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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

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Old Friends

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Maverick's Daughter!Reader, f!reader

Word Count: 2309

TW: Fluff, Kissing, Angst, Explicit Language

Note: This story takes place BEFORE Top Gun: Maverick but DOES contain spoilers for the movie

Top Gun Masterlist

As you stand outside the front doors of the main building, you struggle to remain professional and contain a squeal of excitement. Your whole life has been leading to this moment and once you walk through these doors, your dreams will finally become reality. Despite the double-edged sword that came with being Pete “Maverick” Mitchell’s daughter, you had made a name for yourself independent of your father’s reputation and earned your spot here same as everyone else. One of the elite few admitted to Top Gun.

Taking one more deep breath, you throw open the doors and hurry down the hall which is currently crowded with cadets, instructors, and other Navy personnel. While you recognize many of the instructors as friends or colleagues of your dad’s, you don’t seem to know any of the students outside of passing acquaintances. You roll your eyes when you notice Jake “Hangman” Seresin in the corner with a few other cadets who look vaguely familiar. Hangman only stood out because he had relentlessly hit on you at one of the awards ceremonies you had gone to with your dad. The night ended with your drink in his face and if he didn’t watch himself now, you’d resort to a much harsher deterrent.

You are so focused on your thoughts of Hangman that you don’t even notice the man walking directly towards you until the two of you almost collide. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed you either because as you both made eye contact, the same look of surprise is mirrored on each other’s faces. Standing before you is a man you haven’t seen for years but had once been as close as family. Your best friend, your first (unrequited) love, Bradley Bradshaw.

But before you can say anything, he mutters, “Ah hell no.” before whirling around and storming down the hall in the opposite direction.

You hurry after him. “Wait! Please! I didn’t know you’d be here. Bradley, wait! I swear, I didn’t know!”

He comes to an abrupt stop and whirls around to face you, anger and betrayal burning in his eyes. “If you did, would it have made a difference? Would you not have come?”

You looked at the floor as you softly shook your head. “No, of course not. You know this is my dream just as much as it is yours.”

“Yeah, but no one stole your dream right from under your nose and left you to fight tooth and nail just to get back to the same position you were four years before!” he spits the words at you, and you can’t help but flinch.

Softly, you whisper, “I told you back then, I didn’t know what my dad was going to do. If I had, I would’ve tried everything I could to stop him from pulling your application to the Naval Academy. You were my best friend in the whole world. Do you really think I would have just stood by and let him do that if I had known?”

“He was the closest thing I had to a father after my dad died and he betrayed me. Why shouldn’t I think you would do the same? You’re just like him.” He starts off down the hall once more, but you quickly follow.

“Just because I refused to cut him out of my life like you did doesn’t mean I agreed with him. But, come on… He’s my dad. What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to have my back. If you couldn’t back then, how am I supposed to trust you to have it now in the air?”

You stop as he keeps walking, your jaw falling open at his accusation. Up until now, you had been feeling regret, sorrow, and a little shame. But all of those emotions quickly turn to rage as you scream, “Fuck you!”

The busy hall instantly goes silent as every person turns to face you but you don’t care. Marching up to a surprised Bradley Bradshaw, you jam your finger in his face. “I know what my dad did was horrible. I know you have every right to be furious with him. And fine, you can even be mad at me for not siding with you over it. But don’t you dare insult my skills or abilities as a pilot or as a wingman. You aren’t the only one who had to fight with everything they had to be here. Do you think it’s easy being the daughter of Maverick? One of the most accomplished, yet most written up pilots in the last thirty years? Everyone always expects me to be him, the recklessness, the arrogance, the total disregard for the rules. And I have worked so fucking hard to show people that I am my own person, my own pilot, and that I deserve to be here. So don’t you dare try to tarnish my reputation just because we have a troubled history.”

You storm past him, ramming your shoulder into his as you do. You feel his hand reaching for yours, but you yank it from his grasp and continue down the hall and out the door.

Later that night, you stand leaning heavily against the railing of the deck of the bar, a beer bottle quickly warming in your hand as you stare out into the waves in front of you. This was not how you pictured the happiest day of your life going. Being a Top Gun pilot was all you ever wanted. The chance to follow in your dad’s footsteps. Yet after your confrontation with Bradley, everything felt spoiled.

You had often wondered what you would do if you ever came face-to-face with your ex-best friend again, but things had gone worse than expected. Not only did you announce to a whole hallway of other pilots that there was friction between the two of you, but you had revealed who your dad was, something you had planned on keeping a secret for as long as possible.

While most of the higher-ranking officers or people who had served with him for years knew about Maverick’s one-night stand that resulted in an illegitimate daughter a few years before he first attended Top Gun, you always tried to keep your identity a secret from the pilots around your age. People had very different and polarizing ideas about your dad, and it was better to just not clue them into the situation until it was necessary. Which was why you went by your mother’s maiden name despite the fact your father had raised you practically on his own since you were 5. Yet now, everyone would know. Already you heard the whispers in the hall, felt the eyes on you, and knew they were making judgements. All before the first one of them saw you in the air. Just great.

You feel someone walk up next to you and lean on the railing. You don’t even have to glance over to know who it is. The two of you stand in silence for a moment, just watching the waves ebb and flow before you.

Finally, Bradley sighs and says, “I’m sorry. You were right. I should’ve never brought your flying into it. I was just stunned to see you and it threw me for a minute. But from everything I’ve heard, no one should ever question your skills in the sky or for watching out for your fellow pilots. You do deserve to be here. And not because of him, but in spite of him.”

“Thank you. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.” You sigh softly, “But you know, we’re going to have to work this out somehow. Like it or not, we’re both going to be here for the next few months and there will be times we have to work as a team. Can you handle that?”

“Can you?”

“I never wanted things to change between us. You were my best friend, a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and it broke my heart that you just wrote me off like that. But I get why you felt you had to. So, I don’t want to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with, but I would love to see if maybe, someday, we could try to get back to something close to what we had. Because I miss my best friend, and I would like to have him back in my life, even if it’s just in some small way.”

He looks out towards the water for a long time before finally saying, “What your father did, it wasn’t your fault. I know that. I was just hurt and then I was embarrassed, and I didn’t know how to reach back out to you. And then today…. I didn’t know how to deal with seeing you again. But I’ve missed you too. And while I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive your father for what he did, I’d like to try and get back to us being friends.”

You both stand in a comfortable silence for a minute before you playfully nudge his shoulder with yours. “By the way, the mustache is new.”

He ducks his head as he runs a finger over it. “Yeah, well, new good, or new bad?”

“New good. It suits you,” you say with a small nod. Then in a softer voice, you say, “You look just like your dad.” He swallows hard as he nods and you see his jaw tense, his gaze seemingly a million miles away. Softly, you reach up and turn his face towards you. “Hey, he would be proud of you. So would your mom.”

He nodded again but you could see tears starting to form in his eyes. “I’m trying, I’m trying so hard but-” He cuts himself off as he hangs his head.

“Bradley, look at me. Look. At. Me.” Reluctantly, he raises his head. “You made it to Top Gun despite the setbacks and challenges you faced. This is the best of the best. The top 1% of all naval aviators. And you’re one of them. You did it. There’s nothing left you need to prove, to anybody. Not the ghosts of your parents. Not even to my dad.”

He stares deeply into your eyes for a moment before sliding his hand across the railing to rest on top of yours. “What about proving myself to you?”

You rotate your hand so it is now holding his in return and you give it a tight squeeze. “You’ve never had to prove anything to me. I’ve always known who you are, what you’re capable of. I’m just glad it seems you’re finally seeing that for yourself.”

He turns to face you head on and steps closer, his chest barely brushing against your arm. You gaze up into his brown eyes which once seemed as familiar as your own, but now hold a sadness and wariness that hadn’t been there before. He reaches up and softly strokes his thumb across your cheek, causing your eyes to flutter closed and your breath catch in your throat. This was not friendship; this was something else. Something you had only fantasized of with him, but now seemed as if it was about to be in your grasp.

Yet, as he leans towards you, you place a hand on his chest, causing him to pause. “Bradley, I’ve known you since the day I was born. And you never once showed this kind of interest in me, even when I was throwing myself at you when we were teenagers. So, before anything happens, I need to know…. Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father?”

He pauses for a second, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “If I said it was about your father….. would that matter?”

Without hesitation, you answer, “No, but it would be nice to know where I stand.”

He smiles as he closes the distance between you and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and tender and a bit hesitant, but it was something you had dreamt of for almost as long as you dreamt of being a pilot. Bradley had been your first crush and while others came soon after, you had always kept an ember burning for him in the deepest reaches of your heart. And as he continued to kiss you, pulling you in closer as he cupped the side of your face, you feel that ember start to grow until it is soon a raging fire of desire. And when he finally pulls away, your soul aches at the loss.

Softly, you whisper, “Huh, I’d always wondered what that’d be like. And I have to say, it didn’t disappoint.”

“I’m glad,” he says as his eyes roam across your face, your lips. “And just so you know, it doesn’t have anything to do with him. Since I left, there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought about you. And as time went on, I realized that I missed you more than just as a friend. That I should have made a move a lot sooner. And after the way I acted today, I was afraid I drove you away for good.”

You lean into his hand which still rests on your cheek. “You could never drive me away. No matter what happens between us, I’ll always be here for you. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

He smiles as he closes in once more, nudging your nose with his and causing his mustache to tickle your lip. “Well, tonight I plan on taking you every way I can.” And with all the passion and heat that was lacking in the first kiss, he captures your lips once more.

#sfw repost #fic #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #f!reader #miles teller #top gun maverick spoilers #fluff #angst

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theepisceswriter · 9 months

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WELCOME TO CLUB RENAISSANCE !

(Aka Stallion's return event)

ＣＵＮＴＴＯＴＨＥＦＥＭＩＮＩＥＷＨＡＴ，ＰＯＷ！

OMGGGG, lovies I am SAUR excited to be back and share my creativity and world with you all and build off of the equally amazing ideas you have as supporters of my work. As an artist, having the inspiration and drive to write after not having ANY for so long means the world to me! So come help me spew out more content for yall!! And what better way to do it than a Beyonce themed event?

MASTERLIST (TBA once requests start rolling in)

HOW THIS EVENT WILL WORK

♡ Underneath the readmore tag there is an assortment of characters, tropes/situations (both sfw and nsfw), and even reader specifics to choose from annnnddd even wildcard options for you if there's anything I left out!

♡ You’ll choose a Drink (character), Beyonce Song (situations/tropes), and your favorite Yonce (reader specific).

♡ The characters listed are not the only ones available, all characters from the fandoms I have listed on my page are available! The ones listed are just the ones I get requests for the most or ones I’ve been having brainrots for lately

♡ You can send in all sorts of combinations and be as vague or descriptive as you want to be. You can list multiple characters, multiple situations, etc, etc.

♡ For example: "Can I have a Long Island Iced tea, Cuff It & Energy, with Femyonce?", "Can I request Zeke Jaeger with the fwb trope and nb!Reader?" and even, "Can I have One night stand trope with Gojo after he comes home after being locked away for so long?" Whatever you want baby I got you!

♡ Enjoy grandma's babies !!!

♡ CMON AND GRAB YOU A DRINK BABY ! (Characters) ♡

Long Island: Reiner Braun

Margarita: Toji Fushiguro

Martini: Gojo Satoru

Old Fashion: Nanami Kento

Mimosa: Jotaro Kujo

Cosmopolitan: Dio Brando

Bloody Mary: Geto Suguru

Whiskey Sour: Jean Kirchstein

White Russain: Eren Jaeger

Daiquiri: Zeke Jaeger

Negroni: Gutts

Gin Fizz: Shigure Sohma

Manhattan: Levi Ackerman

Mojito: Erwin Smith

Lemon Drop: Shuu Tsukiyama

Sangria: Benimaru

Screwdriver: Leonard Burns

Mai Tai: Character of your choice!

♡ CHOOSE A JAM TO BOOGIE TO! (Scenarios/Tropes)♡

♡ CENSORED (SFW) ♡

ALL UP IN YOUR MIND: Yandere

KITTY KAT: Sidechick-type beat

NO ANGEL: Troubled!Reader

PRAY YOU CATCH ME: Cheating

JEALOUS: Jealousy

ALL NIGHT: Domestic themes (marriage, children, etc)

SORRY: Reconciling

ON THE RUN: Criminal!Reader x Criminal!Character

HEAVEN: Death

LOVE ON TOP: Fluff

MINES: Any trope to lovers

BEST THING I NEVER HAD: AU (coffee shop, modern, organized crime, etc, etc)

LOVE DROUGHT: Angst

HELLO: First date

BREAK MY SOUL: wildcard! A theme you think of that might not be listed

♡ UNCENSORED (NSFW) ♡

COZY: Cockwarming

ALIEN SUPERSTAR: Monsterfucking

CUFF IT: Overstimulation

CHURCH GIRL: Religion kink

PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA: Aftercare (can be sfw)

VIRGOS GROOVE: Friends with benefits

MOVE: Dominatrix

THIIQUE: Body worship (can be sfw)

PURE/HONEY: Onlyfans!Reader

SUMMER RENAISSANCE: One-Night Stand

VIDEO PHONE: Phone sex

IF I WERE A BOY: Pegging

6-INCH: Sex worker!Reader

SANDCASTLES: Hate sex

UPGRADE U: Sugar Daddy/Mommy

HAUNTED: BDSM

BLOW: Oral fixation

PARTITION: Car sex

DANCE FOR YOU: Striptease

ENERGY: Mutual masturbation

ROCKET: wildcard! A theme you think of that might not be listed

♡ CHOOSE YOUR FAVORITE YONCE ! ♡

Femyonce: F!Reader

Thugga Bey: M!Reader

Themyonce: Nb!Reader

Diversce (I thought of this one real hard): POC!Reader (you specify)

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mymainwastoocluttered · 3 months

Note

In case you haven't seen the new pinochio event yet: Spoilers!

The other day, I was thinking about how scared I was for the boys, knowing that the more time they spend in this place, something bad will eventually happen.

Then I thought about what it felt like playing through the MC's pov. Yuu is perfectly fine going to this place. Where anyone else who has seen pinnochio would be dragging their friends out of there like that shit's on fire. You've said in the past how Yuu's words don't make any impact. Yuu themselves probably know this. So that's why they don't tell anyone. Because who would believe them anyway? It's not like these boys are going to run away from the prospect of free food and fun just because this place reminds their little friend of somewhere scary where they're from. Even more so when said friend says that the story they all know played out very differently. They won't believe Yuu's version of pinnochio because it's 12 against 1. And Yuu can't leave either, because of Grim. They can't leave without him because they'll probably never come back, and Yuu needs Grim to make up their full student to stay at NRC. So they're playing along under the hopes of gaslighting themselves that this place is indeed harmless and that they don't need to worry. And if they do find trouble, they can just bash the bad guy over the head with a piece of something nearby.

But the gaslighting will still fail at some point. If there was indeed a self-aware Yuu, somewhere in between the story parts, Yuu will have to part from the others because they are on the ropes of a panic attack. And there will be no one to help them through it because they won't be able to tell anyone.

The fact you said "Pinocchio event" and I immediately knew shit was about to go down–

Honestly, Yuu having panic attacks because they're the only one who knows that shit could go very wrong is my fuckin JAM. Specially in Pleasure Island, that place terrorizes me (any sort of place that goes "no rules, no laws" does that to me, honestly, which is why I don't watch The Purge)

Them trying to convince themselves that their Disney knowledge doesn't matter in Twisted Wonderland because the stories are different in this world, but, also, said stories are so vaguely retold that there's a chance that they are the same but got changed as time went on, is such a cool idea! The sheer angst, the helplessness, my heart clenches just thinking about that scene.

I'd be so scared too.

