify this, while still affording rent, *and* maintaining a commitment to your values (that said, i have a few leads. dm me and i can try to put you in the right direction)

you will be reifying an approach to disability/noncompliance that is irredeemably vile.

you will be offering Madpeople a vital space of growth and intimacy not currently offered elsewhere, and filling a huge need (there are very few abolitionist practitioners and many, many people who want them)

tldr: you will be culpable for grievous harm. you are also, as an abolitionist practitioner, deeply necessary given contemporary social conditions. you will never forgive yourself. patients will be suspicious of you. you will, if you put your values first, save and improve a lot of lives. you will not fix anyone or anything. you will, at your best, understand those you work with as comrades and interlocutors, but you will, inevitably, be aware of the fact that your power places a wall between you & them. you will, hopefully, commit together to carving out a space of exchange-care-possibility within all of the above constraints.

good luck man this sucks but we love you need you etc

#for real though dm me if you want me to put you in touch w ppl who can give you more direct advice/direction #i've never studied social work/psychology/etc. so i can only give you info as a pcsx and as someone who's had these convos with my current #therapist / done the readings as it were #ask #anonymous #antipsychiatry #madness

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sophiasharp · 9 months

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Thinking about how much of an anomaly Swiss is and how much I love Jack of All Trades characters.

Because ghouls that are an even split of all 5 elements, up until Swiss, had been unheard of. Sure, hybrids are a thing that happen sometimes, just look at Sunny and Aurora, but all 5?

It had been previously theorized by the Ministry that the max amount of elements one ghoul could possess on the surface was 3; any more and the body would begin to deteriorate due to the strain of containing that much conflicting elemental power. That’s not to say such ghouls COULDN’T exist down in The Pit, but they likely wouldn’t survive the journey to the surface.

Which brings us back to Swiss. Swiss, the living contradiction to all the Ministry thought they knew. Swiss, the type of ghoul never before seen on Earth or in Hell. Swiss, who could light your smoke one minute and chill your drink the next.

However, such great power has its limits. For example, while, yes, he could do both of those things one after the other, he is incapable of doing them both at once, forced to focus on one element at a time.

His natural abilities are also not quite as strong as those of someone born purely of that element. In order to reach even close to that level requires an intense amount of concentration and energy that simply isn’t sustainable for long periods of time.

This limitation gets to him some days more than others. Some days, he feels more like a cheep knock-off of a ghoul than anything else- like someone’s amateur interpretation of one. It’s an easy argument to make, given that’s how he survived in The Pit: pretending to be a full elmental ghoul and joining an established pack until the truth caught up with him and he was forced to leave and wander till the cycle could start anew.

Even though it’s been years now since he’d left The Pit and found a family that accepts him for exactly what he is, it still gets hard some days not to feel like somewhat of a fraud- like he’s tricked them all into loving a version of himself that was somehow better than he really is and it’ll only be a matter of time before they find him out and it’s back to square one down in the hellfire below.

Thankfully, his pack has gotten good at noticing when he’s too far in his own head and can remind him of just how sincerely loved and appreciated he is. It’s most days now where he gleefully tousles Rain’s hair with a gust of wind before warming up the coffee that had gone cold in its pot. It’s most days where he good-naturedly pesters Mountain in his greenhouse while going from plant to plant to water them and offer some earthly coaxing of growth. It’s most days where he can tune into the same quintessence frequency as Aether and Aeon and make sure neither were overextending themselves.

Yes, Swiss would say he is very proud of what he could do for his pack.

After all, a Jack of all trades and master of none is far greater still than a master of one.

(It appears my brand new side blog has been immediately yeeted into the shadow realm upon creation so I’m having to repost this here 😅 if you didn’t know, I’m moving my ghost headcanons to @mancer-in-the-abbey . Idk when it’ll get to see the light of day but hopefully it will soon!)

#the band ghost #ghost the band #the ghost band #ghost bc #ghostbc #ghost #the band ghost headcanons #the band ghost ficlet #ghost headcanons #ghost ficlet #the nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul Swiss #Swiss ghoul #I got so many thoughts on this boy you don’t even KNOW #I didn’t even get to the mimicry stuff yet #or what his true form looks like #really looking forward to that stuff #abbey lost and found

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rainbow-starlight · 4 months

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time for EVEN MORE CHARACTER ANALYSIS 🎉

(this time, with enneagrams!)

So, I love a good personality test, as I know many Tumblr users do. I’m particularly fond of Enneagram, because I feel like it gives a lot more insight into someone compared to, say, MBTI.

So, of course, I sat down and took the test twice: Once for canon Sun, once for canon Moon. A lot (and I do mean a lot) of this is based on speculation, so if you disagree, please let me know why!

I mostly did this because, y’know, there isn’t a lot of characterization for these two, and I wanted to see if I could gain any new knowledge from this. (Which, yep, it absolutely worked.) Hopefully this can be useful for anyone who wants more perspective on writing these two in a more day-to-day sort of setting. It’s almost all speculation, but I found it really interesting.

So, drumroll please… 🥁🥁🥁

Sun is a 2w1, and Moon is a 8w7!

Pretty different from what I found for them online (Sun as a 7w6, Moon as a 1w2). Thoughts on what these mean under the cut.

Most of my information comes from here! Some paraphrasing, some direct quotes. I won’t be directly citing everything because this isn’t an essay.

Sunny

The biggest and most interesting takeaway from Enneagram, to me, is the core hopes and fears.

Sun’s primary hope is to feel loved, and his secondary hope is to be good, have integrity, and be balanced.

Sun’s primary fear is of being unwanted and unworthy of being loved. His secondary fear of being corrupt, evil, or defective.

This is really interesting to think about in the context of the virus. He’s scared of being left behind, maybe doesn’t even understand why Moon is acting the way that he is and is terrified something’s just wrong with them. This could even apply in regards to being moved from the stage to the daycare, in a way.

His main motivations are to express his feelings for others and be needed and appreciated. His secondary motivations are to improve everything and be beyond criticism so nobody can say anything bad about him.

When going through a period of stress, Sun would become more like Moon’s worst traits. He’d be more proud, egocentric, confrontational, aggressive, dominating, vengeful, and demanding of obedience. If he were in danger during this period of time, he’d likely become destructive in his attempts to get out of it, even if that’s not the best way to handle it. He’d also likely become depressed, moody, irrational, hopeless, and ashamed of himself, more prone to self-destruction. He’d probably chase away people who try to help him and self-isolate.

I think that can definitely be seen in the ruin part of HW2 with Sun’s voice lines to the player, as well as how harsh he is on the player during arts & crafts.

When going through a period of growth, Sun would be creative, self-aware, introspective, gentle, compassionate, excitable, spontaneous, cheerful, and productive. He’d be able to be vulnerable yet emotionally strong, grateful for what he has, and excited about just existing. Very much like fanon Sun, honestly.

An unhealthy Sun would likely be manipulative, inflexible, self-serving, and domineering, able to excuse and rationalize his behavior because he sees himself as a victim. He’d likely be obsessive about others’ imperfections and wrongdoings, perhaps to the point of cruelty. He’d be prone to nervous breakdowns.

