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eddiernunson · 1 year ago

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Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 12.8k

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing for me I appreciate it, bestie

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spitting ideas and giving feedback.

Warnings: Degradation/praise, eating out, public sex, daddy kink, and several scenes where smut is mentioned but not described. There is about 1k of words just from Dylan's perspective but its worth it trust me.

Eddie is a bit of a sugar daddy in this part, but its ok cause we all want him to spoil us anyway.

Author's note: Some of y'all are gonna make me cry with how kind you are with your words for this fic. I cannot believe how much this story has truly taken over my life. People have expressed sharing it with friends and I just cannot get over that. Thank you.

Your hands held a home-made cocktail on ice while The Princess Diaries played on the tv, a soft blanket covered your crossed legs as you sat with both Sky and Bethany in your living room, scattered along your couch.

Bethany often snuck a joint or two while she visited, the window staying open to minimize a smell with a 20-dollar fan in front of it to promote air circulation. It was nice to have a girls’ night, to order bags of chips and candy over SkiptheDishes, wear face masks, do your makeup for the hell of it, and just let loose.

Bethany made her way over about a movie and a half ago, and she was now explaining a stupid mishap from her office administrative position that quite literally pulled the company to a halt for 45 minutes. “I swear, you could not pay me enough to put up with those drivers.” She claims, taking an inhale from the joint in her two painted fingers.

Sky makes a sudden movement in her seat, reaching to the remote next to her to pause the movie. “Holy shit. Did I tell you I saw Eddie?” Her question is directed across you to Bethany, and you’re left wondering why the hell your boyfriend is the new topic of discussion.

“Wait, what?” Bethany asks, wide green eyes moving back and forth between you and Sky. “When and where?”

“Our date?” You interject her, a little weirded out by the turn this conversation has taken. “When Eddie picked me up, she was here.”

“Oh, I see.” She hums to herself. “Well, since she won’t show us a photo, please tell me what the man who’s old enough to be her father looks like.”

You roll your eyes at this, a cheeky thought occurring to you. “Well Dylan might be great; but he is a sequel. Ain’t nothing compared to the original.”

Sky nods, agreeing. “Eddie is… very good looking.” You shoot her a warning look, for some reason, her just alluding to his good looks makes you feel territorial. “Show her a picture if you don’t want to hear it, damn! Just telling the truth…”

“It’s not that I won’t show you guys,” you explain, unlocking your phone. “It’s that he doesn’t use social media, so he has no good photos of himself.” On the internet, at least.

“What, no throw back photos from Dylan’s insta?” Sky asks, mostly joking.

You go to Dylan’s insta, and you can’t view it. Fuck, you forgot. He blocked you. Even though he seems to be on better terms with you, simple reminders like being blocked from his social media or him refusing to tell any details about his life remind you he’s still nursing a healing wound. “Still blocked.” You look up, and their faces tell you they’re not letting up on it. “Fine. I’ll go to Eddie’s Facebook.”

Eddie added you as a friend the day after your date, adorably waiting as you went on your phone to accept it. The moment you did he went onto your profile and dove into your photos. His eyes were comically wide as he scrolled through them, and after the first few swipes he lifted his head to you. “You just put these on here? Fuck.” The photos weren’t even particularly bad, just you in a bikini on the beach or in a summer dress, he’s just that obsessed with you. You asked him if he minded and he shook his head comically, his dimples so prominent from his wide smile, he looked manic. “Oh, I never said to stop, sweetheart.”

Your thumb slides into Eddie’s profile, and while you were afraid of the calls from a judgemental relative about the relationship with him the word single on his relationship status still hits you hard in the chest. You move to his photos, past the useless profile picture that was his company logo of Munson’s Garage and swipe through the regular posts, past Dylan’s graduation from college, from high school, a picture of a nice car, an old one of his ex with Dylan, (barf), until you finally got through to a throwback, one posted in 2011.

It was taken in the 90s, so a picture of a picture of him sitting at an old kitchen table arm in arm with another dude. One of his feet was up on the table, and he was clutching a beer, lifting it to the camera. His friend was talking to someone off camera, distracted for the moment, his slightly freckled face in a scowl. His friend had brown hair down to his neck styled specifically in a swoop, and they seemed about the same age.

His friend was quite attractive, but younger Eddie made you fucking drool. God, he was so gorgeous. He wore a leather jacket under a denim vest, ripped blue jeans over his big black boots. Fuck. You almost didn’t want to share this photo.

You go to the next photo, and a giggle leaves your mouth as you see him posing with a friend, tongues out and devil horns on their heads as smiles peek through. The background is a stage at an Iron Maiden concert, and they both look ecstatic. It’s a different friend in this one with curly hair, but it looked like he had posted from the Iron Maiden concert. A few more scrolls told you that the throwback photo would be the best option.

“Ok.” You finally say, and both girls have been waiting so long at this point they’ve started scrolling on their own phones. “Guys. You wanna see it or not?”

You hand your phone to Bethany, indicating he was the one on the right. The possessiveness that hits you when you see her reaction, her wide eyes and jaw literally dropping, stunted you. “Holy shit. This is him from how long ago?”

“In the late 90s, I guess.” You tell her.

She hands the phone to Sky, who was asking for it repeatedly as soon as Bethany let out her reaction. “Oh, yeah. He was a cutie. Honestly, he’s hotter now.” Your teeth grit, and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“How?” Bethany asks, gesturing to your phone.

“Ok. Enough. He’s very good looking. But he’s fucking taken.” You bark out, holding your hand out for the phone.

They both stop talking, your sudden anger very uncharacteristic of you. Usually when you find someone particularly good looking, you’d show them off, agreeing with your two friends when they would praise their good looks. This wasn’t anything like those times. Hearing their praises just makes you want to sink your teeth into Eddie’s neck and mark your territory the next time you see him.

“Woah, girl.” Sky says, laughing lightly to diffuse the tension. “Never seen that side of you before.”

“Well, I didn’t even know she existed until a waitress looked at Eddie on our date and I wanted to throttle her,” You admit, grabbing the nearly empty cocktail and taking a sip. “I just…I don’t know why I’m so territorial over him, but God, the thought of him with someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

Bethany holds her hands up in surrender, “Alright, we won’t compliment him anymore. But you did good, girl. You did mighty good.”

As per usual, the girls'-day-in resulted in the three of you falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows scattered across the three of you. The sun cascading through a window by the couch wakes you up, disgruntled, as you pat around for your phone. The screen greets you harshly, your notifications indicating you have three messages from Eddie, two from a manager at work, and the several random ones, which you clear out, not caring about Instagram stories for the moment. Eddie texted to say he was going into work for a few hours. The next two messages indicated if you were there when he got home, he wouldn’t be against it.

Basically, he just told you to please be there when he got home. Fuck, the feeling of him reaching out first was enough to send a wide smile to your face, staring stupidly at your phone. You message him back, letting him know you’ll be there.

The messages from your manager were one from two hours ago, asking if you’d be able to come in for 10 o’clock– Which was thirty-five minutes ago– and the second asked if you were able to come in at all. You quirk your eyebrow, glad your read receipts are off for her, because you’re planning now to text at 3 o'clock to let her know that, oops, you just saw this. No, you’re not going in on your day off, you’ll be spending it with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

You leap from your couch, running into your room to pack another overnight bag. You’re out the door before the others even stir.

As you pull into Eddie’s driveway, you notice Dylan’s truck there, but Eddie’s is still gone. You wonder when he’ll be back, because although Dylan is civil towards you, interactions with him are still stunted. You open the front door, grateful Dylan tended to leave it unlocked. You drop your overnight bag and pillow off at the staircase, its usual spot, before you trot off to the living room where Dylan sits watching tv.

As you plop down next to him on the other side of the couch, Dylan looks to you, startled by the movement, but his eyes roll in exasperation when he realizes that it’s you. “Hi.” You sing-song to him, knowing you’re annoying him, but having fun with it anyways.

“Hey.” He deadpans, watching the tv instead of looking over to you.

“Oh, wow you’re almost caught up.” You say, indicating to a show that you had recommended he watched a while back.

“Turned out to be a good show.” He comments, sounding annoyed.

“Well, how about that?” You retort, and Dylan rolls his eyes before a small smile lands on his face.

Progress.

Less than an hour later, the front door closes, indicating Eddie’s homecoming. He walks in, and as you pay attention to a particularly good episode in this series, you hear a big stretch come from him. “Hi, Ed!” You call out, finally turning towards him.

Fuck. Holy shit.

A few grease stains paint Eddie’s hands and chin, and he’s wearing a pair of blue coveralls from work with a patch on his chest of his name. The grease monkey suit shows off his muscles beautifully, both sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair is tied back into a messy bun, and you’re sure he forgot about the reading glasses on his head. Oh god, he is mouth watering.

A throw pillow hits your face, completely startling you. You whip your head around, glaring at the culprit. “Little drool.” Dylan mouths, pointing to his chin.

“Oh, little drool?” You mock, getting up to hit him with the pillow hard. He chuckles, fighting you off.

You push his shoulder off, shuffling into the kitchen. You turn to see Eddie moving around the kitchen, making himself a quick sandwich. “Hi baby!” You greet him, reaching out for him.

“Oh, hi baby.” He says, following up with an air kiss. He breaks into laughter at your scowl. “Sorry, you don’t want this grease on you. It smells terrible and it’s not fun to wash off.”

“But there’s no grease on your lips.” You point out, staring at those pretty pink lips of his.

“Baby, I cannot kiss you without touching you and there is grease all over my hands.” He chuckles, holding them out.

You want to point out that he’s getting things dirty with grease in the kitchen, including his sandwich, by his own logic, but you have a feeling you won’t get away with it very easily. “Fine. Come see me when you’ve had a shower then.” You tell him, attempting to waddle back to the living room.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie tuts, grabbing your hand. “Come with me, after I shower, I need time with you in my bed.”

“In your bed? Or, in your bed?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing suggestively at the second option.

“If you didn’t know the answer by now, clearly I haven’t done my job right.” He says in a lowly, his eyes darkening in an instant.

Eddie turns around to the sandwich he made as if he hadn’t said a word, grabbing it quickly before tugging on your hand to take you up the stairs.

He hops into the shower, you scroll through your phone on his bed as you wait, somewhat impatiently, your panties already uncomfortable from his stroll into the house in his work uniform.

Fuck, he was hot. You thought about him. His muscles, the slight glisten of sweat, and your phone was tossed aside before you even realized your hands were roaming over your body. You close your eyes, the image of him busy at work on his back on one of those…rolly things in your head. His forearms flexing, the look of concentration on his face.

Your hands itch for your center and you can barely hold back anymore, thankful you opted for a pair of stretchy shorts. Your fingers graze your center easily, rolling around in small circles as you picture the easy access his coveralls would give you, showing up with a dress and no panties and just riding him in his office. Fuck, maybe you wouldn’t even make it there. Goddamn, the images were too hot, your panties finding their way around your ankles as you grind up against your own fingers.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes fling open to see your boyfriend in his towel. You were so wrapped up you didn’t even notice the water from his shower turn off. He’s staring, open mouthed and eyes dark, and Jesus… This was a fantasy of yours from the beginning. You continue, staring half lidded back at him, hand grabbing up at his bed frame when it started to feel so fucking good.

Eddie’s towel drops when his brain catches up, jumping into his bed to lay next to you. “Couldn’t even wait, huh?” He asks, and you let out a whimper as he lightly kisses your neck. “Just couldn’t fucking wait.”

“You were so hot—” you gasp out, moving faster on yourself now. “—in that goddamn uniform. Wanna…wanna ride you in it.”

The very indication that you were playing with yourself because you found him that hot in his uniform is too much for Eddie to process. He nearly moans, leaning for another kiss on your neck. His hands are itching to help you, itching to take off the rest of those clothes that hide your gorgeous body, but he holds back, needing to know more about it. “What—what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

“You, in the uniform…” you tell him, your hips starting to move when your want grows. Why isn’t he helping?

“C’mon, baby. I wanna touch you but I just gotta know.” Eddie tells you, his voice gruff.

A gulp moves through your throat before opening your mouth to tell him. “Your dick out of the uniform, and me with no panties and a dress at your shop, riding you anywhere…your office, the rolly thing, god, just you in that uniform…Ed…”

Goddammit, was that an idea Eddie certainly had before. He has wanted to show you around his workplace, but also christen it with you, and he had had the exact idea with his uniform and you in a dress, to boot. “Fuck, my horny, eager little slut, hey?” Eddie asks, watching your closed eyes as you continue to work yourself.

“Please…please touch me?” You ask him, the torture of his voice there but not actually helping you is too much. “Want…want you.”

“Hmm. Horny little slut didn’t wait for me…I dunno if she even deserves my help.” He bluffs, wanting nothing more than to reach out and feel the slick of your wet pussy.

You nearly cry out in protest, not calling him on his bluff. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself…you’re just so…fuck…you’re so fucking hot, Ed.”

He leans in to kiss you and you accept it gratefully, a smile against his lips. As his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss to easily work his tongue against yours, his hands land on yours against your pussy delicately, gently pulling your fingers to the side. He slides a digit in and you whimper into his mouth, your hips thrusting up. “Oh, so fucking desperate.” You nod your head, agreeing with him. You’re desperate for more. Even with Eddie on your mind, your fingers never even compared to his.

He leans into your neck, the scent of his aftershave and body wash strong but oh-so-goddamn good. He slides your shirt up your torso smoothly with his free hand and pulls it from your neck fiercely. You feel his hand somewhat desperately go around your back to unhook your bra, and as it falls casually over the edge onto the floor, he moans at the sight of your exposed tit, your nipple just begging to be touched.

He leans in to mouth the bud, and you whimper at the sensation. He pauses, breathing heavily and open mouthed onto it. You gasp, his hot breath sending waves down your body. “Fuck, so pretty.” Eddie mutters to himself, dark eyes watching your face as you get closer.

A desperate hand of yours tugs him up to your face, desperate for more of his wet and hypnotizing kisses. “Fuck me.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that his fingers weren’t enough. “Need…need your cock. Please.”

Eddie’s mouth opens at the prospect of you simply begging for him, and you can feel a shift in his energy as he starts to kiss you deeper and hungrier. “When you beg so sweetly, how could I possibly say no?” He hums, his hand framing your face.

He finishes yanking the last of your pants off your ankles. As he settles himself in between your legs, he can’t help himself. He leans down, taking one long lick along your folds, for just a taste. You whimper in response, knees springing up to your chest. Eddie chuckles, crawling up slowly until his chest lines up with yours, the tingle of him against you too much to handle. Slowly, he moves into you, and as he stretches you open, your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Eddie watches the utter bliss that takes over your face.

“Oh that beautiful face you make, sweetheart.” He grunts, smoothing his hands over your forehead. His words make you pulse around him. “This fucking tight little pussy wrapped around—” he stops, grunting as you continue to pulse around him. One hand moves down to your hip, caressing it softly he uses the leverage to buck into you.

A hushed swear comes out of you, the simple pleasure from his cock alone sending you into euphoria. Eddie continues slowly, enjoying every inch of your heat around him. “Your pussy…god how did I live without it?”

You clutch onto him, staring up into his darkened brown eyes. You open your mouth to respond in kind, but the particularly harsh rut into you leaves your mouth gasping open and your eyes fluttering shut in pure heaven. “Oh, that’s it.” He mutters, hips moving faster. “That’s my cock-drunk little whore.”

Your nails scratch down his back, and he moans in response. “Eddie, your cock. There’s…I…please.”

“I-I know, baby. I know.”

He collapses onto your chest, and you feel his cock twitch into you as your orgasm takes over your body. His hand carefully sweeps your sweaty forehead as he watches you recover, your eyes losing their haze as you return to earth. “Hi.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi.” You smile. For once, he does take his dick out of you right away, despite your protests. However, you can’t protest any further when he comes back and wraps his arms around you with his chest pressed against your back, his still steadying breaths lulling you into a quiet nap.

Somehow, you know that his arms are always going to be the best place in the world.

About an hour later, you’re snuggled against his side, legs intertwined as Eddie watches his show and you work on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a six-letter word for angry?” You ask him, stumped for a good minute.

“Uh…grumpy? Heated? Hmm…raging?”

“Raging! Fuck, I couldn’t get that one. Thanks, baby.” You tell him, receiving a kiss on the head as a response. “Why’d you go in for work, Ed?”

“Other than making my baby horny?” He jokes, muttering it into your hair. “Well, one of my best-known clients called and my men know that when he calls, they need to call me in, because his car is just—” he cuts himself off, holding out the OK sign. He continues talking about the mechanics/politics of handling a car like this in his job. The caliber, the horsepower, the specialized engine, and everything else.

It’s not like you know a whole lot about cars. Most of what he is saying comes out as gibberish. But you listen to him, watching as he gets more and more animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he excitedly explains his morning. You watch him, a soft smile creeping up your face as he describes…what, you weren’t even sure, to you.

He stops as he notices the peculiar look on your face, your eyes glazed over. “What?” he asks, wondering if you caught even a word of his story.

“I love you.” It comes out before you even realize. But it’s true.

With your whole chest, you love him.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he looks at you like you had placed each star in the sky just for him. Because you did. “I-I’ve been wanting to say that to you since I first saw you.”

His words feel both impossible and like they make the most sense in the entire world. Because since day one, you have been captivated by him in every sense imaginable. Taking the time to get to know, see and love every inch of him before recognizing that yes, this is love.

This all occurs to you within a second, because Eddie’s hand is framing your face and you feel his lips on yours, deep and caring to a point that takes your goddamn breath away. Your tongue collides with his, and his fingers are so gentle as they cradle your face it barely feels like he’s holding it. He tastes so good, like the air you breathe is suddenly useless, and all you need to do is breathe him. His fingers intertwine in your hair, he gasps as his forehead collides with your own, clinging onto you for dear life.

“Will you say it?” You ask, realizing he still hasn’t.

“I fucking love you.” He says in a low, soft voice. He uses a hand to force you back and you open your eyes to look into his beautiful brown ones. “I love you.”

Your chest inflates rapidly, like all the emotion just bursts into it. A giggle escapes your lips, the smile on your face seeming to be permanently etched there. He tugs you into the tightest hug, and you feel his heart beat rapidly against your own as your arms fling themselves around his torso, burying your head in his neck.

God, it’s like you fit perfectly there.

He slouches down, ignoring the book you dropped and the forgotten tv show, and lays you down, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around you as you curl into his chest. He nestles his nose into your hair, breathing you in, feeling the breath, the life in you as you breathe in sync with him.

Any sense of time, responsibilities, or the outside world become muted and pale in comparison.

It’s just you and him.

The sizzling sounds of bacon for dinner mixed with Eddie’s humming to some oldies fill the kitchen. Every time he turns around from the stove to grab something, he shoots you a smile that captivates his face, something that you wholeheartedly return each time. The acknowledgement that this is love somehow didn’t feel like it had tied you to anything or that any new expectations were put on either one of you. You simply want his company and he, yours.

You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, though the sight of his hips in his low sitting sweatpants are much more enticing than anything your phone’s algorithms have to show you. Playfully, Eddie keeps dancing a little too hard to the music, head banging and swinging his hips to even the softest of Dad Rock.

God, it’s Heaven. As Eddie serves up a few plates, Dylan comes down dressed in one of his better date night outfits.

“Ooh, hot date?” You ask him, leaning forward onto the kitchen island.

Dylan’s brows furrow, stopping mid stride. “Yeah. Not talking to you about that. You’re still my ex. And you’re still seeing my dad. Weirdo.”

Eddie sends a glare his way, eyes darkening in a split second. Dylan rolls his eyes, sneaking around him to grab a bite of bacon. Ignoring it, Eddie places a plate in front of you with eggs, bacon and toast, and you thank him as he leans in for a kiss.

“Love you.” Eddie mutters, and you smile into his lips and feel him do the same.

“L-love?” Dylan spits out, his voice exasperated. He shakes his head, still chewing on the bacon. “Fuck right off.”

“Dyl.” Eddie starts, leaning forward as he takes a bite from his toast. He has a devious smile on his face, chewing on his idea. “Quiet. The adults are talking.”

If you had expected something out of pocket, it certainly wasn’t that.

The brown eyes Dylan shares with his father widen in pure exasperation. “What?? Dad, I’m six months older than her!”

You barely keep in the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. Eddie grins at you and lets out his own chuckle. “That’ll teach you to be an ass, huh?”

Dylan doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and yanks one more piece of bacon before leaving through the front door.

Dylan Munson got dealt a dirty fucking hand from whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.

It was only a mere nine weeks ago when you made your way across the mixer to say hi to him that he thought things were going his way. The more he saw you, the more he thought that this had to be leading to something. It made sense to him, but as he had started mentioning long term plans or anything of the like, he could feel you clam up. Every time he mentioned something requiring commitment, your shoulders tensed up, your face winced by only a smidge, but when it became a regular occurrence, Dylan realized you might not have been ready as you thought you were.

He was willing to accept it. So, he took matters into his own hands. Honestly, he would’ve been fine paying the daily fee for parking, but he knew his dad was there, and he was excited to introduce you to him. Boy, what a shit show that turned out to be.

As he woke up to an empty bed, he had expected you to be downstairs. Instead, he was faced with a bowl of cereal without the milk, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been there. He searched the whole house. Your bag, clothes, and shoes were still there, so he knew you couldn’t have gone far. Turns out, he was right. You didn’t. You went two doors down from his own.

The sight of you and his fucking dad in the white sheets was already too much to bear, and then the stab of betrayal from his own father hurt more the initial shock of yours, tugging angry tears from his eyes as he ran to his room. The torture of hearing your whimpers, a sound he knew well, while downstairs trying to cheer himself up was fucking brutal.

When you finally left, his dad came home with a terribly apologetic look on his face as he walked through the front door. Dylan refused to hear a damn word out of his mouth, dismissing all his claims of ‘holding back as long as he could’ and ‘I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.’ Shit just hurt.

A day later, Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the anger finally kicking in. His dad did yell back, but mostly at the choice words aimed at you. It hurt for a moment, as it felt like he cared more about someone he had met last week, his (now ex) girlfriend.

When you and his dad showed no signs of slowing or stopping any time soon, he realized this would become a new normal. Didn’t mean he liked it.

He came home after a relatively long day at work to you and his dad sitting and watching a movie comfortably. His knee jerk reaction was to swear angrily, but the look on your face stuck with him. You had never relaxed with him. You were always looking around corners or there was some part in your body unable to lean into him completely.

As you apologized awkwardly on his bed, his hurt finally felt acknowledged by you, and fuck, he needed to hear that he didn’t do anything wrong. He genuinely started to wonder if he did.

Most of his nights he spent going out, his friends asking where the hot new girlfriend he was bragging about now was. He just said you cheated on him and it was over and they called you a bitch and moved on.

Yes, even Ethan. (The one friend you actually liked)

He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, always making his way back to the house where his ex was expected to be at any given time. God, it was so shit.

After your apology, though, he had to admit, you looked good together. It seemed like his dad’s smile just hadn’t left his face for days, and goddamn, was it annoying to admit that you were good for him. That remaining anger seemed to itch at him, unable to forgive or forget, a buried hatchet with an X to mark the spot.

Ethan eventually brought his girlfriend to boys’ night out, which was met with disgruntled groans from the collective group. Ethan’s girlfriend invited a friend who would be joining, and Dylan fought hard not to roll his eyes.

An hour into the night, a drink, and a few good dances in, Ethan’s girlfriend brought her in, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, no one said she would be fucking gorgeous.

If Dylan thought you were out of his league, then Maya wasn’t even playing the same game. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he knew he had to grab this girl a drink and get her number, now. As he pulled into an easy conversation with her, the hairs stood on his arms as it felt electric just being near her.

Maya met his enthusiasm, agreeing to a date within the first hour of conversation with him. One of his buddies mentioned Dylan had been cheated on by his most recent girlfriend, and Maya was floored. If any girl was lucky enough to have him, how could they even think of cheating?