#i can't wait for his event to be available in the en server #twisted wonderland #answering answering #spoiler alert #spoiler warning #twisted wonderland spoilers

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harringtown · 2 years

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at night when light is fading

this fic does not recognize canon and lives firmly by a ‘everyone survived s4′ mindset. no angst here we’re about pure fluff.

requested by @witch-without-a-social-life

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: au based on fair by the amazing devil (aka Eddie falls in love thats it thats the fic)

warnings: cursing, some throwing up/flu stuff

Eddie Munson didn’t believe in love until he was nineteen years old. In his defense, and he saw it as a strong one, he hadn’t ever been given a reason to. He wasn’t raised by stories of people in love. In his case, people did more leaving than they did loving.

It wasn’t until he was standing at the front of Mr. Jenning’s senior English class, for the third year in a row, being forced through yet another monologue solely intended to humiliate students, that Eddie got his first glimpse of it.

He didn’t catch the entire insult, predictably launched by a letterman-wearing blonde in the center of the room, but he didn’t need to. This wasn’t his first round in the ring. He knew how to let the words roll off his skin like drops of water.

It only caught his attention because of what came next. A voice he didn’t recognize attached to a face that was only vaguely familiar. A new student, maybe, that he’d seen in another class.

The low curse of, “Asshole,” came in the second between the other students' laughs, clearly not meant to be heard. The laughter fizzled into a thick silence. Eddie was loath to admit it, but he was momentarily grateful someone had been foolish enough to draw the fire.

“What did you just call me?” The boy’s name was Brad or Chad or something similarly irrelevant, and the cruelty in his voice was a clear warning.

But the warning went ignored. Instead, the same voice, a little louder, called, “I said, asshole.”

The characteristic and predictable chorus of ooohs rolled through the room, and poor Mr. Jenning’s slightly-panicked voice, “Now, hey, hey—” did nothing to curb the wave.

“New girl has a thing for the freak, yeah?” piped another jersey-laden boy from the center of the room.

In the last row, in the left corner, you pushed to your feet, and Eddie saw you—really saw you—for the first time. Nostrils flared and chin high, not an ounce of fear in you, you fixed your attention on today’s class clown.

“Actually, I just have a strong aversion to attention-obsessed jackasses who get off on disrupting valuable learning time,” you said, cutting your eyes to Mr. Jennings and giving an exaggerated smile of apology.

Eddie spent the rest of class building up the courage to talk to you. He ended up chickening out, exiting the empty classroom just as the warning bell rang for the next period.

The hallway was mostly deserted, save for a few stragglers. And you, standing a few lockers down from the door, staring at a wrinkled school map like you wanted to set it on fire.

“Someone’s getting detention,” Eddie sang as he approached you.

You tensed briefly, relaxing when you lifted your head and caught his gaze. Interesting.

“Am not,” you said. “The bell hasn’t rung yet.”

As cued, the late bell chimed through the halls. You cursed beneath your breath.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said, sidling up to the lockers beside you, folding his arms and pressing a hip into the metal. He jerked a chin down the hall. “Miss Betty, hall monitor extraordinaire, is nothing if not consistent. She won’t hit this hallway for another thirty seconds.”

One side of your mouth lifted. “That’s a relief.”

“Where are you headed?” Eddie asked.

You huffed and crumbled the school map into a ball, jamming it into your pockets. With a wry smile, you said, “Ms. Frederickson’s for history. Two weeks, and I still get lost on my way every single day.”

Eddie nodded, jamming his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels.

“If you need a guide dog, I’m all yours.”

“You’re not worried about detention?”

Eddie snorted. “Do I seem like the kind of person who’s worried about getting detention?” and you laughed.

“Don’t worry about me. If we get caught, I will throw you under the bus without hesitation. If it means that much to you,” he said with a wink.

You laughed again, reaching out to shove him, but it was gentle, and that sound, and your fleeting touch, were like some new drug Eddie had never tried.

One taste, and he was hooked.

Eddie always thought life happened in the big moments—birthdays and funerals and concerts. And then, he met you, and found it in the tiniest, smallest seconds.

The night was cool, the breeze carrying through the open car windows. You hummed along to the music spewing through the speakers, and Eddie decided any song you were harmonizing with was his favorite.

It was a cheesy, ridiculous thought. Being around you filled Eddie to the brim with cheesy and ridiculous thoughts. The more time you spent together, the more likely Eddie would slip up and open his mouth. Ruin this precious, fragile thing he stumbled into.

In the fifteen minutes since he pulled up to your curb, you’d made no effort to get out of the car and go inside your house.

Instead, you just sat with your head tipped back and your eyes shut, humming along to the music. And all Eddie could do was look at you, like a creep. He didn’t think he'd ever seen something so beautiful. You, in the passenger seat of his car, humming a song.

“I can feel your eyes, Munson,” you murmured in the silence between tracks.

Eddie averted his gaze.

In his peripheral vision, your chin dropped and your head turned his way. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

He caught your eyes again and prayed the darkness of the cloudy night hid his blush.

“I like the way you look at me,” you said. Your mouth twitched. “Is that weird?”

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek and willed himself not to say something stupid. The bravado he wore like a coat of armor kept slipping through his fingers.

“And how is it that I look at you?” he asked.

A crease formed momentarily between your brows. You undid your seatbelt and slid across the bench seat, drawing a leg up. Your knee pressed into Eddie’s thigh, and it took everything in him not to gasp like some fainting heroine.

You reached up to catch one of his curls and wound it a few times around a finger.

“You look at me like you never want to stop,” you said.

He wanted to say something witty, or maybe romantic, but in the end, what left his lips was, “I don’t.”

You just smiled and gave his hair a little tug, drawing him toward you. He wasn’t sure who kissed who, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because your hands were threaded through his hair and your lips tasted like the cheap Icee’s you’d shared and everywhere you touched lit a fire up his skin.

And love settled in the hollow of his chest.

“You really—” Eddie dry heaved, lunging for the plastic bucket he’d dug from under the kitchen sink. “—don’t need to be here for this.” The breeze through the window carried a constant warm wind across his sweaty skin, but he couldn’t seem to shake the cold or stop the shivering.

You perched on the bed beside him, drawing the damp strands off his neck and gathering his hair into a ponytail.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Munson,” you hummed, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead. Despite walking in on him passed out on the bathroom floor, drenched in sweat, with what he’s sure was vomit on his chin, you hadn’t faltered once. Hadn’t seemed affected by the nasty, burdensome, exhausting flu-ridden Eddie you stuck into a shower and coaxed back into bed.

“I—” He started a sentence, but nausea rolled through him again, and his words died in the bucket.

Your fingers traced slowly up and down his back.

“It’s alright,” and “I’ve got you,” you said, over and over. For most of his life, Eddie made a point of being as little a bother as he could. He learned to make as little a dent everywhere he went as possible. But for the first time, he let himself be taken care of, and he didn’t hate it.

When he’d retched himself sore, you took him by the shoulders and guided him back, positioning yourself against the headboard and pulling Eddie down against you.

“I’m just going to get you sick,” Eddie grumbled once he regained the ability to speak. “Or, worse, kill any sexual interest you might have in me one gag at a time.”

“You saying the word sexual interest is killing my sexual interest,” you said.

Eddie snorted a laugh.

“And if you recall, you vomited on my sneakers about forty minutes ago,” you said. “So if there was a line for that, we’d be well past it by now.”

“And?” he arches a brow, lifting his arms weakly and giving them a shake. “What’s the verdict?”

You smiled, bending down to press a kiss to his damp forehead.

“Stop talking before you puke again,” you whispered, hovering above him. Even upside down, you were ridiculously beautiful.

The words Eddie had been holding back for three months lined up behind his teeth. He let his eyes fall shut, and said, “It isn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“How much I fucking love you,” he said. He kept his eyes shut, like it’d soften the blow of his words.

Silence hung in the air for a long moment, so long Eddie got nauseous again, but for a different reason.

And then, cool fingers settled on his cheeks, and he opened his eyes to find you grinning down at him.

“I fucking love you, too,” you said, and Eddie thought he might combust right there.

“You’re hogging the mattress,” you grumbled, elbowing Eddie lightly. Both precariously perched on the mattress Eddie dragged up onto the roof of his van, bundled up in blankets, it was not the most comfortable position, but Eddie would be damned if it changed.

“Guess you’ll just have to get closer, then,” Eddie said, looping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer, half on his lap. You laughed, hands landing on his shoulders. It was still his favorite sound after six months, and he never tired of hearing it.

According to the clock on the van’s dashboard, the meteor shower would be starting any minute. If Eddie was being honest, though, he didn’t give a shit about the meteor shower. He was content to sit here with you and stare at an empty sky until the sun swallowed the earth.

“Are you sure you got the date right?” you murmured, winding your arms around his neck and leaning into him, craning your head back.

Eddie scoffed and grinned. “No, I just dragged both our asses out into the cold on a guess.”

You rolled your eyes. Your lips parted, but whatever witty remark you had loaded died on your tongue. You stilled, fingers curling around his jacket.

“Oh, shit,” you said, voice low. Your gaze dropped to Eddie’s. “Look.” Your eyes drifted back up, and Eddie followed your line of sight.

At first, he didn’t see them. And then, one, two, three, a dozen, a hundred sparks of light falling toward the earth. The light danced past the fixed stars and faded into the blackness.

You caught Eddie’s gaze, and meteors flashed in your irises. A wide smile played on your lips. He waited for you to look away, to look back up, but you kept watching him.

“You’re missing your shower,” Eddie said, cocking a brow.

Your smile shifted, turned softer, and your hands moved up to his cheeks.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” you said, and your voice was so low, Eddie could barely hear. But he did hear.

He smiled and bent forward, tipping his forehead against yours.

“Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”

And he kissed you as the sky fell around you.

The moment Steve slowed his car at the edge of the police barricade surrounding the trailer park, you threw open the door and bolted. Steve’s protests rose behind you, culled by Nancy’s insistence that he couldn’t stop you. As you ducked under the caution tape, shoving around a deputy who made the mistake of looking away, you heard footsteps pound behind you.

You weren’t the only one with someone coming out of that gate. After a second, Steve caught up to you.

You saw Dustin first, his clothes soiled and his face covered in muck. He limped out of the trailer, wincing with each step, and stumbled down the porch and into the grass.

“Henderson,” Steve exclaimed, letting out a curse and a relieved sigh. He jogged for Dustin and caught the teen in a hug, gripping him tightly.

You couldn’t tear your eyes off the door. The empty door. The one Eddie hadn’t yet walked out of.

You’d known there was risk. And every single one of you agreed to it when you agreed to this plan. But you’d never truly expected Eddie to—

“Jesus H Christ, Henderson, do I need a beer—” A familiar voice said, stepping through the doorway and out onto the porch. He was covered in black and red blood, and his clothes were half ripped to shreds, and he was favoring his sides, but he was alive.

“Edward Francis Munson,” you called.

“Oh, he just got hit with the full name,” Dustin said, looking at Steve.

Steve cocked a brow at Eddie. “Your middle name is Francis? Damn, man.”

But Eddie only had eyes for you. He made his way off the porch and across the grass to stop a foot away from you. His eyes flicked around your face, searching.

“You’re late,” you said. “You never made it to the rendezvous.”

“We got a little held up,” he said, one side of his mouth twitching up.

“Yeah, we heard.” You could still hear it, the faint music, the knowledge that it meant Eddie was drawing the fire. And the fear, the one that took hold inside you and hadn’t let go until now. “I’m guessing you had a good turnout?”

“Record setting crowds,” he said. His hands drifted over his shredded shirt and jacket. “I told you it was gonna be my year.”

You laughed, but it split into a sob halfway. Just as your knees buckled, Eddie reached out to catch you, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, voice muffled by your hair. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

You pulled back to look at him, vision blurry with tears.

“I thought I lost you,” you said.

Eddie shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, sweetheart.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a guarantee,” he said.

You didn’t know what came next, or how the hell any of you were going to deal with it, but you believed Eddie. Believed in him. And he believed in you.

That was enough.

taglist: @milkiane

#brooke writes fic #eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #x reader

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strawberryfairi · 4 months

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Synopsis✨: The story of how you catch heavy feelings for the hot photography student, Shuji Hanma…even though you already have the perfect (fake) boyfriend.

Pairings: Photography Student! Shuji Hanma X Dance Major! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Drama, angst, sneaking link, lots of cheating, some dark moments, unserious Shuji, controlling parents, forced relationships, romance, fighting, porn with a good plot vibes, intense sexual tension, etc (just find out the rest lol)

w.c: 4.4k💠 Released: Jan 5, 2024

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2; NO FILTER 无滤镜

By the time you made it to the party, it had already been going on for an hour and a half. You were so over it at this point. You'd forgotten to even change out of your outfit when you got to the dorm so you're standing out front of this party in straight up sweatpants over your dance costume and basic all white air forces. At least you were serving face with your makeup look.

The music is blasting, and there's folks all over both outside and inside. The frat house is huge, a popular spot seeing as the parties here are always the best...and the wildest. There's always plenty of juicy stories after a night at the frat house.

When you walk inside you immediately start looking around for familiar faces. It was jam packed, making you slightly scrunch your face as you weave through the multitude of people. You searched around the first floor, looking through the dance floor in the living room, the halls where mostly people were kissing or whatever, then you finally find Ken in the kitchen area.

You abruptly stop, just as you were about to call out to him, noticing him and a few other guys from the team all being crowded around by a bunch of girls. Mostly cheerleader girls and their groupie friends to be exact.

Ken had one hand leaning on the counter next to some girl, basically caging her in as the other hand poured some Vodka into her mouth, cheering her on along with everyone else. Your heart dropped, face heating up rapidly as a mix of confusion, anger, and embarrassment seeped through you. What the hell was going on here?!

It also doesn't go unnoticed that some of the other guys on the team definitely have their arms around the waists of girls that were not their girlfriends.

Then after she finishes downing what he poured, she leans her head back upright, then randomly pulls him into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. You gasp eyes going wide. You're only frozen for a few seconds before you storm fully into the kitchen. In your opinion it took Ken a little too long to finally come to his senses, pulling away from the kiss with his eyes widened in shock just as he sees you coming over angrily.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" You yell, pushing past everyone to stand directly in front of the two.

"Oh shit..." He mumbles under his breath.

"Hello?! Why's it quiet now?! I just asked you a question!" You outburst, snapping your fingers in front of their faces. This girl was vaguely familiar to you, but your mind was really in no condition to try and figure out where right now. She was a brunette, long haired girl with a butterfly tattoo sat right between her breasts. Of course she wore the perfect top to show it off.

"You didn't answer any of my texts. I thought you weren't even here." He says randomly. What the hell does that have to do with a whole other ass chick's lips on him?!

"I was still at the stadium before you left me. Why didn't you wait for me like you said?" You grit out.

Awkwardly, the girl slips her way passed the two of you, going over to where everyone else had also awkwardly migrated to. "The guys were rushing me, I didn't wanna hold them up-

"So you leave your girlfriend instead?! I had to walk all the way back to the dorms then Uber here, Ken! You were supposed to be my ride!" You rant.

"Hey hey, lower your damn voice." He narrows his eyes, tone actually having the audacity to be stern.

"Who-I know you ain't talkin' to me like I'm some child! Lower my voice?!" You scrunch your face up, only becoming angrier by the second.

"First of all, you left me when you said you were gonna wait, then I finally get here and I catch your sorry ass with some other girl all over you?! Kissing you?! Who the fuck even are you?! What happened in the last hour I've been away?! Like, what did I miss; enlighten me please!" You rant, throwing your hands up in frustration. At this point there was a good chunk of people just watching what was going on, whispers and murmurs started sparking up in the vicinity.

Ken clenches his jaw in annoyance, pissing you off yet again.

"I'm sorry, alright?! I'm a little crossed right now, and I didn't expect her to do something like that." He argues.