An average Sun (closest to what we’ve seen so far) would be people-pleasing, orderly, abrasive, overbearing, impatient, self-sacrificial, and codependent. Full of approval and flattery for others. He’d likely hover and mettle in others’ business and scold others for anything done not to his exact specifications.

A healthy Sun (unheard of so far in the games lmao) would be unselfish, compassionate, caring, hopeful, warm-hearted, forgiving, encouraging, and appreciative. He’d actually take care of himself, too.

To help Sun grow into that healthy category, here’s some stuff that would help…

Addressing his own needs before others’.

Not expecting appreciation for the good things he does.

Asking people what they need from him instead of just assuming and trying to help, and accepting that sometimes people don’t want his help without assuming that they dislike him or are rejecting him.

Not trying to call attention to his own hard work.

Learning to recognize the affection and good wishes of others, even if those things take a different shape than he’s familiar with.

Learning to relax and take time for himself, without feeling like this will lead to chaos and disaster.

Not expecting others to change immediately when he explains something, because what’s obvious to him isn’t always obvious to others and people just don’t typically change right away.

Not getting worked up about others’ (or his own) shortcomings, because frustrated with others gets him nowhere and harsh self-criticism just makes him feel worse.

Getting in touch with his own feelings and needs.

Moon

Now, this one was definitely harder. We get so little characterization for him. And yet…

Moon’s primary hope is to protect himself and be in control of his own life and destiny. His secondary hope is to be satisfied and content, and have his needs fulfilled.

Moon’s primary fear is of being harmed or controlled by others, and his secondary fear is of being deprived and in pain.

This is really telling compared to Sun’s. Moon isn’t scared of some sort of fundamental flaw within himself. He also cares much less about what others think of him, and just wants to be happy and safe.

His main motivations are self-reliance, to prove his strength, and to be important and in control of his environment and situation. His secondary motivations are to maintain his freedom and happiness, to avoid missing out, to keep himself excited and occupied, and to avoid pain.

I feel like this definitely tracks. He’s a gremlin that makes a hobby out of bothering the staff by pretending to be a boogeyman. That’s not “security” work (sorry, Moon).

When going through a period of stress, Moon becomes secretive, fearful, perfectionistic, and critical. He’d be reclusive and out of touch with reality, obsessed with yet frightened by his violent thoughts, and incredibly self-destructive. He’d judge others harshly while rationalizing his own actions and wouldn’t hesitate to punish others to get rid of perceived ‘wrongdoers’.

This aligns pretty well with what we’ve seen of Moon with the virus.

When going through a period of growth, Moon picks up some of Sun’s best traits. He becomes open-hearted, caring, focused, compassionate, encouraging, nurturing, loving, perceptive, curious, independent, innovative, and whimsical.

We haven’t really had a chance to see anything like this with Moon, but it feels closer to popular fanon perceptions as well.

An unhealthy Moon would be ruthless and violent. He’d be reckless about his own safety and straight-up murderous. He’d be impulsive and never know when to stop or when he’s taking things too far, and eventually run out of energy or get too broken-down and just give up on himself.

An average Moon would be self-sufficient, hardworking, hyperactive, self-centered, and proud. He wouldn’t pay much attention to his own emotional needs. He’d be combative and intimidating to get his way, and not shy away from threats to get obedience. He’d always be doing things to avoid boredom and have a larger-than-life persona just for the fun of it.

A healthy Moon (at long last…) would be brave, confident, resourceful, decisive, cheerful, passionate, and assertive. He’d actually be very extroverted and easily excited, which goes against a lot of popular headcanons for him, but then again this is the guy whose entire characterization is one long performance of hide-and-seek/tag with the monster under your bed. I feel like it makes sense that he’d be more social when the threat of his worst fears coming true isn’t looming over his head.

How would Moon reach that healthy category?

Recognizing that he’s at his best when he does things like take charge or help people through a crisis. He needs to use some self-restraint and try to inspire others to do what he wants instead of just forcing them.

Learning to let others have their way sometimes, and recognizing that doing this usually won’t mean sacrificing his power or his real needs.

Recognizing that the world is not against him and letting in the affection that’s available.

Accepting that he depends on others and not alienating them.

Not overvaluing being feared/obeyed, and recognizing that those things are not a stand-in for love.

Learning to be less impulsive.

Learning to listen to others, as well as learning to be comfortable without constant stimulation.

Accepting that he doesn’t have to have everything immediately.

Choosing quality over quantity in experiences.

Making sure that what he wants will really be good for him in the long run.

What do these types mean for their relationship and how they’d interact with each other?

They’re more alike than they initially appear!

Both are action-oriented and want to have a personal impact on their environment.

Both can be sentimental and deeply feeling, with a soft side that isn’t as apparent.

Both can play the roles of provider, protector, caretaker, and nurturer while avoiding or even denying their own needs.

Both tend to overwork themselves and be the ‘strong one’ in relationships, although Sun’s type is more likely to be the power behind the throne whereas Moon’s type is more likely to be the one on the throne, which I found really interesting.

Both are passionate, generous, and have good people skills.

Both are strong-willed and like taking on responsibility, as long as they choose it themselves.

Both easily play the roles that the other needs and wants. They see each other’s best qualities and can be the other’s strongest supporter and admirer. They also have clearly-defined roles, so they tend to not get in each other’s way. They make powerful allies who complement each other’s strengths, particularly the good effects they have on others.

However, they have very different values: Sun’s type is more person-oriented, and Moon’s type is more practical. Sun’s type also tends to be more indirect, whereas Moon’s type tends to be more direct. Sun’s type is much more likely to get attached to people and see things from their point of view, whereas Moon’s type does not.

When they’re not doing so good, they may be prone to arguments over whose views are correct: Moon’s confrontational attitude and tendency to shut others out, or Sun’s possessive and self-sacrificial behaviors. Sun’s type is more likely to get caught in a codependent relationship with Moon’s, becoming an apologist and enabler for his bad behavior.

The breakdown in mutual communication/respect/trust would involve Moon seeing Sun as insincere and manipulative, and Sun seeing Moon as cruel and domineering. They’d both become more controlling and harsh with each other, both prone to paranoia and fear of betrayal.

I feel like that’s kind of where we’re at in the games. Sun chooses not to outright warn people about Moon a lot of the time, and they both try to gain total control of their shared body and shut the other out.

AAAAND… DONE!

I hope this was at least an interesting read for you guys, and offered a new perspective on these characters! I recommend checking out the link for further insights into the personality types, because I tried to just limit it to character motivations and interactions and that alone has been ridiculously long.

hey, sunnie, why’d you do this?

neurodivergency. next question.

#fnaf sun #sun fnaf #fnaf moon #moon fnaf #daycare attendant sun #daycare attendant #daycare attendant moon #fnaf dca #dca moon #dca sun #dca fandom #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf hw2 #fnaf help wanted 2 #fnaf headcanons #fnaf hcs

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mdhwrites · 3 months

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Saw the TOH Finale in Its Entirety.

I think I need a little time away from talking about TOH after it. I have some blogs prepared but I may just let myself breathe a little bit. This isn't me suddenly calling the finale good. No... No. Like For the Future, it was an episode I'd always seen and heard enough to know I wouldn't like it. I'd watched enough of it to know it was bad. I had to watch the Collector's redemption for a different blog though and when that portion was done, I decided to watch the last fifteen minutes I hadn't seen.