As Dylan rode home in the backseat of his friend’s truck, drunk on her undivided attention and, well, plain ol’ drunk, something his dad had said came to mind. “I can’t explain it, I just had to know her. In every sense of the word.”

He felt the same way about Maya. Everything about her drew him in. Her smell, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the shine of her red hair. God, she was fucking beautiful.

As he smelled bacon on the way down the stairs, he decided to grab a piece on his way out to his first date with Maya, jitters galore. You asking him about the date was kind, but still too weird for him to gush about the gorgeous girl from the bar he met when that ‘gorgeous girl’ was once you.

Love you, his dad said. The word struck him, it occurred to him he doesn’t truly understand how much you and his father cared for one another. The L word didn’t come easily to Munson men, after all. Dylan walked to his car, disgruntled as the interaction rolled over in his mind.

What a mess he would be bringing her home to, if he ever got lucky enough.

Since you worked the next day, you had to go home for the night. The lingering kisses at Eddie’s door were too much to bear.

Too much for Eddie, too. You get a text about twenty minutes after you get home, Need you.

You grit your teeth, you need him, too. Working four days in a row sounds manageable, at least it usually does. Without Eddie to come home to or to wake up with, it’s nearly torture. You ignore Skylar’s comment of codependency. Fuck co-dependency, it isn’t that you depend on him too much, you just need him too much. You need to come home to him, to sit and watch tv with him… It’s the domestic bliss you miss.

Somehow, just reading a book at the end of the night without his even breaths has you on edge. You shoot him a text letting him know you’d be there soon.

As you walk through the doorway of Eddie’s house, he welcomes you and you hop into his arms, inhaling his shampoo as soon as you get close enough to, his familiar scent bringing you an indescribable feeling of safety. “Need you to stop leaving for so long.” He mutters, feeling nearly crazy for missing you so much while you were gone.

You hum in response, staring into his pretty eyes as they stare down at you lovingly, resting your chin on his chest.

“Move in with me.” It’s impulsive.

You blink, unable to register what he just said. “Uh, what?”

He chuckles, hoping the stunned look on your face is a good thing. “It’s stupid for you to keep moving back and forth between here and your apartment all the time. Move in with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Could you do it? Realistically, could you bring your things in, set up your skin care routine in his bathroom, have a horde of snacks at your disposal, bring Bethany over for sleepovers…is it possible? He watches as you think it through, and his heart skips a beat as he watches it falter. “I-I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

His head tilts curiously, eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm?”

“I’m still tied to my lease for another three months.” You can’t abandon Sky, not after all this time. “Skylar would be pissed if I just up and left her to either scramble for a new roommate or for a new apartment.”

Was that it? “Oh,” Eddie says, relieved. “I can pay that.”

His answer momentarily stuns you, and a gorgeous laugh escapes his lips as he takes in your slack jaw and wide eyes. “W-what?”

He leans in, kissing your lips sweetly. “Sweetheart. I’m not gonna wait another ninety days when I can just pay it now and get you here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay my half?” You ask, eyebrows raised, a light smile on your face.

“What’s your rent?”

“1800 for the apartment, we both pay 900 plus utilities.”

He does the quick math. “Oh, so 54 (hundred) to buy the lease out? Yeah, I’ll pay it. Might relieve Sky from being pissed at me for stealing her roommate.”

The casualty of his words drench your underwear, his urge to take care of you sending a heat to your center you can’t explain. You lean in, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, showing your appreciation. “Can-can we go upstairs?” You ask him, out of breath.

Eddie smiles, taking in your lust-blown eyes and slack expression. “You know that’s not why I offered, right?”

The overwhelming happiness bubbles up from the inside and you shoot a wide smile up at him, chin resting on his chest again. “I know. Still, baby. Want you. Please,”

Eddie smirks, framing your face with his thumbs lightly. “When you say it so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

You tug him by the hand and start running up the stairs. A yelp echoes through the house as Eddie grabs at your ass near the top, and when he lies down on the bed, you can��t get his cock down your throat fast enough.

To say the least, Sky couldn’t find it in her to be angry. She was going to miss you, more than she could describe as her roommate. She also had a three month warning to find a new roommate or a new apartment and had ample time to put at least some money aside while she didn’t have to pay for rent. She really had nothing to complain about. Still, she was gonna miss you.

As soon as the lust of him offering to take care of you died down, you went into overdrive, remembering how stressed you were when you had to move in your current apartment, a lease you’ve renewed twice now. You started making a list of things you needed, working between your phone and a random spiral notebook you found in a junk drawer. How many boxes did you need to get? If you used both Eddie and Dylan’s trucks how many hours would it take to move down the stairs-only building you had?

“What’re you working on?” You hear his voice over your shoulder.

“Oh, just working out the kinks of moving. My car won’t be enough, I’ll need your guys’ trucks to help. I also have my own furniture to worry about. The entertainment center is hers, but the couch is mine. My dresser, my bed, my bathroom shelf, all my bathroom junk—”

“Baby.” He interrupts you, a hand sliding up to your neck. “Relax. I can hire someone to take care of all of this for you. Just focus on packing your things and directing the men around on where to put them.” He places his hands delicately beneath your chin. “Ok?”

Fuck, you might just blow him again.

“Ok.”

And you did just that. You shared your list to Eddie’s phone, who called a smaller moving truck with three men to assist, hired an organizer to assist in organizing what you do or don’t need and who will handle selling your furniture, and finally, paying the rest of your rent to your front office without blinking an eye to get you out of the lease.

Soon, you were on the driveway on a hot day, watching as all the boxes containing your clothes, shoes, makeup, and other junk went up the stairs to Eddie’s (and now your) bedroom, a few staying downstairs.

He stands next to you in a white muscle shirt with a band you don’t know pictured on the front and some sweats, hands on his hips as he watches the movers go back and forth between the house and the truck. He radiates authority, each mover couldn’t be much older or younger than you, but they all look to him with respect, all of their words followed by the word ‘sir’.

“Sir, huh?” You ask, teasing him.

Eddie slightly grimaces, rejecting it. “Yeah, they insisted.”

“Dunno, kinda suits you.” You tease, and you walk back to the house, missing the audible gulp that comes from his throat, imagining it. You, on your knees, begging for him, calling him sir…

“Sir?” One of the movers asks, getting his attention. He flicks back, seeing the clipboard held in front of him. “Need you to sign.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He mumbles, picking up the pen to sign.

As he signs his name, Dylan pulls up, taking in the men, the truck, the boxes on the floor visible past the open front door. “She’s moving in?”

Eddie looks at him, apologetic. He had asked you yesterday, and since then, he hasn’t had time to sit down and tell Dylan in person. “Sorry, bud. Kind of just happened all at once.”

Dylan thinks of his new girlfriend’s apartment, the night he had just spent wrapped up in her sheets. “I-I get that.”

Eddie blinks, expecting more of a push-back. “So, dad. I met this girl.” Oh, that explains it. “She’s…” the smile that lands on Dylan’s face is peaceful, and Eddie feels both curious and reassured. “Anyway. I wanted to bring her over for dinner to introduce her. Is that okay?”

A firm hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, bringing him for a hug. “Of course, bud. When did you want to bring her over?”

“Friday at 6?”

It’s Wednesday, so that gives you both ample time to unpack and get the house ready for a dinner guest. “Friday works. Bring her over.”

“Hey, do you guys need any more help with the boxes?” He asks, running into the house.

Eddie doesn’t answer as he stands, stunned at the change in his son over the last, what, week?

The next two days make Dylan realize although he was in a much forgiving mood, he’s going to need to move out and fast. Just when he thought the two of you were bad, he didn’t realize how much worse you’d be when you moved in. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming.

Soon, he texted a friend he knew who was looking for another apartment about maybe moving in together after realizing your moans were not coming from your bedroom as he grabbed his keys and booked it for the front door.

You were on Eddie’s laundry room floor, wrapped in his arms, with only your shirt around your torso and his hair halfway out of its ponytail. You were still in the middle of recovering; Eddie edged you twice before finally letting you finish. “Did you hear the front door close?” Eddie asks, still breathing heavily as he does.

“N-no.” You gasp, moving your head up to face him, his chest hair tickling your chin. “Were we that loud?”

Eddie laughs, letting a thumb pet your face lightly. “Have you ever tried to be quiet, sweetheart?”

You shut him up with a kiss, slippery, but filled to the brim with everything you had. “Shut up.”

“I love you.” He mutters as you wrap yourself in his arms, and you whisper it back into his chest. “We do have company coming over, so we should probably finish unpacking.”

You groan lightly, but Eddie takes your hands and forces the two of you onto your feet, your knees lightly buckling. “I have so much stuff! There’s so much left to unpack.”

“Oh, I’m sure unpacking yourself into the second half of the walk-in is so hard, baby. C’mon, I’ll help you out.”

Again, Eddie’s house looks humble from the outside, but it was nothing to snark at. As he made more money, he slowly upgraded and renovated instead of just moving into a bigger house. The one upgrade that wasn’t really for him, but a constant reminder of what he lost, was the his-and-hers closet he had made for his ex, something she only enjoyed for six months before leaving him. He was excited to see your dresses, skirts, pants, and underwear in his closet, and especially your smell. Basically, he was excited for your invasion of the house.

You walk over to his–your–room where there are still boxes sitting, waiting to be unpacked. You start unpacking the one labeled dresses/skirts. As you start laying out a pile, separating the skirts you knew you weren’t gonna wear from the ones you would, Eddie sidled up beside you, pulling one you knew looked good on you up from the pile you weren’t gonna wear. “Hey, hey. Why haven’t I seen you in this one?”

You hesitate in your answer, pulling two more dresses out before answering. “Dylan fucked me while I wore that.” You admit, and he drops it immediately. He pulls another one up, hands moving over the silky blue fabric. Damn that one looked great on you. “That one, too.”

He drops it unceremoniously, hands moving to his hips. “Which ones hasn’t he touched you in?”

You put your hands on the much smaller, less appealing pile. “These.”

Eddie sighs, scratching his head. “Alright. We’re going shopping.” He announces, placing the pile of your old ‘rejects’ onto the floor.

“Huh?” You ask him, not sure you heard him correctly.

“Yep. Just leave all the clothes in a pile right there, and on Saturday I’m taking you shopping.”

“Baby, I work Saturday.”

“So call in.”

After Eddie helps you settle in for the next day and a half, you spend a good portion of your Friday in the kitchen, working in tandem to make supper together. You place plates at the dining room table Eddie and Dylan barely used, straighten up the napkins and the utensils when Eddie comes from behind you, and you feel his cock press right up against your ass. You grind back into it, closing your eyes and whimpering.

“Ed, they’ll be here in like,” you let out a sigh, “half an hour.”

He turns you, giving you a dirty kiss and gripping your hips harshly. “Then we better get moving.” He slips your dress up your hips and your underwear down.

“Hmm…take off your pants.”

He slips his cock in, bending you over the table, making you gasp. “Already off, baby.”

Dylan pulls up in his truck, now having to park in the same spot you did in the street since you took over his spot on the driveway. “So, this is my house.”

“For three more weeks?” Maya asks, teasing him.

He lets their hands intertwine, leading her to the door. “I did grow up here.”

“Yet your dad is kicking you out.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“No, not kicking me out…” He drifts off, when Maya’s green eyes silently ask him, he dismisses it. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” He unlocks the front door, and as soon as it’s open, a very peculiar, very annoying sound is heard echoing in the house.

“Fuck, Ed, oh shit.”

Maya’s eyes go wide, it takes her a second longer to understand what they were listening to than it did for Dylan. Dylan shuts the front door, shoving his hand into his pocket for his phone. He dials his dad right away. “…Hello?” Eddie asks after three rings.

Dylan puts him on speaker. “Dad, wrap it up, we’re here.”

“Shit, sorry. Give us five—” the sound of your giggles interrupts him, “sorry, ten minutes. W-we’ll call you.”

He hangs up.

Maya’s face is the picture-perfect expression of what the fuck. “Dyl, when you said your family dynamic is odd…”

“I meant it. C’mon, let’s go for a walk to the corner store.”

Maya is taken aback, but she easily falls in line as Dylan holds his hand out for her. “Can’t believe the first thing I heard from your dad was that.”

“Darling, I have never meant it more than I have right now.” Dylan assures her, and she can see how much he means it in his brown eyes. “My dad has met my girlfriends in worse situations. Just be glad we didn’t see anything…’cause that was not coming from their bedroom.”

Eventually, you had to go upstairs to find a new dress to wear, Eddie having completely soiled it during your tryst as he phoned Dylan to let them know they were in the clear. Turns out, the two of you had time blindness when it came to one another, because neither of you were even close to done when Dylan had called.

As you climb down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie meets you there in time to open it to face Dylan and his new girlfriend. It was an intriguing feeling, opening the door to Dylan while Eddie’s arm was behind your back. Like a couple welcoming their son home. It was…bizarre to say the least. “Hey, sorry about—”

“It’s fine, dad. Rather not talk about it.” Dylan insists, his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Sure. Come on in.”

They step in, Maya taking a look around at the place as she does. “Maya, this is my dad and his girlfriend, Y/N. Guys, this is Maya.”

You weren’t used to Dylan being suddenly so cool with you and Eddie being together. He’s never out loud said that you were his dad’s girlfriend before without rolling his eyes or gagging. Whatever he had with Maya seemed to bring him some peace.

Thank god, you didn’t know if you could handle more eye rolls from Eddie’s 25-year-old teenage son. “Maya! Nice to meet you.” You hold your hand out to her, which she accepts graciously.

You remember meeting Eddie as a father to Dylan, and while your thoughts were occupied, whatever you were expecting for Dylan’s dad, it certainly wasn’t Eddie. You could see it clear in her face she wasn’t expecting this metalhead, either.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to Eddie, and Eddie just about loses his mind.

“Ew. Don’t. Call me Eddie. Please.” Eddie gags, the same reaction he had when you addressed him that way when you first met.

“Oh. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back, purposefully dressing himself down as a parental figure. You could tell he was poising himself differently for them. Whether it was self consciousness over the last time he met a girlfriend, or making it clear to Dylan he had no plans for a second contender, it did the job.

“Alright, the dining room is this way.” You extend your hand out down the hall, leading the way out of a somewhat awkward situation.

The four of you sit at the table, both men at the heads of the table while you and Maya sit across from one another. Eddie picks up the salad bowl, plating himself quickly and handing it over to you. “So, Dylan. Tell us how you and Maya met.”

They both start the story, eager to share. “Oh, can I tell, Dyl? You always get to.”

“Fine by me.”

Maya giggles softly before facing you and Eddie. “Well, my best friend sort of ditched me to tag along to guys’ night, and I refused to be ditched, so I got myself ready and ended up being fashionably late. When she invited me, I was already done for the night, pajamas and all but I got dressed up out of pure spite.” You chuckle, that’s something Bethany would do. “I got to the club, and suddenly I saw Dylan, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.” She looks over to him, her eyes soft and her pink lips in a sweet smile. “He just drew me right in. We talked for so long we didn’t even realize it was time for last call.”

“Wow.” You comment, taking the last bowl in rotation from Eddie’s hands, the stir-fry vegetables. “Sounds like you guys have a great connection.” You look at Dylan at the last word, hoping he receives your message.

“Oh, we truly do.” Maya grins, Dylan shooting a wink at her in response.

Eddie grabs your hand under the table, and you hold it, petting at the tough skin and colliding with his rings.

“Our first date was incredible.” Maya mentions off-hand but doesn’t elaborate. If it was anything like your first date with Eddie, you knew better than to pry further. “So Dylan told me how you guys met, tell me about that.”

You and Eddie share a look of surprise at how casually she mentions it. You weren’t expecting her to know yet, in fact you were wondering if Dylan was going to tell her at all. Eddie lets out a chuckle. “A shitshow, let’s just say. When Dylan found us, it just became real messy in here.”

Unfortunately, Eddie missed the continuous waving Dylan was doing across the table to stop, please!

“How would meeting online make things messy?” Maya asks, the story Eddie had just told her and the story Dylan explained not exactly lining up.

“What?” Eddie asks, now unsure himself.

Your hand meets your mouth in understanding, facing Dylan with his head in his own hands. “Baby, I don’t think he told her, yet.”

“Nope.” Dylan musters out, annoyed.

“Oh.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Maya asks, watching everyone’s facial expressions one by one.

Dylan sighs, not ready to explain this part. “They didn’t meet online. Remember, my ex? The one who cheated on me?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Of course I remember that bitch.” She says, giving you a look that says, ‘am I right’.

Dylan sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s her.” He says, pointing to you. “She cheated with my dad.”

Maya looks at you, dumbfounded, as you wave with a tight smile on your face. Being called that cheating bitch behind your back was certainly a new development from him. Not the…greatest feeling in the world. She looks to Eddie, who isn’t smiling, somewhat insulted on your behalf, but gives a friendly wave nonetheless.

“O-oh.”

“I said my family dynamic is different, didn’t I?”

“I thought you meant with how young she is…”

“There’s that…and there’s this. It used to hurt me a lot more, but honestly, since I met you, I don’t really feel that pain anymore.” He says to her. “I wish we could’ve had this conversation in private, but I guess I didn’t warn them.” A new hardness reaches Maya’s eyes as she looks at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by it. “Don’t be mad at them, because I’m not anymore. Well, mostly anyway. My dad said when he met her that he had to know everything about her or he was going to lose his mind.” You look to Eddie, and he winks at you slyly as you mouth the words I love you to him. “I used to think that was bullshit… But when I met you, Maya, I felt the same way, and I realized I couldn’t blame them for pursuing it if it was half as strong as what I felt when I saw you.”

The ice in Maya’s stare all melts the gloss in her eyes. “That’s still super messed up.”

“One hundred percent.” Dylan looks over to you and Eddie, and you’re wondering if the two of you were supposed to leave the table and give them privacy. “But now…they look good together. They’re good for one another. She puts this smile on his face that I never get to see anymore, and she seems more happy with him than she ever was with me.”

Your phone buzzes in your chair under your thigh. A text from Eddie. For the record, no one feels as strongly for anyone as I do for you. No one ever will.

You look at him and he nods once, his lips in a firm line. Your hands reach for his, interlocking with his. “Maya, I know you didn’t mean to but I would appreciate you not calling her a bitch.” Eddie tells her, parent voice on. “Now that we have all that out of the way, Maya, tell us what you do for work.”

Maya was a peach, and she seemed great for Dylan. As she helped clear the table she asked Dylan a question and it led to him announcing he was moving out. Out loud, Eddie gave him a proud hug, telling him it was a great idea.

To you, Eddie pumped his fist in celebration. As you washed the dishes that night, insisting Dylan and Maya go enjoy a movie on the couch, Eddie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “When Dylan finally moves out, I’m fucking you on every surface in this house. I might just tell you to stay naked for easier access.” He leaves a wet kiss on your neck, and you’re left to imagine the possibilities as he adjusts himself while clearing the rest of the table.

True to his word, as Saturday dawns, Eddie wakes you up two hours before you start work and tosses your phone to call in sick for it. You text your manager at his request, and as soon as you hit send, Eddie sends you to his bathroom to get ready for a shopping day. In your first outfit, a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, Eddie looks up and down at you exasperated and tells you to go get all dressed up and put some makeup on.

When your hands land on your hips at this he backtracks hard. “Of course you can wear what you want, baby! I just know that you love to get all dressed up, and I thought it would be fun for you. That’s all. We’re going to be trying on lots of clothes and I want my girl feeling her best.”

Okay, he has a point. An hour passes by, Eddie moving around you as he gets dressed up himself, less dramatic than his date night outfit, but dressed up all the same. As you finish, a wing on your eye, he comes behind you, looking over your shoulder for something. “You know I used to wear eyeliner all the time?”

“I…no?” You stutter, turning to face him.

“Might put some on today.” He mutters, slightly teasing you.

“If you don’t want to scare the general public, maybe we’ll save it for a date night, Ed.” You yank the pencil away from him, terrified that if you look away for one second, he’ll go overboard.

“Not even a little on my water line?” He asks, and you suddenly realize that yes, he does want some makeup for the day.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug.

Now you walk hand in hand in the largest mall in town, starting the journey down the large aisle, leading Eddie. But eventually, Eddie ends up leading you, knowing exactly which stores he wants to go to. In the first store he takes you to, you look around the racks timidly, putting away anything you see over 20 bucks. In less than five minutes, Eddie comes by with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna get a dressing room started, ok?” He pauses, noticing the 45 dollar dress you just put back. “Ooh, can you hand me that?”

“No, it’s too much.” You insist, looking at the large pile of clothes he has. You thought he meant like, three or four items at the most.

“I didn’t ask how much it was, sweetheart. Hand it over.” He tells you, to which you do. Only five minutes later, as you have only picked out two or three more dresses yourself, does he swing by and tug you to the biggest dressing room, the walls decorated with clothing.

“I-I’m not trying all of this on, am I?” You look around, it would take you at least an hour, and that’s if you hurried.

“Yep. And you’re showing me every piece.” He says, before closing the door on your stunned face.

“Eddie, this is way too much.”

“No complaining, just show me the first one!” he yells to you, no real bark behind his command.

The first dress you wear was a bit revealing, an open back, up to your thighs with a cowl neckline that shows cleavage. He smiles at you, leaning his elbows onto his knees in the seat offered in the dressing room. “Nice… Do a spin.” You roll your eyes, spinning for him slowly and timidly. He whistles lowly. “Man, I’m good. Next!”

He asked for a spin in everything you modeled for him until he didn’t need to, you did it for him. With each new piece, you were learning to not care if you were in a store with him, posing for him as he assessed each piece. Some you thought looked decent on you, he put in the no pile, while others you thought were a sure no, he put in the yes. He told you ultimately, it was your decision and if you felt uncomfortable, you could put one in the no pile, but he knew your body better than anyone. If he insisted it looked good, it must’ve looked good.

At the last piece you put on, he can’t seem to decide, asking an attendant for her opinion. She says she thinks the shirt looks amazing on you but isn’t sure about the style of pants. “Yeah, I chose them just to see if you’d wear it.” You shook your head no, feeling uncomfortable in the business type pants. “Cool. Get dressed in your clothes, we have more stores to hit up.” You toss the shirt to him after yanking it off, and by the time you make your way to the register, the attendant is already handing over two oversized bags to him.

“Eddie, this is enough clothes, I really don’t need anymore!” You insist as he directs you to a store only three spaces over.

As soon as you walk in, they see the big bags Eddie’s carrying and immediately offer their assistance. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing he only ever gets the star treatment if he’s walking around with the occasional designer bag. (He likes their underwear). “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but the women’s side of our closet is huge, and you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill it anyway.”

Our closet. You’re so fixated on the use of the word our that you don’t realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “Doesn’t mean I need more.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what it means!” He turns to the employee who’s been following him around and hands her the bags. “Be a dear and hold on to these, will ya?” He turns back to you, resting one hand on the rack beside him and staring down at you intensely. “Baby. I want to spoil you. Let me. Please! Pick out some clothes you want, I’ll pick some out, too, and you can try them on.”

“You’ve spoiled me so much already!” You insist, gulping at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“That’s exactly why I have to spoil you.” He retorts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you. Let me show you how much. I have a stupid amount in savings. I kind of want to chuck some out just to keep me humble.”

You giggle at this, finally, fully giving in to his madness.

Madness, it is. As you go from store to store, he gets about two more bags full from each one, and you’re sure some of these outfits will never see the light of day after you see how he looks at you in them. About ten percent will just be something you put on for about two seconds before he takes it off you. He’s buying dresses he knows he’ll be the only person to ever take them off or see you in them.

At one point, he runs back to his truck to put the eight bags he got tired of carrying around away, coming back to meet you in the store he left you in. It wasn’t much of a clothing store, but you had a basket of things you were planning to buy for yourself. Earrings, a knick knack for your desk, a cute notebook and the like. (There was a shirt you found for Eddie that you got just for the hell of it.) You're waiting in line, and you’re digging through your purse for your wallet when Eddie comes behind you, wallet out, card in the machine. “I—”

“Baby. Your money is useless today. Let me.”