"Ohhhh ok, right right. So, we're just a little crossed and didn't expect her to do that. My thing is, why was she even that close to you in the first place? What are you pouring Vodka into her mouth for?" Your tone is blade sharp as you throw question after question his way.

You weren't necessarily yelling anymore but you were clearly seeing red. You swear Ken must've lost his mind in the last hour, because this is so unlike him. It's like he's completely forgotten who both of your parents were, like he forgot if they find out about something like this both of your careers could be over before they even start.

"Babe, babe, I apologized already. What else do you want me to do?! I didn't know she was gonna kiss me!" He argues, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

"How 'bout not put yourself in a position to even have something like that happen! This don't even make no sense, Ken! You just straight up let her kiss you, like, I watched you hesitate! Had I not come over here would you have even stopped?!" Your eyes start to well up with tears, voice shaking slightly as you try to maintain your angry demeanor.

You hated that he wasn't even trying to comfort or reassure you or anything. He has the nerve to just try to brush it under the rug like it wasn't that big of a deal. You knew for a full fact had this been the other way around he'd probably have caused the loudest riot, and your parents would for sure find out.

He doesn't say a word, just watches you as you try to keep your composure together. No 'let me fix this, babe', no nothing. Sure the two of you are a fake couple with no real feelings of love towards each other, but he could at least act like he cares that you're upset. You sure would. Then to make matters worse, if rumors about this starts to spread, your mom will definitely hear about it.

"Tch." You push passed him and quickly head out of the kitchen, avoiding looking at everyone staring as you storm out.

Embarrassed couldn't even begin to cover how you felt right now. You couldn't believe he disrespected you and the relationship like this, and then went as far as to give that half-assed apology as if that was acceptable! He could've at least tried to come after you when you walked out of the kitchen! You sniffle, trying to calm yourself down as you figure out somewhere fairly secluded to go.

You're back in the living room dance floor area now, the most crowded part of the whole house. You've been to enough parties here to know all of the avoid spots. The living room: where everyone comes to dance as the DJ set is there, the basement: x activities that shall not be named, the balcony upstairs: all the potheads love it there, the bathrooms: illegal drugs...that's all that needs to be said, and the bedroom: other x activities that shall not be named. Even though that seemed like the entire house, there were a few spots left you could go.

Weaving through the multitude of people, you stay close to the wall, heading through the living room and straight out of the sliding glass door. This frat house, as stated before, is very huge, big enough to have a large pool area outside that you can get to from the living room's sliding glass door.

You quickly speed walk to the poolside area, then plop yourself down on one of the pool chairs just as the tears started flowing down your cheeks.

You had fought so hard to keep your makeup looking nice, trying not to cry, but it just seemed like tears were inevitable tonight. Using the sleeve of your costume you gently dab your face, not wanting anything to smear so you don't end up giving the Joker from Batman.

You take a deep breath, exhaling through your nose as you lay back against the pool chair, looking up at the stars somberly. What has this night come to? Everything was so great, then it just...wasn't. Maybe losing your moms gift to you was a sign, 'cause right after that things took a hard left turn.

You felt like you only had a brief moment to even take in your huge accomplishment, now it's like you didn't even do it. This was supposed to be your celebration, your big night with Ken.

We'll see each other tonight, baby. We'll have the whole night actually....

"Liar..." You whisper to yourself bitterly, closing your eyes as you let out an exasperated sigh, feeling completely drained of energy at this point. Oddly enough the sound of the muffled music coming from inside was starting to become almost soothing, mixing harmoniously with the sounds of crickets and echoed conversations. You could actually fall asleep to this...

"You get lost or somethin'? The party's inside."

You jump with a loud yelp, almost falling out of the pool chair as a deep, male voice cuts into the silence. You look around frantically before your eyes fall on some random dude laying in one of the pool chairs to the left of you. He was about four chairs away from you, fully laid out with a cigarette between his fingers, one eye open as he looks over at you lazily. He was dressed pretty basic for a party, nothing but a white v-neck top and jeans. But who were you to talk though...

"Who-who-?! You're sayin' am I lost like you're not out here also." You narrow your eyes, looking him over with a scrutinizing gaze.

Now who the hell is this dude talkin' to?! You weren't really sure since you had your eyes closed earlier, but you figured you were definitely out here first.

"Got me there." He murmurs with a shrug, then pauses before speaking again. "You that dancer girl? The one with the anklet?" He asks slowly, before taking a fairly long drag from his cigarette.

"Wait, the anklet? You seen my anklet?!" At this you sit up completely, eyes wide as you impatiently wait for his answer. He opens both of his eyes finally, then reaches into his left back pocket, taking out your gold anklet. You gasp like a fish out of water, jumping up to your feet and practically running over to him.

"Oh my god! I was looking all over for this! How'd you find it?!" You ramble excitedly. You probably looked like a happy golden retriever with the way you're demeanor completely lit up.

"I didn't. I caught it when it flew off your ankle. Woulda hit me in the face if I didn't catch it." He says with a slight grin, chuckling at the memory of being attacked by your jewelry.

"You caught it?! Is it broken?! Lemme see it!"

He hands you your anklet, letting you observe it and check the clasp. Everything seemed fine with it, but you made a mental note to maybe take it in to a jeweler to get it checked out sometime just in case. "Well, thank you for..catching it." You chuckle lightly, sitting down on the pool chair next to him so you could hook it back around your ankle, this time making sure it was done right.

"'S nothin'. What's your name?"

You tell him your name just as you finish clasping your anklet. "Pretty. I'm Shuji Hanma." He says coolly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Thanks." You say with an uncharacteristically bashful laugh. Before you hadn't really been paying too much attention to what this guy looks like, but now that you were sitting up closer, you could really look at him.

Long story short, Hanma's gorgeous, with those honey brown eyes and that deep, sensual voice. He has a single gold earring in his left ear, a unique drop design. He looks pretty tall, yet he's also very muscular, maybe a basketball player you think.

Your eyes trail over to his large veiny hands, with tattoos of some sort of Chinese writing on the back of them, and his long, slender fingers. His hair is fairly short, black, and tussled messily to perfection with blonde highlights in the front that hangs slightly over his eyes. Your face instantly began to heat up as your eyes selfishly continued to drink him in.

You don't smoke, but there's something about the way he's so casually taking those drags, something about his full, pink lips and the way they blow the smoke into the air. He's so effortlessly sexy, and from the way he seems to carry himself, he must know it too.

"Havin' a good time over there eye fuckin' me?" He asks smugly, a small smirk making it's way across his perfect lips as he takes a drag.

"I-I wasn't eye-fucking you!" You stammer, voice unnaturally higher pitched as your face completely set on fire, embarrassed that he caught you staring.

"No? Just thinkin' in my direction or somethin'?" He teases, blowing smoke in front of him as he looks at you with his head tilted inquisitively. You purse your lips in a frown, unsure of a good comeback, only furthering your embarrassment. He let's out a breathy chuckle, shoulders shaking just slightly.

"Doesn't bother me, doll, you can fuck me with those pretty eyes all you want. It's better in real life though." He shrugs plainly, full on smirking.

Your jaw hits the floor dumbstruck, blinking multiple times as you process what he just said. Nobody has ever talked to you like this before, especially not someone you've just met. It's so bold and nonchalant...and sexy. "Again, I wasn't eye-fucking you. I was just...lookin' at your tattoos." You lie, well, it was partially true.

"Oh yeah? You like 'em?" He asks with a particularly seductive dip in his tone, looking you straight in the eyes. His gaze is so intense you couldn't help but look away, too fearful you'd be sucked in and swallowed whole if you looked any longer.

"Well yeah. I don't know what they mean though." You shrug plainly, hoping to mask the shyness creeping its way up to the surface. He sits up from the pool chair, turning to face you and leaning onto his knees, getting fairly close into your personal space. You don't dare back away, holding your ground as he shows you the back of his hands, his cigarette resting between his fingers in his right hand.

"They say sin and punishment'" He says lowly, showing you each hand with a proud yet mischievous looking grin on his face.

"Oh..." You murmur sheepishly. The way he explained that made you squeeze your thighs together, visibly swallowing as yours eyes flicker from his hands to his eyes. Hanma's lips curve into an almost devious looking smirk, loving the obvious effect he was having on you.

You felt stuck, like a mouse trapped in a corner by a cat. It's the way his eyes so boldly swallow you up without a single care if you notice or not. You had to change the subject quick, lighten things up before you unintentionally set yourself on fire.

"So...I'm assuming we go to the same school. What's your major?" You ask as pleasantly and coolly as possible.

"Digital photography." He replies, leaning back a bit.

"Oh really?! I was not expecting that. You're the first photography major I've met so far here." You say the last part more to yourself. It seems today is actually the most time you've spent around the photography and journalism majors thanks to that interview this morning.

"There's not too many of us I think." He shrugs before taking a slight pause. "You seem like too good'a dancer to be doing it as a side thing." He raises a brow slightly.

"Oh yeah, I'm one of the dance majors for sure." You laugh softly.

"You looked good out there during the halftime show. I got a lot'a nice shots."

As soon as he said that it clicked how he'd be able to catch your anklet. The photographers were the only people able to be on the field during the halftime show, so of course he caught it. "Thanks! I hope I can see them at some point." You smile softly, unconsciously fiddling with your hands on your lap.

He goes quiet for a moment, looking to the side in thought. "You could see 'em now if you want."

"What d'you mean?"

"My camera's in my car out front. Wanna see 'em?" He offers again.

You bite the inside of your lip, brows slightly furrowed. Sure going into this guy's car to look at pictures seemed innocent, but at the exact same time, this isn't just any guy. He's gorgeous, with those tempting eyes that makes your mind fog whenever you look at them for more than a second. Hanma's dangerous for you, he's way too attractive to be playin' around.

You're taken, and even though you're beyond pissed at Ken, that's unfortunately who your man is.

However, no matter how loudly the alarm bells rang in your head.... "Yeah." You nod, feeling your heart skip a beat in a mind-fuzzing blend of anxious excitement.

And as if he couldn't get any more attractive, slowly your head lifts as you watch him stand to his full height, towering over you like a damn skyscraper.

Lord have mercy on your soul.....

Hanma leads you around the house from outside, avoiding all the weaving and dipping through people, and straight to his car, and damn, even his car is good looking. A shiny black Dodge Hellcat with dark tinted windows sat there proudly in front of the party house.

You wanted to facepalm at this point. This was just getting ridiculous now. "Hang on a sec." He murmurs, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side, grabbing the camera that was sitting there in its case. He leaves the door open, helping you in to which you utter a small "Thank you." "Mhm." He nods, closing the door and getting in at the drivers side. The car smelled just like him, cigarettes and that wildly intoxicating cologne he's wearing.

You were pretty sure he didn't feel the same, with the way he's sitting there all cool and chill while doing whatever he's doing with that expensive looking camera, but you were inwardly shaking in your boots. The silence felt so heavy, and you weren't sure how to sit or where to look, so you just fiddled with the sequins on your costume, reminding yourself that your boyfriend was just right inside the frat house.

His cigarette was gone you realized, just as he turned to look at you again, the camera roll finally showing the pictures from tonight. "Here, just hit the arrow to go to the next one." He instructs smoothly, handing you the Canon camera. His slender fingers brush against yours as you grab the device, sending immediate shockwaves down your spine from the back of your neck.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor as you look at the first picture on the screen. You looked so flawless you almost didn't even recognize yourself. Though the day had been so stressful, on the field you looked like a dancing goddess, the costume and makeup sparkling under the stadium lights like some kind of ethereal glow.

"Oh my gooooosh! This looks-this is so..." You trail off unable to really find the right descriptive word, your mouth still hanging open slightly. Hanma chuckles breathily, watching you look at the picture in amusement. You take one last long look at the first one, then go on to the next one.

It was just as beautiful as the previous picture. You were in the middle of your intro solo still, he'd caught you with both hands on your hips and a wide smile, your right leg shifted in front of the left making you look particularly statuesque.

Your heart grew warmer and warmer with each picture you went through, not a single one was a flop, not even a little bit. These are the types of pictures your parents would pay hundreds just to keep and show off to their coworkers and neighbors. "Wanna see my favorite?" He murmurs, cutting into the silence. "Your favorite? Sure." You hand the camera back, curious as to which picture he'd show you.

He clicks the arrow through about seven more pictures, going past it for a second before he finally went back, his lips curving upwards slightly when he saw it. "This one. This is the one."

You let out a small gasp, leaning over the armrest as he shows you the picture. It was-no-you were stunning, and you knew exactly which part of the dance that was too. You'd just finished the moment of holding the split during Emma's brief solo. Then as you come up from the ground you'd enter into a spin and stop with your leg pointed outwards, your left hand on your hip as the right is outstretched, and your fingers point down and outwards.

The angle he took the shot in made it seem like you were looking right at the camera, it caught your eyes perfectly. Your expression was fierce due to the part of the song it was at, and your hair was in the middle of flowing with the breeze.

"This is so beautiful." You smile, almost wanting to tear up. For the first time the whole night you finally felt like you had a chance to bask in that half time show moment. Everything had moved so fast afterwards, there was no time to stop and look at posts or pictures. You knew for a fact though that peoples posts on their stories had nothing on Hanma's professional pictures. "You're real easy to take shots of. Every move you made was perfect." He says, his tone strikingly serious.

"Thanks." You chuckle bashfully, looking to the side as you try to force your heart to stop doing that annoying fluttering.

Easy girl, calm down, he's just being nice. It's just a compliment. Think about Ken, just think about Ken...

Hanma goes through a few of the pictures to see for himself before he speaks again. "Y'know, you make a good muse." He says softly, eyes still fixed on the pictures he's sifting through. "A muse? Like, I'm inspirational?" You tilt your head to the side.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." He chuckles a little. Setting the camera on his lap, he looks you over, up and down and back up, making your face turn hot instantly as you shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "What?" You murmur, furrowing your brows in a slight pout. You were sure you'd never be able to get used to his piercing eyes and the way they trail all over you so boldly.

"I've had this idea for a project I wanna do, but I haven't been able to find the right model until you." He explains, looking back up into your eyes.

"Me?! Hold up, you want me to model for you?" You gawk, your face contorted into a look of pure shock. His lips curve into a wide, excited grin, eyes almost sparkling as he seems to have made up his mind.

"I do. You're perfect." He nods, his voice velvety smooth, just like honey.

Again you fold under the sound of his voice and sensual eyes, looking at your hands now nervously fiddling with themselves in your lap. "I-I don't have really any experience with any modeling. I mean, dancers do portraits and stuff but...what kind of modeling do you want me to do?" You stammer bashfully, trying yet failing to hold any sort of confident eye contact with him.

"Nothin' you wouldn't be able to do easily. I need a full body, half naked silhouette of you; something in dark lighting." He says, a bit vaguely in your opinion.

A half naked silhouette in dark lighting...with a guy like him?! Now the alarms were really flashing, but at the same time, it was for professional, career related things. There's no harm in helping someone out with their project, right? You knew all about the frustrations of trying to gather people to help bring your vision to life, so you figured why not help him out.

"Uhhh, I mean, I guess I could do it. Is it an urgent project?" You raise a brow a bit, looking over at him briefly.

"If by urgent you mean for a class then no. This is more of a personal portfolio kind'a thing." He shrugs.

A personal thing? So it's no particular guidelines...

"K. Well, let me know when you wanna do it. I'll find some time in my schedule." You nod.

"Perfect. Lemme see your phone, angel." He purrs, holding his hand out lazily. You try to ignore his flirtatious tone and that name he just called you, reaching in your sweatpants pocket. You take out your phone and unlock it, already knowing to pull up your contacts app. Another jolt shoots down your spine as your fingers make contact again while you hand him your phone. "Cool." He smirks, satisfied that you opened to the app without him having to ask, putting his number and name in.

You went and sent him a text, "Heyyy" with two exclamation points so he could save your number in his own phone.