And... I could say a lot about it but this picture is all I need to focus on.

This was the end of the series.

Oh yeah, there were six minutes after it that showed them in the future but this was the end of the series. They had just spent 3-4 minutes with epilogue narration, a curtain call saying farewell to everyone and showing they were safe, showing us that the Isles would heal and then it came to this. Luz thinks about how she'll miss magic but grew as a person and how all of this will have made her better. Made her able to face the future and then you get this shot.

That is the end of a story. Period.

But then TOH wastes six more minutes running it back and doing the exact. Same. Thing but worse. Because it doesn't end on the thematic focus of Luz's journey, growth, and what you can take away from it. It ends on self indulgence, takes EVEN LONGER, and on a forced group shot that includes villains and one off characters for some reason. It's much worse composed than this, it's much less meaningful but they decided not to cut it. They decided they couldn't choose one of two endings and so did both.

All while the Collector fails to properly finish his redemption arc or admit that what he'd done was wrong. While Luz dies in a sequence of like five plot beats and reveals that happen in like a minute's time. While the episode is repetitive and contradictory in the most infuriating ways and even when it's looking good, the story boarding and choreography and lack of real creativity is holding it back. All while claiming it's so much better than other media while doing exactly what it's mocking.

In other words... It was indeed a finale to TOH.

But it's a finale that makes me feel worried about being able to kind to it. After all, the creators of this show complained about being shortened. Claimed they had so many ideas. So many they never got to tell. But then... Then they made this finale and spent a fifth of the time on two different endings rather than actually completing and fleshing out their story.

I don't think Dana's name will do anything but turn me away from a project now. Not unless I know she's not a part of the writing team. And... While that may still just be due to the quality of her work, I do not want this thought so fresh in my mind. Not when my analytical roots sadly still stem from an angry part of me and was first birthed out of an angry part of the internet. It doesn't change my opinion but like I said, I think I just need some time and I have some blogs cued to post in the meantime, as well as some Amphibia asks I can get to instead.

See you all next tale. Hopefully I find a new one to get stuck into properly soon.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house

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thatanimewriter · 7 months

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THE DEVIL CAN BE FOUND WITHIN.

➳ request: Got some bad news buddy 🥺😞 I was recently diagnosed with PCOS and could use some comfort right now! How would the Style Five react to their girlfriend being diagnosed with PCOS after showing various symptoms?

➳ character/s: nanase haruka, tachibana makoto, hazuki nagisa, ryugazaki rei, matsuoka rin

➳ warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, period talk, hirsutism, weight gain (particularly around the abdomen)

➳ notes: awww i'm sorry you got pcos bestie ;v; hopefully the boys make you feel better!

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

cries for you because you shouldn't have to suffer a single thing ever in your life and he's never gonna allow you to feel pain so long as he LIVES.

── tachibana makoto, HAZUKI NAGISA, matsuoka rin

would never bully you for any of the extra hair growth because of hirsutism, if anything, he'd be offended he can't grow facial hair himself. he might start up a mini business as a barber but only for you.

── hazuki nagisa, matsuoka rin

googled absolutely everything so he could help you out through everything. he's got all the books on his desk, got 50 tabs open, giant binder of notes, EVERYTHING.

── nanase haruka (but less enthusiastic), RYUGAZAKI REI

probably had some inkling of an idea because of the irregular periods and painful periods when you did have them. just all the symptoms sorta added up and he's an educated boy so he knows what's up (he thinks)

── tachibana makoto, nanase haruka, RYUGAZAKI REI

#free iwatobi swim club #nanase haruka #tachibana makoto #hazuki nagisa #ryugazaki rei #matsuoka rin #free iwatobi swim club x reader #nanase haruka x reader #tachibana makoto x reader #hazuki nagisa x reader #ryugazaki rei x reader #matsuoka rin x reader #free iwatobi swim club imagines #nanase haruka imagines #tachibana makoto imagines #hazuki nagisa imagines #ryugazaki rei imagines #matsuoka rin imagines

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sunbloomdew · 7 months

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my olba mc timeline!

introducing my darling buttercup, Haru Nakamura :D

finally i can post this! i'm very happy to talk about a character i have been working on since may haha. does that mean they are fully cooked? let's talk about something else :) insert why do they call you babygirl meme

you don't wanna know how long was the process of making this one drawing,,,, 1/10, would do it again no question, but god did that take time. here's the sketch for comparison :]

(hopefully) short and concise description of each step below + a couple of songs that i assign to each step, from their playlist because i can and i will

ʰᵃʰᵃʰᵃʰʰᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ⁱ ʷʳᵒᵗᵉ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʰᵃʰᵃʰʰᵃᵃʰ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐʸ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵃᵍᵉ ᵇᵗʷ

now before i move to each step, i want to take a moment to talk about Haru's name. they are japanese american (their biological parents were both japanese people who moved to california) so i wanted them to have a japanese name.

first their birth name, Kaito. i picked this [快仁] way of writing it. 快 means "pleasant, comfortable, agreeable" and 仁 means "humanity, benevolence and kindness". i chose it as their birth name because of a few reasons:

first, some other ways of writing this name include a kanji that means "ocean, sea". it's an obvious connection to the setting of olba, as well as the character's deep connection with sunset bird, especially in their childhood.

the meanings assigned to the version i chose, describe haru at their core and during step 1 when they use this name. they are a comfortable presence whose greatest desire is to make meaningful, genuine connections with other people (fucking extravert). while they are pleasant they are a people-pleaser as well - part of their journey is to unlearn that.

it sounds very cute and they are the sweetest kid

now the name people actually know them for, the one they feel describes them the best - Haru. the kanji that i picked [春] means "spring, season of growth and renewal" and it's precisely what Haru's 'arc' is about. the meaning and value of their personal growth, understanding themselves and working with oneself instead of against.

a little tidbit about their name: there is a kanji with which it can be written that means "cherry blossom". those flowers are considered as a symbol of spring in japan, usually blooming between the end of march and beginning of may. another fun fact, haru's birthday is on the 2nd of april :]

Nakamura is a surname i chose instead of Last in the game. i thought it would be fun to headcanon that the family's surname is actually from Noelani's side (some Hawaiian last names are Japanese in origin, hence Nakamura). The kanji i picked to write it are [中村] - 中 meaning "in, inside, middle, center" and 村 meaning "village, hamlet". I think of it as a reference to sunset bird itself.

so once we put all of the ingredients together it already forms an image of a character. i've been reading a book by david day "the hobbits of tolkien" in which the author describes j.r.r. tolkien's process of creating the hobbits. it's very fascinating, the way in which he used his philologist knowleadge - digging up the word first and then tracing it's origins and the word family to slowly create the hobbits we know today. my process of creating haru was somewhat similar in methods, though definitely not the process (god no, i am nowhere near tolkien's level). i wanted to mention that because the words we use to describe the world, or in this case characters are important.

i like to think that haru's whole name means "spring in a village", with them being the embodiment of said season, connected to an undeniably summer town. a little bit like baxter, our resident autumn boy stumbled into a seaside tourist town. only in haru's case the lines are more blurry. i think of them as the manifestation of the spring/summer period, when the sun shines brightly and trees bloom but the wind is still chilly and strong.