You roll your eyes, and the cashier’s wide eyes at his pet-name for you catches your eye, a laugh escaping you. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention my boyfriend is also in his 40s.” You giggle, having just gushed about how Eddie was spoiling you to him.

“What? 40s? I’m clearly in my 20s.” Eddie asks, acting offended.

The poor cashier looks genuinely frightened, holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s joking. He is. Likes to make people squirm.”

“Oh I love to make you squirm—”

“Eddie!” You berate him, yanking him out of the store as he lets out a bout of laughter. He catches his breath, still laughing as you cross your arms, waiting impatiently for him to stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made it too easy! C’mon, two more stores, then we can grab food.”

“Can I pay for food?” You ask, holding his hand.

Eddie smiles, petting your hand with his thumb. “Of course.”

The second to last store he brings you to is an underwear store. Eddie lets you do all the picking, following closely behind and offering any commentary when you ask for it. For once, he doesn’t insist that you model for him, claiming that just seeing you go through the lacier drawers of panties was torture enough. You walk out with a wardrobe’s worth of new underwear, bras, and a little bit of lingerie. It was the first time you were there to see the total, your eyes widening as Eddie takes out his card.

He smirks at your stunned expression. “Oh, this isn’t even the highest bill, sweetheart.” The transaction goes through and the kind lady behind the desks offers the bags to him. “This isn’t even half of it.”

The bill was at about 700 dollars, so the very idea drove you insane that he had already collected every receipt and refused to let you see them.

He brings you to one last store, wall to wall, covered in clothes. He goes a little ham this time, and you notice he focuses on basics. Sweatpants, sweaters, shorts, and under shirts. There’s one thing he chooses that has you struggling to get the zipper up, and eventually you call out for him for help after a good five minutes of fumbling .

He opens the curtain delicately so as to not reveal anything, and you look at him helplessly as your hand can’t reach the zipper sitting low on your ass. His fingers are light to the touch, as one hand rests on your shoulder, one on the zipper as it goes up to your neck, your hair held by your hands. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as your hair curtains down around your neck, and you turn to face him, holding your hands out to silently ask him what he thought.

What does he think? He thinks that this fucking dress looks so good on you that it would be a crime to get you to start trying on those shorts and sweaters. Hell, you knew your size, you were probably good to go. It was much less revealing than any dress you tried on, a number he’ll probably get you to wear on your next date. He couldn’t help himself, surrounded by the privacy of the small room, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, one hand going up to frame your neck. “Baby.” He mutters, his voice sounding desperate. “You look…fucking gorgeous.”

You smile into it, your hand tracing the seam of his shirt along his torso. “Thanks. Help me out of it? I still need to try on all these clothes.”

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, surprising you. A slight whimper escapes you as he backs you into the wall against a few clothing articles hanging there. “I will absolutely help you out of this dress.” He says, his voice husky and a touch of arousal lands in your underwear as you realize why. “But then I’m going to get my cock in you.”

“In-in here?” You ask, highly aware you’re in a public space.

“Mmhmm. Be quiet and no one will suspect a thing.” he says, hand slipping under the skirt of the dress to start palming at your folds over your panties. You whimper at the touch into his mouth, focusing all your energy on not alerting the kind sales lady that you were hooking up in her dressing room. “Oh, good girl, keeping herself quiet.”

“It’s…it’s hard.” You whimper, the light touches over your panties not enough, but still causing more arousal.

“So am I.” Eddie chuckles, watching your face as he teases you. He slips the hand into your panties, letting them drop on the floor. “Oh, so wet, huh?” He asks you, eyebrows furrowed as he plays with the slick on your folds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Does daddy buying all the pretty clothes make you all hot, baby?” He asks, voice in your ear and fingers rubbing at your clit gentle, but enough to start you to your destination. You nod your head, because on some level, this was a big turn on for you. “Oh, you horny little slut.”

“Good girl…” You whimper, and Eddie leans back from your shoulder. “Good girl. Please?” You ask him, the slut shaming wasn’t doing it for you.

“Oh, you wanna be called a good girl, huh? Daddy’s good girl?” You nod, your eyes closing as he starts to rub at your clit faster.

“Feels…feels good, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum, and since you’re a good girl you’re not gonna make a fucking sound. Okay?” You nod, holding a whimper in your throat from the finger he slides into your heat. “Oh she’s close.” He mutters to himself, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Fall apart on my fingers so I can fuck you, my good girl.”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, an orgasm shaking through you as you wither against the dressing room wall.

“Oh, that’s my good girl, such a good listener. Now, turn around and hold on to those hooks.” You do as he says, and as you brace yourself with your hands awkwardly against the hooks decorated with hangers, he zips the dress off you, lifting it over your head and nearly forgetting to muffle his own moan when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He lets his pants fall around his calves, and as his cock pushes you, you let your jaw open and eyes close, doing everything you could not to moan out loud.

He slowly bucks into you, and you close your eyes and lean against the wall headfirst while the scent of store clothes invades your senses. Soon, Eddie leans forward, forcing your torso up against his back as he places his ringed hand around you like a necklace. He kisses at the skin he can reach sweetly, eyes open as he watches your reaction to everything he does to you.

While the prospect of being caught by someone was hot, Eddie found himself watching for your visual reactions than listening for your audible ones. Hmm. He didn’t realize he had begun to rely on them. “How’s Daddy’s cock?”

“G-good.” You whisper, leaning into his chest with your head back against his shoulder.

“Gonna cum in you.” He mutters. He starts fucking into you a little harder, and it has to be perfectly timed because if he went all the way in, the sound of his balls against your pussy would be a dead giveaway.

“How’s everything in there?”

“Speak.” Eddie commands you, and you have to tear yourself from outer space for a moment.

“Great, thank you!”

“Just a reminder we try not to encourage two people in one dressing room.”

“She was just needing help with a zipper. Almost done.” Eddie pipes out, sounding relatively normal for someone seconds away from cumming.

“If you need any help or sizes, let us know.”

“Thanks…” Shit, that sounded out of breath.

“Cum in me.” You whisper, and Eddie does just that, slowly fucking his way through his orgasm, his cheeks flushed, shirt clinging onto the sweat.

You nearly protest as he takes himself out and tucks himself back into his pants. At this point, you were so turned on you kind of wanted to blow him while you had him in the room. You hold his face in your hands and connect your foreheads. “Is it bad I still want more?” You mutter under your breath.

Eddie swears softly, his boner fighting harshly against his slacks. “Fuck. No, I do, too.” He tugs your naked self into his arms, kissing your hair softly. “But…she was suspicious. Unless we want to get kicked out, we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Can I blow you when we get home?” You ask him, turning to grab your own clothes off the floor.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the clothes scattered around the dressing room. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

It took multiple trips from Eddie’s truck to bring in all the bags. You truly didn’t realize how many pieces of clothing he had bought you until you saw it all scattered on the closet floor, all ready to be reorganized. Eddie starts hanging them, and you notice the outline of his cock in his slacks. He was still throbbing.

“Can I?” You ask, sitting pretty on your knees and looking up at him.

“Fuck, I’m never gonna say no to that.” Eddie answers, placing a hand under your chin.

You undo his pants, giving him a hungry look as his cock springs free. “You’re still hard?” You ask, knowing you’ve gotten food at the food court and walked around the mall a bit more before coming home.

“Mmhm.” You smile, jerking him lazily as you eye the length hungrily. You have the idea to tease him more, but the need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue is too much. Eddie swears loudly as you take him in your mouth, gripping onto the center console for accessories and underwear. “Fuck”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring up at him through your eyelashes as you relax your throat and allow your nose to meet his stomach. His hands skim through your hair, moving your head lightly, and again, you find it ridiculously easy to submit to him.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet, head thrown back in bliss as he feels the spit gather at his base. His stomach starts to tighten up a little bit and under your hands, his thighs are tense. Somehow it spells out to you he’s close.

You prepare yourself, moving your head faster on your own accord, opening your eyes at him again to watch for his reaction as you double down. A goddamn whimper escapes his throat as you continue, and suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to make him make that sound again. “Fuck, baby. Fuck…” Without any warning, the warm salty taste of his cum hits your tongue and you moan around him as he rides through his orgasm.

For once, as you wipe your mouth, you can tell he’s the one that needs recovery. You move to your feet, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Need some water?” You ask him, somewhat joking.

“The fuck was that?” He asks, his face in awe as he looks at you.

You give a cheeky and quick little kiss to the hand on your cheek. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Jesus Christ—” he tugs you into a hug, habitually kissing your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Uh Ed.” You push lightly on his chest to get out of the hug, giving him a look of disbelief. You look gesture around the closet to the half of the clothes still not put away. “How are you the lucky one?”

Eddie’s face breaks into a wide smile, his dimples prominent, his smile lines deep. “You keep thinking that, darling.” He laughs, tugging you back into his arms.

As you stand there against his chest, relaxing into him with your eyes closed, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. You put away my clothes since you know where everything goes.”

“I did design this closet.” He retorts, pointing a finger at you.

You walk down the stairs to the front door, seeing a tall figure facing away through the smart glass. You open the door to a gorgeous set of brown locks, perfectly coiffed. The figure turns around, and clearly doesn’t expect to see you standing there. “Hey, Ed- whoa.” You recognize his face, but you aren’t sure where from. You subtly fix your hair; suddenly aware you had just given head to your boyfriend. “Uh, sorry, little lady. Is Eddie here?”

“He’s upstairs in the closet. Can I help you?”

The stranger smiles kindly, and you notice the freckles on his face are like constellations. “Oh sorry! I told him I’d be coming through town, but I forgot to say when. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @names-were-taken @bl4ckt00thgr1n

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you smut #older eddie munson #older eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader

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sp4ceboo · 4 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 2 ~ LATE NIGHT TEARS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: excuse another set up chapter, shit will start going down very very soon

chapter warnings: mentions of death/death threats, sad vibes ngl

chapter word count: 2.6k

After Chan agrees, things progress surprisingly fast. Although he sends Chan a warning look, Minho doesn’t object, and Seungmin looks at you coolly, as if he hasn’t quite put his confidence in you but doesn’t object to sharing a space with you, either. Felix just looks happy. You get the sense that he trusts you just because you haven’t given him a reason otherwise.

If any of them take notice of your row of kitchen knives, they say nothing.

They decide among themselves who is going where. In the end, Felix and Seungmin stay back with you while Chan and Minho go to fetch the others. You talk a little with them, finding out that Felix owned a cafe and Seungmin was doing a masters in law. The blonde happily chatters with you, informing you further that Chan was a lifeguard and Minho a dance teacher and sometimes part of a troupe, as well the lives of the others, while Seungmin stares out the window as it begins to rain, occasionally chipping in.

It’s altogether far too easy to talk with Felix. There’s something about him that’s warm, something about the simple way he trusts you that makes him all the more trustworthy - he puts you at ease in an instant, his low voice comforting and familiar. The way he tells you about his friends makes you like them before you’ve even met them.

By the time they get back, it’s nightfall. They’re soaked, droplets of water sliding from their hair and onto the linoleum floor in tiny rivulets, starting in tributaries at the hems of their shirts and turning into not so small waterfalls - you notice they’re all shivering slightly, the tips of their noses and their cheeks flushed scarlet. Pulling off his mask, Chan runs his fingers through his hair and slicks it back, dropping a stuffed backpack on the floor beside him, careful to avoid the quickly growing lake around his feet.

There’s the four you haven’t met yet gathered in a small huddle behind him. The handsome, tall guy must be who Felix described as Hyunjin - the artist who models on the side. He shakes the rain off him, droplets flicking from the ends of his messily tied black hair onto the younger man beside him. To their left, a shorter man laden with muscle removes his mask, revealing a cheery smile that makes his evident strength a little less intimidating.

Your eyebrows raise as Minho slaps the butt of the last of the new arrivals. You stay quiet.

Felix and Seungmin go to greet the others, and you remain sitting where you are, giving them some privacy. They speak quietly, though occasionally a bright laugh rings out, and you’re struck by how familiar they are with each other - Felix told you that they were lucky they were all together when the first horseman came, but you find it hard to believe they wouldn’t have found each other one way or another if they hadn’t been.

You catch flashes of damp skin and ivory grins as they wring out their clothes. Curious glances get sent your way until Chan peels off and sits beside you; you’re positive that nothing could hide the affection in his smile as he looks over at them.

“It’s a lot when you first see all of us together, huh?” he says, his voice confiding and bemused.

“A little,” you confirm. “But it’s nice, really. It’s good to hear laughter.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I can’t count how many times they’ve saved me. They’re family.”

You’re startled by Chan’s easy confession, enough so that all you can do is stare at him in shock, surprised to find that he looks relaxed, his eyes far away and his hair sticking out at all angles from where he’s rubbed it dry. Your brain takes that particular moment to note that he’s got a soft, inviting mouth - it compliments the sharpness of his nose well. Unfortunately, neither of those things is something you could respond with.

When the muscular one approaches, the other three behind him, you’re still scrambling for a reply. Eventually, your mouth, which had been previously hanging open like a trapdoor in effort to make a sound in answer to Chan, snaps shut and you send them a pleasant smile as they assemble awkwardly in front of you. Over their shoulders you can see Minho attacking the bags they brought with them, unpacking them with organised ferocity.

“I’m Hyunjin,” the artist-model announces, as you predicted. “Nice to meet you.”

“Jisung,” the one whose butt Minho slapped says. You notice his hair is slightly shaggy, curling around his reddened ears and at the nape of his neck, and he regards you with a neutral expression, as if he hasn’t formed his opinion on you yet.

“I’m Jeongin,” the youngest adds, and unsurprisingly, you can see the suspicion thinly veiled in his eyes.

Your gaze slides to the last one to introduce himself, the muscular one. According to Felix, he must be Changbin, who was in the army. The moment your eyes lock on his, a distant memory surfaces of you and a boy in the school library, hiding from the stern librarian and trying to stay quiet despite his infectious laughter. You almost don’t recognise him - not just because he’s gotten rid of that ridiculous bowl cut he had when you were thirteen, but because his frame has filled out with muscle.

God, it suits him.

You search his face for a flicker of recognition, for anything, but you find nothing. Unexpected disappointment slices through you - he doesn’t know you, either because he’s forgotten you or because he doesn’t care. Either way, you guess it doesn’t really matter who you were friends with when you were kids. It still hurts, anyways.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say once Changbin has introduced himself, trying to keep your voice bright and your eyes off him.

Though the lab is your space, you feel like an intruder as they talk among themselves. Even Felix has forsaken you, moving across the room to prod at Changbin’s arms as he pesters him about something or other, twin smiles brightening their faces.

You feel lost. You can’t help but question Chan’s motives again - you don’t belong with these men, nor does your presence benefit them in any way, and yet they still smile, unflappable despite the distrust you see in some of their gazes. It’s clear to you that Chan himself doesn’t trust you fully, either, but he seems to like you well enough.

The same can’t be said for Minho, though. Jisung is talking to him but you can feel his gaze pinning you down, watching you in a way that makes you want to sink into the ground below your feet.

There’s a warning in the sharpness of his glare: you hurt them, you die.

The more time you spend with them, the more you realise how tightly knit they are. They work as a unit to distribute the food for dinner (you receive a can of beans, cold, of course, and a stale granola bar) and to count up and evaluate the supplies they have left, with your additions from the convenience store; they pair up to share blankets when they decide it’s time to sleep while you get one all to yourself; and now that they’re all quiet, you’re half certain they’re breathing in sync, too.

It’s not even weird. You can tell that this harmony is what has helped them survive for so long, not only physically, but mentally too. Together they are self-sustaining, confiding in each other, falling into their separate roles without having to be asked: you get the sense that even the sleeping arrangements are non verbally premeditated, down to the Hello Kitty blanket Changbin and Felix are sharing.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. You’re not sure if there’s space for you.

If that concerns him, Chan doesn’t let it show. He beckoned you over to sleep beside him, which unfortunately meant that you also ended up next to Minho. That in itself seems like a precaution. You have no doubt that he’d happily incapacitate you before you could even start thinking about doing any funny business, if you read the look he gave you as he shuffled a little closer to Jisung well enough.

Thankfully, Chan’s half pointed towards Jeongin, enough so that he doesn’t have to stare at you as he falls asleep. After a while of staring vacantly at the spot just over his shoulder, you realise how pleasant it is to lie on and under blankets after over a week of slouching on the hard floor; they’re soft, and the one beneath you is slightly warm from Minho, which would be disconcerting if it didn’t feel so fucking nice.

Despite the knowledge that you’re in a room with eight other steadily, defiantly beating hearts, that you’re not the only living person left in the whole world, you find that your eyelids won’t droop closed.

Sighing heavily, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You’re reminded of the school trips you went on when you were younger, where you’d listen to everyone else’s breathing slow as they fell asleep, still up and wriggling about in your sleeping bag like a caterpillar ready to hatch.

At least back then, there wasn’t the looming possibility that you were the only person awake on the whole planet.

Careful not to hit either of the boys beside you, you squirm, shifting around in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. You’re just about to turn over again when you hear the blankets rustle, the sound of someone to your left getting to their feet and padding out of the lab interrupting the soft sound of the others’ breathing.

Instinctively, you shut your eyes, pretending to sleep. Your fingers tighten where they’re clenched in the blankets. You wait, counting fifty of Chan’s breaths before you get up and follow.

You’re entirely unsure of what you’ll find. You don’t bring a knife - you didn’t hear whoever left pause to take one, and if worst comes to worst, you have the taekwondo classes you took with Changbin, way back when.

Quietly, you ease open the door, stepping out into the corridor. You check the little kitchenette first, which is empty. Your boss’s office is the next closest, but you notice the communal room’s door is ajar, different from how you last left it - you’d been hoping closing it off would shut out the memories of the first horseman and his rictus grin.

Pushing it open, you realise with a jolt that whoever is within is crying: the only illumination within the small room is a splash of red tinted moonlight, but your eyes are adjusted enough that you can see the way he’s hunched over on the sofa, sniffling a little as sobs shake his shoulders. From the longish black hair, you’d guess it’s Hyunjin.

You know you should leave and give him privacy, but the night gives you bravery, as if the inability to see makes your lingering embarrassment exist a little less.

“Hey,” you say softly, coming round to sit beside him on the sofa.

Hyunjin tugs his sleeves over his hands so he can wipe his tears away. “Sorry, I must have woken you up.”

“Don’t worry, I was up already.”

You find that now you’ve bitten the bullet and decided to talk to him, no words reveal themselves to you. Telling him ‘it’s okay’ would be a blatant lie, and asking him if he’s alright would almost be worse; you can’t think of any better options, and frankly, you’ve always been a bit clumsy with your words.

Instead, you awkwardly hold your arms out. “Is it okay if I, uh - ”

Scrubbing at his eyes, he nods, his arms already wrapping tight around you before you can reach out for a cautious hug. Closing your eyes and resting your chin on his hair as he cries, you rub gentle circles on his back, holding him a little tighter when little sobs slip out from deep within his chest. You feel tears prick at your own eyes. There’s no guessing what aggrieves him, although with the current condition of the world he doesn’t really need any excuses for crying, but all the same, his vulnerability awes you.

A treacherous thought enters your mind: you could kill him now.

You could grab a knife, cut his throat, dump him somewhere outside the lab and claim he left and never returned. Logically, you could even take him as hostage and demand they hand over all their supplies and weapons, but you don’t. You can’t. In truth, you owe them.

Besides, you don’t want to stab Hyunjin, or strangle him or whatever violent thing a more pragmatic and heartless person would do - most likely, Minho would slaughter you if you did, anyway, and you wouldn’t blame him.

At least with these men, this little band of tight knit survivors, you won’t die alone.

In response to that realisation, you link your fingers with Hyunjin’s, smoothing a comforting thumb over his knuckles. A small smile raises the corners of your mouth as he sighs into your shoulder - albeit accompanied with a little sniffle - and you squeeze his hand tightly in a silent pledge: I’ll fight for this family as if it were my own, because I hope that one day it will be.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask abruptly, startled by the rude din of your own voice. “It’s okay if the answer’s no.”

“I… I think I do, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin replies, still with his face buried in your shoulder. “It’s nothing specific, really. I just miss the way things were, you know? And my family, and my dog, Kkami, and the dog before, Kkomi.” He shrugs. “Somehow I even miss just seeing people in the street. I wish I could go outside and get bumped this way and that by a crowd. I don’t even think I’d care if I got mugged or hit on. At least it’d be normal.”

You laugh but sober quickly. “I get that. Holy shit, I get that. Crazy how things changed so fast, huh?”

Hyunjin nods in agreement. “I can hardly remember the - ”

The door bursts open. Your heart lurches as you glimpse the lightning silver flash of a knife, and you jerk upwards on instinct, the coffee table toppling to the floor with a harsh clatter. It takes you half a moment to recognise the raging blur - his features are twisted with a savage, fearsome type of protective intent, his hair still mussed from sleeping.

Eyes blazing, Minho brandishes his knife as he zeroes in on Hyunjin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Minho’s eyes soften, even as he rolls them. “All that fuss for nothing.”

Jeongin appears in the doorway. “I told you they’d be fine,” he grumbles. “You’re paranoid.”

“You gave me the knife,” he huffs. “Don’t act like you weren’t even a little bit concerned.”

Wiping his face, Hyunjin gets up, and you follow him back to the lab. The guys all squint up at you, expressions varying from wide eyed to amused. Chan sighs when he sees everyone is unscathed, half in relief and half in exasperation before promptly ordering everyone back to bed.

This time, you have no problems falling asleep.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable (let me know if you want to be added)

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sincere1ystar · 4 months ago

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Midnight Miracles

billy the kid x fem! reader

To the townspeople you and Billy are complete opposites of each other, like the sun and the moon. The sky only allows the sun and the moon to reunite every few years, but thankfully for you the night takes pity on you both and allows for the two of you to love freely but only when the stars are out.

During the day you and Billy have to pay a price for your love. Weather that be through disapproving glances or words wrapped in judgment, that price always manages to find you two. People often described you and him as opposites. The sun and the moon was the more popular name attached to the both of you. There’s a reason for why the sun and the moon can only reunite and love in peace only once every few years during the eclipse. And so maybe it was just the nature of your relationship that caused things to turnout this way.

But when the moon comes up and puts everyone else to sleep, she allows for you and Billy to love freely. The mouths that once opened to say, “You stay away from him!! He’s not good for a girl like you!!”, suddenly close. The eyes that would judge your every move droop off, losing the ability to tell their opinions of disapproval through their glances.

When you run into Billy’s arms as the stars shine in the sky, he feels tranquility wash over him. If he had it his way you would stay in his arms forever right where you belong, but of course the rays of sunshine have to replace the soft moonlight eventually.

“I missed you”, you mumble softly into his embrace.

He can’t help but smile at that. God you were so sweet, the bare minimum from you could make him fold easily. “You don’t gotta miss me honey, I’m right here for ya sweet”.

He takes your hand in his until you two reach a nearby lake. Your look of confusion humors him and he can’t help but silently laugh to himself.

“Whatcha so confused for angel?”, he asks almost tauntingly.

You’re about to protest and tell him that you guys should turn back. That it’s not safe to swim at night and even if it was neither of you were properly dressed for it. But before a single word can come out of your mouth, Billy playfully pushes you into the water and jumps in to follow you.

It takes you a minute to get the water out of your eyes and the shock out of your system , but once you do you can’t help but laugh. This was the Billy the Kid that everyone feared? The one that was so playful and comical with you?

“What’s the matter with you hm? My girl can’t take a bit of water?”, he teases as he moves closer to you.

“Oh I can handle plenty of it, it’s you I’m worried about”, you say almost smugly. You’ve gotten good at getting Billy to fall for your little tricks. Well, you can’t really tell if he actually falls for them or if he just lets you have your way just so he can see that pretty smile on your face.