Why'd it feel so wrong to have his number in your phone? This was just a business thing, a collaboration, right? If you weren't so attracted to him it wouldn't feel like nearly as much of a problem as it does now, and maybe if he wouldn't call you angel or doll with that sexy ass voice, that'd probably make it feel better.

Then if Ken hadn't pissed you off beyond belief, it wouldn't feel like you were doing this out of spite, hanging with some guy you just met at a party since Ken wanted to spend his time with another girl and his sports buddies. But you have no intention of cheating though, so...technically there's nothing wrong, right?

There's nothing wrong about this....

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Ooool, what y'all bouta get into puttin' dat man number in y'all phoooone?!?! Teehee, hope y'all enjoyed and I'll have the next chapter up soon! It's finna go DEEOWN next chapter okaaay! Like, comment, reblog please, love you all💖

#shuji hanma #hanma #shuji #draken x reader #shuji hanma x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #black fem reader #strawberryfairi #a mile away㊙️#shuji hanma smut #college au #black female reader #its complicated #shuji x reader #shuji hanma x reader smut #shuji hanma x black fem reader #strawberryfairi🧚🏾‍♀️#strawberryfairimasterlist

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go-to-two · 2 days

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Windows

Breakdowns never happen in a day. They happen over time, in pieces- and she can't look away.

Hello! Okay, honesty hour. This isn't the story I planned on writing. I've been wanting to write something light and fluffy, but I couldn't get this damn idea out of my head. I decided I needed to word vomit it out to clear the mind a little. It is set in the beginning of season 10- vaguely around what we saw on screen, but mostly their home life in the weeks leading up to Jay's departure. It's a fair amount of angst, so sorry if that's not your jam. Also, if Jay's breakdown seems ambiguous and unsubstantiated- yeah. It is. I'm working with what the show gave us.

Read on AO3

#upstead fanfiction #upstead fic #upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #chicago pd #windows fic

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acorrespondence · 6 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @skelingtonsderek for tagging me! ♥️ And thanks to @love-leah and @willowmckinley for bringing this into the justified fandom circles!

How many works do you have on ao3?

2! Both in the Justified fandom.

What's your total ao3 word count?

89,708. About 90% of that comes from i put this heavy heart in you, which is shaping up to be a behemoth. My Old Guard fusion fic is just over 10k at the moment, though the final chapter might end up doubling that.

What fandoms do you write for?

Justified is the only fandom I’ve published for. I also have unfinished WIPs in the succession fandom and a league of their own, as well as one really old one in the MCU, a canon I’ve since parted ways with, but I do still hold fondness for those characters as they were at the time I wrote it. The succession fic is the only one that may still end up happening. It’s kenstewy because I’m nothing if not deeply predictable and fraught childhood best friends to assholes in love is my jam.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Oh well this is easy, haha.

i put this heavy heart in you (justified) - the clear winner at 185

catching bullets in our teeth (justified) - following at a respectable nearly-half-that at 90

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment point-by-point. To me, the whole point of posting a fic publicly is to interact with others. I write for myself, but I post for my friends and other fans. I would love to get into more back-and-forth comment discussions like I have in the past with @toli-a and @willowmckinley, because that kind of engagement and connection is the white whale I’m chasing every time I put something I wrote out into the world.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely my as-yet-unpublished succession fic, haha. Currently the one that’s left off angstiest is catching bullets, because Raylan and Boyd are still separated at the end of the last posted chapter. However, I like to think the ending of every chapter of heavy heart has a healthy balance between happiness and unhappiness, with a slight skew toward angst because these guys are still a long way off from any kind of resolution on the myriad problems they’ve had thrown at them. I dislike both fluff and darkfic, so I like to live in the shades of grey and hope that comes through in my work. Bittersweet and/or ambiguous endings are my jam, while I find qualified happy or qualified unhappy endings also satisfying.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I suppose going by the above process of elimination it would have to be heavy heart.

Do you get hate on fics?

I never have, thankfully. Everyone’s been nothing short of lovely; I think this fandom understands that if you don’t have anything nice to say it’s best to say nothing at all. The closest I’ve gotten is people saying “I didn’t think I’d be into this because it’s kid fic, but boy was I wrong!” which is incredibly gratifying to hear.

Do you write smut?

Nope! I do write sex scenes, but I don’t think they’re necessarily the same thing; smut is to sex scenes as squares are to rectangles. To me, inserting a smut scene would be like having a mechanic character suddenly go into a long internal monologue about every little thing they’re doing in the engine of a car—their work as a mechanic might be integral to the plot, but that level of detail is just excessive and boring.

The very first sex scene in heavy heart is the closest I’ve ever come, I think, because I took a very close lens to the entire day that makes up that first chapter, and even that ended up pretty vague. If I ever got more detailed than that, I’d ruthlessly eviscerate it back down into something at a similar level. I can’t stand when my writing feels uneven, so suddenly inserting a scene with way more minute detail than anything else in the chapter feels incredibly jarring to me. I do think other people’s writing styles can support it better, and I can get through a car engine anatomy lesson if there’s enough about/within the rest of the story that I like, haha. This is why I categorically avoid pwps; I’m not a mechanic and have no interest in cars beyond their ability to get me from one place to the next, if you catch my drift.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, and I generally avoid reading them, with a few very notable exceptions. There are, very occasionally, canons that enhance each other rather than clashing. For example, I’ve read a justified/walking dead crossover that I absolutely adored and would recommend to anyone with knowledge of and interest in both canons (or even just one).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I’m not nearly popular enough for that, haha.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! I imagine this tends to happen after fics are finished, which… well.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven’t. I’ve co-written one thing, ever, in my life, and it was a story my dad and I switched back and forth chapters on when I was maybe nine or ten. Even then it was difficult for me; I was the kind of kid who told everyone else what to say in our make-believe games, haha.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I don’t pick favorites of anything as a general rule. Not food, not music, not ships. I despise ranking things; it’s very difficult and not at all rewarding. It requires a level of oversimplification that my brain is naturally resistant to.

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I know I’ll never finish the a league of their own fic (it’s an ocean’s eleven fusion and it would have been a lot of fun, but the canon turned out to be more of a hyperfixation than a special interest, so the enthusiasm has since left me). Meanwhile, I still have some hope that I’ll finish the succession fic, and I’d very much like to post it someday. As for my two posted fics, once I’ve posted them I’m committed to finishing them, no matter how long it takes. I suppose there’s the chance I’ll die before that happens, but one would hope not.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I have a pretty good ear, not only for dialogue but for the flow of narration. I just won’t post anything until it sounds right. Other people have called my writing lyrical, which I think is them picking up on this. Also, while I don’t think I’m the most metaphorically inclined, I have a strong sense of analogy. I make the distinction because I think my comparisons tend to be more practical than whimsical. I make a lot of connections in my head, and this in addition to the way I go about writing allows me to make callbacks and set up recurring themes/motifs throughout my stories, which I’m also quite proud of.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle a lot to synthesize dialogue and narration. Most of my editing time is eaten up by trying to graft these together in a way that sounds right. I’m sure it would be less noticeable to others than it is to me, but I do think anyone who compared the drafts to the final products would understand what I mean. I also am pathologically incapable of brevity. I always end up adding way more than I’m taking away when I edit. However, I enjoy longer stories anyway, both to read and to write, so I’m not especially bothered by this. I tend to avoid writing things like drabbles because I’d rather add 100 words to a current wip than use an equivalent amount of time to write a snippet of something else. Most of my favorite things about writing don’t even apply to a work that short.

This sounds like me turning all my weaknesses into strengths, but everything else I struggle with is hard for me to really articulate. I guess my biggest weakness is how slow I am; oftentimes I’ll outgrow a hyperfixation before I can finish the story I’m writing about it, and it just gets abandoned. That’s why I only post in fandoms that I know have become enduring special interests. I’m confident that I’ll finish my justified fics eventually, so I posted both without having written clear endings. I wouldn’t do that with most fics (see: the succession fic I keep referencing) because I don’t trust myself to stick with it to the end. I also tend toward stories that are motivated more by character development/dynamics than traditional plot, so I’d probably struggle with a really plot-heavy story.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’ve been speaking Spanglish since birth and am conversational in LatAm Spanish, if not what I’d personally consider fluent, so that’s the only language I’d be confident enough to write in besides English. I’d be comfortable throwing a few words of another language in if I could be certain I was using them correctly. Most likely, if the pov character understands the language, I’d just write “[Dialogue],” he said in Mandarin, and if they don’t, I’d just explain in narration that they said something in x language that the pov character didn’t catch. I suppose I might be moved to make exceptions for the sake of dramatic irony.

First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote an OC into the world of Dragons of Deltora in a spiral bound notebook when I was eight.

Favorite fic you've written?

Once again, I don’t pick favorites! I love all my fics for different reasons; it’s why I wrote them.

People I haven’t seen tagged, sorry if you’re a repeat, and if I missed you imagine your url in the following list: @raylangivins @eff41 @oh2e @freekicks @esteefee @norgbelulah @catchclaw @bringmefoxgloves @boydcrowdr @praycambrian @deputy-buck

#tag game #justified #my fic #long post #justie2justie communication #writing

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

Note

No pressure to write or drabble this at all, but I've been pondering just how it would be to cuddle Eddie and all the soft kisses

Left for work at 7am & got back at 4pm and I daydreamed my shift away thinking of this sooooo ~ I hope you enjoy!!💖

Edit: Been working on this for 20 days solid. Sick of it. Please enjoy, please. 😂💀 Biiiiiiiig big thank you to @hersweetrevenge for reading this over just before I got it finished and giving me a fresh perspective on things!!!! I got so sick of this piece I didn't even know the ending but I feel like I can finish it now so mwah mwah thankies!!!🥰🥰🥰🥰💗💗💗💗

As always, GN!reader ~ I never describe the reader physically and keep those details as vague as I can so it's as inclusive as possible!

Ep.2 fix-it/comfort! - After Dustin and the others leave Eddie in the boathouse, you go to him. You go home to your metalhead. He needs you in the most basic of ways and yet everything is so complex.

Warnings; canon compliant episode 2 fix-it, canon angst and violence relevant to the ending of episode 1, pet names (honey, sweetheart, babe/baby and maybe more), drinking, swearing, Wayne is indirectly here because he's the bestest uncle who loves Eddie so much🥺, Steve and his children are also mentioned.💖

Word count: 3, 230.

Eddie baby @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @alliecheer007-88 @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @potatos-library

(send an ask to join the taglist!)

Also, biiiiiiig thank you to @/seidenbros & @thruheavenandhighwater for helping me with flow and intense emotional situations & characterisation and beta-reading this piece respectively. This fic would have remained a daydream without either of you!!

Static crackled and sent Eddie's trashed heart into his throat as he jumped.

"...Eddie. Come in, Eddie."

The sound of your voice was the most heavenly during Eddie's best days, so on the absolute worst day of his life, it was celestial. It caressed his ears on the way inside, soothing across his scattered mind and helped him to breathe.

Eddie practically threw himself across the room so that he could grab the walkie, his fingers fumbling. He almost dropped it, caught it, nearly dropped it again, and then jammed his finger on the button to receive you.

"Y/N?!" Oh, but his voice was soaked with relief, with fear, and he felt his knees give out. Eddie reached out blindly for the nearest surface with hands barely strong enough to grip and lowered himself to the floor, his hands trembling, body shaking, mind and heart racing alike as he focused on you.

You, you, you.

"Eddie? Oh, baby, I'm - " The static crackled, cut you out, and Eddie groaned in frustration, slapping the walkie. "Where are you? Please, honey, I - " The static stole the rest of your sentence but Eddie didn't have the mental capacity to wonder about what you had said.

"Boathouse, tarp. Hurry, sweetheart, please. Over and out."

Was he...? He was.

Eddie was crying.

Oh, fuck this.

You ran through the forest, backpack bouncing and slamming against you with every stride, hurting your back as you clutched the walkie like a lifeline, mind trying to keep up with your legs as you searched desperately for the place Steve had outlined for you; the very same boathouse Eddie had told you about just now. You had only just been able to make him out over the background noise of the walkie, but you had heard enough. You knew Eddie, you knew his hotspots, you knew the places he avoided, you knew his general patterns, and you liked to think that you knew him well enough to be able to make at least an educated guess towards his thought process. And therefore, to the exact location of the boathouse.

In a normal situation.

In this? You were running on adrenaline, barely remembered instructions forgotten in the desperation, and love for your metalhead.

It'd do.

And, in fact, it did do, because in what felt like forever and simultaneously no time at all, you stumbled across Lover's Lake and found your way to the boathouse as quickly as you could. Max and the others had swung by earlier that day but to avoid raising suspicions from too many people not being where they should be right after a horrific incident, you had elected to maintain normalcy. It hurt, it hurt to think that before Dustin and the others had found him, Eddie had been alone, fearing for his life, guilty for leaving Chrissy (even though your sweet boy had done everything he could to save her and anyone would have run when he did, you knew that he wouldn't, couldn't listen), in pain and hungry (he had only eaten pretzels that day in the canteen), for almost if not over twenty-four hours.

I'm coming, Eddie.

Tears stung in your eyes, your legs and lungs burned, but you managed to get the door open with the tips Max had given you - how to bust it open without making it look that way - and then the door creaked shut behind you, and you and Eddie were alone.

Tarp.

You moved through the space quietly; you knew Eddie was here but he probably didn't know it was you. There was a genuinely terrifying and legitimate manhunt going on in the town for a man who hadn't done anything. No crime by Eddie had been committed worse than simply, tragically, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your backpack had everything Eddie needed in it; proper food which you had made earlier that day so he wasn't living off snacks, a few cans of beer (it always mellowed him out, even if drinking right now was inadvisable), blankets, some warmer clothes and a change of underwear for the both of you (the police didn't know that Eddie often stayed at your place and you planned to keep it that way, so it was easy for you to get those items), his Walkman with his most favourite tapes (you only had space for a maximum of four) and of course, you'd brought yourself, too. Ears to listen, arms to hold, a person to accompany him during this living nightmare.

Eddie had been left alone, lost, scared, guilty, in pain, for the last day or so, and you would rather die than make him go through another moment on his own. The town could get fucked with an especially prickly cactus for all you cared, Eddie was it for you and you wanted to make that, as well as many other things you barely had the words for, known.

With the fear levels Eddie must be dealing with constantly in your mind, you thought quickly and began to loudly hum Master of Puppets; his favourite song would surely not only relax him but also tell him that it was you; you were expected, but Eddie couldn't have known it was you who came in the door when he was hidden under a tarp. You could have been anyone. He was under enough stress and fear as it was and you wanted to ease it in any way you could.

"Obey your master, master," you quietly sung, and you caught movement in the corner of the boat. I got'cha. "Master of puppets, I'm pulling your - "

A pale, almost ghostly hand crept out of the boat from underneath the tarp and you recognised those fingertips instantly as Eddie waved at you with only the topmost portion of his hand. It would have made you laugh at any other time but now the relief was so great that your knees almost gave out. You would know any part of Eddie anywhere, any time. He stayed where he was, only revealing what he had to, fingers dangling down, but you put the backpack down as gently as you could, not wanting to scare Eddie with the loud, solid noise (now that you had put it down, you realised how heavy it was), and your eyes landed on the fridge which Steve had spotted and then examined earlier that day. It was fully functional, as was the microwave next to it, and you noted the food in the backpack which needed to go in there. It was still safe, you were within the golden hour, but even so, you quickly, quickly, took the containers of home cooked meals and shoved them into the fridge. It was haphazard, disorganised, but you would sort it out later. All you wanted was Eddie and all he wanted was you.