in any case, let's move further! fairies know i could talk just about their name forever

Step 1: welcome to childhood folks! in step 1 Haru uses their birth name, Kaito, and he/him pronouns. Kaito is a lonely child who wants only one thing - to have a friend. he is too fat, too shy, too different from other kids his age, which leads to him being isolated from them. this plants the first seeds of his insecurities that will follow him into the future. being ignored and laughed at really impacts Kaito, who only wants to make friends with anybody. it makes this thought slowly grow at the back of his mind: "there is something fundamentally wrong with me." thankfully, he has the support of lizzie and their moms and the soothing sound of the waves and the warm sand at the beach, which make his social isolation feel less hurtful.

when it comes to his personality, Kaito is an open-hearted, open-minded kid who is quite shy. he is naive, terribly impatient and impulsive which can be a fatal combination. curiosity is another defining trait of his - not really with any things of an academic nature, but definitely about other people, so much he can be very nosy. despire that he is pretty good at reading social cues and figuring out people's feelings. if only he had enough foresight to actually confirm his thoughts with others - he is prone to assume things solely based off his judgement. he is empathetic and a good listener. his tendencies in people-pleasing are only starting to grow, but it will be a huge problem down the line.

a sidenote about his design: colours chosen for each step hold a meaning. the colour palette for step 1 is a triadic colour scheme with purple, teal and yellow. i chose those colours because they remind me of summer, and in step 1 kaito is at the beginning of his growth as a person. at this point in their life, they are connected with summer as a season the most, because they have yet to begin the process of figuring themselves out and understanding themselves.

Cove moving in is a turning point for Kaito. he changes his life by befriending him. it doesn NOT alleviate the insecurities and doubt still nestled in Kaito's heart. rather he views Cove as someone special for befriending him. the setting for their relationship is Nervous Fond. Kaito likes Cove immediately (as they do with most people, they are very open) but is very nervous about this whole making friends process.

Alright this all probably sounds very angsty but this internal turmoil of Kaito's is (for now) very much in the background. think of it like a box covered with sheets, dusted over and hidden in the attic. step 1 is mostly cute kid shenanigans (and some crying).

Songs:

hawaiian roller coaster ride - mark keali'i ho'omalu, kamehameha schools children's chorus; lilo and stitch original soundtrack

the right amount of dumb - kan gao; finding paradise (original game soundtrack)

i have a hole in my tooth (and my dentist is shut) - dodie

take me anywhere - kan gao; to the moon (original game soundtrack)

second child, restless child - the oh hellos

(the right amount of dumb is like their theme in step 1 because they are a bit of a dumbass <33 silly little kid)

Step 2: ahhh early teenage years. i think 12yo and older is the time when you start to realize how profoundly fucked up reality is and react appropriately! which is exactly what Haru is going through, on top of being obsessed with becoming popular. sigh.

step 2 is very rough for Haru. for one, their insecurities from childhood only grow. they see their inabilty to create a large circle of friends as a reflection of their worth. their self-esteem is at all time low, which is why they do everything they can to cover it up. kids are cruel so they cannot show any weaknesses. in order to cover up their low self-confidence they become very arrogant,they arrive at this conclusion: if they are so unlikable (false) then they only need to pretend to be someone else entirely to make people like them (bruh. teenage brain is a mystery).

and so begins their fabrication of themselves, altering parts of their appearance, personality even giving up and picking up hobbies just to appeal to the 'popular kids'. deep inside they know that this is futile. you cannot make people like you, you cannot make them respect you if they don't no matter how hard you try. but they are so starved for social interactions, that it doesn't matter at the moment. if they get to hang out with the cool kids, if people wave to them in the corridors then what does it matter that the person they are greeting is fake?

those purposeful but forced changes consume them. they are constatly playing a role around people they know but don't trust - they can only relax with their family, Cove and Derek. but even then, they aren't fun to hang out with that much. seeing as they can reveal their true thoughts only then, it makes them constantly angry (at everything, but at themselves the most probably) which affects their relationships with their friends and family.

to them it feels like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. they can't bear their soul to the cool kids group, because that would mean admitting that they are not a person they pretended to be - this loud, out-going, larger than life, perfect person. and in their head they think they can't reveal anything to their loved ones either - it would mean admitting defeat in making friends.

so yeah, the struggle is there y'all. despite all the harm that comes from their behaviour and their environment, they learn a couple of things too. they realize they aren't a mind reader and perhaps asking people about their problems is better than assuming you know what is wrong, even if you are like 99% sure you know. doesn't mean they won't ask in the most blunt, tactless way possible tho. their shyness as if evaporates completely - you're not gonna make it far in middle school being shy. funnily enough, they are a massive people-pleaser. you'd think that this bold, boisterous teen star would be far from it, but every action Haru performs in their school circle is for the approval of others. if there are any mild upsides to their state is that they can fulfill their innate need of connecting with other people. it's not deep or meaningful in most cases but what can you do.

as you probably noticed, the main colour of this step is green. but why? green is such a nice colour, with so many positive meanings... sike! i mean yeah it is, but you know what else green symbolises? greed and envy. i used green for this step to highlight haru's desire of becoming popular not as a genuine dream, not even as a way to connect with others but because of the immense jealousy they felt. of other people who got to have friends that liked them for who they are. of elizabeth especially, who never seemed to struggle with making people like her. in this stage of their life, green is definitely a negative colour for them.

the comfort level in step 2 is Direct Fond for both Cove and Derek. no matter which route i'm deciding on romantically, haru does not have a crush on anyone in step 2, or at least doesn't allow themselves to have.

Songs:

freaks - surf curse

kawaki wo ameku [カワキヲアメク] - minami [美波]

carnivore - starset

stand out fit in - one ok rock

remember my name - mitski

(i especially like carnivore for this step because haru starts avoiding eating meat, cause they don't like the taste that much. the choice of this song is a bit of an inside joke for me, also the lyrics fit very well)

Step 3: we enter era of healing! i'd say in step 3 haru is at a solid 3/4 way to doing better internally. step 2 was their lowest, but now they are beginning to bloom. but growing older doesn't only bring knowleadge and growth, it also brings a new lot of issues to deal with.