He’s about to put his lips on yours when you push a handful of water his way. Not only does it drench his hair, but also his entire face. If it was anyone else he would’ve been annoyed, but you weren’t just anyone you were his girl. And he’ll let his girl have his fun even if he’s the expense of it.

The two of you spend the rest of the night at the lake and when you’ve tuckered yourself out, he lifts you into his arms and carries you back home.

“I can walk perfectly fine”, you protest trying to squirm out of his arms but his grip is tight.

“Shh shh I know you can. I just wanna take care of my angel for a bit? ‘Ts okay with ya right baby?” His hands hold you as if that’s what they were made for, and if you asked Billy that is the reason why they were made.

He carries you to the small cabin you two always spend your nights in. The same hands that make others fear for their lives are the same hands that are so soft and soothing with you. When you fall asleep he moves your hair out of your face slowly, as if doing it too fast would hurt you. When he places your sleeping figure on the bed, he does it delicately as if you were the most valuable diamond in the whole county. When he comes to lie on your side and you slowly stir awake, he comforts you gently as he whispers to you softly how you’re alright and it’s just him.

He could have fallen asleep right then and there, and sleep never came easy for Billy. Going to sleep meant being letting his guard down. It meant vulnerability, something he would never let allow himself to feel. But with you it was different, being vulnerable with you brought him more comfort than fear. So when his eyes doze off while still holding you close to his chest, he truly can say for once that he’s at peace.

Of course, when you wake up he’s no longer by your side. Every night when the moon left the sky, Billy in turn leaves your bed. It’s routine by this point, but it still hurts when the sun rises and the townspeople awaken causing the whispers and stares come back. The only thing that brings you comfort in these moments are the thoughts of dusk. As Billy would say, “We’re gonna be okay, we got the stars on our side after all”.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid tom blyth #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x you #billy the kid oneshot #billy the kid imagine

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 1 year ago

Text

You look lonely… (Miguel O’Hara x Spider! Fem! Reader) Drabble

This is based off that one part of Bladerunner 2049. I saw a tiktok user use an ai voice thingy to make Miguel say it any I instantly thought of this. Not proofread. Also cried writing this lmao.

Alternative universe reader, antsy, reader mourning, vague implications of reader being depressed and wishes she was dead (??? idk if that’s the best way to describe it) ,Reader’s version of Miguel is dead, mentions of throw up, mentions of animal dissection (it’s one line about it, it’s the whole dissecting frogs in science class thing), no use of (Y/N).

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

—

Your arms were beginning to grow sore, your vision continued to blurry and refocus underneath your mask, and your chest started to burn from the cold winter air. But you didn’t stop swinging. If you stopped swinging then you’d start to think, and you didn’t wanna think, not today.

It’s been a year since Miguel died. It’s been a year since you’ve started to lose purpose without his existence. He was… everything to you. The reason for your smiles and laughter, the reason you had hope for the world despite your first-hand experience seeing how evil mankind can be. He was the moon against your night sky. A beacon of light to follow during a time where you are shrouded in darkness and uncertainty.

You both met in high school during freshman year science class, when you were 14 and he was 15 You never really paid much mind to him at first. He was quiet, and somewhat shy, always sat at the front, he’d wear a pair of thick rim glasses and always had on crew neck sweaters. He was skinny but he wasn’t thin, he was quite lean from the looks of it, catching a small glimpse of his forearm once and a while when his sleeves would slide down a bit as he’d raise his arm to ask a question or answer one.

Your first real interaction together though was when your class was doing a unit on anatomy, and your class had to dissect frogs. You were partnered with Miguel, and everything was going well, until your stomach couldn’t handle it and you accidentally threw up on his lap. How he didn’t completely hate your guts after was a complete and utter miracle. He was so understanding about it, and assured you that he didn’t even like the jeans he was wearing that day and he was planning on tossing them anyways as you both made your way to the nurse’s office, you blabbing apologizes in between hiccups and sobs.

Since then you two became inseparable, late night movie marathons, “study” sessions where you’d end up talking about anything and everything other than your homework, him teaching you how to drive after he got his license in his old beat up Toyota Camry. When you first found out you had superpowers, he was listening to you ramble over the phone despite it being 2 am on a school night, helping you design and develop your web shooters and your costume, helping patch you up after particularly bad fights, always leaving his bedroom window unlocked for you just in case. He was your rock, unmoving against the constant waves of chaos your life had thrown at you. You could always count on him. It was you both against the word for the next 9 years after that fateful incident in freshman year.

Until a year ago today.

You wish you could go back in time, and stop him from following you as you made your way to time square. Tell him that if he followed you, he’d die and you can’t have that because without him, life felt so empty and devoid of happiness. Save him from the broken metal scrap that became lodged in his stomach that doc ock had thrown in your direction and you had dodged, not seeing him running towards you from behind. You wish you had more time to kiss him goodbye before death’s unforgiving hands took him from you. You wish death had taken you instead. It should have been you. It was supposed to be you.

It should have been you. It should have been anyone else. Anyone else but him. It shouldn’t have been him.

You couldn’t swing anymore. It started to hurt and you had to make sure you had enough web fluid to make it home. So despite your brain’s best efforts, you finally stopped swinging, landing and scaling the tallest building you were closest to before collapsing onto your back, and taking your mask off to properly catch your breath. You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of New York rather than the way your heart ached as you absentmindedly played with Miguel’s ring that you had on a chain around your neck. You were able to calm yourself down enough that you began to doze off, almost falling asleep until your spidey senses began to go off and you heard a weird nose behind you. You quickly got up and turned around, placing the necklace back into your suit just in time to see another Spider-person in blue and red suit walking through some weird portal. He was massive, it was honestly intimidating, you’ve faced larger men, but something about him was different… you couldn’t put your finger on it though.

You didn’t say anything as the thing he came through closed behind him and he stepped closer to you. Despite the mask on his face you could feel him staring into your soul, as if he was studying you.

“¿Que día… hmm?” he spoke in a soft tone, although the question felt rhetorical, you felt yourself nodding anyways, knowing what he said because you had picked up some Spanish from Mig. You didn’t get a catch to reply properly as he kept making his way towards you. (What a day…)

“You look lonely…” He stopped just out of arm’s reach.

“I can fix that.” Something about the way he said it made your stomach both twisted nervousness and erupted with butterflies, an odd warmth seeping into your chest and into your heart that you had thought had stopped beating long ago. Something about him seemed so… familiar…

“You look like a good spider…” The words feel like they should be seen as a taunt or condescending, some form of insult but the way he was saying it felt like he was genuinely praising you. You swallow the lump in your throat as you finally find the courage to speak.

“Who are you?”

His mask devolves into thousands of little pixels, before you're able to see his face. The sight draws a gasp out from your lips, you couldn’t stop your voice from cracking and your eyes from watering once more.

“Miggy?”

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel fanfic #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 #spiderman astv

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kieranxvalentine · 1 year ago

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Shine. [M. O'hara]

༻♡༺✎ Your world was usually bleak and grey, series of black and white. Color was a luxury didn’t get to experience. Your friends had long since found their soulmates and tended to rub in in your face. But after being saved by your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, you realized why you had never seen your soulmate. He was Spiderman. ༻♡༺✎ Miguel O’hara x Reader. ༻♡༺✎ PG! Soulmate Au ༻♡༺✎ 1.1k words ༻♡༺✎ I love soulmate au's so expect more from me- If you want to support me! Here's my link!

“Don’t worry Y/n!” “I’m pretty sure you will find your soulmate soon!” “You’ll find them eventually!.”

Each and everyone that you have ever met have always told you the same thing.

That your time was coming and that it was going to be your time to meet your soulmate.

That they were out there, they were on the way.

But here’s the thing, they all have their soulmate already.

When you went out with your friends, you were jealous. They were all able to see the bright colorful lights of Nueva York at night. The got to see the rainbows and various colors in between, and not have to be stuck to seeing the world in dull greys, blacks and whites.

Tonight was another one of those nights.

Your friends Melody and Isabelle decided to invite you out to go to a festival being held in downtown Nueva York.

You tried to be happy about the event but your friends kept taking cheap shots at you.

“Oh my god! Y/n! Did you see the fireworks?” “She can’t see colors stupid. She doesn’t have her soulmate.” “Oh! You still haven't found him?”

You sighed as you looked up to the sky, seeing fireworks explode in the sky, but to you they just looked like white lights against a black sky. You could tell that there were different colors due to the varying greys and white but other than that. You couldn’t see much.

"Ahh.. You'll find 'em one day Y/n." "Hey, I heard you can get artificial glasses to see colors if you never do- OW!" "Aya! That's not nice!"

You felt tears were welling up in her eyes as her friends continually cheers and talk about the exciting decorations, lights and everything else.

“Oh my god look!”

Your eyes looked over to the Alchemax building and your eyes light up, Whenever this festival happened it was normal for their Spiderman to arrive and watch from afar, From what you knew from your friends and family, he wore a red and blue suit, that seemed cybernetic, his webs were a neon red.

You wished you could understand the concept of colors. You wished that you could experience that true feeling of excitement everyone describes when you meet your soulmate.

It's often described as a burst of emotions, a warm feeling that rivals being snuggled up in your favorite blanket during a cold day.

You hated that you were constantly left out of the loop when it came to things, and that your friends weren’t really helpful for what-

“LOOK OUT!”

A scream left your body as you were tackled as an explosion happened close by, You braced for impact, expecting your back to hit the rough ground but you felt someone’s large hands cradling you in their arms.

You opened your eyes and felt an intense pain shoot through your head, and you were knocked back onto your feet.

You groaned in pain as the person holding you helped you up to your feet. You finally opened your eyes and your breath caught in your throat.

You were rescued by Spiderman, but that wasn’t what caused your silence, you could see the colors of his suit, the way the red and blue merged together to make the spider symbol on his chest, the way the grey device he wore on his wrist lit up with orange colors.

It seems like it affected him too, he took a step back before placing a hand on his head, you gasped as you watched him pull his mask off.

He had beautiful short brown locs and tanned skin, brown eyes with hints of red shades in them. He was handsome…very handsome.

You were silent for a while until he finally spoke up.

“So I guess you’re my soulmate, Huh?”

He raised a hand to caress your cheek, cradling your body back close to him, as if he was analyzing all the colors you had on, admiring the beauty of your skin, eyes and hair.

"Después de tanto tiempo, finalmente te encontré."

His voice was wonderful, it was like velvet to your ears. You nodded slightly, not understanding what he said. He chuckled at this before he slid his mask back on. He finally pulls away from you..

“Head home, pretty sure the festival is going to be over, I’ll meet you there.”

He quickly shot a web to join what you assumed was other spider people, leaving you in shock.

Your friends quickly found you and they rushed to your side. “Y/n!? Oh my god are you okay?”

“What the hell happened? Why do you look like that?!” Melody yelled as she shook you.

“I..I think i just met my soulmate…” You mumbled out as your friends looked at each other before looking back at you.

“Huh?!”

“During the chaos?! Well who is he?”

“H..he’s…Spiderman..”

…

“HE’S WHO?!” “HE’S WHAT?!”

"Mama! I'm serious! I met my soulmate and he's spiderman!"

"Aye...I'm finding it hard to believe honey.

You were currently in your home, an apartment that was on the third floor of your building. You were cooking yourself something while on the phone with your mother. She had called to check on you after your friends had told her about the festival and what happened there.

“Are you sure you weren’t just seeing things, Honey?..”

“Mom! I know what spiderman looks like! We only have one in our city!!” You whined as your mother chuckled over the phone. She believed you…well partially.

She was just happy that you could see colors like everyone else.

You were about to ramble on again before you heard a tapping on your window.

You walked over with the phone, only to see your friendly neighborhood spiderman his mask off and he was waiting outside your window.

“Mom..I’ll call you back later..”

You hung up the phone on your mother (which you would probably get an ear full for it later.), and rushed to the window, opening it, allowing him in.

He climbed in through your window with a gentle smile on his face, this man was huge, around 6’9, which dwarfed your form. He placed his hands on either side of your shoulders as he looked down at you.

“I believe we need to get properly acquainted.” He says and you blush as you averted your gaze, only to have him bring your gaze back to his with a hand on your chin. You felt your heart nearly leap out of your throat. Butterflies were dancing in your stomach as he looked down at you with a playful smirk.

“I’m Miguel, Miguel O’hara.”

“Y/n…Y/n L/n..” You responded as he continued to hold you close as if he were to let go you were going to vaporize right before his eyes. He raises a hand to touch your (h/c) hair, as if admiring the color before locking his eyes with your (e/c) ones. It felt weird to finally see color, but the fuzzy feeling in your chest quickly quelled that feeling.

“U-um?..W-would you like to stay for dinner?..” You managed to stutter out as he finally let you go. He nods as he follows behind you as you guide him into the kitchen.

You felt comfortable in his presence, one because he was your city’s superhero, two, because he was your soulmate. Your eyes exploded with color when you locked eyes with him.

That meant you did have a soulmate, you weren’t going to be alone forever in a dull, colorless world.

Miguel was a gentleman, he was polite and seemed to be perfect for you, besides him being, you know Spiderman. You found yourself talking with him until you ended up getting sleepy.

He led you back to your bed and helped you get tucked in before placing a kiss on your forehead, and leaving the same way he came in, out the window.

When he was gone, you heard a buzz from your phone and turned to look at your phone.

‘My Soulmate <3: Looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you..’

You felt your heart swell as you turned back over preparing to head to bed, he had put his number in before leaving. You felt so giddy.

You had your soulmate, and He was also your hero.

©kieranxvaletine 2023 <3 Hope you all enjoyed!

#Miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel x you #miguel atsv #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader

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cynosdaydream · 2 months ago

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REPAINT MY HEART

What good is love if you have to beg and beseech to receive just a sliver of it?

Now playing: 你，好不好？/ How have you been? - Eric Chou

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Word Count: 1.7k Author's Note: Based off a real experience, sigh. (honorary tag for @noxellaa) CWs: Angst / No comfort, Breaking up, Mildly unhealthy relationship

“Hey, would I be a bother if I sit here?” You asked the blond. Albedo barely flicked his eyes over to you before he shook his head, laser-focused on the various equipment sitting on the table. Trying to make minimal noise in fear of distracting him, you sat on the spare chair normally meant for Sucrose to observe Albedo and take notes, watching how his brilliant teal eyes followed the reactions produced by the different chemicals mixing together in the flask, nimble hands jotting down notes on a piece of paper.

At this point, you were barely focused on how the acid dripped from the burette into the beaker. Instead, your eyes traced Albedo’s facial features; the way his pupils would dilate when the experiment yielded results, the way he would bite on his lip while trying to get the exact measurements, the way his hair would barely move with how still he was when focused. The details of how everything went down that day was permanently etched into your mind, keeping you awake at night at times. Somedays, you begin to reminisce …

“Albedo, can I tell you something?” He turns to you, pen and clipboard still in hand, but eyes now focused on you. The gesture which showed he was paying attention to you made your breath hitch. You turned your head to the side for a moment, trying to regain your composure. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest for a while.” You began, breath barely above a whisper. “I… I have feelings for you, Albedo. Not just platonic ones, but something more than that. I have romantic feelings for you, Albedo.” You still remember how he merely blinked at you a few times, causing you to fall into an awkward ramble. “But it’s fine if you don’t reciprocate! I won’t fault you for it, it’s perfectly fine-”

You still remember how he cut you off by grabbing your hands in his, stationery long forgotten. You still remember how he silently nodded his head, reassuring you that he indeed reciprocated your feelings. You still remember how he gently motioned for you to rest your head on his shoulder, and him trying his best not to move too much in fear of causing you discomfort. You still remember how that day, you drifted off to sleep on your new lover’s shoulder, and being tucked soundly into bed the next morning.

Ah, that feeling. You can’t put your finger on exactly how it felt. But if you were to try, you’d describe it as… heavy and weightless simultaneously.

Albedo’s way of loving wasn’t reckless or the type that made you feel like you were soaring high up in the sky, it was the type of love that was like a subtle peek of the head from behind a wall; brewing a mug of whatever beverage you preferred when you came over, purchasing a chair with cushioning specifically for you to sit in, and going out of his way to run errands for you when you;’re occupied, regardless of how busy he was.

Maybe you weren’t there to witness him actually doing said things, but his actions spoke volumes about how much he loved you more than words could.

Love is such a funny thing, isn’t it? Everyone has their own unique experiences, some finding true love during their teenage years and some feeling like they’ll pass on before experiencing love. But that’s the beauty of it. You’ll never know what to expect when you enter a new relationship. Maybe it’ll end in a recital of vows, and maybe it’ll end with salty tears dripping onto floorboards. There’s really no way to tell how it’ll end from how it starts.

That’s what you think when you lie on your bed, waiting for your lover to come home. This was becoming a common occurrence, you watching the hour hand spin from nine to twelve, with no sign of your lover coming back any time soon, until you hear the front door creak open. As soon as the sound reaches your ears, you walk out of the bedroom, almost immediately bombarding Albedo with a series of questions, “Where have you been? It’s already past midnight! Are you alright? Was work okay today?”

He would always gently pat your shoulders and reassure you that he was just fine, and that it was expected that his occupation would force him to frequently work overtime, ending off with “Thank you for worrying about me, dear,” paired with a peck on the forehead.

But you should’ve known. Should’ve known that one day, this ‘routine’ would grow old, and he would grow tired of it.

Again. Again you were home alone after dark, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the clock. You knew this feeling all too well. From reassuring you and answering your incessant questions, Albedo had started to simply nod and brush past you to walk straight to bed after coming home with no further interaction with you. You had a feeling this time was going to be no different as well.

Tears filled your eyes just thinking about it, the numbers and hands on the clock all merging together to form a puddle of colours. You absentmindedly locked your hands together as a way to make them stop shaking. What went wrong along the way? Have I not been good enough of a lover? Am I too overbearing? Clingy? These thoughts invaded your head as your gaze lowered to the floorboards, clenched fists trembling when you tried to lift them in a feeble attempt to wipe your tears.

You’ve tried to communicate this to Albedo multiple times. You’ve tried to tell him you felt neglected at times, and that you would appreciate it if he could give you a tad bit more attention. However, this ‘communication’ was all for naught. Your lover would just give you promises that he would show you more affection, promises that you would soon find out were all empty.

Love shouldn’t feel like this. Love shouldn’t feel like a fist gripping your heart so hard it hurts. Love shouldn’t feel like nails scratching on iron walls, trying to escape. Love shouldn’t feel like your throat is constricting, while you helplessly gasp for air.

Something had to be done about this ‘love’.

The familiar sound of the front door opening had no effect on you anymore. Instead of jumping out of bed to greet Albedo like a puppy, you stayed put in bed, waiting for him to come to you instead. “Dear.” Your lover’s silky voice filled the silence as he walked into the bedroom. It was obvious that you had recently cried, with the way your eyes were slightly bloodshot and the way your breathing was still uneven. “Are you alright, __?” You almost let out a laugh at his question. What did it look like? You took a few moments to regulate your breathing and to regain your composure before finally speaking.

“What does it look like to you, Albedo? No, I’m doing just fine.” You barked, voice laced with sarcasm. Perhaps you didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but maybe it was the weeks worth of pent up frustration finding a way to manifest.

Albedo looked taken aback at your tone, at a loss for words.

Taking his silence as a queue to elaborate, you continued, “I’m sorry for speaking to you like that. However, I’ve been meaning to have a serious conversation with you for some time.”

You could see how he tried to turn away, trying to find an excuse to leave the exchange, knowing full well what was coming next.

“Don’t try to run away from this, Albedo.” Your tone was harsh, freezing him in his place.

After a few minutes of awkward silence and shuffling around, the both of you were situated at opposite ends of the bed, and you were clutching a pillow while trying to articulate what you truly felt to him.

At first, your relationship and the love Albedo gave you felt like a blooming rose, layers of wine red petals unfurling and flourishing within you. However, with each passing day, the red began to dull, and the thorns on the stem became more and more apparent, piercing straight through you. But your bleeding heart still desperately poured blood unto the rose, as if trying to paint the wilting petals with colour again with the red liquid.

“I just feel like you’ve been…busy. I know it’s not your fault, and I should’ve known you would be busy, but I don’t wish to be unhappy like this any longer. Every night, I wait for you to come home, only for you to disregard me and go to bed straight away. And if I try to talk to you in the mornings, I can’t, ‘cause you’re off to your laboratory even before I wake up.” You take a deep breath before continuing, “So I’ll say this now– I’m breaking up with you.”

The words hung heavy in the air, feeling like a rope around your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t know you expected Albedo to say in response to you, but it definitely wasn’t a simple ‘okay’. “Okay…?” You parroted back to him in disbelief. “You have nothing else to say?” He nodded. You were in shock, but the realisation gradually set in.

If he didn’t care about your feelings before, why would he care about them now?

How stupid you were; to believe that he would finally care, finally listen and not just hear you this time. You just thought that maybe he would try to salvage the relationship; plead for forgiveness, or maybe even get on his knees as a show of repentance. But there was none of that– there were only those turquoise eyes that you once found so magnificent staring back at you blankly, the blue-green hues seeming dull to you now.

“Well, we’re done then.” You state firmly. “I’ll pack up my things by tomorrow afternoon and leave.”

You then turn and slam the door shut behind you.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshinimpact #mitsu.writes #albedo genshin x reader #albedo scenarios #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #albedo x you #albedo x yn #albedo genshin impact #albedo x y/n #albedo angst #genshin angst #angst #no comfort

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charmingcherrypops · 5 months ago

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stomach all in knots

a story about phoenix wright and his dreams.

inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo

a/n: my first fan fiction, how exciting! hope you enjoy..!! spoilers for the trilogy!!

as for warnings, there’s nothing TOO graphic or scary, but there are descriptions of panic attacks like symptoms, which could be distressing to some. there are also descriptions of phoenix eating the necklace. hurt/no comfort .over all it’s pretty sad and agnsty and maybe considered heavy. No happy end. Sorry folks

as always put yourself first and keep yourself healthy.

story below ⬇️!

phoenix wright was never a stranger to strange dreams. (they were almost prophetic in a way, foreshadowing how he himself would bring upon his own undoing. whether that be out of loyalty of others or in spite of himself, it was a fact that his self righteousness destroy him.)

most of his dreams were with miles. by the blood that flowed through his veins and the nerve pathways that cascaded throughout his body, by god, he would save miles edgeworth in these dreams. he never remembers how he does actually save him in these dreams, (maybe that’s on purpose) but he does. he always does. they end the same, with a reunion of the two parties, with a feeling that could only be described as pure light. when they come together, in these dreams, it was as if the sun and moon, with all the stars and star dust in the sky — everything made of light — gathered together. phoenix felt that all was right with miles by his side, even his dream self muttering one night ,

“this is everything i ever wanted.”

and then phoenix would wake up. he would wake up cold, and alone, stomach void of the light that was once there just 15 minutes prior. and then phoenix had to go about his day, like nothing ever happened. walks to the courthouse filled his head with a fog that never really left. he’s getting restless, biting his nails, thinking about what he could have done differently to save miles. really save him.

tonight was different.

tonight he dreamt of dollie.

and she’s beautiful as ever.

she’s got the world in her eyes, roses on her cheeks, and a familiar heart on her chest. her voice is sickly sweet like honey, and with open arms embraces phoenix. just like old times. and a part of him wishes he could stay like this forever. so naive to the world. so trusting in others. so trusting in that inherent goodness in people.

especially in those he cares about.

she gives him a little peck on the cheek, and runs off, in a rush like she’s late to class. or late to other important affairs she’s got to deal with.

he doesn’t know. he can’t tell — or rather, he never was ABLE to tell.

so she’s gone, parting with her kiss of betrayal. in the exact opposite manner of the dreams with edgeworth, he begins the dream in a pair and ends up alone. and that light he once felt is now stomach pain. it feels like a growing nightmare he can’t escape , and his jaw , his jaw aches from chewing. and his throat feels like it’s closing in on itself

and then phoenix wakes up. he wakes up cold, and alone, with a stomach ache. shivering. he’s about to get sick.

phoenix wright calls out of work for the day.

but unfortunately he spends the day thinking about what he could have done differently to maybe save dollie. really save her.

before he goes to bed that night, he prays for the first time in a while, that something like this, or someone like dollie, never enters his life again,

closes his eyes,

and then he dreams of miles.

#miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney #ace attorney fanfiction #narumitsu fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fic writing #hurt/angst #hurt/no comfort #sorry #cherrie pop chats #ace attorney one shot #narumitsu one shot #chat did i cook #or am i cooked

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 1 year ago

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Mamma mia | chapter four

listen to: Good for you - Selena Gomez | Chiquitita - Abba (playlist here)

warnings: accidental pregnancy, smut 18+, raising a child alone. warnings will be added as the story progresses. For this chapter smut.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

Jake was the first one to wake up. When you woke up, you traced the warm shadow of his body, left on the soft linen bed sheets. Inhaling the scent of lemon and wood, the smell of the sea as it filled your room through to your open window, you thought about Jake’s warm lips from the night before. Both of you fell asleep before you could continue, but as you passed your fingers over your lips, you felt your body growing hot.

Your mind goes back to Bob and then back to Jake. You didn’t really know either but there was something about both of them. Fondness was the only word you could conjure to describe how you felt about both of them. Fondness. Autumn. Orange of the sky. You couldn’t afford further, you’d promised yourself to be the person you weren’t, to live the lives you hadn’t lived this summer, for the future lives you wouldn’t live once you were gone. And so, as you raised from your bed carefully, you felt somehow grateful that Jake had left as the sun started to crack the sky, that he wouldn’t complicate things.

He wasn’t that thoughtful.

By the time you reached the spiral stairs, you realized that both Augustine’s and James’ bedrooms were closed and that the smell of something cooking was an act from a third party. The mostly quiet house was interrupted by clattering noise coming from the kitchen, the sound of oil burning something up, and crickets and birds accompanying the symphony. Walking slowly, partly afraid, your eyes fall on him in the kitchen.

The sun entering the big glass windows of the kitchen and the living room next to it allow you to watch him fully, without the haze of the alcohol you can see all the edges and ridges that you touched the night before, that you slept against. The golden locks seem prettier under the morning sun, he looks like the morning sun. He’s focused, you can tell as you watch him from afar. Fresh-cut strawberries, apples with honey, and kiwis on the table pancake mix next to him. He shouldn’t be cooking so close to hot oil without a shirt but you can’t blame him. If you looked like him you would walk naked too.

And then he turned around as he finished the batch of pancakes, and he was frozen in place as he stares at you. It should be unfair for someone to look as beautiful as you do just waking up. It’s strange how his heart swells as he watches you smiling timidly, naked legs, only a shirt covering your body. Tangled limbs from the night before, the heat of your kisses, your soft breathing. It’s outré. He just met you yesterday but he already wants to know you for so much longer.

“I made breakfast, baby,” he teases as you climb down the stairs, shaking your head.

“You’re aware that we didn’t sleep together, right?” you ask him as you take a strawberry from a bowl and bite it while holding Jake’s gaze.

Jake frowns slightly as he continues with the second batch of pancakes. “I know,” he said. “I’m just nice like that,” he shrugs.

“Sure you are, cowboy,” you teased him.

Jake turns to you, amusement covering his features. He stares at you for longer than you’d liked, enough for the air to shift slightly. Like it did when you kissed him, more intimate than anything before.

But then you hear the giggling from the stares. Eyes widening, you catch a glimpse of barely naked bodies, underwear covering their skin in the right places but you were fairly sure that they were about to come off as you cringed slightly at the moan James let out as Javy continued to kiss her neck on the stairs, a hand on her stomach, another one tearing the strap of her bra. And then, Jake cleared his throat. Javy’s eyes widened slightly, clearing his throat as he stares at the both of you looking at the scene. Javy’s jaw is set but James’, her eyes are gleaming.

“Sorry for the show, now just leave the sunroom alone for 15 minutes, okay?” James said in a hurry as she grabs Javy’s hand and pulls him downstairs and towards the small frame leading to the living room and then the sunroom.

There’s a slight carelessness and trust when it came to James. Better regret doing it than regret not doing it, she often said to you on the phone as you rejected multiple dates in order to study. You couldn’t bare looking back now and thinking about the things you missed.

“Please, don’t fuck on communal surfaces!” you scream from the counter as you shake your head, a slight smile on your face.

Jake’s laugh though, it’s a little bit too loud to ignore. You raise your eyebrow at him, another strawberry, another batch of pancakes. Jake turns to see you, the way you’re staring at him. There’s a slight blush creeping over his neck and climbing onto his cheeks. Your eyes are serious but tender, there’s a certain sinlessness to your eyes, he can tell.

“What?” you asked.

Jake shrugged slightly. The same smirk you saw the day prior drawn on his face, is softer than before but you can detect the duplicitous nature of it. Your eyes wander his body for a second, the tan skin, the heat irradiating from the kitchen. Honey now, honey and an apple.

“Never heard that before,” he said.

You don’t understand at first if he was never told if he couldn’t do it or if there weren’t any lines for him. If he’d done it in all the places but then you see his eyes. The sea-foam green, eyes wide, pupils blown as his eyes trail your body, the curve of your ass as you lean into the table, licking the honey away from your fingers, staring at him like that.

It’s only then, you know it’s the latter.

“Where’s the best one you’d done it at?” you asked, voice sounder smaller than you intended.

You wished for a second you didn’t sound so inexperienced. Jake doesn’t mind, his smirk only grows as he takes a strawberry and bites it. He stares at you for a moment, you tilted your head up now that he was closer.

“Kitchen table,” he said.

The warmth feeling on your belly seems to come alive, heat pooling between your legs as he leans down and kisses you deeply, eagerly. It’s a clear contrast from the night before. It’s all red desire as he cups your face and begins to kiss his way down your neck. You moan softly as he maneuvers you, pressing his chest against your back, pressing into you harder in your back. You try to stay steady on your feet as you cling to the kitchen table.

Scorching kisses are left on your soft skin as he wraps your hair tightly around his hand, giving him the space to pull down your shirt just enough for him to kiss your collarbones. Then Jake’s hand cups your throat, fingers gripping the back of your neck and you’re a goner. Your heartbeat is erratic as he presses the sides of your throat slightly and a moan breaks through your lips. It’s hard being as inexperienced as you are and pretending that you’re not, that no one has touched you like he is touching you right now.

Your mind is dizzy, your breathing hard, skin hot. It’s too much and he knows. You can basically feel him smirking against your skin as his other hand quickly presses against your body, travels across your stomach, over the curve of your breast, circling your nipple, not purposeful enough, not enough for you.

You whine. “Jake,” you whimper impatiently. His smile only grows wider, his hand moves across your chest and repeats the same featherlight motion over your other breast.

“Don’t be bossy,” Jake whispers against your ear, licking and then biting your neck. Another moan, loud, but the two of you are in your own world, you don’t care if anyone hears you, you can barely hear anything but the soft noises Jake lets out of his lips, your heart beating so hard like the waves crashing against the sand.

“Jake,” you huff again as his hand traces small circles on your exposed thighs, so close. “Please,”

That’s what does it to him, your closed eyes, rosy cheeks, brows furrowing, you begging. He smiles as he drags one finger gently over your covered clit and a satisfied moan fills the room. Your jaw slacks slightly as the pleasure rolls through your body.

“More,”

You don’t mean it as an order, more as a plead and you aren’t really sure how he takes it but complies immediately, as he finally moves your underwear to the side, his two fingers caressing your slick, gathering your excitement before finally plunging them inside of you.

“Fuck,” Jake mutters as he feels you wrapping around him so perfectly.

He kisses and touches you with devotion, a devotion you’d never experienced before. You only met him yesterday, devotion shouldn’t be part of the deal but as he continues to work you open, your mind doesn’t care.

Damn whatever the rules are for having flings, it doesn’t matter if he keeps touching you like this.

Suddenly, though, Jake’s hand slips out of you, gasping you barely register the moment he pushes you up into the table and then the way he pulls you forward and kisses you senseless. He then begins to kiss your face, your collarbone, your nipples over that oversize shirt, then lower, your rib cage, your belly button, and then he’s rising the shirt. Your thighs, your hipbone and then he’s on his knees.

You watch him, how delicate his eyes look under these lights but how his pupils are blown wide from the lust. You watch him as he hudges your legs apart so softly without looking away from you. You watch him smile as his eyes for one-second gaze at the wrecked panties and then you watch him, very tenderly, sliding your underwear to the side again and pulling you towards his mouth.

Cathexis. Everything around you is gone. You are only aware of the way his hands are resting on your thigh, his skin and yours, you’re only aware of how his tongue is licking and sucking your pussy, how it plunges inside of you, how his fingers press against your clit, how his mouth works eagerly against your folds.

“Jesus Christ,” you barely manage to listen to him against you.

The overwhelming pleasure begins to cloud your sight, white dots, your belly tensing up. His tongue runs between your folds, circling your clit slowly. With another sharp cry, your body feels like it’s burning. Engulfed in the flames being ignited by him. Surrendering control of your body you fall to the table, shaking, some plates fall on the floor. Strawberries. He tasted like strawberries. It’s all you can think of as you feel his hands snaking to your ass, squeezing it, and pulling you closer to him. Devouring like a man starved.

“Yes, yes,” you chant.

Hands flying quickly to pull his blonde locks, you pull his hair hard, a broken cry leaving your lips and a groan that replicates waves of pleasure over your body, makes you cry harder. Without warning, with an unchanging pace, while you’re moving your hips to ride his face, he throws you over the edge with four words.

“Taste so fucking sweet, Honey,” he moans against you.

Screaming, and shaking, your body yields. It can’t handle more. You tighten, you scream, lights overwhelm your sight, everything throbs, your trash, your blood is filled with pleasure and heat. Your ears are ringing, vaguely aware that he’s pulled out his tongue when you feel the loss of heat. You whimpered as he fixes your wrecked underwear. It’s useless but you let him.

“Honey?” he calls your name as he leans over and kisses your lips, his body is warm and he nudges your jaw with his nose, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

Lemon and Wood. The sun. You smile as your eyes flutter open. His grinning, arousal over his chin, your cheeks hot as you watch him, his adoring eyes.

“That good, huh?” he says, the cockiness dripping from his eyes.

Carefully he helps you sit up as you glance at him, he’s still hard but doesn’t seem in any hurry that you take care of that. Eyes, still with white lights on your sight, holding each other.

“I’ve had better,” you lie with a smirk as he holds your hips. Jake shakes his head, biting his lip as he laughs before leaning down and kissing you.

It’s softer like the night before but so purposeful that you place your hand over the back of his neck while arching your back towards him as he grabs you by your ass and pulls you closer. The intensity grows but then you hear the steps above and then on the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Augustine asked, barely awake. “I heard some screaming and I,”

She takes in the scene, your rosy cheeks, glassy eyes. The food on the floor, Jake barely dressed, the table empty in a space just to fit your body. She doesn’t have to see far to see the hard-on that Jake has. And then, she hears James screaming, honestly, moaning from the sun door, all of you snap your head towards the door. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing hard.

“WHAT DID WE SAY ABOUT FUCKING ON COMMUNAL SURFACES!?”

SEVEN YEARS LATER

It’s 11:00 pm, it’s already late but you know that they’re right there. They’ve been there since twenty minutes ago when you’d left Inés’ room after putting her to sleep. Silently you stared at the bedroom door, it was closed but you could see the shadows of their bodies on the space between the floor and the door.

You think about the day that you found out that you were pregnant. The way you barely made it inside the house after seeing Bradley. The way your body began to shake as it dawned on you that you hadn’t had your period. James and Augustine home to see you crying in your bathroom. They undressed you as if you were a child, god, you still were. You stepped inside the warm water. They stayed with you, on the edge of the bathtub, silently until you finally spoke.

“I think I’m pregnant,”

As you stared at their shadows behind the door, you thought about what they would say. The fidelity between the three of you was fierce. You fiercely loved each other. No one had been as loyal as they were, ever. But this was so complicated. The awful cold feeling of shame, you couldn’t bare it. They didn’t know. They didn’t know and you’d lied to them about it.

Your chest aches as you recall that summer while you nurse on the wine you’d served. Wash away that summer. You wanted them gone, those ghosts that haunted you. The nights you’d met each one. Their eyes. You wanted to wash away their touch from your skin, their kisses, their empty promises. Gone. Each and every one of them out of your life, of your memories. Gone.

But you couldn’t.

One of them had gave you the best thing in your life. James and August were still behind that door, they were waiting for you.

You fight your way out of your bed, literally, and walk through the door, opening it slowly, abashed.

James looks up from her phone first and then Augustine, they could see the stain of tears on your cheeks, they were a bit hollower than they were the day you told them that you were pregnant.

“Are you finally telling us what’s wrong?” James asks.

You nodded softly, looking down at the glass of wine. Augustine quickly takes your hand and pulls you inside the room, so softly as if you were made of porcelain. You did feel like that. Fragile. Your poor heart, full of scars after everything.

“Here, come,” Augustine says while placing you on your bed, her next to you. James closes the door softly and climbs into bed with the two of you.

Snuggle between your two best friends, you feel exhausted as you lean on Augustine’s shoulder and James caresses your hair.

“Are you finally going to tell us the truth?” James says.

“You saw them, right?” Augustine asks. “You saw Bradley and Bob, and,”

You nod. “Jake,” you whispered, tears streaming down your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Honey?” Augustine asks, her hug turning tighter.

“I, I couldn’t,” you whisper, fidgeting with your hands.

“Yes, you could, you can tell us anything,”

“Are you scared they might find out about Inés?” James asks softly, moving her hand towards yours, she holds your hand.

“I don’t know how to tell,” you say, words don’t come out of your throat. “Remember how I told you,” a hiccup escapes your lips and you groan in frustration as you lay in the bed. “I knew who Inés father was?”

Augustine frowns slightly, her gaze shoots up at James slightly. She’s looking back at Augustine with the same puzzled look. They are holding their breaths. You never told them and they never questioned you. But now, now you’re allowing this conversation, and the tension in the air grows by the second.

“Bradley?” James asks.

“So, Jake,” Augustine says.

They both snapped their eyes at each other and you then covered your face with your hands as more tears fall from your eyes. The realization overwhelms them, you know. They stare at each other for a moment, mouths agape, waiting for you.

“It might be Bob for all I know,” you confess. Your hands are still covering your hands as you wait for them, but you can feel, the shock in their faces. “I’m, I’m such an awful mom for not knowing, I’m an awful person,”

“Honey, don’t say that,” Augustine hushes you, as she pulls your hands from your face.

“But I am!” you say. “Who doesn’t know who is the father of her daughter?”

“Honey, a lot more people than you think!” James says, trying to sound upbeat but you quickly glare at her.

“And now they all are here,” you say as you raise from your bed and walk to your vanity, wiping the tears from your face softly while you look at your puffy eyes. “It’s a hideous trick of faith!”

“Do they know about Inés?” Augustine asks from the bed, crawling from it.

“No, of course not, they just saw me and James,” you say as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “They can’t know just by looking at me, right?” you ask as you turned towards them, posing awkwardly.

“Babe, you don’t have ‘Mom’ tattooed on your face,” James answers raising her eyebrow. You roll your eyes at her.

“I can’t let them find out about Inés, imagine all the questions they’ll be asking if they see her or me again,” you say as you sit down at the table while James and Augustine stare at each other for a second. “Imagine how Inés' life will change. She will hate me,”

“Honey, if you might tell them, then everything would be just,”

“Awful,” you snap. “What can I say? Here Inés, you have three possible dads because your mom was a stupid, reckless little slut!”

“HONEY!” Augustine gasped, she lets out a giggle as she watches you.

“You sound like a grandma!” James adds with laughter.

“It’s not funny!” you say but a little laugh escapes your lips, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

Before you all notice, you all erupt into laughter. The sound fills the room, bouncing off the walls and ceiling like a game of ping-pong. It’s a burst of hearty, genuine laughter that comes from deep within your belly, the kind that leaves you gasping for air. Augustine’s face lights up with joy, the corners of her lips and cheeks hurt, and James' eyes crinkle at the corner as she basks in the sound of your collective mirth. From all that pain, all that ache that came from the last few days, it’s the first time that you feel like yourself.

Even a bit like before.

“We’ll help you, Honey,” Augustine says as she stands up and embraces you warmly. A sense of contentment settles over you.

“Yeah,” James agrees. “How hard is it to avoid a couple of Top Gun Pilots,” she adds as she surrounds Augutine and you with her arms, wrapping you up.

“They’ll never find out,” you declare.

It’s wishful thinking, though.

You realize that quietly as you fall asleep. It’s a feeling that can’t be replicated or manufactured, a deep, deep knowledge inside of you, something you just happen to know, not a believe a fact. You know that it is only a matter of time.

author's note: Thank you so much for your patience, honestly the last two months have been really hard and i didn't feel like i could write but I'm so excited to listen to your thoughts on how this is story is going! thank youuu so much!

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cynic-spirit · 3 months ago

Text

The Compliment

It was a typical night at the club, everyone was in good spirits, and the teasing was in full swing. Steve, Sam, Nick, and Thor were all gathered at the table with Bucky and Yn. The conversation turned toward Bucky’s endless compliments for Yn, which had not gone unnoticed by the group.

“You know, Yn,” Steve started with a knowing smirk, “Bucky here never misses a chance to compliment you.”

Sam nodded, grinning. “And all you ever do is say, ‘Thanks, Bucky,’ like he just handed you a cup of coffee or something.”

Nick chuckled, leaning back. “The guy’s practically composing love sonnets, and you’re over there with a ‘thanks.’”

Thor laughed, his deep voice booming through the room. “A simple ‘thank you’ doesn’t do the man justice.”

Bucky immediately stiffened, sensing the trap being laid out before him. He raised his hands in defense, looking at Yn. “Guys, don’t—”

But it was too late. Yn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh? I don’t appreciate him enough, is that it?” She arched a brow and turned to Bucky, a playful smile on her lips. “You think I don’t compliment you, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Yn, don’t...”

Yn leaned forward, her voice taking on a dramatic, almost poetic cadence. “You know, Bucky, I could compliment you more. Let’s start with your hair.” She gestured to his dark locks. “It’s like the Starry Night by Van Gogh—each strand as dark and deep as the night sky, swirling in endless beauty. A masterpiece.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “Oh no…”

Ignoring his discomfort, Yn continued, her voice smooth and confident. “Your face,” she said, letting her eyes trace his jawline. “It’s chiseled like the statue of Michelangelo’s David, each angle sharp and perfect, as if molded by the hands of the gods themselves. That jaw... it could cut through glass.”

Sam snorted, already having trouble containing his laughter. “Oh man, she’s really getting started.”

Thor, looking absolutely entertained, nodded enthusiastically. “This is gold.”

Yn pressed on, turning her attention to his lips. “And your lips... they’re like the delicate curves of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne—soft, inviting, a work of divine craftsmanship. A kiss from those lips is surely like being touched by art itself.”

Bucky’s hand shot up to his face in pure embarrassment. “Yn, please…”

But she was just warming up. Her eyes flicked to his piercing blue gaze. “And your eyes... they’re Monet’s Water Lilies, serene yet striking, pools of blue so deep they could drown a person. They see through everything, Bucky. They are like art come to life.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a grin. “She’s killing him.”

Nick laughed, nodding. “Oh, he’s done for.”

Yn’s gaze dropped to his shoulders. “Your shoulders,” she continued, her voice dripping with admiration. “They’re like the Parthenon—broad, strong, capable of holding up empires. They carry the weight of the world with grace and ease.”

Bucky’s composure was visibly slipping, but Yn didn’t stop. Her hand brushed lightly over his arm as she moved down. “And those biceps... like the curves of Rodin’s The Thinker. Every muscle perfectly sculpted, a testament to strength, carved out of pure marble.”

Thor chuckled, “She’s describing a literal god.”

Bucky groaned softly. “Oh my god…”

Yn, completely unfazed, shifted her focus to his chest. “Your chest, Bucky... expansive, like the canvas of da Vinci’s The Last Supper, full of detail and meaning. It’s a masterpiece of strength and power, every inch telling a story.”

Bucky was gripping the table at this point, trying not to collapse under the weight of her words. “Yn, I’m begging you—”

But she went on, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And your abs, Buck... they’re like the architecture of Gaudí’s Sagrada Família—intricate, precise, a wonder of design and craftsmanship. Every muscle a deliberate work of art, as if designed to mesmerize.”

Sam covered his mouth, barely containing his laughter. “I can’t... I can’t breathe.”

Steve was practically in tears. “He’s not going to make it.”

Yn moved to his back, her hand tracing lightly over his shoulder as she leaned closer. “Your back... strong, like Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Every line, every muscle, like a perfect fresco, a divine creation.”

At this point, Bucky looked like he might actually melt into the floor. His entire face was flushed, and his breathing had grown shallow. “Yn, please stop.”

Yn smirked, but she didn’t relent. “And your legs, Buck... tall, powerful, like the pillars of the Pantheon. They’re pillars of strength, holding you up with unshakable resolve.”

Bucky slumped a little further in his chair, completely wrecked. “Oh my god…”

“And your hands,” Yn continued, her voice growing even softer. “Long and graceful, like the hands of Donatello’s Saint George. Each finger delicate, but strong, like a sculptor’s tool, capable of shaping the world.”

Thor nudged Sam. “This is better than any show I’ve seen in years.”

Nick grinned. “He’s not surviving this.”

Then, Yn’s eyes twinkled with one final blow. She lowered her voice, her lips curving into a playful smile. “And of course, your derrière... firm and perfect, like Canova’s Venus, a form that should be displayed in museums.”

Sam lost it, doubling over in laughter. “Oh my God, she went there!”

Bucky was slumped forward now, completely defeated, his face buried in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

But Yn wasn’t quite finished. She leaned in for the final blow, her voice soft but devastating. “And lastly... your ithyphallic form, Bucky... like the great statues of ancient Greece, standing proud, a symbol of strength and power. Truly... a marvel of artistic anatomy. exquisite Mr Barnes!”

That was it. Bucky finally slumped fully over the table, his face hidden in his arms, utterly wrecked. “I... I’m done.”

Yn sat back with a satisfied grin, crossing her arms. “What do you expect from an art professor, Bucky?”

Sam, unable to breathe from laughing so hard, raised his glass. “To Yn. The only person who could turn Bucky Barnes into a piece of art and utterly destroy him in the process.”

Steve clapped his hands, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. “I’m never going to let him live this down.”

Bucky, still face-down on the table, groaned, his voice muffled. “I’m never challenging her again.”

Bucky remained slumped over the table, face buried in his arms, even as Yn gracefully leaned back in her chair and reached for her drink, completely at ease after delivering her artistic onslaught of compliments. The room was filled with laughter, but Bucky didn’t budge, clearly too mortified to resurface just yet.

Steve, wiping away tears of laughter, nudged him with a finger. “Hey, Buck, you still with us?”

Bucky let out a muffled groan from his position, his face still hidden. “Leave me here. I’m dead.”

Sam, still chuckling, leaned in, tapping his shoulder. “Come on, man, you survived worse than this. Hydra’s got nothing on what just happened.”

Thor, grinning ear to ear, clapped Bucky on the back, sending him jolting forward just slightly. “He’s strong. He’ll rise again. Though, I admit, that was quite the battle to witness.”

Bucky groaned again, this time even more dramatically. “I’m not rising. I’m staying down. Just... let me go.”

As Yn got up from the table to head to the restroom, the rest of the group watched her go, still chuckling at Bucky’s complete and utter defeat. The moment she disappeared from sight, Steve saw his chance and slid over next to Bucky, who was still face-down, refusing to lift his head.

“Come on, man,” Steve said, trying to sound sincere, though the amusement was still clear in his voice. “She really meant every word. You know that, right?”

Bucky let out another groan, his face still buried in his arms. “Steve... leave me be. Just... kill me. Put me out of my misery.”