With your stomach churning in anticipation and worry, you walked over to the boat. Your fingers reached for Eddie's still exposed ones and the entire tarp jolted, a harsh gasp from beneath quickly muffled with what must have been a hand clapped over his mouth. "Oh, Eddie," you kept your fingers on his as your other hand grabbed for the tarp. You peeled it away slowly; if Eddie wanted to stay hidden then you would give him time to tell you that that was what he wanted. Maybe you were being overbearing, maybe you were being too gentle or not gentle enough or maybe you were getting it just right, you weren't sure. You just knew you wanted to grab Eddie and shield him from the world, because all of this?

Oh, this was... this was fucking cruel. How could anyone look at Eddie and assume him capable of doing what happened to Chrissy? But the masses were sheep and fear made people do terrible things, even when all logic and sense would have told people that the strength required to do what killed Chrissy was far beyond what any human was physically capable of. You knew what people thought of Eddie, what the town said of him, but none of them knew Eddie like you, Wayne and his friends did. Especially Dustin. Eddie had a roughness to him, it was true, but if you took the time to get to know him, to really know him, then it was clear that he was a ray of fucking sunshine with a heart of gold.

You had never hated Hawkins more than you did today, but you took all that rage and channelled it into love, only love, for the fearful and hurting man before you as you pulled the tarp down to Eddie's ankles. You tucked it in, leaving one corner loose so in an instant Eddie could pull it up and over to conceal himself. He was shaking like a leaf, dark eyes downcast, hands trembling, and when you reached out for him, he flinched, a quiet whimper escaping lips clamped shut.

"Oh, honey," you pulled your hand away and took a step back, giving Eddie his space. Your heart ached for him, your mind, already tried and tired, was racing trying to figure out what Eddie needed and how he needed it. You wanted to help him, whatever it took.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" His voice was quiet, broken, syllables interrupted with breaths which seemed to require his entire body. He had asked you to find him, he had begged you, but now that you were there, he could only question why. The implications of that made you feel sick to your stomach.

"I'm here for you," you took that step forward again and Eddie sat up in the boat, sniffling. His hair fell across his face but he didn't bother to brush it away. You reached out and did it for him, tucking it behind his ear gently. He flinched when you touched him but then relaxed with a forced breath as he willed himself to relax, his eyes closed when you brushed a finger across his cheek. "Brought you some stuff," you nodded towards the backpack. Eddie's eyes didn't leave you. "I just... I just couldn't - Eddie."

Try as you had to be strong, to be strong for Eddie, for Eddie, there was only so much you could take and you had gone well passed your limit. You broke, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. You turned your face away to hide from Eddie - he was the important one here, he was the one you wanted to focus on, he was the one who was lost, in pain, scared, terrified, being hunted... "I'm sorry, Eddie." Your voice cracked in multiple places. You didn't reach out for him even though all you wanted was to grab him and hold onto him as tightly as you could; he had already flinched a few times and you didn't want to distress him further. The distance you kept between your bodies was small but it made Eddie feels like it was all just too much to take, and in another moment of characteristic bravery did he reach out for you, fingers shaking as they closed around your wrists. He touched you so gently that you could barely feel him as he tugged you, helped you up and over the side of the boat, until you were pressed up against his side.

"I - I didn't do it, Y/N. I swear, I - " Eddie was still holding your wrists and with a cautious look at you, as if afraid that you would be next if he dared to touch you, he slid his hands down until he could lace his fingers with yours. Eddie shuddered at your touch and then his grip was suddenly strong, just like it always was, but tender, and his breathing had begun to settle as he realised that he could relax, if only a little.

"I know, Eddie. Wayne and I, we never doubted for a second. We're on your side, always."

Eddie sniffled at the mention of the man who had raised and loved him as his own ever since Eddie was a child, exhaled roughly in an attempt to stop himself from sobbing, and then broke. Hearing his own pain put next to his Uncle's unconditional love was just too much for the tortured man to take. He had already confided the truth in Steve and his children and he knew that you would have been filled in, too, and all that was left was comfort and love.

"I - I didn't know what to do, so I... I ran away. I - I just... I just left her there. Chrissy."

You slowly eased an arm around Eddie's shoulders to give him a chance to flinch away or to tell you no, but he didn't. He didn't. So you pulled him into you, wrapping him up in your arms like they were a blanket capable of shielding Eddie from the world. In that moment, they were. "You did everything you could, Eddie. What else were you supposed to do? I'm so proud of you. Anyone would have run away but I'm not sure how many would have tried to wake her up as hard you did. You were so brave, honey. I love you so much." In your desperation to talk Eddie through his decisions (though, as you saw it, he hadn't had a choice to make. Running was the only option), you lost the point you had been wanting to make. You could only do your best, with a tightness in your chest and a lump in your throat, your heart in your stomach and your nerves in tatters, to reassure Eddie and to give him every inch of the comfort he deserved.

You let him lead the way, you let him take what he wanted from you as he practically tried to sink into you. The cool tip of his nose pressed so hard against your neck that it almost hurt, contrasted greatly by the hot breaths which puffed against your skin as Eddie sunk into you, hands gripping you so tight it was like letting you go would mean a certain kind of death. It was an awkward embrace, sat side by side, but the two of you had always been able to make anything work. Kisses were pressed against the top and side of Eddie's head, your nose burrowing into dark fluffy curls as you took the time to soak him in. You could have lost him.

You could have lost Eddie.

Your tears were eased before they even fell by the ghost of a smile on Eddie's devastatingly beautiful face. Oh, but he was so pretty in his pain. "Eddie, baby, c'mere," you turned to sit so that you were facing Eddie and he shifted to mirror you, a haunted look in his dark eyes which you wanted to alleviate in even the smallest of ways (though you longed to entirely take it away from him). Slowly, slowly, you reached up to cup Eddie's face in your hands, your chest tight. Fuck, but you just wanted to grab at him the way you usually did, the way he loved, but he had flinched so many times that you couldn't bring yourself to be any other way than slow and cautious, one wild animal approaching another for a moment of warmth on the soul.

Eddie whined and shoved his face into your hands, eyes dropping closed as your fingers smoothed across his cheeks, curling slightly behind his ears and delving into those dark curls. "Not glass."

You smiled without positive emotion. "I know. Just wanna be gentle with you; you've been through a lot."

Eddie exhaled roughly against you, shook his head as if trying to physically get rid of the thoughts; the remnants of the noises of cartilage, sinew and bone bending and snapping in mid-air, the mangled corpse of Chrissy dropping like a puppet with broken strings. A life lost which had barely begun. Dreams smashed, a heart broken, a man in the wrong place and the wrong time now and forevermore haunted by the ghost of her. The trauma would be life long but you swore there and then to be through it all with Eddie.

Your thumbs stroked across his cheeks as you pressed slow, gentle, tender kisses all over his face; not a single inch was left unexplored by lips which feathered to find purchase on skin which was an already well loved terrain. Eddie hummed with every kiss you bestowed upon him and tipped his head into the touches, that tiny tiny upward quirk of his lips, trembling with fear, growing slightly with every kiss until finally, he was truly smiling. His hands shook as they lightly cupped your wrists, holding you to him.

"Will you - " Eddie heaved a sigh and you pushed forward to rest your forehead against his, "Will you stay with me? I don't - alone, it just - " his breath caught violently in his throat and he almost choked on his next one. Your kisses grew tender, the presence of your lips more evident against his skin as you sought to calm him.

"That's what the bag is for." Your eyes pointed it out and Eddie turned his face so that his temple was rested against your forehead. "I brought you food; it's in the fridge. Like, actual food which I cooked once I knew what happened. I brought blankets, clothes for us both because I am not leaving you, Eddie, not for a second, music... your favourites, obviously. And I - and I brought you me."

Eddie visibly perked up with everything you listed and then melted when you told him that you were staying; his entire body sagged and you caught him. The relief and the release from all of the fear, even if it was only in this moment, was too much for his body to take, but you caught Eddie's fall. You let him slump against you and you wrapped your arms as tight around him as you could, pressing kisses anywhere and everywhere. Slow, gentle... until it wasn't as you lavished kisses on him, almost violent in your need to let Eddie know that you weren't going anywhere.

You didn't need to say that you loved him, Eddie could feel it just as surely as he could feel your hands, your lips, but you whispered it after every kiss anyway, as if the touch of your lips would carry the words into his skin and keep him safe from the inside out. Eddie said it back just as many times, and you decided that when next he pulled away, you would warm him up some food, reorganise the fridge, and let him talk. Or not. You would hold him. Or not. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, you would give to Eddie as best as you could. In a seriously cruel and fucked up situation which defied even the most basic of logic, you would give Eddie everything you could as best as you could. So it was just as well that all he wanted was you. The one who, in his darkest and most desperate of times, showed up just as terrified as he was, just as in love, and just as ready to flip Hawkins the biggest bird you could muster.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things 4 x reader

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messydiabolical · 1 month

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Just saw a poll about what in fanfics you dislike the most and it reminded me about a specific plot line I see in Thane fics a fair bit and, well I have a lot to say. I've thought about writing this before but I chickened out tbh, I hate getting into discourse generally. I feel the need to preface that this is personal opinion and feelings, no fic authors owe readers a damn thing, and you can write what you damn well want to! Just to make that abundantly clear. This is also not written with any one fic/author in mind, this aint some vague posting attack on any person in particular. It is a trope I have seen occur on multiple occasions with Thane in particular, and one that gives me a lot of feelings. I bloody LOVE a Thane lives AU. That's my jam, no doubt. It's a cathartic, soothing balm for me. And how you choose to get there can vary massively and I love that too. I would say that I prefer when his motivation to persue treatment is based in wanting to live for Kolyat and especially for himself, and not just because his love of Shepard. And while they break my heart, I also think stories that follow canon, or divert from canon but still have him die, are also super important and I applaud the writers who go there, because ouch. Disability and terminal illness are difficult, real subjects and having that representation is so important. I completely understand why there are people who dislike Thane lives. So to the thing I really dislike: nothing makes my stomach drop faster than the disregarding or removal of Thane's bodily autonomy/consent on his own health. They tend to go like this: Thane has decided not to persue any potential treatments, collapses/is rendered otherwise unable to have his say on the matter past his already stated wants, and while unconscious Shepard overrides his DNR wishes and has him given life saving or extending treatments. He wakes up and is upset at Shepard, but ultimately forgives or even thanks them for making that decision for him (basically saying that he was 'wrong' and Shepard was 'right'.) I do think this can be written in an interesting, character study way. There's also those grey area tangents: For example, what if the treatment suddenly becomes available after he's already unable to give consent, one that he was not aware of. Or what if the source of the treatment changes; before he was against a transplant because it would mean taking from another drell, but suddenly cloning or something else becomes available? etc. Perhaps such plot lines have been explored and I've missed them, because unfortunately after reading a handful of the type where he is just wholesale disregarded by Shepard if I get even a whiff of this kind of plotline I abandon the reading. As for why this does not sit well with me at all? It creates a situation where you have to basically make out that Thane was somehow in the wrong for ever feeling that way, that his acceptance of his terminal illness is bad, his motivations wrong. Again, something that can be explored- but not by just wholesale disregarding and overriding him then later teaching him why he was 'wrong'. We are getting into the very murky area of "if a person is depressed/mentally compromised by trauma/their past enough, they are no longer able to make decisions on their own health, this is for their own good'. And- yikes. Red alert. Because that is a story that needs to be handled with so much care, and it absolutely should not be used as a temporary source of angst to further a fucking romance plot. I think this hits hard for me especially as a disabled person who has had to deal with my fair share of medical fuckery. I'm also neurodivergent and have mental health issues. Advocating for myself is something I have had to battle many a time. Anyway hoo I had that one pent up hey? Again, I hope no one feels personally attacked by this. It's my own ick, one that might resonate with some, one that others might completely disagree with.

#md personal #fanfic tropes

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lacrimosathedark · 2 years

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I don’t think I ever actually put this out into the world, So Imma do it now.

I love that so many JayRoy stories focus on Lian. I love Lian so freaking much. But no one seems to recognize the potential hurt-comfort angst that her current status as Shoes of the Alleytown Strays holds.

So, I have an idea. I hope to write one myself, but if anyone else wants to run with this idea, please let me know. I’d love to read it.

So, I’m not fully up to date on Catwoman, but after defending Alleytown in Fear State, she decided to leave the Strays and move uptown. But she cares about these kids, and just ditching them feels wrong to me.

But there’s another local vigilante who knows what living on the street is like.

He also just happens to be her would-be son-in-law.

So, before fully moving, Catwoman goes to Red Hood and asks him a favor: just check in on these kids every now and then, make sure they’re doing okay. Oh, and there’s also this teenage girl trying to be a vigilante who could do with some more training.

And Jason, bleeding heart that he is, reluctantly accepts. And he meets these kids and they all like him and he becomes their unofficial protector.

He meets Shoes and starts actually training her. He’s impressed by her hacker skills, as well as how agile and fast she is, and just how clever she is. She’s brilliant. He does not like that he is reminded of Roy, who recently came back to life and has not reached out to Jason. (she also sometimes wears a red baseball hat backwards which, y’know, doesn’t help in that regard) When she shows him her mask, he brushes the niggling feeling of “that looks a bit too much like Cheshire, literal assassin” off at first, until she opens up and tells him about her first memory/recurring dream, where she’s saved from a woman in a similar mask before being left on the steps of a Gotham church. And Jason starts connecting dots he’s not happy with.

Maybe he tricks her into giving him a DNA sample, or maybe he asks her as an offer to help her figure out who she is. And, as it turns out, Jason has found Lian Harper! What the fuck does he do with that?

Jason tells her he knows her parents and maybe he gives her the choice to know. Maybe she decides she doesn’t want to know; her family is Selina and Jason and the Strays now, and she still has no memories of her old family. They sort of settle on Jason telling her her first name and telling her vaguely about her family. He doesn’t talk about them much because talking about Roy, even without naming him, still hurts, and he doesn’t want to tell Lian that her mom is, like, evil.

Jason basically just tells her that her name is Lian, both of her parents loved her more than anything in the world, and her dad has probably been looking for her (he may not know for sure because who would tell him? Roy’s not talking to him yet, on page anyway. Would Kory call him? Would Dick tell him in passing? Would Babs tell him because she knows everything?).

Then Task Force Z shit starts and Jason is basically MIA and Cheshire Cat is left to her own devices.

Maybe Jason has to duck out of his Task Force shit for a bit to try to save Lian who tried to do a case by herself and got in over her head and Jason gets to be the overprotective big brother/father he was always meant to be and beats the shit out of anyone who touched her and patches her up while scolding her for not having a backup (and she snarks that he was the back-up plan, and it worked, didn’t it? and he’s fuckin fuming because she’s a smartass and I love her) and just--caretaker Jason is my jam.

Maybe Lian finds out that “her new friend Jade”, also known as Cheshire, who she met in the wake of Fear State, tried to kill Jason and has apparently wanted him dead for a while. And she is angry. Imagine when she finds out/remembers that that’s her mom.

Maybe Roy hears about Cheshire being in Gotham, or maybe he hears that Jason’s been basically off the grid, or maybe Babs gives him a heads-up that Lian might be in Gotham, so he decides to swing by Gotham to look for any or all of them. And what do you know, turns out Cheshire knew where Lian was this whole time and never said a word to Roy. And Roy is pissed.

This could lead to a whole-ass drama. The complicated relationship between Roy and Cheshire is decidedly sour now, but it’s still complicated. What could happen between Jason and Roy after they’ve been out of contact for so long (and Roy basically chose Dick over Jason like everyone else in his life seems to)? What about Lian and her amnesia and her complicated feelings for her parents? What about Lian’s new family with the Strays? How can her new world meld with the one she initially grew up and supposedly died in with numerous superhero “uncles and aunties”? How can Dick fit into all of this to make things better and/or worse (because if I remember right, he was Lian’s godfather, and he absolutely adored that little girl)?

(How can I shoehorn all the other Batkids into this story?)