Haru has been confronted about their behaviour. the impact it had on others and on themselves (there was a lot of crying and broken confessions, not a good time). as they reached their limit, they finally decided to speak their feelings and accept help from their loved ones.

now, it's hard to simply get rid of one's insecurities, especially those that seemed to be reinforced by the outside world for a long time. they use a strategy as old as time to deal with (not cover up anymore) their low self-esteem - fake it till you make it. some of their arrogance stays with them, as a blanket of security in a way, but they are determined to be confident in themselves.

their growth starts with a somewhat superficial thing but one that they always cared about: their clothes. they were always interested in clothing and fashion but only in step 3 they move a bit further with that interest and begin to make clothes on their own. it's an important passion to them, not only being very therapeutic but also allowing them to express their true self, both in terms of their personality as well as gender.

a major shift in their perception of their relationships with others was caused by realizing, that gaining popularity was not going to make them feel fulfilled. they had always desired deep, meaningful relationships, and while being recognized at school was nice, it wasn't really what they were looking for. this in turn make them rethink their whole "pretending to be someone you're not" business and with their loved ones assistance they figured out that... it simply wasn't worth it.

and because haru is the most impulsive person on this side of the globe, they did not ease themselves into this realization but again forced themselves to abandon their old ways in favor of being painfully true to themselves. and then everybody smacked their foreheads.

haru is a lot kinder to themselves now, courtesy of cove and others, but they still tend to ignore themselves in favor of somebody else. their shyness returned, and they no longer try to force themselves into acting more out there than they are. since the let down their walls, they speak their mind without thinking and are prone into agreeing to things immediately, often finding themselves in uncomfortable or annoying situations.

right now their most pressing struggle is dealing with becoming an adult. they feel as if they had just got peace and stability in their life and yet their friends are leaving or staying, getting jobs, time is slipping through their fingers like sand and everything is different. haru themselves feels very lost and overwhelmed by the future, so for now they latch onto people, their friends, sister and moms and try to spend as much time with them as possible, drowning the sound of their own fear in their laughter. on top of that there is a new guy in sunset bird, who seems to have a bit similar internal struggles to them, and haru feels like they could make a connection for life. i wonder how that will go :]

step 3 colours! they wear a lot of different colours because their style is mostly inspired by the 80s, plus they like to go crazy with the clothes they make. but colours that appear the most are definitely pink and yellow, plus a little bit of green. green appears in smaller amounts and in shades closer to yellow to express it's different nature than the green in step 2. this time it represents growth, freshness and hope.

now yellow is a very important colour that i consider haru's main colour. they are simply inseparable in my head. it was completely gone from their colour palette in step 2, and in step 1 it had more of a golden shade, one reminiscent of summer, but in step 3 it brings forth thoughts of spring more. it is purposeful, as Haru is finally growing into the person they want to be. yellow's positive meanings are among others optimism, happiness, creativity and enthusiasm. but it can also be associated with fear and cowardice and that is definitely something that fits haru in this step as well.

pink is prevalent in this specific outfit, but like i said, the clothes they wear in this step are pretty colourful. still, it holds meaning, seeing as it's also visible in their step 4 clothes. pink is invincibly linked with romance and romantic feelings - something haru allows themselves to open up to in step 3. like most things about them, if they have a crush on somebody their infatuation comes fast and strong, seemingly out of nowhere. but other than romance, pink is a colour of youth and playfulness.

after dealing with all that teen angst, they are very playful. combined with the dread of the future and genuine excitement they finally feel, they are a sweet, sociable person. the comfort level is Relaxed Fond, unless they have a crush on either Cove or Baxter, then it's Nervous Crush.

Songs:

permanence - bears in trees

wishing well - the oh hellos

infinite - lyn lapid

summer depression - girl in red

what if it doesn't end well - chloe moriondo

(i didn't put this song here despite it being the first one on haru's playlist, but teenage dream by katy perry is such a step 3 haru song)

Step 4: sweet woes of adulthood! Haru has grown and grown up but of course, life is a continuous string of things happening and us having to deal with them. some things stayed the same, for example their big ego. from aiming to cover up their low confidence, to actually gaining a healthy amount of it, like in most things they do, they went overboard. and while some of it is still a little bit of a defense mechanism, they are also completely insufferable and a beast of self-esteem. you win some you lose some.

they grew into the person they were always meant to be: free spirited, open, empathetic and creative. even so, they still retain their oh so recognizable traits. their curious, almost nosy demeanor, impatient nature and people-pleasing ways. they are still reckless though not quite as impatient, they learned to be a bit more chill.

haru learned to manage their intense nature. especially when it comes to meeting new people, they realize and respect the fact that not everybody will be eager to form a deeper bond, as much as it confuses them sometimes. they have always been ride or die type of person, but growing up has mellowed them out a bit.

the most growth happened with their way of managing their relationships as well as their perception of themselves. they are a lot more mature and as such manage to maintain their relationships. even if they still sometimes assume other people's thoughts or take up too much upon themselves, they see what they have accomplished and are very proud of themselves.

their struggles now involve the usual perils of adulthood, but mostly keeping up with their friends and making sure everything is alright. other than that though, they eagerly travel and go out of their way to meet even more new people - they do need someone to anchor them, or they will get carried away and eventually step on somebody's toes (or fail to return from another state on a scheduled date).

speaking of their adult relations, baxter leaving was a huge blow to them. like traumatic event rank S type of thing. when they meet again it's a storm lol

when it comes to Haru's other dreams and goals, i picture them with a business that makes custom clothes, like handmade ones. their side job would be helping out cove with surfing lessons and his business. they like to work with other people and are a fairly good leader, but they dislike doing the simple tasks because they are so boring.

last design notes! so there is yellow and pink, a bit of blue and white, at least in this outfit. yellow, pink and white are their characteristic colours, but green finds it's place here too sometimes (to drive home the spring theme more).

like i mentioned, haru's colour is yellow. it's the colour of sunshine, buttercups, the sand and some birds and fish, and most importantly it's the colour i associate with spring (along with green). haru is a character that represents the late spring, teeming with life and joy, intense in growth and weather, downpours or clear skies alike.

i don't think there is much more to say about the colours in this step, as in my opinion yellow is most significant. pink also connects with haru's acceptance of femininity and figuring out exactly how much they associate with it. and blue is the colour of the sky :)

in step 3 they are at Direct Fond or Crush. I like their energy in relationships with other people :]

Songs:

hey blondie - dominic fike; barbie the album

everybody loves me - onerepublic

never gonna not dance again - p!nk

sick of losing soulmates - dodie

rebel rebel - david bowie

dancing with myself - billy idol

(hey blondie is such a bop holy shit you guys- also very much a haru song <3)

wow i can't believe i actually wrote this. i am very particular about my characters so now that i have this sort of "introduction" for haru posted, i can post other things about them! don't ask me how that works, it has to be chronological

if you've read this thank you very, very much <3 and if you didn't, fair i feel you lol. feel free to ask about them if your heart desires :]

toodles~

#my eyes are closing on their own #so tired #but i'm proud of myself for finishing this :]#if you've seen any typos you didn't!!!#mei's kids #olba mc #olba #our life beginnings and always #our life beginnings & always #our life #sunbloom draws #sunbloom talks #<3 #this post is over 3.5k words long btw

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 14: Nineteen

Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader 4484 words Series Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; verbal fighting; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: Happy birthday, angel.

The trailer was cold, but the cinnamon eggnog was absolutely doing the trick. Your birthday had begun not with a sleep in, but with a puppy dog boyfriend nuzzling into your back as you tried for one anyway.

“Eddie,” you groaned. “Stop,”

“It’s your birthday,” he whispered, like his cold nose wasn’t an alarm clock.

You grumbled and ignored him, let him try to coax you awake with sweet kisses. Eventually, it took the promise of eggnog to pull you from bed and out into the living room. Eddie excitedly sat you down on the couch, a pile of gifts sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t open them yet,” he said as he went to make breakfast. Coffee and toast. Eggnog and Eggos.

You had the trailer to yourselves; Wayne swapped a couple of shifts over the week so he could take you and Eddie out to a special birthday slash ‘congrats on making it through the year alive’ dinner. Shift work was brutal, but he did what he had to.