Sam, overhearing the conversation, leaned in with a grin. “Nah, we’re not letting you off that easy, man. You gotta live with this one.”

Bucky’s hand lifted slightly, waving in the air before slumping back down. “Mercy... I’m asking for mercy here.”

Steve shook his head, patting Bucky on the back. “You know she wasn’t just teasing. That’s the thing. Every word? She meant it.”

Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at Steve. “She made me sound like a piece of museum art. And don’t even get me started on the... ithyphallic form thing.”

Steve chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. That part might’ve been a bit much.”

Bucky slumped back down onto the table, covering his head with his arms. “A bit? Steve, I’m not recovering from this.”

Nick chimed in, laughing from his side of the table. “You’re like the Venus de Milo, man, but with arms.”

Thor’s deep laughter rumbled through the group. “And perhaps a bit more... fully sculpted, as Yn described so poetically.”

Bucky groaned louder. “I’m asking you all... end it now. I can’t go on like this.”

Steve just shook his head, grinning as he stood up. “You’ll survive, Buck. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s going to do this again next time you compliment her. So, you better get used to it.”

Bucky let out another defeated groan. “I can’t... I’m never complimenting her again.”

Sam raised his glass with a grin. “Oh, sure you won’t, man. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Bucky, still slumped over, gave another pathetic wave. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know, the best part of all that? It was so poetic. Nothing about it sounded vulgar or cheap.”

Thor nodded in agreement, stroking his beard. “Indeed, it was vivid, bold... but elegant. She has a way with words, that one.”

Steve, grinning, leaned in closer to the table. “Yeah, I mean, she described Bucky’s ithyphallic form—" He paused, holding back laughter at the word, “—and even that somehow sounded like it belonged in a museum exhibit. That takes talent.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Right? Most people would just go for something basic. But Yn? She practically turned him into a walking art gallery.”

Nick added with a smirk, “I’ve never heard anyone talk about someone’s biceps like they were carved by Michelangelo and still keep it classy. She’s something else.”

Thor chuckled deeply. “You know, Bucky, you should feel honored. To be praised in such detail... so grandly.”

Bucky, still slumped over the table, let out another dramatic groan. “Please... stop...”

Steve patted him on the back, still thoroughly amused. “Come on, Buck. You’re the closest thing we’ve got to a living masterpiece, apparently.”

Bucky didn’t lift his head, but his voice was low and defeated. “I don’t want to be a masterpiece. I want to disappear.”

Sam raised his glass, his grin wide. “Sorry, man. No disappearing for you. Yn just immortalized you with that monologue. You’re stuck as art now.”

Nick added, “And it wasn’t just any monologue. That was the kind of stuff people quote. Like, forever.”

Bucky groaned louder. “Just... let me die in peace.”

Thor chuckled again. “Death by compliments. That’s a first.”

Steve leaned in, shaking his head in disbelief. “Seriously, though. Not a single word was out of place. She even threw in those references to art... the Pantheon legs... Venus—”

Bucky raised his head slightly, enough to glare at Steve. “Stop... talking.”

Steve just grinned, unfazed. “I’m just saying, Buck. She turned you into a poetic masterpiece. You can’t escape it.”

Bucky slumped back down, his voice muffled as he muttered, “I’m not going to survive this.”

Nick leaned in, his grin mischievous. “You know what, Bucky? It’s gonna be tough for anyone to top that. You’re basically untouchable now.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, anyone else tries to flirt with their girl, and you can just throw down, ‘Well, have you ever been compared to Michelangelo’s David and Apollo and Daphne? No? Thought so.’”

Bucky groaned again, a long, low sound of pure exasperation. “I’m begging you... leave me alone.”

Thor raised his glass, a wide grin spreading across his face. “To Bucky, the masterpiece none of us knew we needed.”

The rest of them clinked glasses and laughed, while Bucky stayed slumped over, unwilling to rise to the challenge or the teasing. This might just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to endure, and it didn’t involve a single fight—just words. Beautiful, poetic, devastating words.

As the laughter continued, Bucky finally muttered under his breath, “Next time... I’m not even going to open my mouth.”

Steve chuckled, leaning forward with a grin. "I mean, come on, she literally described his derrière like it belonged in the Louvre. ‘Firm, like Canova’s Venus’—who even thinks of that?"

Sam, barely able to keep from laughing, chimed in, "Yeah, and when she got to the ithyphallic form... I mean, seriously, who does that and makes it sound like it should be on a pedestal somewhere?"

Nick raised his eyebrows. “But you know what? She’s right. Both of those—" He paused, biting back a laugh, "—definitely deserve to be celebrated. She wasn’t kidding. Bucky’s got it all, man.”

Bucky, still face-down on the table, let out another exaggerated groan. “Please... for the love of God... stop.”

Thor, with his booming laugh, clapped Bucky on the back, causing him to jolt forward slightly. "Ah, Bucky, you should be proud! Few men have had their derrière and their... uh... more impressive assets so elegantly praised. It was like an ancient hymn, a celebration of the body."

Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at Thor, his face flushed. “I don’t need my body celebrated, Thor.”

Steve grinned, folding his arms. “Well, it’s too late for that now, buddy. Yn has officially made sure your ithyphallic form—" he paused, clearly enjoying the moment, “—and your... well, your other fine qualities are immortalized.”

Sam couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Man, you’ve been sculpted and celebrated. She didn’t just compliment you—she turned you into a freakin’ statue! Everything got its moment of glory. And I mean everything.”

Nick added with a grin, “Yeah, you heard her, man. Your derrière—firm, like Canova’s Venus, a ‘form to be displayed in museums.’ That’s some high praise right there.”

Bucky groaned again, dropping his face back into his arms. “I’m not surviving this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Thor, ever the encourager, shook his head with a wide smile. “But you should hear the end of it. Bucky, she has celebrated you from head to toe. And every part—yes, even the parts that some might... blush to mention—have been given their due respect. This is not something to run from, my friend.”

Steve nodded sagely, completely serious. “Exactly. You’ve got a Michelangelo’s David jawline, Venus-level derrière, and don’t even get me started on the ithyphallic form. Bucky, you’re a walking masterpiece.”

Bucky lifted his head just enough to shoot Steve a withering glare. “You’re not helping.”

Sam, still laughing, chimed in, “Look, man, you gotta own it now. Both the front and the back were celebrated in such vivid detail, and let’s face it—you deserve it.”

Nick grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, if I were you, I’d be pretty proud of the whole package getting that much attention. People pay to have their art appreciated like that.”

Bucky groaned even louder, burying his face deeper into his arms. “I’m asking you all... please... stop. I can’t take any more.”

Thor, with a playful grin, crossed his arms and said, “Oh no, Bucky, this is something to relish. There are men in history whose greatest hope was to be immortalized in such a way. And you? You have been praised in the way of ancient heroes, from every angle.”

Steve leaned in, still amused. “Including some angles that probably don’t see that much poetic love.”

Bucky, with one last exhausted groan, slumped even deeper into the table, as if trying to disappear entirely. “I’m begging you. Let me die in peace.”

Sam raised his glass with a wicked grin. “To Bucky Barnes, whose derrière and ithyphallic form have been rightfully celebrated in the way all true art deserves.”

Nick, laughing, clinked his glass with Sam’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

Steve and Thor joined in, while Bucky stayed resolutely face-down, his resolve crumbling.

As the glasses clinked around him, Bucky let out one last, defeated sigh. “Next time... I swear, I’m not saying a word.”

After what felt like an eternity, with his head buried in his arms, Bucky finally lifted himself from the table. Slowly, he sat up straight, blinking a few times, looking like he’d just come back from a long and arduous journey. The group, still grinning like fools, turned to him, their amusement evident.

“Hi... welcome back, buddy,” Steve said, patting him on the shoulder with a playful grin.

Thor chuckled. “We weren’t sure if you were going to rise again. Thought maybe the weight of all those compliments finally took you down for good.”

Sam smirked, raising his eyebrows. “You alive, or do we need to get someone to give you CPR?”

Bucky exhaled deeply, rubbing his face with his hands as if trying to wipe away the memory of the poetic onslaught. “I always knew she had a way with words… and she’s brilliant, no doubt about that... but...” He paused, glancing around at his friends, who were watching him with entertained smiles.

“But what?” Nick asked, leaning in, clearly enjoying Bucky’s reluctant confession.

Bucky let out a long, exhausted sigh. “But I am never, and I mean never... ever... challenging her again on anything.”

The group laughed, fully understanding where this was coming from.

“Smart move, man,” Sam said, grinning. “I don’t think you’d survive another round.”

Bucky nodded, looking dead serious. “I won’t. I’m happy not getting any compliments from her for the rest of my life. In fact, I’m good with just silence forever.”

Steve chuckled. “Come on, you don’t mean that. You love when she compliments you. Maybe just not... quite like that.”

Bucky shook his head, his face still flushed at the memory. “Nope. I’m good. I don’t need to be compared to Michelangelo’s David or have my... ithyphallic form praised ever again.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure? Because I gotta say, that’s one hell of a compliment.”

Bucky glared at him. “I’ve had enough compliments for a lifetime. I’m done. No more. I’m tapping out.”

Thor, still chuckling, leaned back in his chair. “Well, Bucky, it’s good that you’ve learned your lesson. She clearly has the upper hand.”

Bucky sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I’m fine with that. Totally fine. She wins. She can have all the victories. I don’t need any more... artistic descriptions of my body.”

Sam raised his glass once more, his grin wide. “To Bucky, who has finally learned not to mess with an art professor with a poetic mind.”

The group clinked their glasses again, laughing while Bucky just shook his head, clearly still recovering from the ordeal.

Steve grinned, patting him on the back. “Good choice, man. Because after that, we all know—you wouldn’t stand a chance in another round.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, still in disbelief over everything that had just happened. “I’m not taking that risk again. No way. I’m keeping my compliments to myself from now on.”

Sam, with a wicked grin, added, “Yeah, and maybe avoid giving her any challenges for a while. Unless you’re ready for her to turn you into the next Renaissance masterpiece again.”

Bucky groaned, dropping his head into his hands again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

As the laughter continued to ripple through the group, Steve, ever the instigator, grinned at Bucky and raised an eyebrow. "At least she didn’t talk about your lovemaking, buddy. Could’ve been worse.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror, but before he could even respond, Yn returned to the table, having just come back from the restroom. She caught Steve’s comment, her ears clearly perked up, and with a playful smirk, she leaned forward, looking directly at Bucky.

“Do you want me to, Bucky?” she asked sweetly, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Bucky’s heart stopped, and he turned to her, panic written all over his face. “No. No, no, no. I am begging you—please don’t.”

The rest of the table, however, erupted in enthusiasm, completely ignoring Bucky’s pleas.

“Yes!” they all chorused, grinning from ear to ear.

Sam leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Please, Yn, I think we all want to hear that.”

Thor nodded eagerly. “Yes, Bucky’s lovemaking... told through the lens of an art professor! It would be an epic tale, worthy of legends.”

Nick smirked, joining in. “You’ve already turned the guy into a sculpture—now we need the full masterpiece.”

Bucky slumped back in his chair, his face going bright red as he stared up at the ceiling, looking like he was seconds away from total defeat. “Guys, no. This is my final plea. Mercy.”

Yn, still smiling, simply gave him a wink and took a sip of her drink, clearly letting Bucky off the hook this time. “Alright, alright... I’ll save that for another time.”

Bucky exhaled in relief, slumping back in his chair. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

#james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #mob #mob au #mafia #mafia au #mafia bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n

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itwasthereaminuteago · 11 months ago

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|| Sunlight ||

Matt Murdock x GN!reader

Warnings: breakup angst, Matt sad, confused, and crying, 😭

I am working on WIPs but just bashed this out this afternoon, heh, sorry. 😔 Hope you enjoy and please reblog/comment on stuff you like, it makes me so happy, thank you so much! 💜

The morning is still cool, Matt's face is mostly covered with a veil of the morning shadow, the first visible curve of the sun only just starting to peek above the horizon as you sit on the roof together. You had both been up almost all night when you had said you wanted to talk to him, tell him you were going somewhere that he couldn't follow, out of the kitchen, out of New York. Out of the country entirely. And that you didn't want him to follow you, it wouldn't be fair on him.

The Devil ignored the pained sounds of his city only to listen to you break his heart. You had talked all night and he was in need of some air and space to process what you were saying.

You're asking him a question.

“Do you remember them, the sunrise and sunset?” you say softly, staring out over the twinkling grid of the city below.

It takes him a moment to answer, the silence between seeming to stretch on endlessly until he can swallow down the emotion and speak.

“Yeah, I think so. Sometimes it's hard to know if I'm really remembering how it was, or if my brain is just filling in the blanks.”

You take his hand in yours. How did you both end up here?

“Can I describe it to you?” you ask.

Matt tries his best to smile, to lie. Anything to make this easier.

“Please.” He says instead of anything else, instead of begging you to change your mind. He doesn't want to remember this sunrise, this beginning of the first day of many that he'll spend without you near. However much it hurts to hear your voice illustrate how the dark reds and purples are gradually giving way to burnt oranges, pale yellows, and lighter blues, how there are wispy trails of cloud scattered across the canvas of the wakening sky, he makes himself listen. Everything is ephemeral.

“I can’t decide if I like the sunrise or the sunset the most.” you quietly muse.

Matt only knows he prefers those days that were bookended by your presence. He vividly remembers the heat of the summer evenings and the sound of your laughter as he chased you around the apartment for a kiss after work, cold beers and cold fingers skating over warm skin and making you scream with the sudden shock of the contrast and then later, making you cry out his name for a different reason on the couch.

Or the simple taken-for-granted comfort of waking up on a fall morning with you right there beside him, pulling you closer and indulging himself by breathing in your scent and listening to the steady beat of your heart. He thinks about the future, the silence and emptiness that would fill the void left by you in his home. He doesn't know if he can stand it.

When you turn to look at him there's a glimmer from a tear hanging ready to fall from his lashes. All the beautiful colours of the sky reversed within its reflection before it rolled down his face. He had never expected to hear such clichéd words come from your lips - “it's not your fault” and “we just want different things” ring in his ears accompanied by the increasing noise of the waking city below. He never saw any of this coming. He wasn't looking for it, he thought you'd always be together. His guiding light. There was no warning, no noticeable change in your behaviour or the way in which you loved him.

And you had said that you still loved him. How could that make any sense when you were letting him go?

“You'll be alright, Matt. I know you.”

He sniffs, barely nodding at your attempt to comfort him. You did know him, and that's why he can't even try to persuade you not to leave. He couldn't stand to make you feel trapped and unhappy, but he was losing a limb, a piece of his soul. You were tearing yourself away and he could feel it physically hurt like a fresh, deep awful wound in his chest.

The strengthening heat of the sun's cheerful rays dilutes the warmth left on his skin from the touch of your hand. Already he mourns the memory of the softness of your cheek pressing against his, all traces of you fading fast as he hears the click of the front door closing. The sound of your heartbeat, one of the precious constants becoming more distant with every step as you walk away and take the sunlight out of his life.

#matt murdock angst #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x gn reader #oh no sad times 😔

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 3 months ago

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s4 episode 10 thoughts

(muffled crying) (sniffing) (conspicuous wiping of eyes) hey guys, welcome back to my liveblog

little did i know! little did past me know what i was getting into when i typed my opening lines below. but presumably YOU, the reader of this post, knew what i was signing up for, so i shall spare my words and just share that i thought it was a VERY VERY good episode, even if it was darker than my usual preference. i tend to like some bantering, but i don't see how bantering could have fit into this one. so let us begin.

i haven’t seen an episode in a few days, which probably explains why this week has been awful. i would wax poetic about how i have missed our agents, but i honestly cannot wait any longer and Need to watch this episode right now. which i think is an emotional one???

(author's note: yeah <3)

i need to TEAR into this, bro. like a bear in a trash can or something.

reading the episode description and this sounds evilllll!!! i still assume everything about samantha is a lie!! it saves time!!

mulder is sleeping… on a BED?? a proper bed?? i can’t tell. it’s so dark. if it is a bed, this is IMMENSE character development.

he sees a red light in the sky :0 and on his walls!! it says “follow” WHAT!!! what does that mean!??

it’s leading him to a car?? wait, he’s at a park? was he camping and that’s why he had a bed? why was he camping? who lured him out here with a laser like a cat… what does “mad hat” mean in this context?

and he is full on chasing this light. i love that for him. the music is super whimsical.

WHAT IS LESS WHIMSICAL is the body of a child sitting in this forest. what the HELL????

okay, tone change, i see you!

but the child sinks into the leaves??

oh girl. they really got me with the whole “it was all a dream" thing, and I FELL FOR THAT!!!

he is actually just sleeping on his COUCH, which i knew had to be the case, because he would NOT use a bed in his apartment. beds are a luxury you only get to experience in motels if your name is fox mulder.

damn, maybe that's why he likes to travel so much... cozy hotel bed... really makes you think

nooo he had a nightmare :( this is sad. he never seems to actually sleep.

he’s gonna find that park he dreamed of and drive there even if it is the middle of the night. in his leather jacket. yes. he means business!!

and he is going to the spot where he saw a body of a child… where now he sees…. dirt

so the next morning, he’s directing people who are digging stuff up. they look like police

ENTER SCULLY!!!! YAYYYYY :D i cheered!!! she wants to know what’s going on

“you called for forensic excavation at 5 am on a sunday, what are you looking for?” (he grabs her arm, looking delirious) <- ohhhh i knew after seeing this moment that this episode was gonna wreck me

he asks her to give him a minute, and when she’s all “you’re out here because of something you saw in a dream?” he gives her this look of “it’s not that simple and you KNOW that”. funny how you can say that with just a look.

but someone calls him over!!! NO! there is the skull of a child in there!!!

omfggggg

wait, we literally haven’t even gotten past the intro yet, and i’m already sat at the edge of my seat…………

we are sooooo back, baby!!!

hey, that intro was different from the standard too, i think. but whatever.

scully is deeply confused, asking to hear about his dream. the forensic investigators are digging, but he is implying they aren’t going fast enough… so he’s digging with HIS HANDS!!!!

oh, he is gonna mess some evidence up this way…

but he insists he knows what happened.

he describes the murder in great detail, and scully asks, you learned all of this from your dream? and he says no, i have this murderer’s MO memorized; it’s a guy named john lee roche.

so it is the power of careful study AND prophetic dreams at work that make mulder such a good investigator

it seems deeply wrong to see mulder in their office with only a t shirt on and not his fancy suits, but it is the weekend, and desperate times. this serial killer- roche- was very hard to catch back in the day. at the FBI, he was nicknamed “paper hearts” because of the heart trophies he took from the victims… oh… i see where this is going. the title is making sense now.

mulder was brought onto the case because he was thought to be able to get into the victim’s head……. omg… his reputation…. and he concluded the killer had to be someone ordinary who traveled a lot, like a salesman. and he was!!! roche was a vacuum salesman!!

(do we still even have those?)

scully points out that it was his profile that caught the bastard, and he just shrugs his shoulders. i would expect him to normally be more “yeah, i did that!!”, but it seems this one is very personal to him. not much to celebrate if you only caught the guy after the horrific murders happened.

he says they never found the hearts cut from the cloth, and he always wanted to count them and see if they really added up to 13. after this, he realizes that there were more than 13. this is really sad.

scully says maybe she can explain his dream!!! and maybe he solved it in his sleep when his subconscious took over! oh, she is a good friend

“you said it yourself once… you said a dream is an answer to a question we haven’t learned how to ask” <- YES he said that in 2x12, right? i always thought it was so poetic, and the fact that it was never mentioned again bothered me a little- BUT SHE REMEMBERED!!!

she’s telling him that he did good work, and they can identify the girl and put her to rest, and what if i cry about the way she leaned in to reassure him?? hey. what if i cry?

it’s time to look at some bones. scully seems to have found an identity pretty quick; her name was addie, and she went missing in 1975.

but mulder pushes back, saying that if that were true, it would mean roche started way before they thought he did. scully points out that the clothes and height match.

oh my god…. the way he’s looking at the bones, and she asks if he’s gonna be okay if they verify it… he shakes his head yes, but it seems hollow. she is trying to be so careful around him. it's making me emotional.

so, they go off to pennsylvania to try and make an ID with addie's relatives. scully does the talking, presumably because mulder is going through a Lot Of Feelings, and the minute they say they’re with the FBI, the dude who answered the door asked “you found addie?” ohhhhh :(

he immediately identifies the fabric pouch they found with the bones as made for addie... he used to slip quarters in it from the tooth fairy

bro, this episode is sad as hell.

“i used to think that missing was worse than dead because you never knew what happened” (cut to mulder) (cut to him looking at the portrait of addie on the wall) i’m gonna scream re: the implications about samantha

addie’s father asks if there were other victims they didn’t know about, and mulder looks very very very sad. i can sense him feeling that he needs to solve this, and that he’s gonna think he failed for not finding the others before. yes, i know where this is going

all of a sudden, he remembers from his dream that the killer drove a white el camino, and he probably kept the hearts in there. the car was sold in 1992. that was a while ago. i am feeling some doubts in terms of them still being in there.

“don’t you think the car might have been searched at least once already?” “not by me” <- DAMN!!! oh my god. his sense of duty. that ancient and primal Guilt in him. yeah yeah, i’m eating this up

they go to visit the car, where a young gentleman has been putting flames on the side. he seems giddy to hear a serial killer once owned his car. which i feel is valuable commentary on the commodification of the true crime industry and how it dehumanizes the suffering of the victims through sensationalism. but mulder is not gonna listen to him blabber, he is gonna get to WORK.

(man, i wonder how these two feel about the rise of true crime as an entertainment industry... i want to hear their thoughts)

they are sleuthing together. mulder takes a knife and cuts right into the seat!!!! he says something is wrong…. and remembers the “mad hat” clue…. he thinks this means it’s in the camper shell??? i fail to see the connection but that is okay, it wasn't my dream

mulder’s acting like a madman, ripping into the fabric of the camper shell, where he finds a copy of alice in wonderland…. WITH A HEART IN IT.

they are leaned in together, counting the hearts, and it would be an incredibly touching moment if it weren’t in such a sad context.

they find 16 hearts :( and he sadly says that means he had two more victims they didn't know about :(

they’re going to go visit roche. or not? someone is playing basketball.

OH. they’re letting this serial killer, who casually addresses him with a "hey mulder", play basketball?? by himself? that can’t even be fun…

they ask roche why he only claimed there were 13 victims. he said 13 sounded more magical. why is this dude at once so Normal seeming and viscerally scary?

oh… “i understand you take this very personally, mulder” oh no. oh no oh no oh no.

“sink one from there and i’ll tell you” (very high pressure basketball shot that mulder makes on the first try) well okay!!! an athlete!

roche says that if he brings the hearts back, he’ll tell him everything, which was not part of the deal. i am of the opinion that he should not get to see the hearts again, and that if he does, it will be very inappropriate.

oh my god. mulder’s at his desk with the hearts, all organized by name, falling asleep with his glasses on as he holds the last two. he can't even stay awake, he's working so hard to figure this out.

another red light moment!! it is guiding him places…. a dream??

NO!!! NO. it’s leading him to the news of watergate. oh no. i know where this is going.

he sees samantha, and he’s quoting what he said back then when The Incident went down, line for line, because he must have rewatched it a thousand times

we relive the scene, including the flashes of lights. he grabs the gun. this time, and opens the door…. and it’s… roche…?

(well, if it is really him behind the crime, how did he do the whole shaking everything and making stuff float bit? really makes you wonder. because i recall samantha's body floating horizontally for a bit)

but back to real world, where mulder wakes up screaming “samantha!” and again. i WILL cry. oh my god…. there’s a terrible realization in his face as he holds the hearts up.

no, no, no, stop making him suffer.

back to the prison. mulder is without scully this time, but with roche, who asks if he has the hearts.

mulder is questioning him about the weird comments yesterday, the whole "it's personal to you thing", then jumps right into “where were you in 1973?” and holy FUCK it’s tense.