Bonus points if you bring up Bao Phan, Duela Dent, or Tyler. Especially if they meet Lian. Because give Jason all the kids! Make him worse than Bruce about adopting stray orphans.

More bonus points if you bring in other hero’s kids like Jai and Irey West!

Just, someone please use Stray Lian more. I honestly really love her and would love for her to be used more and actually know her family again.

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writingcold · 1 year

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Neapolitan: A Continuance

A/N: Hello there. Wow. I had intentions of picking this up a few months ago, but such as it is - it’s back. We left off on New Years Eve… Yeah. We’re going to jump right back into it. This was a hard chapter that sent me into a hesitation. Please bear with me - there was a lot of storytelling that needed to happen in this chapter. If you've not read the first parts of the story or Neapolitan - here are the links. You'll want to read the original story first to make sense. Neapolitan Master List Neapolitan: A Continuance Master List

I also need to say, I do not know the members of GVF or their families. Jake is my muse and is haunting my brain in so many different ways it’s scary. This is a total work of my own fiction.

Content Warnings: Mentions of physical, domestic abuse, language, panic attack, angst, smoking, alcohol.

Word count: approx. 5900

Part 6 Violet POV

Violet took a long drag of her cigarette. It did nothing for the fire that burned in her belly, nor did it aid in the anxiety that was flashing like a lightning storm through her heart and mind. The thirteenth of January was bitterly cold and dark and heavy with clouds, but it was too cold to snow to give any relief to anyone. Jake had gone into town in search of ingredients for some soup he wanted to make to take the chill out. The letter was delivered within thirty minutes after he had left and resided on the kitchen island. The words leered at her. Dug under her skin and preyed upon her in ways that she had hoped would never happen again.

Stumbling over the door jam, she fought to keep her eyes from the official request of her presence. Legal counsel was advised, but not required. An informal inquiry request - whatever the hell that meant. Her face felt numb as she reached for the whiskey. Her hands were shaking too badly to pour. Instead she stared at the bottle, unsure of who the hell was whimpering and sobbing because, surely, it was not herself. Her butt met the floor, her head rested on the cabinet behind her. Everything felt weak. Blurred. Too hazy to accept to be real.

Jake was gone maybe ninety minutes. Tops. She remained curled where she landed. Violet heard the door slide open and closed. She heard the grocery bags drop on the counter. She heard his voice against her ear. She just could not respond. She could not unsee the awfulness that was ahead and what it would do to them. It would leak that his girlfriend was abused and did nothing to stop the man to go on and cause more harm - to one of her own close friends. And then it would get worse. Jake would be framed as a sick fucker who likes women who want to be beat and bound and fucked sideways or something stupid. It would cast a pallor over his career and she would be to blame.

“Violet,” he whispered, voice wobbling with rasp and concern. “You have to talk to me. What the hell is going on, baby?”

He cupped her face, both cheeks in an attempt to capture her attention. She vaguely could feel the wet on his palms and wondered if he had just washed his hands. Why were there tears on his face? Why did his eyes look like mirrors of smudged chocolate? His body was shaking against hers. He was scared. Why would he be scared?

Violet tried to step forward. Tried to reassure him that she was fine. Why would he be panicking that way? They should be loving on each other. Smiling. Happy. Making whatever the fucking spicy soup he was raving about hours before. She was trying to say his name, but her mouth was not working. He had his phone out, was talking but it was like a foreign language. Was it Josh he was talking to? She wanted to say hello, but her throat was closing around a massive lump that seemed to suddenly appear right in the center. It felt like a sharp ice cube that just wouldn’t go down and you have to wait for it to melt before it would go away, and even though it was melted and gone, you’d feel it for hours afterwards.

Jake was pulling her up to her feet, holding onto her body tightly. His hands hurt against her skin. Did he have to hold on so tight? He was dragging her towards the living room, wrapping a blanket around her before he moved towards the slider door once more. She did not want to head outside. It was too damn cold for being outside. And yet, he was stopping, forcing her ugly, clunky snow boots onto her bare feet before dragging her once more outside. He was trying to bend her into the passenger seat of the car. His face was hard. Fuck. Was he angry? Was he angry with her? It wasn’t like they didn’t disagree, but flat out anger?

The car slid down the driveway with a string of expletives exploding from his mouth. He made a full stop and seemed to be collecting himself. He kept saying her name. The heat was on full blast so why was she so damn cold? It was like her whole body was shaking. It was just stupid. Really. What the fuck was going on that she couldn’t function.

They were heading to town. Over the bridge. The river looked so pretty when it was frozen. The trees were bent with snow and ice, and just created the prettiest picture. She had pictures of the spectacle from years past. Perhaps it was time to take another one. Jake’s voice called out to her. Her hand was on the door. She just wanted a picture. Why would he react like that?

Violet blinked her eyes and they seemed to appear in town. The car was parked. Jake was touching her face again. Calling her name, but it was like he was underwater. The sound was not right. The car door opened and another set of hands was touching her, turning her.

“Dad?” she mumbled, her tongue feeling like a hundred pound weight.

“Bear. Let’s get you inside.”

Her father’s voice was a little clearer than Jake’s had been. His face was also full of concern. Behind him, she could barely see her mother. The woman’s face looked destroyed as her father pulled her out, blanket and all. Jake fell on the other side of her, with the two men practically carrying her forward. She did not understand why it was so ungodly bright in the room they took her into. And it smelled vaguely like work. Her stomach lurched. Fuck. Did she forget her shift? Did she miss work? She wanted to wipe at Jake’s face. She hated seeing him upset. Hated seeing anything but happy or totally fucked out tears in that man’s eyes. There was a difference. These were not suitable for his face.

There was a pinch in her arm. There was a burn that ran through her skin. You know. Naps were wonderful. Perhaps if she napped, Jake would nap. And then when she woke up, he would feel better.

Jake POV

Hospital protocol still called for limited visitors. The ER did not allow visitors until patients were treated and stable. He sat with Charlie and Madelyn in the waiting room, his heart in his throat and questions spinning around his brain. Madelyn was holding onto his hand while she was talking on the phone with Ava. In true mom fashion, she was circling the wagons to protect her baby and just asking for prayers and positives to be thrown her daughter’s way. Down to his very core, Jake felt fear. He had never seen anyone in such a state. He could barely register that she was so small against him and totally checked out. Madelyn must have picked up on his need, holding him close the entire time, while Charlie sat on her other side, stoically trying to figure out what the hell had happened to his daughter.

Just before six, the doctor had come out to talk to them. She smiled warmly as they stood to greet her.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor started. “I need to say that right off. I know it was probably pretty scary seeing that, but it’s not bad. I’m Doctor Turner. I’m going to assume that you are Jake? Are you the husband?”

He swallowed with a glance at Charlie. “Uh, partner.”

She smiled again. “Okay, and these are -”

“We’re Violet’s parents,” Madelyn said before introducing themselves.

“Well, it looks like she’s got a pretty sound support team here,” the doctor remarked. “But Jake is who she has on her admittance papers as contact…”

Jake glanced at Charlie with uncertainty as the doctor led him away to talk further. Her parents just nodded and moved away to give privacy. The moment made his stomach churn. He had never had to be responsible for anyone before, let alone someone whose parents were standing right there.

“We’re looking at a pretty severe panic attack. She is physically fine. Who found her?”

Jake grimaced. “I did. I came into town to get some things for dinner. She was in the kitchen when I got home.”

“Was she alone?”

He nodded. The thought of whatever caused the episode was going to be waiting for them when they did get home. He tried to think back to whatever it could have been that would cause her to panic, but was drawing a blank.

“So, we’ve given her something to help rest. I suggest talking to a mental health specialist. We do have a person on staff if she doesn’t have someone right now.”

“Uh, I have the contact info. She has regular therapy,” Jake said stiffly, unsure if her parents knew the full scope of what Violet was having to do to be Violet.

“Oh, very good. I would suggest contacting them as soon as you can. Do you know if she has a pending appointment?” the doctor asked, her full focus on him.

“Every Monday, but is reachable if she needs more,” he answered.

The doctor nodded. “The most important thing here is for her to rest and be in contact with her therapist. If she continues to have these symptoms, she will need to consult with her primary care provider. There may be something that they can do in the long term for treatment. I’ll get the paperwork going to release her. Jake, if you’d like, you can come on back. She’s been asking if you could come in. I see no reason for you not to be with her.”

“We’ll stay,” Charlie assured as he started to follow the doctor.

Jake nodded as he walked quickly to catch up. The doctor held the heavy door open for him and he slid through. His heart felt heavy in his chest as she waved him into the second room. Violet was curled up in a load of blankets, her face still and calm. He looked at the doctor once more, and she just smiled encouragingly as she moved towards the desk space on the right.

The room was warm, and almost felt cozy with the lights turned low. He stepped inside as quietly as he could. She startled, but smiled as he drew near. He touched her arm and reached with his other hand for hers. She blushed and turned her nose into the pillow.

“How you doing, gorgeous?” he whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, baby,” she started as she tugged him down next to her.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” His words were like a knife to his gut. He was trying too hard to sound normal and be comforting. He lay on his side next to her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Just tell me you are okay.”

“They gave me the good shit, so I’m okay,” she said as her eyes drifted closed.

“You want to go home?” he asked quietly before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She nodded. Violet threaded her hands in his flannel before tucking them inside against his sides. “I’m so tired.”

“We’ll get you home and we’ll sleep,” he said as she snuggled into his chest. “Charlie and Madelyn are out in the lobby waiting. They want to make sure you’re okay.”

She nodded once more. A nurse stepped in quietly, papers in her hand. Her eyes barely drifted across them as she moved around, tucking stuff away before finally expecting attention.

“Alright, Miss Violet,” she said. “I have your marching orders, dear. You feel like you’re ready to go?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Violet said quietly.

Jake slipped out of the bed and stood up as she slowly sat up.

“Do you have any questions?” Violet shook her head. “If you do, you can contact your primary care provider, or of course the nurse line… Kind of strange I have to say this to you. Sorry.”

“Protocol. It’s fine,” Violet remarked, swinging her legs to the side of the bed and overshooting a bit.

Jake reached out to support her as stood up, wobbly from whatever they had given her. He caught her eye to steady her. She looped her arm through his with a tired smile.

“Or, since the weekend is close, you can call here. Dr. Turner will be on this weekend, so, be aware of that. Be sure to contact your primary care provider if these symptoms persist, as well as talk to your therapist. They will both have techniques that can help alleviate the more minor symptoms.”

She smiled and handed Jake the papers. He barely glanced at them before she continued on about when to return to the ER if the symptoms worsen in the night. She pointed out the provider number for mental health reach out that could also be utilized. Violet thanked the woman quietly as she walked them towards the heavy entrance/exit door. He kept his eyes fixed to the ugly flat carpet that he couldn’t quite discern if it was supposed to be ribbons or chains or a fever dream of a weaver. He was pretty sure it was fun to trip on if given the opportunity.

“There she is,” Charlie called out as they moved together down the hallway into the lobby.

Her parents look relieved to see her. Jake stood to the side to allow Charlie and Madelyn love on her, though was surprised that Violet swiped a hand out searching for him to hold onto. He grinned more so to himself as she remained close to him. They parted with promises to call in the morning - or when she was awake. He drove her home in silence. He wanted to ask so many questions, but figured it would not help to barrage her over whatever it was that caused her attack.

He was about to turn the car off and help her inside the house when she stopped him. Jake waited, though he was sure he may look calm, inside felt like a thousand shards of glass were shredding his gut.

“There was a delivery after you left,” she said quietly. The lack of strength in her voice made him want to shake her until she brought his Violet back. “I’ve been asked to Madison. The prosecuting attorney is looking for more evidence, more situations, more complainants to fill out the case with Alison. They would like me to sit for a deposition.”

He felt his eyes close as his breath released. “I didn’t see it when I came in. I just saw you.”

“It’s on the island. I thought it was work stuff,” she explained.

“Okay. We’re going to go inside and I want you to head upstairs,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’ll put the groceries away and see if I can put together some sandwiches. Movies and sleep. Sound okay to you? We’ll talk about all that shit tomorrow. Tonight is just this. You and me.”

She nodded. “Black Sails?”

“You only say that ‘cuz you got a thing for Anne Bonny,” he teased, cutting the engine.

“I got a type,” she teased.

He laughed as he touched her cheek. “Oh baby, you sure do.”

Violet POV

She stirred but it was still dark outside. Jake had her wrapped tight against his torso and struggled when she tried to move. She tapped at his bare chest and mumbled about the bathroom. He let her go reluctantly, all the while he drifted back into deeper sleep. Violet glanced at her phone, grimacing to find that it was only after four in the morning.

She slid back into bed after taking care of herself. He instantly had his arm out for her to settle back in. She breathed in the warm, sleepy scent of his skin as she rested her cheek against him.

“I don’t want to leave this room today,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to,” he said, fingers combing through her hair. “You don’t have to do anything today if you don’t want to.”

She felt the tug of sleep as he rubbed at her neck and back. Violet blinked and it was suddenly past noon. Jake was not next to her and the sheets on his side were cool to the touch. A thin string of curses and grunts and groans fell out of her mouth as she slid out of bed, her whole body sore from being inactive for so long. He wasn’t in the bathroom. She poked her head out the bedroom door and listened for a while, realizing that he was not in the house. Pulling on her ugly fuzzy robe she drifted down the stairs. Peeking outside, she found him on the deck, phone and smoke in hand. He glanced back at the glass of the door and gave her a little wave before returning to his call.

Coffee in hand, her eyes moved over the kitchen island in search of her certified letter. Moving things around, she searched, until Jake made his way inside. Boots and jacket off, he took a moment to watch her as if gauging what she was doing. He pointed at the fridge behind her.

“I put it there. Didn’t want it to get lost,” he said quietly.

She nodded as she exhaled. “Thank you.”

He moved past her, reaching for his coffee cup. “Josh says ‘hi’. He was checking in. I, uh, also called Kirby. She had a five o’clock opening and I took it. Hope that was okay.”

Jake had sat in on a fair share of appointments with her therapist. Any time Kirby asked for his support, he was there. No questions asked. It was a first for him to reach out, which Violet was sure was a flag for the therapist. Again, she nodded. The air felt fuzzy around her. She was sure it was just her after effect of the sedative they had given her, but she felt like even teeth had grown fur.

“I guess there’s some phone calls I need to make as well,” she whispered over the rim of her cup, allowing the steam to breathe into her nose.

“I need to know where my boundaries are here, Vi,” he said softly, eyes downcast.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

He inhaled deeply. “I think I spent most of the night thinking about everything I should be doing to help, and I just don’t know. I can jump in and call legal and see what they can extend. I have family members as well as family friends who are lawyers that I could call to help. If you find a lawyer, do you want me to be with you? Do you want me to stay away? I can do nothing. Well… No. I can’t do nothing. Please don’t ask me to do nothing.”

“I…” She did not know what to say. “I don’t know the boundaries. I had to do this mostly on my own last time. I’m surprised they reached out to me at all, to be honest.”

“Why’s that?”

Violet blew out a breath. Her body felt like it was on fire as he looked at her, waited for her to answer his extremely simple question. Taking a sip of her coffee, she did not know any other way but to let it out.

“There’s a reason why my case fell apart,” she started, voice level but quiet. “I did not have to testify, however, my body was the evidence. I was evidence. Tim’s lawyers turned me into a sexual deviant.”

Jake’s eyes widened with heat. She held up a hand to stop him.

“When the victim has questionable sexual practices, it was easy to spin it and reframe it like I asked for it,” she started shaking as his jaw clenched. “No matter what I did, testify or not - in person or on video - those lawyers turned me into a w-”

“Motherfuckers,” he whispered over her. “Stop. Just… What fucking year are we in? 1950?”