“Alright, sweet angel, love of my life, a beacon of beauty,” Eddie announced, taking the empty plates back to the kitchen. He came to sit on the floor between you and the coffee table. “Nineteen,”

“Nineteen,” you echoed.

“Big year,” he sing-songed. You just nodded and shrugged a little. “I’m proud of you,”

“Stop,”

“Nope.” He sat up on his knees and rested his arms across your legs. “Gonna get a little mushy here. You know I like to make you squirm.” Eddie paused to flutter his eyelashes and make you blush. “So, uh, there’s a million fucking things I could say,” he started, hands moving a little. “But then we’d be here all day and I have plans,” and he pointed up at you, “for you, angel. So, I’ve shortlisted it down to two things…” Eddie suddenly stood, spreading his arms out. You knew he was about to use his drama club voice. “Two special birthday declarations, if you will,” he said.

“You’re making me nervous,” you whispered, pulling your legs up, thighs to your chest, and arms around yourself.

Eddie smiled softly. “Trust me. Firstly, change is good.”

Change is good?

“Ahh… okay?” you said.

Eddie smirked, then nodded. “Before you, before me and you, my whole… schtick… was that I shouldn’t have to change to fit into the world. Told everyone, you know? Like, don’t change for the man. Don’t change for teachers and bosses and whatever… But, I am willing to concede that I was wrong. Change is good.”

The special sarcastic emphasis whenever Eddie used the word ‘teachers’ still amused you.Teee-chuuuurs.

“But I’ve watched you change, and not to fit into the world better or ‘cause anyone told you to do it, but ‘cause you wanted to. Your change is… growth. Yeah. You’ve grown so much and it’s been fucking cool to watch. And, I think, it’s made me change too. Hopefully, it’s growth… But, yeah, that’s birthday declaration number uno. Change is good, and when more change happens, that’s gonna be good too.”

You had that glassy-eyed expression that meant a million and one thoughts were fighting for screentime in your brain. Eddie didn’t need you to respond though, so he continued.

“And second… It’s not like you’ve gotta love yourself tobeloved… That’s a pretty messed up idea, really. But, there’s a whole lotta something in letting yourselfbeloved. And, I didn’t get that for a long time. Kinda made it hard for people to love me my whole life, you know? Then you gave me a big ol’ spoonful of my own medicine and… yeah… I got it. I saw that you, like, didn’t fucking know how to be loved. Didn’t matter how unambiguous I was about it…”

Eddie stopped talking and his expression went blank. You watched him stare into space for a few seconds before shaking his head and hands.

“Fuck, doesn’t matter,�� he mumbled. “Okay, so there’s three birthday declarations, because this one is really two things. There’s: thank you for showing me it’s, like, okay to accept… love…” The more emotional Eddie got the less momentum his speech had. “And, uh, I’ve seen… how hard it’s been for you to trust me and let me…” He gestured around vaguely. “You know, yeah, love you… So, thank you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I… I kind of just really love loving you?”

You hadn’t realised you were crying, you'd been so focused on Eddie. He knelt in front of you, gently moving your legs from being pulled up, to resting on either side of him as he leaned into the couch, into your lap. Softly, Eddie reached up and held your face, wiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“I love you so much that it feels like it hurts my bones sometimes. I need you to know that,” he whispered. He was begging.

You nodded and parted your lips ready to speak, but your throat had gone dry.

“Yeah? ‘Kay?” Eddie prompted.

Again, all you could offer was a nod.

Eddie’s big brown Bambi eyes searched yours for the level of understanding and faith he needed. He wanted to know that you trusted him and loved him like he loved you. That you trusted his love to be unconditional. That you had forgiven him for being brash and reckless with your feelings, even if those moments were so rare.

After a few moments, you tried for words again. “It’s in my bones too,” you whispered.

Eddie breathed out through his nose then leaned up and kissed you hard. “I love you,” he said with his forehead pressed to yours.

Sniffling, you replied, “I love you too,”

“I’m sorry I made you cry… on your birthday,”

“S’okay… It’s good crying,”

“Can I give you your presents now?”

You laughed, nodding. Eddie smiled and pressed kisses all over your face, making exaggerated ‘mwah’ sounds with each and every kiss.

“Alright, so how we doing this? Small to big? Big to small? Stupidest first? Thing that induced the most fuckin’ stress last?” he asked.

“Uhhh… what about randomly? I’ll juuuust… point,” you suggested, extending your index finger toward a small rectangular gift.

“Cuteandchaotic,” Eddie said.

In unison then, you both exclaimed, “Just like you,”

Eddie barked out laughter and shined that manic grin that made you think of raccoons sneaking food from pet bowls left on back porches.

“Loved that,” he chirped, handing you the gift.

It was a book, published the year before, that you had read the first chapter of standing in a book store. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood had come to your attention when you heard two of the English teachers at school arguing about it. Apparently, it simply was not appropriate for students to be reading, not even the most mature of the Seniors. Eddie watched you smile as you unwrapped it.

“I remember you telling me about the school blacklistin’ it. Figured any banned book was probably worth the investment,” he explained.

Next, from the pile, you pointed to a larger but similarly shaped gift. Unsurprisingly, it was another book, however it was non-fiction and one that would have been in the course syllabus had you accepted the offer to The University of Chicago. If it was suspicious that Eddie knew about the dense, academic book, you didn’t realise that at the time.

Upon your next choice, Eddie licked his lips and you couldn’t tell if he was nervous or excited. “Um, okay, this one is… It’s a fucking risk. If you’re not… into it, that’s totally fine. Say the world, it’s gone. We can swap it for something else or just never talk about it again… Whatever.”

The paper was off by the time Eddie had finished his disclaimer.

Oh.

Cutesy letters. Lilac lace and fluffy faux fur. Cuffs, collar, and tail. It was the kitten playset that had captured your attention in the adult store. Yours, though, was customised. The colours were your favourite and the collar’s heart-shaped tag read ‘angel.’

“Put me out of my misery here,” Eddie mumbled.

When you looked up at him, the expression on your face must have said more than you thought. He smiled and nodded once.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. As you lifted the kitten ears up and placed the band snugly on top of your head, you saw the attention it commended from Eddie.

“Reeeealll cute.”

It was your turn to ask, “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh… Fuck. Yep. That’s… that’s doing it for me. Here. Lemme go hide them in case Wayne comes home early and I gotta explain that.”

Giggling, you let Eddie take the set from you, pouting when he took the headband too.

“Oh, believe me, this hurts me as much as it hurts you,” he joked.

Another book – The Vampire Lestat. “You liked Interview with the Vampire, right?” Eddie checked, but he knew you did.

There were two gifts left on the table. One was a tiny sphere shape, awkwardly wrapped. The other was another book-shaped object.

Pointing at the small sphere, Eddie nodded, happy with the order of the final two gifts. The sphere was a plastic container that arcade games spat out. Usually, they held plastic rings or miniature figurines of cartoon characters. Not this one. It had one piece of paper inside, folded in half twice.

A messy love heart was drawn, an arrow struck in one side piercing the other. It had a kind of punk energy to it. Inside was written one word, 'angel.' It wasn’t Eddie’s handwriting, nor the type of hearts he scribbled in cards.