“what, the whole year?” “november. the 27th of november. do you know what i’m getting at?” oh my god….

roche claims to have sold a vacuum cleaner in martha’s vineyard to mr. mulder at that time….

he’s going on and on about his father choosing the vacuum. and mulder’s face is so steely. but when he asks “what do you know about my sister?”, his voice is wavering.

again, roche insists that he brings him the hearts before he learns anything. which causes mulder to punch the shit out of him.

when the guards come in and roche snitches on mulder for punching him, the guard is like “i didn’t see it” which is deserved. more than deserved, actually.

but scully saw it go down!!! i thought he went on his own… guess she was outside watching

she is trying to talk sense into him post-prisoner punching, which has happened a few times now and makes me worry about mulder's employability if anyone knew he had a tendency to get physical with these villains, but i digress.

scully is explaining that roche can use the computer to look up anything he likes and find out where mulder’s from (it’s true! be careful what you post, guys!) and she thinks that he is using emotional blackmail. she thinks roche saw mulder’s heart on his sleeve and took advantage of that.

it would make sense that if he knows that he will spend the rest of his life in prison, he would torture mulder for funsies...

“scully, do you believe that my sister samantha was abducted by aliens?” oh my god we’re going there. i never thought we would go there.

“have you ever believed that?” she doesn’t answer, but she hangs her head… because what do you even say to that?

“no. so what do you think happened to her?”

he doesn’t know what he believes, but he has to find out… and that shot of scully’s face…… please kill me, it would be easier for all involved :(

in connecticut, mulder is at… his mom’s house? looking in the basement. did he just show up?

he apologizes twice for waking her up and asks how she is doing :( awww :( he was so worried :( oh this grown man… he is a baby to me….

so he pulls out the fabric hearts and asks if she recognizes them. and when she gets confused and tries to explain her memory isn’t as good after the stroke, he smiles, and hugs her, pats her back, says it’s alright.

OHHHHHH THE WAY HE HUGGED HER AND SMILED................. I WILL YELL. I AM YELLING NOW. AHHHH.

anyway. he falls back on a different line of thinking to try and get answers out of his mother: did dad ever buy you a vacuum cleaner? the answer: yes, he did, a long time ago, and it’s down here. he’s tearing through old decorations to find it, and it is the brand that roche claimed it was. he slams his fist down.

now hold on. i’m willing to bet he just named the most popular vacuum of the early 1970’s. because they’ve put too much work into this whole “samantha was taken by aliens or the government” storyline to debunk it entirely. what about her files in the west virginia archive? what about his father choosing which child he liked better? what about the whole “they took her as insurance so mr. mulder wouldn’t snitch on the cataloguing of humans and planning for alien colonization” thing? too much has been invested in this…. i think it can’t be true, but rather we’re exploring mulder’s emotional state with this sick and twisted excuse

skinner has summoned mulder!!! he is no longer allowed to work on the roche case because he punched tf out of him!!! mulder turns to scully with suspicion and skinner clarifies that she wasn’t the one who reported it (although she should have) but rather the whole thing was videotaped!!!

if i've said it once i've said it a million times: she's real as hell

skinner says that he should have mulder’s ass in a sling (okay, elaborate on that), but he tries to explain that roche might have information on his sister. scully says that it looks possible- he spent most of 1973 in boston, took a trip to martha’s vineyard in october… and it’s adding up.

she loves to do her research. i know she was an academic weapon in college.

skinner says this is even MORE of a reason to get someone else on this case, but scully says that no one knows roche better than mulder, it’s still his case, and we have to find the victims!!!

(angry skinner voice) (forcefully pointed finger at groveling mulder) "you tread very lightly" (forcefully pointed finger at scully) "you see that he does"

he basically said “watch your man, scully, or ELSE”

back to roche. they present to him the hearts, and he has a sick smile. i do not like this

“name them” “well, i think you know one of them already” oh that is evil

(said with the most fury that has ever been concentrated into scully’s voice per word) “prove it” <- she is not gonna let him do this alone, nor will she let him be manipulated!!! she is the best friend out there!!

roche is smiling, talking about watergate, how mulder and his sister were playing a board game that night. he says he was watching from the window. why does he know all of this?

he has this weird fixation on playing games, and says to pick out a piece of fabric, and he’ll give the location of the body it came from. fifty-fifty chance it’s samantha, and either way he gets a victim’s location.

what is up with this dude? why is he so casual about all of this? he does seem so… normal, despite the things he is saying.

at the location roche gives them, they find the words “mad hatter” carved into the rock. uh oh. that is showing up again. he starts digging with his hands.

scully is trying to talk sense into him, saying they need to get an excavation team, but his voice is strained as he tells her to “just help me, scully”. so she joins in, and they find something. he looks like a wild animal.

in the autopsy room, he’s approaching the bones, taking a deep breath as he goes over the case information, trying to prepare himself to see his sister.

there are visible tears in his eyes as he runs his hands over the fabric, then announces (in form of a question) that “it’s not her, is it scully?” there is a sense of relief involved, but still, pain from lack of answers.

samantha broke her collarbone when she was 6 on a rope swing in their backyard, and as he realizes this little girl's collarbone is intact, he’s crying and he’s sighing with relief.

“it’s not her”, she says; “it’s somebody though” is his reply. ohhhh my god. ohhhhhh my god. oh my goooooooood. it's somebody's grief that they have carried with them for decades just as he has. it isn't that much of a relief to know it isn't her if someone else has felt like he has since the 70's.

back to roche. he gives the name of the girl who they did find, with incredible detail on where she lived. scully’s voice is forced as she asks what year this happened, and he’s going on and on about the vacuum he almost sold the victim’s mother.

so mulder presents roche with the last heart, saying that is belonged to his sister. he’s making a big game of this, saying “you need me to lead you through”, to bring him to the place where his sister is buried. to which i think, no tf you don't.

he said he can’t wait to see mulder’s face, and you can hear scully exhale and say “oh god”, and that is how you know things are going to go DOWN.

she says he will see the inside of his cell instead; “you’re going to rot there” (holds the door for mulder) (all things considered, she showed excellent restraint)

she looks incredibly furious at these shenanigans, but softens up to ask if mulder is okay. she says that if they give roche what he wants, he could string them along forever. and it makes sense. there has to be another way to figure out if he is telling the truth.

back at home on his couch, mulder is pondering. he has a few fish in his tank. you need a bigger tank, i think, but idk if people cared about that in the 90's.

NO! he picks up the phone and calls for A REMOVAL ORDER OF A FEDERAL PRISONER!!!!!!!!

he gets on the plane with a handcuffed roche.

what the fuck, i thought we were NOT going to go down this route? what is he thinking?

roche asks to use the bathroom on the plane, but instead starts talking to a little girl, and mulder has to get there NOW, but there’s a stewardess in the way. oh no, what has he done...

scully is forced to tell skinner that mulder did, in fact, let the serial killer out. OH!!! skinner says “you let me down” to her…… oh my god……. that really hurts

she says that she had left mulder to his own devices for one day to get some sleep… do we believe her? honestly, yeah i do. especially because of how furious she became when roche brought up the idea that he could be let out.

she’s trying to advocate for mulder in his absence, talking about the “uniqueness” of the situation with a level voice, and skinner says yeah i know, i said that this situation was really unique the last time we talked, now let’s go and clean up this mess.

oooo skinner is MAD and i don't really blame his anger at mulder, but it's rude af to blame scully for the things mulder did... skinner confirmed anti-feminist, blaming a woman for a man's actions

(i jest. mostly. skinner and i still have beef and we probably always will. every time i think we're past it, he does something else that pisses me off, so we are constantly on uncertain ground. which is very father coded, all things considered)

cut to mulder cam, who is bringing roche to his old house?? roche is unsettlingly tall. he says he sat on the couch when his dad bought the vacuum… and then walks through what he claims happened the night of the murder. mulder’s thoroughly quizzing him, and he’s answering them correctly, even where his parents went once they left. or is he guessing at it all??

he claims to have cut the power, that the door was unlocked, and he walked in….

and mulder tried to get the gun, but he claims he froze…

OH! GAG!!!!!! MULDER BROUGHT HIM TO THE WRONG HOUSE!!!!!!!!!

he says his father bought this house AFTER the divorce… dude, how many properties did this guy own??????

but still. the point is made clear. roche is a fake.

so how did he know these things? perhaps, mulder proposes, that when he got into his head investigating the case, maybe that link goes both ways. that's a terrifying prospect

“and you’re in the wrong house, you stupid son of a bitch” <- this is a powerful line, but you can really hear the massachusetts come out when he says it. i think that’s really cool. i mean, is DD actually from there? i think he is, right? because he went to school with jfk jr. famous boston blood there.

if it’s not a purposeful detail or a inadvertent thing that slips into an actor’s performance when a scene is Emotional, then maybe i need verification: did y’all hear the massachusetts when he said that, too….

roche is scrambling to cover his tracks, saying it was just geography that he messed up, not the actual details, but he has now been exposed as a FAKE and a FRAUD

mulder doesn’t buy it, despite his claims he’s telling the god’s honest truth. hmm. perhaps leave the lord out of this.

then he’s sitting and holding that cloth heart. we hear his sister’s voice in the car, which is pulling away. and he grabs her, holds her close.

BUT HE WAKES UP AND ROCHE IS GONE AND HE IS HANDCUFFED!!! scully and skinner are at the door!!! roche must have manipulated him in his sleep?

omg……..

skinner is letting him have it, saying there’s a predator loose because of him, and how can he explain himself, and. while i agree. if i were in his shoes and there were any chance of getting an answer to the one question that has kept me up at night almost my whole life, i’m not sure if i wouldn't have fallen for roche’s lies as well. it is hard to imagine. i'd like to think i wouldn't, but how can you ever know?

it is a dark and ugly thing that mulder did, letting him out.

but we at least seem to get confirmation that the dream connection theory is accurate?

he asks for skinner’s phone, saying there was a child on the plane, and roche is probably going after her

NO! someone called ten minutes ago with the same name requesting the same information from the airline!!!!

it seems that the girl’s babysitter believed roche’s lies that her mother was in an accident and he needed to pick her up, and she blames herself for letting her go with roche. but mulder says it isn’t her fault, and it’s his fault instead.

oh my god…. he tells scully she was right, and when she asks if he no longer thinks roche took samantha, he says it doesn’t matter anymore………. because that grief that has ruled him forever has now been put onto someone else............. how terrible he must feel...

he thinks that roche will be somewhere nearby, and scully is pulling up his old address. he lived on alice road, and mulder says that has to be it, because he got the idea from alice in wonderland!

(i have never read the actual alice in wonderland book. did the mad hatter kill people and take hearts from their clothing? i thought he just. made tea and said weird stuff???)

skinner is in disbelief, but acquiesces to mulder’s knowledge, rounding up his men.

at the apartment, they can’t find anything. mulder is running in a field, climbing into a huge lot of busses??? old run down busses??? i'm confused at why this exists, but following along in terms of plot

he pulls out a tiny gun hidden in his sock (slay) and sprints towards the sound of a girl screaming, but with so many identical busses, where is she???

he hears some movement in one of them…. and finds roche and her in there together.

and roche is saying that he does think they share that nexus like he claimed. everything is very very tense.

mulder announces that he is going to take this girl home, and when roche points out that he has a gun, he asks the child to do a favor: count to twenty out loud, quietly and slowly. he has a way of talking to kids like they’re equals and i’ve always found it endearing, but now i’m wondering where tf he is going with this.

roche has the gun pointed at the girl… and we know he is capable of pulling it

roche is trying to say anything he can to get mulder to not kill him, asking how sure he is it isn’t samantha who was the last victim. but i don't think that is gonna work anymore.

and when the kid hits twenty, mulder pulls the trigger

JEEZ, we really saw some blood action go on there!

so the poor girl runs away screaming to scully, who is saying that it is okay, and that she has her (and i am emotional when ever they work with kids okay? especially after that convo in home where they talk about wanting families. whatever.)

and i’m left paused at roche’s dead head, which i feel in real life would have a lot more blood and gore, but for the sake of this being TV, it still is kinda shocking!

mulder’s holding the gun out, staring at roche’s body.

wait. we’re back at his office now. i am going to use this time to analyze the articles on his wall.

“strange activity down under” “are UFOs flying in colorado?” “ranchers shaking their heads over mysterious cow deaths” “US reports visits of UFOs to bases” (picture of crop circles, creepy creatures, a list of planets i think? and the famous poster)

pan to a very very sad mulder. scully knocks and comes in. she is staring at him. they are not saying anything for a few seconds that feel very very long.

oh my god. she comes in with the fabric analysis of the heart. all they can say is that it was made between 1969 and 1974.

she assures him it’s not samantha, and that they’ll find who the little girl really is.

“how?” “i don’t know. but i do know you.” (he looks up at her while fighting back tears) <- i am going to bite something. her unwavering belief in him will be the death of me.

“why don’t you go on home and get some sleep?” she asks, so gently (at this, he breaks into laughter, which gets a smile out of her)

and he wraps his hand around her waist, leaning his head into her, while she strokes his hair

then he puts the last heart in his desk drawer.

oh my gosh………

where to even begin....?

first thought: he must be laughing at her saying that because she knows damn well that he will not be able to rest, but also because it is comforting to hear how she believes in him. that, or “go on home and get some rest” is their code for “i’m letting you do what you want and not asking questions”, but i doubt that, because she claims to have said that to him earlier, and i feel scully would never EVER have let him release roche if she had known he was even sort of thinking about it.

second: yowch. this one hurted!

it took me an hour and 51 minutes to get through the 45-ish minute episode because i was SO glued to noting every moment.

i tend to prefer the episodes that are more lighthearted, so i did feel that absence here. that being said, i don’t think it would be possible to explore this side of mulder with there being humor in the plot or script, especially after we have seen how he uses it as a defense mechanism. when he can’t joke about something is when you know he’s hurting terribly.

it was dark. very dark. but i still enjoyed it for the character analysis. i love a character analysis episode, i love diving into what makes someone who they are. there was this sick relationship between roche and mulder where you knew he was going to do anything to get the answers, no matter what the risks were or who was placed in danger. and i think that shows the scary and dark side of mulder that can get overlooked; how his bloodhound-like need to sniff out an answer can and will endanger himself and others. but he is aware of this fact, and seems regretful, especially when he says it doesn’t matter anymore if he finds samantha, because he inadvertently put another child in danger to do so. and he is aware that the suffering he has felt is now going to be passed onto someone else if he does not fix it Right Away. which he does.

getting to see the good parts of a character driven to such an extreme where they become terrible traits is a rare treat. still, it can be hard to see your blorbo do bad things.

i do often wonder about his slapping of criminals and why he hasn’t gotten fired for some of these many rule-breaking sessions, but. shrugs. it’s not real, so we can’t entirely place real world logic on this stuff, i guess.

honestly, we also saw a lot of scully and learned about her character here, too. how she tries to draw the line between her own beliefs and the very real pain that mulder is suffering, and how his pain breaks her heart; how defensive she is of him, in front of roche and skinner or even the whole world, i’d imagine. her courage to look her boss in the eye and ask for mercy on his behalf as he goes out and breaks every rule known to mankind because he wants to bend the earth to his will. that bone-deep righteous conviction she carries with her that i love so much.

and more on how she’s always touching him- they skirt around the emotional issues at hand, asking if he’s okay to make an ID or to see the autopsy and not really touching the sore spot with words unless they absolutely have to. but while they only brush it verbally, she is physically reaching out to him, leaning in, stroking his head, touching his arm… god, the way they communicate kills me. it's like they find it far easier to let their bodies express emotion, which probably comes from the constant need to Be Strong both of them feel in their line of work, but it is really compelling. it's fascinating. as someone who is always going to tell you how i feel at all times, i find it very intriguing. are they afraid to say what they mean? or do they have this connection that words aren't needed for? please let me know what you think. am i alone in this? do you think they are good at talking about their feelings? or am i voicing a popular sentiment that they are mostly pretty Bad at it. because i'm thinking of other times where they are Honest and Truthful, and they tend to keep it very succinct. maybe that's what makes it more impactful.

how he laughed at her after she said she believed in him, and how she smiled back, how he leaned into her????? can i bottle that and drink it when i feel like suffering?

god, i’ve felt that when i read dialogue prompts, they don’t seem to work for writing msr as easily as you would think, because so much of what they say isn’t even said. it’s in glances and touches and leans, and the words tend to be sparse but truthful when they matter and witty and prolonged when it’s nothing of importance. what a strange balance they have. shoutout to people who write msr, because it seems very hard to do when you want to write a genuine tale of them getting up to emotional activities.

overall, i liked this episode, but it was still a bummer. s4 is full of bummers, so far. i have not giggled in a while. i would like to giggle at some point in the future. perhaps that is something we can work toward. i once again request a fic where they go to an apple orchard. perhaps i shall end all of my posts with that, at least until we get some levity back to the game. that being SAID, it was still excellent.

let me know what you think- does everyone agree that this is a good episode? did you feel sad? did you think it was Too Dark? any criticism? any high praise? and the big one that is nagging at me now: how tf do you understand the way they communicate? can it be conceptualized?? please share with me all of your thoughts in as much detail as you can spare.

#very long post is usually an indication of a very good episode. and brother it's lengthy today.#i feel like i have a lot to say but idk how to say it #just ouch. yowch. yowza. pain.#mulder tried his best to do the right thing but i like narrative wise that they let him fail #even if it is hard to watch as a fan because augh he did something so foolish!#but oftentimes he is portrayed as this all-knowing being so. it was good to see him fail on camera #and the wrestle with the feelings that provoked #need to make a longer post about how they communicate and why it baffles me #juni's x files liveblog #4x10 #the x files #txf

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maybe-moonchild · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 3

summary: in which there is a sleepover and you learn that adrenaline really clouds your judgment. WC: 4.4k

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

Neither of you move for a really long time. Maybe it isn’t all that long, you can’t really tell as you stand on the corner in silence until Fisk’s limo is long gone. Neither of you can figure out the right thing to say at a time like this.

Peter finally settles on, “Are you alright?”

You can’t quite tell what you are feeling right now.

No. Really. You really have no idea.

Are you mad? Okay, a little bit. It wasn’t like you had a blast, but, you’re also not dead. Then you remember that there was a gun pressed to your temple so maybe you are actually mad. Is it at him? Not quite. Peter hadn’t been the one to do it but it was his fault that it all happened. Except… he didn’t know this was going to happen the one night in eight years that you’re around. You know that you both haven’t been friends in a long time but your mouth still tastes sour at the thought of why he would get involved in the first place. And now, a crime lord knows your face and you name-

“Fine,” you breathe out once you manage to snap yourself out of your spiraling thoughts. You study the shallow puddles of rain that have congregated between the cracks in the sidewalk. Tension and the recent rain makes the air thick, filling your lungs and both alleviating and suffocating you.

“Are you sure?”

He’s doing it again, stepping closer, tilting his head to try and catch your eye. He just wants to see you. He just wants you to look at him so he stops holding his breath.

You comply, peeking up at him through the corner of your eye. “I’m sure.” To emphasize your point, you try to give him a smile. It is pathetically awful, but he finally inhales. “I’m okay. A bit shaken up, but…”

Terrified? Frustrated? Livid? Hurt?

“Fine,” you shrug, finding that the word accurately describes how you are feeling. Not good, not bad; not injured, not… not shaken up. Just… fine.

He hums as he considers your answer, eyes flicking around your face and deciding if he believes you ornot. His proximity makes you want to step back if it means that he’ll stop scrutinizing you.

At least you weren’t the only one unsure of what to say; choking on words that so desperately wanted to claw their way out of your throat. You swallow, forcing them back down where they will hopefully remain for another eight years. He seems to be considering something as you both stare at his shoe, scuffing the cement.

“You can stay here tonight,” he offers quietly. Peter’s hands are shoved so deep in his pockets that it makes his shoulders hover by his ears. You shake your head even if it does sound like an inviting option. The alternative was trekking all the way back to your apartment at 2 in the morning and praying that Katie wasn’t still up, or god forbid, hosting an after party with Flash.

“I really ought to head back.” Peter deflates even more when you step back. Space is good. Space between you two was good. It was normal. Having an unspoken distance wedged between Peter and you was your normal for the past eight years.

“Oh.”

Do not look at him. If you have to see his kicked puppy look, you’ll cave. You always fucking caved when he pulled that out, intentional or not. It wasn’t like you were turning him down because you were mad- or maybe you were; you didn’t know anymore.

“I should get going.” You attempt another pathetic excuse of a smile in the hopes to reassure him that you are perfectly fine. “I think I just really need to shower and sleep…” When the first rain drop pelts against your forehead, you trail off. You reach up, swipe at it and frown at the moisture on your fingertips. Within a matter of moments, it’s down pouring. Fat drops of water exploding on both of your heads and clothes, threatening to soak through your shoes and drenching your hair.

“Oh come the fuck on,” you curse under your breath, throwing up a hand to shield your eyes. You glare up at the sky and think profanities at the universe for, somehow, making this worse.

Peter stays quiet as he watches you, squinting and ducking his head even though you are both getting drenched. He wants you to come to your senses and agree to at least come inside so you can call a cab from there.

When it becomes clear you have no intention of being reasonable, he decides to give in. “Let’s go,” he sighs incredulously, hand wrapping around the crook of your elbow to gently tug you along. You don’t put up a fight and the both of you pick up the pace until you’re running to the front doors.

Neither of you really says anything as you follow him through his apartment complex. Water drips from your hair and clothes, shoes squeaking against the old, cracked tile. There is a musty smell in the hallway that just intensifies the old age of the building.

At least his actual unit has been renovated in the past 5 decades.

Peter and Ned’s shared apartment is one of the better ‘guy’ apartments you have been in. It’s relatively clean; floors and surfaces devoid of garbage and a few dishes in the sink that are likely from only earlier today. There's a few posters on the walls, protected by cheap, simple frames but are actually quite cool looking overall. The plants clearly belong to Ned because Peter had been a notorious plant killer as a child; always forgetting about their existence until the leaves were long brown.

You stand awkwardly by the front door as he ushers you in, his wet hightops landing on the doormat. Your fingers twist and pull at the hem of your dress in the attempt to give yourself something to do as you look around. It’s easier to see more details after he flips on a lamp, dim light stretching the shadows peaking around furniture.

You should be crying, you think. You should be freaking out, panicking because you’d had a gun to your head and Wilson Fisk knows your name.

Instead, you’re too busy wondering if there is a single photo of you hung up in this apartment amongst the others.

Probably not.

“I just uh… couldn’t leave you out there,” Peter sighs, “Do you need anything? Something to drink? Eat?”. He runs his hands through his damp hair once he’s discarded his wet jacket on the dining room chair. At least he’s no longer watching you. Instead, he gracefully slips into the kitchen and reaches for two glasses hidden in the cabinet. His back is towards you, muscles tight under his shirt-

You clear your throat and look away when your face burns. “Uh, no. I'm good.”

Peter glances over his shoulder at where you are still tensely standing in his entry way. You’re too distracted by his apartment to do anything more than try and look for glimpses of the boy you once knew.

When you don’t move any closer, he slowly comes to you. Each hand is adorned with a glass of tap water. You do look up at him this time, fingers still twisting nervously in the bottom of your dress which easily gives away how uncomfortable you feel. Both of you are too worried about the other not wanting to be here.

“Are you warm enough?” Somehow, his voice is even softer, tentative and gentle like he’s expecting you to suddenly freak out. Hell, you still might. “You should change. I can grab you something?”

Peter raises an eyebrow at you and extends the glass. It’s so stupidly cliche that you nearly flinch when your cold fingers brush his and you want to beat yourself up. You take it in your hands but don’t actually think you can drink it because of how unsettled your stomach feels.

It’s funny how similar and different he manages to look at the same time. Same messy brown hair that he never cared to brush, same big brown doe eyes, and same awkward but witty demeanor.

How much do you really know about Peter Parker?