“The prosecutor tried to argue that it was slander, that it was casting prejudice onto the witness/victim - me - when any form of this information came in, but the judge allowed that in because it gave background to the victim. Not the fact that I was in the top of my class in university. Not that I had a stellar work record with commendations. Not that I was part of a premiere surgical team in pediatrics that was world renowned for its work,” she said, her voice shredded and thin like dry paper. “Even if I removed my presence, those lawyers… He fucking had me. Tim still could harm me.”

Jake covered his mouth as if he were trying to force his words not to tumble out. Violet felt her body slump down on one of the stools of the island. It had been more than a year since the feel of deep defeat had touched her brain.

“Oh my fucking god, he’s still doing it. He’s still getting to me,” she whispered.

Violet shoved her fingers through her hair. Instead of buckling, she yanked her hair back, sitting up straight and tall. Her mouth was a hard line as she shook her head. Jake was white knuckling the counter with a look of anger that was frightening.

“I need a smoke.”

She watched as he slammed his feet into his boots at the door and walked out without a coat. She sipped at her icy coffee before sliding from the stool and heading for the stairs. Her gut felt twisted. It was more anger than defeat. Hot and unvented with no way to actually emit without causing harm to everything and everyone around her. Setting her cup into the sink, she started up the stairs. Everything felt like it was tied down with cement blocks that were in turn tied with anchors. She paused as she heard him come back through the door but continued on quietly. A shower was in order. She was sure a trainwreck looked better than what she did at the moment.

Water on hot, she stepped out of her robe and ran a brush through her hair. She looked at her fingers for a while. They felt thicker than normal. Unable to hold onto anything like she normally would. Sliding out of her jams and moving under the spray, Violet gasped at the feel against her skin. She waited for the sting to subside. She waited for the shock to ease out through her toes and fingertips and welcome in the hottest heat she could have at the moment.

“Can I come in?” Jake asked from the open door.

She let the pulse beat on her back for a moment before turning to peek through the curtain. “I don’t have the fight in me.”

“I don’t either,” he whispered.

She pulled the curtain back a bit to let him step in. He wrapped his arms around her tight, allowing the water’s heat to hold them both close. There were few things she liked more than the smell of Jake’s wet skin. She tucked her nose against his neck as they swayed under the water like they were shuffling across a dance floor but not going anywhere.

“Love you,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let me care for you.”

Gently, he washed her hair. Wiping the suds away so as not to allow anything near her eyes. He washed their bodies together. Violet kept her hands on him as if she needed to have a touch to ensure he was not going to disappear. He’d plant little chaste kisses here and there, soothing her, grounding her. He wrapped them both in towels after turning the water off. He sat her down on the edge of the tub, taking the time to slowly rub her favorite lotion into her skin and brush her hair. He grimaced as he took her face cream out and relented for a moment to allow her to finish.

“I can -” he started, but she pulled him close instead.

“Can we just lay down?” she asked, nose to the middle of his chest. “I’m not hungry. I’m not anything. Just be with me?”

He pulled back the quilt and they slid in together. Violet needed to feel his skin and feel his heartbeat. Jake ran his fingers back and forth around the cap of her shoulder. In what felt like the span of a few breaths his alarm was making both of them stir. He barely moved to silence it. His mouth brushed her skin, breathing life into her once more.

“Violet,” he murmured into her hair. “Hey, you awake?”

She drew her nose up his sternum, a move she had done what seemed a thousand times. Each time, she would breathe him in, wondering if there would ever be a time that he would not stir something within her soul.

“I’ll make us some coffee if you can get us set up in the living room,” he said, brushing her hair back.

She nodded, but they both seemed reluctant to leave the sanctity of their bed. A second alarm made him laugh quietly.

“That’s a rarity,” she muttered. “Two alarms?”

“I set four,” he laughed as he turned off the alarms. “Come on. We’ll both feel better after a chat with Kirby.”

Violet watched as Jake made sandwiches for them as soup heated on the stove. The silence was only disturbed whenever he sliced something or stirred. Their faces mirrored one another - quiet, contemplative. Kirby had dug into them both - one for being such supportive partners to each other, but two for being such supportive partners to each other that neither could voice what they needed individually. She commended Jake for taking those steps to reach out, especially after Violet’s episode. She commended Violet for being open as to being totally unaware of her own expectations of Jake at that time. The therapist warned the two that what was ahead was going to require good communication.

She was a bit taken aback by his hesitation to share how he felt about the hospital. It took a little prying. She swallowed over his sudden shyness in sharing. Apparently, in the ER, the attending doctor had asked if he was ‘the husband’. It was not the label that had upset him. It was the fear that the doctor would not allow him to care for Violet in the manner that he knew she needed - simply to be with him in that moment because he was not ‘the husband’. The added “whatever the fuck that means” put the feather in the conversation.

Kirby asked Violet how she had felt about the ‘husband’ label being thrown around in this instance. Knowing that it was paperwork and assumptions, she had started to voice that it could be a typical assumption since she had put him on the contact sheet, but Kirby stopped her. She had put Jake down as her contact - something she did not think twice about. She had to pause. She never once put that responsibility on Tim. Never. Not even during the trips that he supervised to the ER. He had special privilege and he knew it and abused it. Jake had looked at her over the admission.

“I want you to know that I’d like to call legal,” he said. His dark eyes flicked up to her before turning back to the cooktop. “They cannot help, I know that, but they can perhaps reach out to someone who can. I want to protect you. It is something that I can do.”

His words were not framed as a question. Violet took a sip of her coffee. She waited until he turned back to her with plates and bowls. She nodded and his shoulders visibly dropped as he relaxed.

“Thank you,” he said as he platted the sandwiches.

The evening was quiet. Jake practiced for a few hours while she was curled on the couch “reading”. In truth, her brain was beyond the borders of the house, sitting with Ali in her posh apartment overlooking the Capital and the lake. She was going to view Violet’s reluctance and outright resistance to assisting with her case as betrayal. Worse, she knew in her heart that there was no telling Alison why she could not assist her in her trial. There were things that Violet refused to share with the blunt instrument that was Dr. Alison Mundrow, even when they were very close. The woman was a brick wall when it came to ideals that were not her own, but would gladly help anyone she could without a thought.

The morning had arrived quickly. Somehow, Violet had woken to find herself nearly on the edge of the bed with her hand in Jake’s hair, but the rest of her posed like she was ready to escape. She was expected to tuck into a few of the training modules during the morning, so she slipped out and cleaned up in prep for work. Jake had barely moved by the time she flitted from the bathroom to collect her laptop and move downstairs to the dining room table. She had just enough time for coffee and yogurt before the first session started. Halfway through the second module, she heard his voice upstairs, like he was talking on the phone in the front bedroom. She retrained her focus, answering questions about protocols and expectations of teams when new members joined. The third module was going to be the longest, tapping in at over an hour. She listened to Jake moving around as she fixed another cup of coffee. He caught her eye as he came down the stairs, dressed and keys in hand. She held up a finger to her mouth before she moved back in front of the screen just in time as the last of the meeting modules started.

Violet followed along on the planned curriculum, her eyes tracing above the laptop, watching as Jake gathered his breakfast. Every now and then he would turn to catch her out of the corner of his eye. He winced and grimaced every time he banged or clattered. Violet kept having to hide her mouth behind fingers and papers to keep from smiling or laughing. His phone rang, effectively shutting it down, but she watched as his face turned stoic and he slid into his professional manner.

The rest of her morning was wrapping up the training session, followed by paperwork that she worked on with her partner from the team, Shelli. Jake remained upstairs until nearly noon when he brought dishes down. He peeked around the corner to make sure she was clear before heading into the kitchen with a wave. He took the time to poke around in the freezer before tapping away on his phone. Violet watched as he was literally rummaging around the kitchen, setting out ingredients, grabbing pots and pans and setting them out on the cooktop and counter. Wrapping up the session with work, she shut the laptop and leaned against the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked, reaching for his pack of smokes on the table.

He stopped. “I have no idea, actually. Wasting time I suppose. Trying to avoid, as Kirby would say.”

“Avoid?”

He nodded. “I talked with legal and they got back to me with not just the name of someone to contact, but had her on a conference call ready to talk with me. Ms. Williams would like to speak with you. She’s one of the top in these kinds of cases, Vi. Domestic cases.”

She couldn’t get anything but an ‘oh’ out of her mouth as he sat down on one of the stools. Violet was already feeling the crawl beneath her skin. To have to return to Madison was like asking her to walk across flaming broken glass.

“She asked, if it is okay with you, she could visit us here,” he continued, his eyes strayed to the side and not looking directly at her. “She said that she is more concerned with you and your sense of safety. I may have stepped across a line here, but I asked if she could be here at her first available time. She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

The air rushed from her as she tried to swallow. He was instantly up, hands shoved in his pockets and pacing, apologizing if he overstepped, he only wanted to…

“Jake, it’s fine,” she managed, wiping at her face. “I’m surprised there are still people that do that. Visit in person I mean.”

“Yes. She seemed kind,” he said quietly. “Understanding of the situation. My legal fucks are a little freaked out, but screw them.”

“PR nightmare ahead,” she remarked, missing the sarcasm mark she had aimed for since it was her fear. The look he gave her made her shake her head. “Sorry.”

“I’ve been reminded that the band has many under their employ and that they need to take precautions,” he said quietly. “Not sure what the fuck that means, but I don’t give a shit.”

Violet felt quiet and retreated. Jake seemed to pick up on her shift and backed off. Instead, he reached for a glass of water and a softer tone.

“Tomorrow - do you want me here?”

“As much as I would like that,” she started, but started to shake her head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m sure she will want to discuss some of the really bad shit.”

He looked like he wanted to ask if she was sure, but nodded instead. “I can make a Hewit run.”

In the space between them, there were words she was sure that needed to be brought forward, spoken gently, heated, argued over, maybe even cried over. However, she watched as he moved away, reaching for his acoustic and heading upstairs to be alone. The bruising around her spirit felt close. It pressed against her tired flesh and left her wondering how much longer did she have to feel the weight of her past preclude her fully realizing what could be her future.

*whew* This feels good. I hope you enjoyed seeing Jake and Violet again. I'll post up every Wednesday. If you'd like to join the tag list in general - here you go

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @joshkiszkas-admin @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96

#jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake gvf #jake kiszka

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rp-partnerfinder · 2 months

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Hello all! You can call me Apidae! I'm 25, NB, and I've been roleplaying for a little over a decade. I guess l'd be considered semi-lit, considering I tend to favor a couple lines to 2-4 paragraphs, I'll elaborate in a few paragraphs so bear with me. I am versatile and can play any gender and I expect the same of you.

I'm looking for someone who can respond a couple times a day minimum, as that's usually what you can expect from me. Communication is preferred, if you're gonna be busy just let me know. I will not write with anyone below the age of 22.

I love urban fantasy and high/medieval fantasy but even just having Magical elements in SoL roleplays is awesome. Currently, I have a few plot ideas that really excite me. I'll list a few below. I love romance, drama, and a lot of angst. I love the gut wrenching, hard to not cry topics as much as the blushing romance so I need that variety. I like to feel like I'm there, ya know? I'm also okay with NSFW themes, so long as it doesn't fully take over the roleplay.

I definitely prefer quality over quantity soa well written one liner is 10x more preferred than a forced novella. I always struggle when partners offer three-four paragraphs jam-packed with action and new information because almost always there is something in that first paragraph that, realistically, my character would have responded to, but by the end of the message so much more has happened that it is impossible to respond to while still making sense.

Plot ideas!! These are vague but I'm happy to flesh it out some more if we mesh.

Escaping Gods: this would be mxm or mxnb. Character b is an immortal that's been evading an ancient god for forever, they fall in love with character a, sol shenanigans and then fighting god ensues.

I know this was kind of long, but I appreciate you taking the time to read it. If you would like to talk some more, feel free to message me here and if we click we can talk on discord.

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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sweet emotion pt two | stranger things ; e.munson

A/N ; So I posted the first part to this yesterday and honestly, I wasn't too sure if I'd even be able to come up with a second part. But I did and so, here we are. So apparently, not only does this Henderson!fem reader have a whole lotta sass / artsy and witchy stoner vibes but also, she apparently does not like large crowds that much and she's showing a lil bit of a softer side here. Also, pretty sure if I were to write this one in the future as an adult (with her man Eds) she'd be involved in animal rescue or something.

Pairing ; Eddie Munson x Henderson!fem reader ( who yikes, sorry.. does read like an OC bc a very detailed personality and such. I tried hard not to but with this one and the one for Steve with a henderson!fem reader, the details just kept coming, oops rip. so if that breaks immersion for anyone, I am so so so so so sorry. I'm still learning how to do reader / y/n type stuff.)

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; part I can be found by clicking. As I stated previously, there is no Upside Down / unholy events that happen to deal with in this. It's just another lil normal slice of life thing. So if you like those -and you like the idea of our metal god living and thriving, maybe you'll like this. I am lowkey tempted to have little brother Dustin and his buddies try to play matchmaker or something at some point.

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @allelitesmut @aries-arcade @hcloangcls and a courtesy tag to @rampagewriting - feel free to ignore if you're not up to it bb, it's fine. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger Things, please let me know or add yourself -> here. Also, I want to tag @rollingwiccan bc their comment made my entire night and I thank them so much.

Warnings ; mentions of anxiety (large crowds / people in general), heavy sexual tension. Lots of little 'hidden gestures' and mutual pining angst, brief hints of a bad previous relationship -Henderson!Fem reader previously dated a huge jackass named Troy. Study session turned impromptu guitar lesson -be warned i was really vague with all musical related terminology bc I am.. not a musician.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters. I beg of you -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

The sign leading into Forest Hills trailer park is hanging askew, the chain that formerly held up the left side abandoned hope probably well before you were born. You try to remember which trailer Eddie said he lived in as you drive slow down the only road in or out and then you finally spot Eddie’s van parked haphazardly in front of one so you stop and pull in across the lawn from it.

An older man is standing in the doorway as you finish jamming out to Led Zeppelin and kill the engine to your car. You get out after you grab your books and notebooks. As you’re approaching the door, Wayne chuckles to himself.

“You lost?” he calls out.

“Nope. Eddie lives here, right?” you ask the question as you shuffle your scuffed combat boots against the dry lawn and pop a noisy blue bubble with your gum. Right off the bat, Wayne is not sure what to think about you. You’re a girl Eddie talks about non-stop lately and normally, that worries him because the kid tends to get real caught up in the idea of a person and then they pull his father’s stunt and disappear when the kid needs ‘em most. Then there’s the other ones who treat his nephew real bad and whisper and stare or go out of their way to avoid getting near him in a crowd. Wayne’s always been protective, Eddie isn’t just his nephew. Eddie is the only good thing in his life. Eddie might as well be his own damn son and the way people treat him always makes Wayne stay on guard.

“You the kid with the snake?” Wayne asks with a quiet laugh. You curtsy and smile. “And three cats, a lizard and as of last night, a baby bird with a broken wing.” you add, making Eddie’s uncle laugh. You, on the other hand, you are beyond nervous because you feel like you’re being sized up. Scrutinized.

But then, to be fair, you can’t blame his uncle for being protective. People either treat Eddie like shit or they all shrink away in fear and whisper behind his back. Or start dumb rumors.

“Dustin.. That Henderson boy.. Is he your little brother? Always see you puttering around in that death trap out there with him and those two other boys, that little girl…” Wayne asks. You smile and nod. “Mhm. He’s in Eddie’s Hellfire thing.”

Wayne feels a little less ill at ease. He asked about Dustin because he always sees you around town with the group of boys and the little red-head across the road.

He steps out of the doorway and you take a deep breath. Maybe you passed the little test you feel like you’ve just been given. “Eddie!” you yell out over the guitar from behind the closed door at the end of the trailer.