You looked up at Eddie and tilted your head with confusion. That’s when he pulled his shirt up over his head and held his arm out to you. On his right arm, above the bats, sat a very fresh tattoo. Eddie had the heart and 'angel' inked to his skin.

“Got it yesterday.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was so… Permanent. Public. Loud and tangible proof of shameless love.

“Eddie…”

“Wayne already told me I’m an idiot so-”

“No! No, that’s not… I wasn’t gonna say that… It’s… You love me,”

“Head over heels.”

You reached out to touch but stopped yourself, knowing the skin was raw. “I love it,” you told him. “I want a matching one.”

Eddie chuckled. “Absolutely not,”

“Wha-”

But before you could respond, he’d picked up the final gift and handed it to you. “The chaos worked. This is the special one.”

There was some kind of veneration in the act of wrapping the gift. The folds were crisper. The tape stuck on cleanly, running parallel to the side of the rectangle. In return, you unwrapped it carefully and gently.

Inside the wrapping was a box; you took the lid off and moved aside the tissue paper to find a thin, handmade book. The cover felt almost like leather but not quite, perhaps vinyl. The pages had been stitched to the spine. It was imperfect and profoundly lovely.

As you flicked through the pages, you realised it was a poetry book. The first thought you had was that Eddie had found an obscure little book of rhymes somewhere equally obscure. That was cool. Then you noticed a pattern in the poem’s titles. Then you recognised the handwriting, Eddie’s sharp angles on their best behaviour.

Eddie had been watching your face and saw the moment the lightbulb illuminated. Your breathing hitched and began to chew your bottom lip.

“At the start of the year, you gave me a list of words. I think the first few I wrote, I was just… writing. Like, thought they’d maybe end up as lyrics or whatever. I don’t know. By the fourth or fifth, I figured out I was writing to you… I, uh, I don’t know if they’re any good. Normally workshop all my shit with the guys… But… yeah,”

“They’re for me,”

“That, they are,”

“And you made this?”

Eddie puffs out a little laugh. “Yeah. I don’t know if you’ve seen it yet, but Wayne is really fucking good at sewing. He’s got some conspiracy about everything being made to break so everyone has to buy more… which he’s probably right about… but he learnt to sew so that his clothes last longer. And mine. He helped me figure out how to stitch the book together so it looked nice and would actually hold. See here-” Eddie took the book and opened it to show you the inner stitching. “Apparently this is a special kind of stitch? Holds tight? I don’t know. Think he liked doing it, so,” Eddie finished with a shrug.

You couldn’t remember how many words were on the list, but you suspected that there was a poem for each of them. Seeing them again, next to each other, threw you into the memory of writing that list. Thinking of Eddie in your bedroom. Feeling his empathy when you’d not been shown kindness for so long.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to say what’s in my head,”

“That’s okay,” Eddie replied, letting you take the book back and hold it close to your heart. “Just happy you don’t think it’s stupid,”

“It’s not. None of this is. Eddie…”

“Come ‘ere.”

Eddie pulled you up and hugged you tightly to his chest. Your arms were folded between you, hands still clutching the book. For a moment, he rocked you side to side, kissing your head periodically.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“I love you too. Do you-”

He was cut off by the trilling of the phone. Eddie let you go and walked to answer. “Hello ‘ello?”

You looked down at the coffee table covered in your most precious things.

“Yes! Yeah, that’s me. Um, can you just give me one sec. Just one… Yeah. Babe?”

Lost in thought.

“Babe!” Eddie repeated a little louder.

Your attention shot to him.

“I gotta take this. You want to find homes for all that? Then we can go back to bed?”

None the wiser, you scooped up your gifts and trotted off to the bedroom, happily putting them where they would belong. It was enough of a distraction that you didn’t catch a word of the phone call between Eddie and Eve.

“Sorry I couldn’t talk last night, but ah, look, I’d normally get you in for a trial,” Eve said, hesitation in her voice.

Eddie could hear the typical sounds of a bar in the background. He didn’t want to trip up that early in the conversation, but he couldn’t exactly lie. “I know, but I’m still in Hawkins at the moment,”

“Yeah, yeah, John said… Look, I know how my sister can be. Gotta be half a dozen times I could have said something to Cath on John’s behalf. Always felt a bit shit about it. Guess I owe him one…One. You get me? No promises. Gotta prove yourself once you’re here, but I’ll give you a shot.”

Eddie didn’t know the first thing about John’s ex-wife’s family dynamics, but he was glad they seemed to be as messy as every other family in America. It had afforded him this one shot.

“Yes! Thank you, ma’am! I promise, I’m not gonna fuck it up,”

“Yeah, alright. Call me when you get to town,”

“I will. I will. Thank you,”

“And, kid? Don’t ever fuckin’ call me ‘ma’am’ again.”

After silently punching the air in victory, Eddie found you bundled up in bed, still holding the book of poems. When he stripped entirely and got in with you, you put it on the bedside table and let him pull you into him.

“Soooooooo,” Eddie said, the addition of many letter Os a giveaway that he was about to saysomethingout of the ordinary. “I know you said you’d, you know, keep me updated, but… just wanna check in…”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. The compact vibrator, once purchased, had remained in your possession. You wanted to acclimatise yourself to it before Eddie was invited into the equation. He pouted about it before catching himself. It made total sense that you wanted to know your body’s reaction to it before having an audience.

Playing dumb, you asked, “Updated ‘bout what?”

There was a twinkle in your eye and you’d angled your head just a little too much. Eddie figured you were fucking with him.

“Normally I’d play along here, babe, but I’m dying to know. S’not like you haven’t had a chance to try it at least once or twice.”

Huh.Yeah, he was right. There had been an increase in the amount of time you’d had alone in the trailer. Eddie seemed to be popping out at all hours to deal. You’d seen his stash spill out of the cupboard and take up more room than it ever had before too.

Eddie realised you hadn’t thought about it. Before your mind could think too much about it, he cut off your thoughts with, “Always try to sell a bit more before Christmas. Get Wayne something nice.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it certainly wasn’t entirely the truth.

You bought it.

Curling locks of Eddie’s hair around your finger, you nuzzled into his neck. “Mmm. ‘Kay, well I have been… playing with it,”

“I beg of you to go on.”

Giggling, you felt how quickly Eddie’s body was responding to the conversation.

“I like it. I think just, like, on the outside. I… um, don’t really like how it feels inside. It’s not… soft enough.” Your cheeks were burning from having to say the words out loud, but there was an electric thrill in saying them too. It wasn’t a ruse to turn Eddie to putty, but when you said, “I think inside is just for you,” he screwed his eyes shut and bit down on his tongue so hard he almost drew blood.

Eddie gave himself a couple of seconds to breathe. “That’s… that’s good, angel. Real good… It’s… good… when you tell me shit like that.” A vocabulary of a true storyteller, yet Eddie was reduced togood.

“Maybe as a thank you for all my presents, I could… show you?”

“Yes. Fuck. I mean, if you want to. I didn’t ask to rush you or anything. But yes. If you’re ready. I’m good when you’re… good…”

You giggled again and wriggled your way from Eddie. He watched you cross the room and drop to your knees to dig through one of your drawers. Underwear, your diary, and a small velvet box Eddie had never asked about. And, the vibrator. That goddamn drawer was a daily test of Eddie’s willpower.

There was no longer hesitation or thought about undressing in front of Eddie. You just did it, then crawled to him without consideration of how your tummy would fall when you got on all fours.

Back under the covers you held the toy in your hands and looked up at Eddie. “Actually… I don’t think I’m… brave enough to show you,”

“That’s okay,” he quickly told you. “Don’t think it’s about being brave either. You’re just not really an exhibitionist… Maybe instead, if you want, we can just do what we normally do and, um, I’ll…”

“Yeah,” you said, understanding the suggestion.

“Yeah?”

“Ah-huh.”

Sometimes, you thought, Eddie had a sixth sense about what you needed and wanted. Or maybe you were just so in tune with each other that you aligned in that way. Whatever it was that made it so was directing Eddie towards tenderness. His movements were unhurried and while deliberate, had an on-brand mess to them. Wet kisses, tickling fingers making you laugh when he hadn’t intended.

As he kissed down your neck, arms, belly, you wondered if he did it – the body worship routine – because he knew it was good for you or because he was truly that obsessed with every inch of you. You let yourself win by deciding it was both, but it was firmly the latter that motivated Eddie. If he couldn’t remember the exact placement of a freckle or predict perfectly how a dress would fall across your tummy and thighs, he devoted himself to revision, re-learning the map of your body until it was as familiar and known as his own.

When you were good and melted into the bed, Eddie kissed your clit goodbye so he could sit up a little. He was going to ask if you were ready, but the hum of the vibrator did the job. Your hands gripped the sheets tighter, and Eddie watched you close your eyes and suck in your bottom lip.

On the lowest setting, the vibrator was still comically loud, but as soon as you felt the coldness of it run up your inner thigh, the noise became inconsequential. Your mouth fell open and your eyebrows pulled together.

Eddie spat down the length of the toy, letting the wet make it glide easier over you. His eyes held steadfast on your face, his gaze only flicking down every so often. When he saw the small shake of your head as the vibrator was held against your clit, he figured it was too much. Instead, Eddie roamed up and down between your folds, barely dipping the vibrator inside but enough to feel the vibrations there too.

When he felt confident enough, Eddie moved back to lay on his front between your legs. He worked in tandem with the toy, steadily building your tolerance to the point that you could have it held against you. Simultaneously, Eddie pressed his index and middle fingers into you; the gentleness was a hot contrast to the relentlessness of the vibrator. Your breathing was erratic and you were whining out all Eddie’s favourite sounds. Whenever he caught his name slip out, small and breathy, he couldn’t help but grin.

Trying to warn him of your impending orgasm, you held a hand up awkwardly, much to Eddie’s amusement.

“S’okay,” he whispered. “I got you.”

The talking…Fuck.

Normally he would talk more because you loved it so much, but the presence of the vibrator had distracted you both.

“Doing so good,’ Eddie said, his own voice reminding him that it existed.

The sappy encouragements and sweet nothings tipped you over the edge. Although entirely real and entirely shattering, your orgasm had been pulled from you quicker and harder than you were used to. Physically blindsided, your chest heaved and toes curled to the cusp of pain.

Eddie licked clean one of, if not his absolute, favourite parts of you – the jelly satin softness of the top inner thigh. He swiftly dropped the vibrator off the bed, gently pushed your legs comfortably together, and came to be at your side.

“Baby,” he near-cooed, brushing hair from your face and wiping the corners of your mouth dry. After giving you a moment of recovery, he frowned at your closed eyes. “Are you okay? What do you need?” he asked, concerned.

Brain still mushy, you couldn’t reply. You thought you nodded, but the movement was little more than a twitch. More than okay, just overwhelmed, you were basking in that little lovely limbo post-orgasm.

Eddie pressed his forehead to your cheek like a cat asking for pats.

“M’good,” you managed to mumble.

Eddie’s head shot up, expecting to see your eyes open. Instead, a tear had formed and had begun its trip down your face. Part instinctive and party ploy to bring you back down quicker, Eddie licked your face, taking the salt tear with him. When you squealed and laughed, he was happy.

“You okay?” he asked again now that you were starting to sit up and look around for some clothes. Eddie, awkward and dramatic, rolled off the bed to collect your pyjamas, throwing them to you.

“Thanks,” you said, pulling the shirt over your head. He put his own sweatpants on and looked at you expectantly. “Oh. Yeah,” you told him. “Sorry,”

“No! No, don’t say sorry. I just… just was checking that, uh, guess that it wasn’t too much?”

“It wasn’t,” you confirmed.

“No?”

“No. It was good. Really good,”

“Yeah? ‘Kay. Good.”

You loved when Eddie got a little bashful, all cute as he climbed in and snuggled into your lap, your thighs plush pillows for his head. After sex, it was either that version of him or the smug one with the stupid grin. The mood was usually dictated by how vulnerable Eddie felt. Trying new things, even when successful, always made him feel like that – exposed and hyperaware of how you felt and the experience you were having.

“You’ll tell me when you wanna try the kitten stuff?” Eddie asked, assuming you’d want the same process - time to play alone.

“No… I think I want you to… do all that… for me,” you said, longer pauses between words than normal. Moments of thoughts and decision-making.

Eddie’s mind went radio silent. He pictured locking you into the lacey cuffs… the tail… he couldn’t… words…

“Eddie?”

“Sorry! Yes. Yes, good. Yep. I can… I can do… that… Sorry. I was, like, picturing… it.”

The tone of his voice made you laugh. “Areyouokay?”

“Totally,” he answered, stretching the word out, making you smile and shake your head. “All good if you change your mind,”

“I won’t… Sometimes it’s easier to just, like, let you do it all. Not like, in a bad way. I mean…” It was hard to put into words. You didn’t mean you wanted to lay flat and not be an active participant. You meant… “I like it when you’re in control. ‘Cause it’s like you know what to do with me, even when I don’t… Sometimesespeciallywhen I don’t. I trust you. You just… Yeah, know what to do. To make it good.”

It wasn’t a big deal for you to say any of it. It was simply the truth. Yet, for Eddie, it felt like something big. He didn’t want to make you feel weird though, so he tried to stay cool.

“I’d say you’re doing a pretty fan-fucking-tastic job at knowing what to do,”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean,”

“Yeah. I get you.”

Carding your fingers through his hair, detangling the odd knot when you came across it, you felt peaceful. “I love you,” you said, the words falling out your mouth naturally, unconsciously.

“Love you too, angel,” and he started to hum a tune you didn’t recognise. His fingers danced across your legs matching the melody.

There was no competition, it was the best birthday you’d ever had. Nineteen, in love, and only dreaming of another life in another city when you smoked before bed, an easy fix to a much bigger problem.

Next Chapter: Christmas

End Note: I didn't get a lot of traction or feedback on the last chapter, but I also don't think it was my best work. I'd really appreciate a little love on this one, just to keep me motivated. I've got ideas for other stories but I want this story to finish strong.

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @eddieswifu @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 @briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong @rainylana @thescarletangelsstuff @mrsdollardog @tayhar811 @chickennug90 @b-irock @nana90azevedo @eddiemunson95

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson Reader Insert #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You

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