Wayne chuckles to himself because you’ve already taken off your combat boots and he’s seen the mismatched socks you’re wearing. Not only that, you’re looking around. He saw you stop by the picture of his nephew in middle school, smile a little when you picked it up and put it back down.

You remember the leftovers your mom sent with you and sit them down on the flimsy dining table as you turn back to the older man. “It’s uh.. Chili.” you smile at him and twist hair around your finger. You’re at least halfway sure that he’s on the fence about you and normally, that wouldn’t bother you but this is Eddie’s uncle. He’s important to Eddie, therefore, you want him to like you.

Without giving away the fact that you -an actual chaos demon according to most, have kind of been in love with his nephew for so long that it’s probably not funny and it might seem a little… weird if that ever came to light.

“Should be good later. Gonna get cold tonight.” Wayne muses. He yells his nephew’s name but Eddie keeps on playing. You’ve wandered back over to that photo of his nephew in middle school again and you’re holding it, staring at the frame. Shuffling your mismatched socks on the floor. He starts to get the sense that you’re a little awkward. And he starts to see where his nephew insists that your whole ‘tough’ act is a front.

He’s still undecided about you, but he warms just a little more. Maybe you’re a good kid and you’re not like the others in town who keep a wide berth while whispering, staring and pointing behind his nephew’s back.

“Is that his room?” you nod to the closed door and Wayne chuckles, nodding. “Mhm.”

“I got it, sir.” you’re grinning way too much and this is when Wayne comes to the conclusion that you enjoy the fact that you’re a little chaos magnet.

Or that’s what Eddie refers to you as. And some of the stories he’s told Wayne about you, well.. Wayne Munson doesn’t entirely disagree. His favorite was probably the one where you filled a pail with glitter, rigged it over a classroom door and when the one kid who was always messing with Eddie the most walked in, you pulled a rope and covered the kid in sparkly pink and purple glitter. Eddie also told him about you keeping a packet of the stuff and randomly blowing it at people throughout the day.

You’re creeping towards the closed door. When you’re standing in front of it, you have to take a deep breath. You throw open the door to Eddie’s bedroom and you promptly lose all coherent thought because Eddie is sitting in a chair with his guitar in his lap, no shirt on and his hair caught up in a familiar black elastic.

Your black hair elastic. The one you thought you lost at some point earlier in the day.

You were going to just yell something random but you can’t stop staring.

Eddie looks up while you’re preoccupied and he sits down the guitar in it’s resting place and stands. “My uncle didn’t like… Interrogate you or anything, right?”

“Mhm.” you quickly add with a soft laugh, “But it’s okay.”

Eddie swears under his breath. Not only for the fact that his uncle interrogated you like he does every new person Eddie brings back to the trailer but he was hoping you’d change before you came by but you didn’t and now he knows he’ll be totally fucked for focus and coherent thought because you’re wearing the little black dress with a white turtleneck beneath it. And the damned stockings that stop at your thigh that he stared way too long at earlier when you were sitting on the table in the cafeteria so you could talk to Astrid, because she was sitting in Gareth’s lap.

“You sure?” Eddie asks.

“You act like I’m made of glass, Munson. I’m razors, remember? Razors and barbed wire.” you laugh softly. And as you say it, Eddie thinks to himself that you might act like you’re tough but he’s definitely figuring out that you’re not really.

“Yeah, I keep forgetting.” Eddie blinks because he was doing it again, staring at the shape of your lips. To be fair, the way you’re always biting the bottom one is a distraction. A huge one.

The tension is creeping back in and it’s heavier. So much heavier. You step up to him because you were going to sit your books and notebooks down on the nightstand but Eddie took a step forward. You gulp and you definitely do your best to keep your eyes down because if you don’t, you’re going to stare. And it will be awkward. Your eyes catch on the tattoo on his arm and you giggle, raising his arm. “You didn’t wash off the marker.” you smile up at him.

That smile is something he’ll do anything to see again. That smile is the whole reason he’s started to just let you trace around the bats tattooed on his arm when you’re bored or nervous. He can usually tell you’re more nervous around larger crowds because earlier, you were talked into sitting in on a Hellfire meeting by Dustin and you were sitting between Dustin and Eddie at the table before it started and the more people who filed into the classroom, the closer you’d get to him and the more you’d drag your finger over the bats.

So he definitely knows by now you are not nearly half as tough as you make yourself out to be.

And it’s like a fucking drug to him, honestly. The more little glimpses of your softer side that come out, the more he tries to fight whatever is happening. But lately, he hasn’t been doing so great at fighting it off.

And everyone notices. And he has been getting some serious hell for it.

Like earlier when Freak -one of the guys in his band and Hellfire, noticed you sitting on the tabletop, between Dustin and Eddie and he saw you glancing around the room, quick to look away and down, twisting Eddie’s rings on his fingers. Freak teased the hell out of him after the meet up ended because Eddie actually forgot what he was going to say at one point and the asshole found it hilarious to point out later.

His direct quote was something like “Nobody else gets to do half the shit she does, Munson. Is she your girl?”

It was a question Eddie hadn’t answered. But when the idiot said something seconds later about asking you to come over and watch movies, Eddie had pretty much taken it upon himself to tell the guy to try it and see what happened.

Your laugh prompts him to focus, stop slipping into his usual daze. You’re sprawled across his mattress, your notebook and the textbook open in front of you. Curses flow from your lips fluidly like a second language and Eddie sits there, watching you as you make a face of sheer annoyance at the text open in front of you.

“How the hell am I supposed t’ help you with this shit if I can’t even figure it out? Jesus christ.” you grumble as you sit up and slam the textbook shut while pouting.

Wayne peeks into the room. “Off to work.” he dangles the keys to the van. “Behave, Eddo.”

“Always.” Eddie laughs.

Wayne gazes at you a second or two and it’s enough that he catches you just staring at his nephew while Eddie isn’t looking and this puts the older man just a little more at ease.

“Nice meetin ya, kid.” he finally says to you before closing the door.

“Fuck word problems.” you grumble not even three seconds later. “Look, if I see one more word problem I’m going to lose my mind.. I.. Can we take a break for a few minutes?” you ask quietly. “Just til I can figure out what I’m missing.”

Eddie chuckles. “Yeah.”

It’s started to rain and the sound of rain hitting the metal roof is relaxing. When the silence is too heavy, you can’t take it anymore, so you attempt to start a conversation.

“Gareth is in for it this weekend.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Astrid’s going to invite him over while her mom’s out of town. You know where this is going.” you laugh softly. “I’m just glad she’s happy, man.”

“I’d say the same about Gare but he’s actually pretty fucking obnoxious lately.” Eddie laughs when he says it and you pretend to pout. “Sir, I happen to think it’s adorable for them.”

“Meh..”

You stick out your tongue and Eddie chuckles quietly.

He reaches out and picks up his guitar, starting to play for a little bit. It’s giving him something to do with his hands and if he’s focused on the guitar and music, he’s not staring at you like a complete idiot.

Only now, you’re the one staring like a complete idiot. Utterly fucked for focus. When he glances over at you at one point, it’s all you can do to pretend to be real absorbed on the blank paper in the open notebook in front of you. You can feel him watching you.

“You stare at my hands a lot.”

His statement has you choking on air and you cough. He puts down the guitar and leans across, hitting you between the shoulders. Laughing as he locks eyes with you, giving you a concerned look. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly, the laughter dying away.

You stick out your tongue. “I do not stare at your hands a lot..” you drag your hand through your hair. You’re lying and you know it. And Eddie’s aware of your little fixation. He just called you out on it. You shrug without saying anything for a second or two. “Your rings.”

“Yeah. I uh… noticed earlier in the lunchroom when everybody piled in at the end of lunch you were kind of playing with them.” Eddie rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You’re not a real big crowd person, hm?”

“I hate anywhere super crowded, holy shit. It’s like I can’t–” you trail off, laughing at yourself. “Nothing. It’s dumb and if you tell anybody that, I’ll put you on your ass, Munson.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’ve noticed it for a while now. You fidget a lot when you have to speak in class or you’re in a crowd and you don’t have something t’ focus on. Kinda why I don’t say anything whenever you play with them lately.”

What he doesn’t say is that he also doesn’t stop you because he likes it because the softness of your hand is kind of soothing to him too. And more than a time or two, he’s been in a heated discussion with Mike or Erica or Freak or Gare and he’ll catch sight of you and take a deep breath and it’s like he’s fine.

“What about my rings though?” he asks, chuckling. Trying to keep the conversation lighter in the hopes that maybe you’ll open up a little more. Dustin advised that you were nothing if not guarded. An on-again and off-again asshole named Troy was mentioned, and if he did half the things Dustin told him about, Eddie hoped that this time the off was off for good.

Or that he could get his hands on the guy somehow, yeah… That’d be one fight he’d be willing to have.

Dustin said you used to be different. Happier. But then your parents got divorced and your dad stopped having anything to do with the three of you and then you got mixed up with the jerk Troy and now it’s like you’ve got a wall up or something.

You shrug. “I like ‘em?” you go quiet.

Every part of you is beyond tempted to blurt out the truth in all it’s bizarre glory. That you like his hands because they’re sturdy and warm, bigger than yours and a little rough. And the contrast whenever he accidentally touches you is kind of soothing.

But you’re not trying to make the awkwardness any worse than it is.

Eddie nods. “Thanks?” he chuckles and goes quiet. “Have you ever played guitar?” he asks, not sure where he’s going with it and almost instantly, he wants to kick himself because if he does what he’s tempted to do, it’s going to drive him crazy, being that close to you.

You shake your head. “Nope. Always wanted to try but I’m horrible at music.”

“C’mere.” he pats his lap and your brow raises. “You don’t… you don’t have to teach me.”

“We’ll call it a trade, alright? You’re tutoring me, so I can teach you guitar.”

You swallow down a massive lump in your throat and slip off of his bed, making the short step over to the chair. To make it a little less awkward, Eddie widens the gap between his legs and lets you sit down and get settled and then he puts the guitar in front of you and leans against your back a little, his arms around you. His hands over yours as he explains the different chords and finger positions to you, the warmth of his breath tickling at the shell of your ear. The scent of him dominating the space around you and you’re breathing in deep before you can stop yourself because it’s just that calming.

“Okay, show me again.” you laugh out when you mistakenly pluck the wrong chord.

“It’s this one.” Eddie wraps his hand around yours and guides it up the neck of the guitar a little higher. You get it right and glance back at him and he’s grinning.

You smile a little too. Giggle quietly.

“We need to get back to it.” you hate saying it so much. Eddie nods, clearing his throat. Pouting a little while you’re not looking because he honestly doesn’t want you to move. But he knows that you did agree to tutor him and to do that, he needs to focus.

The two of you settle across his mattress, him sprawled one direction and you the other, with the books open in front of you. You finally figure out the correct way to go about solving the word problem and you’re bouncing and laughing and he can’t help but smile. You help him through it really quick and then you move on to the next one and as you’re attempting to work through it, all he can do is stare. Watch the way your tongue juts out when you’re focused. Or the way you like to chew the end of your pencil.

Or the way your legs are up in the air, crossed at the knee behind you and he can see the mismatched socks that you’d worn with your boots and those distracting fucking thigh highs earlier. You look up at one point and push the notebook so he can see it. “Okay, if I have this figured out right, you have to divide and then subtract. But I could be wrong.” you point out what you did and watch as he does it on his own paper.

The math book is closed and you roll over onto his back. “Finally. Now we can get to the easier stuff.” you let out a relieved groan and he laughs. You remember that you wrote down what was going to be on a history quiz he’d have the next day and you sit up, rifling around through the organized chaos you call a notebook until you find the notes you made to give to him and you hold out the paper. “Learn that. You have a quiz tomorrow. We had it today so when I got to Art I wrote it all down real quick.” you’re rambling and it’s cute and he can’t help but laugh quietly as he takes it to read it.

You’re staring, watching as doe eyes scan the paper and the way his tongue drags the outline of his lips. You’re staring way, way too hard. When he looks up, you look down. Focus on the sketch you have going of a skull with a snake crawling in through the mouth with it’s head coming out of the nose. You’ve just started to put roses all around it, cute little dainty ones and a few sunflowers and daisies when Eddie clears his throat and rubs his forehead.

“We need another break.”

“Mhm. If you work too hard you’re not gonna retain anything I’m trying to help you learn.” you answer before going quiet. You sit down your pencil and Eddie reaches out, taking the notebook. Looking at the sketch.

He grins as he hands it back to you. “You’re good.”

You laugh and shake your head, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as you do it. “Not really.”

“No, this is really good.”

You give him a little smile and shrug. “Not as good as your bats. Or the design you drew for the t-shirts.”

“Oh you liked that?” he chuckles. Stunned a little because he had no idea anybody knew he was the one who’d designed the shirts.

“OH!” you laugh. “You gotta see this one.” you dig around until you find what you were helping Astrid work on earlier in art, she wanted to make adverts for the next gig. Eddie took the paper when you held it out and he chuckled. You laugh quietly. “Astrid, she uh.. She’s really going all in on this band girlfriend thing. She wanted to make adverts to pass out before the next show.”

“She did, huh?”

“Mhm. To quote her, I’m the only person she thought could come up with a dark and badass design. She wants to surprise Gare and get that put on a shirt too.”

Eddie snickered quietly. “Pretty sure he’ll just rip it off her.”

“Oh god, yeah. But it’s the thought, right? She wants to do it all soft pink when she gets the shirt made. I told her red. She refuses to listen.” you mock a gag at the mention of the color pink. Eddie snickers again and drags his fingers through his hair.

“She uh… She invited me to come with her to the Hideout.” you go quiet after you say it. “I told her I’d go.”

“Really?” Eddie’s smiling, a smile entirely too big and he knows it shouldn’t excite him this much because he’s trying like hell to just be okay with being your friend -or at least the guy you talk to and hang around with because said guy happens to be best friends with your little brother, he’s too afraid to push his luck.

He doesn’t want to make things weird or mess up what he hopes will be at least friendship.

And the things he feels are so deep. Intense. They’re a little terrifying for him, truth be told.

“Y’know it’s crowded most of the time.. Right?”

“Yeah. I figure I can just like… Hang out with her and maybe I won’t notice.” you answer quietly. What you’re not telling him is that you want to be there. You want to see him light up with joy doing one of the things he loves because seeing him happy makes you happy.

Because it’s both scary and sappy as hell.

And you’re not good at handling either thing, but it can be argued lately that you’re trying a little bit on the sap and sweetness front.

Trying is the active word.

“I’ll be there. If it gets too much you can come to the back until we go on or something.”

You nod and give him another smile. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll do that if it gets weird.” you stammer quietly. You catch sight of the time and you gape. “Oh shit.” you laugh a little. “I should probably get going.”

“C’mon. I’ll walk out with ya. Make sure your tire isn’t going flat again before you go.” he stands and you make your way into the living room. You stop to pull on your boots, using him to prop against and stay steady as you do so. As you step out and the night air hits you, you shiver a little and he laughs. “Told you you should’ve brought a jacket.”

“Ha ha ha, Munson.” you step a little closer. He’s taller and he blocks the wind reasonably well. Not to mention, you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” you smile as you open the door to your car and he leans against it, gazing down at you. “Don’t drive like you’ve got a thousand lives to spare, alright?”

“Yeah yeah, okay, fiiiine.” you laugh as you pull the door closed.

Eddie watches as you drive away, waiting outside until the taillights are gone from view. Then he sits on the step, lights the last cigarette of the day and takes several long and deep breaths. Because he’s starting to realize that Dustin Henderson is right. If he keeps fighting it much longer, it’s going to drive him crazy. And if he has to be perfectly honest with himself, he’s not entirely sure he wants to fight it anymore.

But every time he thinks he’s ready to stop fighting it, he’ll try to find some way to clue you in or bring it up and he comes up blank. Or he talks himself right out of it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x henderson!fem reader imagine #eddie munson x henderson!fem reader fanfiction

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