Shaking the thought from your head, you finally find the ability to speak. “Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.” Your smile is still half hearted but it's what you can manage at the moment.

By the time you step out of his bathroom, donning a pair of his sweatpants that bunch up around your ankles and an old Midtown High School T-Shirt, you feel a little better. Not much, but it’s a start. Anything is better than your damp dress and jacket. Plus, his clothes smell like him-

Not like that matters.

You find Peter sitting on the couch. He’s wearing his own dry clothes, elbows resting on his knees while his leg bounces anxiously. The second he hears you approach, his head snaps up and his eyes find yours.

“Thanks,” you murmur. You decide to slowly lower yourself onto the opposite of the couch before glancing at him. He gives you a timid smile that seems more hopeful than forced. Peter just can’t stop shifting in his spot like he can’t make himself comfortable. It’s probably because of the eight years of history hanging over your heads.

He breaks the silence first. “It’s almost three in the morning. We should both probably get some rest-”

“Why did you steal the files?”

If the question surprises him, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks more disappointed than anything, like he’d been hoping that you would have let it go until at least the morning. But no, because here you are, staring down at the floor and chewing on the inside of your cheek in the hopes that you don’t fill the silence. Your eyes remain on the floor, boring holes into the faded wood like you’d somehow find the answers you were looking for in the cracks

The Peter Parker you knew didn’t steal. Didn’t steal candy bars from bodegas or lunch money from weaker kids.

The one sitting beside you, so close that you could touch him if you raised your hand. That Peter Parker, stole files from Manhattan crime lords and didn’t flinch when someone waved a gun around or forced him into a limo.

Hanging his head is a good way to hide his guilty expression. He mirrors you in looking for an answer hidden in the floor. Jokes on him, it’s not there.

“Because it was the right thing to do. People would benefit from that information being out in the open rather than in the hands of a criminal.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you snap back. This time you actually do turn to face him but he won’t look up. Not when he can barely handle the feel of your stare.

You continue after running a hand through your damp hair. “I mean why? What on earth were you doing that put you in the position in the first place to take it? And why did Fisk talk to you like he knew you? And why were you not freaking out?” “I was too freaking out-” “Oh please, you barely even flinched the entire time there was a gun being pointed at you.”

Peter wants to protest but quickly snaps his mouth closed. You’re right. Having a gun trained on him was pretty much a weekly (probably more) occurrence. Having a gun trained on you? Oh, yeah. That easily makes the top five worst moments of his life.

His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down, teeth chewing at his lip like he's chewing on what to say. What kind of lie can he come up with when you have to be the hardest person to lie to. Part because he feels bad but also because you can always know when he does.

“I was just being nosy… and I wanted to see what he had.” Peter shrugs dismissively. The second he manages to look up, the glare you're fixing him with makes him immediately jerk his head away.

Right there.

Right there, you have your answer.

That he is never going to give you one. Not something that is the truth. Nothing that gives you any insight into why anything that happened tonight happened.

Disappointment slams into you so hard that you want to choke on it. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him. The same way you felt at the age of fourteen, back when you’d try and approach him in the hall between classes. How he’d blow off your attempts at making conversation with one word answers before hurrying away.

Blowing you off, again. Yeah, this felt a lot like that.

You drop your head into your hands which catches his attention. As the adrenaline continues to wear off, you can't tell if you want to cry, scream, or all the above.

“Peter,” you say slowly, the drawn out words quiet and strained. “I had a gun to my head.”

That reminder is enough to make him wince. The last thing he wants to do is brush over the severity of what happened. He leans forward, staring at you when he hears the pleading in your voice. All he wants to do is lean forward and grab your hand but he doesn’t.

It feels wrong at this point. He’d hurt you enough tonight.

“I know.” Another apology almost falls from his mouth until he decides to suck in a shaky breath instead. “I know that and I’m so… I am so sorry.”

What do you really know about Peter Parker?

“I know that,” you sigh in defeat and sit up. You know how sorry he is. That he’s only begun to beat himself up over it. Whether or not he was sorry about the whole thing was never a question.

You and Peter were clearly exhausted and tensions were running high. Even if he was used to the whole Spider-Man thing where he swung around New York, saving the day and finding himself in copious amounts of dangerous situations, he wasn’t used to you. Having your presence back in his life would take some getting used to.

If you even were back in his life after how tonight went.

“You have always been the guy that stands up for what’s right.” There’s only a few inches between your fingertips and his. While you stare at the floor, he’s staring at your hand. “And no matter how hard you got knocked down, you always got back up. It was something I've always loved about you but… stealing from a guy like Fisk? Putting yourself in harm's way like that?”

You can’t even think about it.

“I’ve gotten a lot of knocks,” he says with a solemn chuckle that he doesn’t feel. “A lot.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood but it just makes you suck in a breath. The smile falls right off Peter’s face, not like he would even call it a smile.

After a long moment, he tries again. “I’m still the same. I promise.” He’s not sure if he really believes it himself. His thumb brushes your knuckle and you pull your hand away to shove your damp head off your forehead.

“You are but you aren’t.” There’s too much exhaustion coursing through your veins for you to be angry any longer. Now that the adrenaline is gone, it's impossible to be mad but that doesn’t mean you won’t be in a matter of hours.

It’s at this moment that you realize that he didn’t even consider calling the cops tonight. Worse, neither have you, until now. Why did calling the cops not cross your mind until now? That should've been the first thing- That’s a stupid bullshit problem for tomorrow because your head might explode.

“Look, it’s late and- can we just go to sleep? I still have to meet my parents in the morning.” Peter nods at your request and pushes up from his seat. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch. I can just head out in the morning.”

Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No. I’ll sleep on the couch. I took you away from that party and put you in danger. Just let me have this.”

Normally, you would have at least argued to prolong the inevitability of giving in and letting him take his own couch. You just can’t tonight. An exhausted sound falls from your mouth, knuckles digging into your eye sockets as you stand.

Both of you are relieved when you follow him to his room.

Once he flips on the little lamp, you're able to take in the space. The bedroom screams Peter Parker. You can pretty much take inventory of all of the things you’d seen in his room at May’s. Your eyes find the collections of photos on the walls and, again, you wonder if your face is hidden up there.

“Are you sure?” you ask from the doorway. He glances back at you, his face brightening ever so slightly.

“Yes.” He replieds quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed so he can pull back a corner for you to climb in. It takes you another long shared look before you give in for good. You take his spot as he stands, climbing onto the sheets before he tugs the blankets over your legs.

Neither of you can think of something more to say. The rain is still coming down hard, rattling the window pane in his old apartment. He reaches over to the bedside table and presses a button and the light turns off. In the dark, he feels a bit more secure.

“Try and sleep.” Peter whispers, though it feels too much like a plea for him to feel good about. He didn’t deserve you.

He’s going to leave. You don’t actually want him to go.

You grab his forearm before you even realize what you're doing, his muscles solid under your palm. For a long moment, it’s painfully quiet. So painfully quiet and you know you have to say something. He’s waiting for you to say something.

“Can you just-” you start, hesitating and letting out a huff. The words feel stuck in your throat. Once you say them, you can never take them back. “Can you just stay? Like when we were kids.”

Peter blinks. It’s the most simple thing you could ask. You’re not asking him to tell you what he’s been up to.

You’re not asking for answers.

You’re just asking him to stay.

All he wants to do is to stay. He doesn’t need any more prompts than that.

“Yes,” he whispers softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I can do that.” Your head hangs in relief before you scoot over to make room for him. The bed dips under his weight as you both settle onto your sides, covers tucked up under your chins. Flashes of lightning illuminate his face and you half expect him to suddenly be nine years old again, soaking wet, and missing a tooth.

Just like as kids, when you’d sneak in each other's windows when you couldn’t sleep.

“Thank you.”

A soft breeze blows in the window in the dead of night, and Peter doesn’t stop you as you shift closer and he smells you. You smell like that shampoo you used to use on his hair when you were twelve. When he showed up at your window with a pout, streaked with dirt, and burrs tangled in his hair because he fell out of tree.

Your head is facing his way, and the soft exhale of thanks you murmur catches his breath in his throat. He didn’t realize just how much he missed the feeling of laying next to you.

A flash of lightning makes him blink, as if to convince himself that he’s really here and not dreaming.

“Like we were kids?” he asks hesitantly, laying on his back and lifting up his arm. You nod and decide that nothing needs to be worried about until tomorrow morning. Clearly, you’re traumatized from tonight and cannot be held accountable for your actions. Scooting closer, you tuck yourself against his side. Your head finds his chest and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer.

Peter knows you belong there.

Just him and you.

For the first time tonight, you finally feel warm after being caught in the downpour. There’s only a few inches of bare skin shared between you two from where his arm is wrapped around you. Your hair tickles his cheek and he rests his chin on the top of your head. It’s the most comfortable either of you have felt in a very long time.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You nod, his heartbeat palpable under your head. It’s you that moves first, reaching up to trace the seam of the collar of his shirt. That seems to give him the courage to let his hand trail up to the back of your head. His other hand rests limply on his stomach, fingers resting so close to your own that he was itching to close the distance.

His thumb traces the nape of your neck, his heart rate picking up with each second.

This was always how it went with you. So subtle, so quick, but you always noticed it.

And now, as he thinks back on your shared life in those quiet few moments, he regrets every moment he’s spent away from you in the last eight years.

But you’re different now; the years apart have changed you. Just like they’d changed him too.

“Do you remember when-” Peter pauses, his fingers still playing with your hair in the dark. He’s never been so thankful for invisibility than this moment. “When we were seniors… In Flash’s yard at that party he had for graduation-”

“Why are you asking this,” you breath out so sharply that it cuts through his words. When he goes quiet, you can feel him still from where you’re still tucked against his side. Your head lifts up off his chest to look at him, unflinching when you're both nose to nose.

You can’t, for the life of you, figure out why he would want to bring this up. Why would either one of you want to relive that moment?

You hate this moment.

You hate this moment so much that just the mention of it is like a slap to the face.

Peter was a teenager. So were you. Neither of you had spoken- really spoken, since freshman year. You shoving through Midtown High’s senior class, all crammed in Flash’s house, trying to catch up as he slipped outside. You were trying and he was shutting you down. Things just kept escalating. The solo cup spilling strawberry vodka and sprite on the grass because your hands are occupied with clinging onto his shoulders. Your back pressing into the siding, legs looped around his waist and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip-

“Because I…” he pauses, unsure of the words that need to come out. They’re on his tongue, but he’s not sure he can actually speak them. “I just…”

Because I want to kiss you right now.

It’s too dark for you to make out much of his expression even that close up. Yours is hurt, you can feel the emotion settling on your face like a stupid, fucking billboard with your thoughts. Even in the dark, he can read you better than anyone else.

“You just…”

A flash of lightning illuminates the room momentarily, leaving you to wonder if this moment is just a figment of your imagination. It can’t be; you just might die if this wasn’t really happening. You don’t pull away from the intensity of it like you should before he can catch up to the moment.

He could probably lean down right now, and you’d pull him in.

So, he does just that.

This is the third time you’ve kissed Peter.

It’s nothing like the first time, when you were both eleven and didn’t even know what kissing even was.. All chaste and sudden, nervous giggles and never spoken about again.

Or when you were thirteen. Awkward and in front of too many of your classmates at the hands of spin the bottle on a dirty hotel floor.

This? This is just the two of you. You and him and the dark. The rain drumming against the window muffles the world around you to the point that you aren’t quite sure that anything else exists. It doesn’t need to.

One of Peter’s hands tangles in your hair, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. The other makes a home on your waist. You cup his jaw, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. If you think, you’ll stop. God. You really don’t want to stop.

He kisses you with every ounce or emotion he can manage to pack into him. He kisses you like he’s known you his whole life, but never actually touched you before. He kisses you with all the missed years, the tears and the loneliness, the guilt, the regret, and the love.

And as he kisses you, his hand snakes down your body and he pulls you closer.

Everything is silent, save for the rain tapping on the windows and your ragged breaths together.

You and Peter fall asleep that way, pressed together and tangled in the sheets. At some point, your kisses turn slow and tired, eyes closed from exhaustion even if you really didn’t care about seeing. Neither of you attempted to move away as you happily accepted unconsciousness with your limbs intertwined.

Peter had always been a heavy sleeper.

It’s what makes it so easy to sneak out of his apartment the next morning without waking him. But… maybe, you also did it because then you would have to acknowledge... You didn’t know what you should have been acknowledging.

So you slip out the door, leaving nothing behind but his folded clothes, a note thanking him for not letting you get killed, and the smell of your shampoo on his pillows.

#marvel #peter parker tasm #peter parker tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman #the amazing spider man #peter parker #Peter Pater x you #Peter Parker tasm #tasm

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Lavender - Ch. 39

You, Joel and Ellie find a familiar face. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-38 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Allusion to SA (not described.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 4.5k

“Why can’t your nose be 12 inches long?”

Ellie was walking backwards, her small hands looped through the straps of her backpack, looking very pleased with herself.

“Please no,” Joel sighed.

“I don’t know,” you smiled. “Why can’t your nose be 12 inches long?”

“Because then it would be a foot!”

Joel groaned, you laughed, Ellie damn near cackled.

“Surprised you even know how many inches are in a foot after goin’ through FEDRA school,” Joel muttered, but he smiled a bit.

“Hey!” You said. “I resent that!”

“Yeah, Doc, we all know you were the only teacher there who gave a shit,” Ellie smirked. “You’re the only reason any of us know there are 12 inches in a foot.”

“Good thing you were my favorite student or you still wouldn’t know,” you teased. “I kept that information pretty close to the chest…”

You thought you were getting close to the radio tower. Or at least, where you thought the radio tower was, anyway. It was pretty hard to tell.

You hadn’t been on a road in a while, just walking in the general direction you needed to go. There hadn’t been another person since you’d had to stabbed a raider in the leg and Joel had killed him.

The thought still made your stomach turn. You’d stabbed multiple people now. Not that you’d had much choice in the matter - one was trying to choke you to death, the other made it clear that he wasn’t going to let you pass without what he saw as fair payment. It certainly hadn’t been payment you wanted to give and it definitely wasn’t something Joel would have allowed. And who knows if it would have stopped with you. With Ellie there, you couldn’t risk it. The men had to die. You just hated being a part of it.

But Ellie made it worthwhile. Killing for her, you could justify that. You could justify a lot for that kid. The next night, when you’d found a place to camp and Joel had gone to gather firewood while you and Ellie got things set for the night, she stood beside you, staring at your feet.

“What’s up, Gremlin?” You asked as you set out your sleeping bag.

“Yesterday,” she said, pausing for a moment.

“What about it?” You asked when she didn’t continue, trying to sound normal even though your stomach was clenched tight.

“I didn’t really get the pill thing until yesterday,” she glanced up at you before looking back at your feet. “And… Well thanks. For getting them for me and making sure I haven’t needed them…”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you brushed her hair back, your thumb against her temple. “But we’re going to do everything we can to make sure you never need them. OK?”

“OK,” she turned to go back to her pack before turning to you again. “Something like that happened to you before, didn’t it?”

You looked at her for a moment.

“That’s not something you need to worry about,” you said, going into your bag for jerky. She frowned. “I mean it. That’s not what needs to be on your mind. OK?”

She looked at you a second longer before nodding once, going back to her own pack.

She didn’t talk about it again.

“That’s OK, Doc,” Ellie said, turning around and facing forward again. You caught a glimpse of her smug smile as she did. “It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope. It will always be stationary.”

You laughed and Joel groaned before stopping, frowning at something on the horizon. You tried to follow where he was looking.

“Is that…” You frowned, too.

“Smoke,” he finished for you. “We head that way, see if we can’t find someone who knows where the fuck we are.” He looked to you and Ellie. “You two are gonna hang back until I figure out who we’re dealin’ with. Got it?”

“Ugh, you never let me do anything fun,” Ellie sighed dramatically, throwing her head back to look at the sky.

“Let you say all the puns you want,” Joel replied. “Haven’t strangled you yet, seems like enough fun to me…”

“That is pretty fun,” she agreed. Joel adjusted your path and you and Ellie followed him.

“Hey Joel?” Ellie asked. “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

Joel sighed. She leaned toward him eagerly, waiting for him to give in.

“Because he was outstanding in his field?” Joel asked wryly.

Ellie gaped at him.

“Are you shitting me!” She ran around to the front of him and started walking backwards again. “Did you read the book? How did you know that?”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, walkin’ like that,” he smiled a little as he said it, voice gruff.

“Such a dick,” Ellie muttered, going to walk next to you, shaking her head and smiling as she did.

The smoke was coming from a small cabin, all on its own. Joel drew his pistol, putting his arm out as you approached, not letting you leave the tree line.

“Stay out here,” he ordered, looking at both of you. “I mean it.”

“Fine,” Ellie sighed. “You get to do all the cool stuff….”

Joel just shook his head, ignoring her, before heading down to the cabin.

You were happy to obey for a while, until you saw a man approaching the cabin with an animal carcass over one shoulder and a gun over the other.

“Shit,” you said, glancing at Ellie, who had nestled herself into some tree roots with a comic book from her pack. “If I tell you that you have to stay here, will you actually stay here?”

“No,” she closed the comic and stood up, getting her pack on.

You sighed.

“Of course not. Alright,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You crept down the hill to the cabin and peered in through a window to see Joel, talking to an older couple. His gun was drawn. You rolled your eyes. Because of course he has them at gun point. You fell back.

“He’s fine,” you whispered, nudging Ellie back toward the fence.

“Aw man!” She said. “Let’s just go inside…”

“No.”

You started back toward the fence but she ducked around you and threw open the door.

“Ellie!” You followed behind her, Joel glaring at the both of you as you burst into the small living space. “Hi.”

“Told you to wait outside,” he growled.

“Didn’t want to leave you outnumbered,” Ellie said, standing up straight, chin high. “In case one of these fuckers tried something.”

“Ho-ly,” the man laughed. “Didn’t know you were traveling with a little firecracker. With these two, you really just want to go back east. Don’t want to risk it.”

“Don’t want to risk what?” She asked.

“Ellie,” Joel shot her a look.

“The folks on the other side of the river,” the man said. “Haven’t met them, just seen what they leave behind. It’s nothing good.”

You frowned, glancing at Joel. He looked almost sick.

“They might just be protecting something,” you said, looking at him. “Think about it, about Tommy…”

“Go that way and you won’t come back,” the man said.

“You can’t scare us,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through worse than whatever’s out there…”

“Scared him plenty,” the man nodded at Joel.

“Let’s go,” Joel said, heading for the door and stomping out into the snow. You watched him leave for a second.

“I’m sorry for…” you looked at the door again and back to the couple. “All of that. He’s… we’ve been on the road a bit. He’s stressed.”

“Don’t go past the river,” the man said. “Or stressed will be the least of your problems.”

You followed Joel out of the house, pulling Ellie along behind you, only to find him holding onto a fence post outside. You frowned, slipping a hand up his back. He startled for a second.

“Woah,” Ellie, frowned, coming up the other side of him. “Are you having a heart attack? You can’t die on us, Joel, because we’re not going to make it across the river of fucking death if you’re dead…”

You pulled a glove off and pressed your fingers to the base of his neck, taking his pulse.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just shock of the cold air….”

You looked him over for a moment.

“Real quick, Joel,” you said, fingers still at his pulse point. “Tell me the textures of five things you can see…” He looked at you like you were insane. “Come on, textures, five things.”

He winced for a second before looking out at the snow, taking a shaky breath.

“Snow is wet,” he muttered. “Fence is rough. You’re soft…”

His heart rate was easing.

“Give me two more,” you said, glancing around. “That deer skin there, what about it?”

“That’s coarse,” he said standing up a little straighter.

“Ellie’s boots?” You asked. He looked down at the rubber coated snow boots.

“Smooth,” he said.

Your fingers were still on his pulse point. It has eased quite a bit.

“Good,” you took your fingers away.

“So he’s not having a fucking heart attack?” Ellie asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “No heart attack.”

“Thank fuck,” Ellie muttered, starting up the hill. “Because still have to get through the river of fucking death and hope that we don’t end up as some of the death.”

***

Joel wasn’t sure what the fuck made him feel like he was about to drop dead but he was ready to make sure he never felt it again.

He let Ellie get a bit ahead of them before he looked at you, walking beside him.

“What…” he paused, not liking that he needed to ask you questions like this. “What was that?”

“That was a panic attack,” you replied.

“Jesus,” He muttered. “Felt like I was fuckin’ dying…”

“Yeah, they do that,” you replied.

He glanced down at you before looking forward again.

“They feel like that for you?” He asked.

“Pretty much,” you shrugged. “You came down from it pretty quick, which is good. I can teach you some ways to pull yourself out of them.”

“They work?” He asked.

You shrugged again.

“Usually,” you said. “I haven’t had a bad one in a while.”

He nodded slowly.

“It’ll be OK, Joel,” you said, your hand on his back, grounding him. “It’ll be OK.”

He tried not to think about it. About the way his head had decided to just cripple him. He hadn’t been able to fucking move, hadn’t been able to fucking think. What if someone tried to attack you then? If the man inside had decided to start shooting? What if it happened when there were infected or raiders or even just a goddamn bear? You’d be stuck trying to protect him and Ellie. He’d get you killed. He’d get you all fucking killed.

His chest got tight.

“Getting late,” he said as the three of you came up on a vantage point, looking down at the valley below. “Should wait for tomorrow to cross, make sure we have light.”

There were caves not far from the river - ones that, thankfully, didn’t look to be regularly visited by people. Something Joel was on the lookout for even more now after the cabin.

“Have to set watches tonight,” his jaw was set. “Especially with a fire…”

“I’ll take first,” you said. He went to argue but you cut him off. “Joel, trust me. I’ll take first.”

He nodded, looking back into the fire, trying not to think about the fact that you were trying to protect him when he should be protecting you.

“So,” Ellie said, her arms looped around her knees. “We’re getting close to where we think these firefly guys are…” She looked between the two of you for a moment. “What do we do after that? You know, once they take all my blood and do whatever shit Doc is going to make them do with it. Then what?”

Joel looked at you for a moment. You shrugged.

“I’ll probably be stuck with them for a bit,” you said. “Helping to do research, see if what I learned so far is applicable to anything with your blood…”

“OK but if you don’t have to do that,” Ellie said. “What would you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you frowned a little. “I haven’t thought about life that way in… well 20 years, at least. If the sky was the limit, I always wanted to live in France…”

“Don’t they speak fucking French in France?” Ellie frowned.

“Oui,” you smiled. “Et je parle Français aussi.”

“Oh shit,” Ellie nodded. “Look at Doc!”

“Pretty moot point now,” you shrugged. “Can’t exactly make it to Paris. And not a lot of French speakers here, so it ended up being a pretty useless skill but… I like to think there’s a version of me out there in the universe who’s drinking coffee at a cafe in France right now.”

“Well there’s that Eiffel Tower in Vegas that’s probably still standing,” Joel shrugged. “Could head there.”

You laughed a little.

“Something tells me it lacks the allure that it had before the world ended.”

“What about you?” Ellie looked to Joel.

“I’m goin’ wherever she’s goin’,” he shrugged.

“Ugh, that’s so lame,” Ellie rolled her eyes. You smiled. He shrugged again. “OK if she’s going wherever you’re going, where are you going?”

Joel sighed, thinking for a moment.

Like you, he hadn’t thought about life this way in years. Even longer than 20 years. He’d put all his wants and needs on the back burner some 33 years ago and what he wanted then was very different than what he wanted now. After 20 years of hell, he just wanted peace. Quiet. Something to call his own.

“Probably a farm,” he shrugged. “Some land somewhere. Some place no one is going to bother me.”

“Farming what?” She asked.

He sighed.

“I don’t know, never thought about it.”

She kept looking at him, expecting an answer. He sighed again.

“Sheep.”

“Sheep?” She giggled.

“Sheep,” he replied. “They’re quiet. Don’t say bad puns all the time…”

“You love my puns,” she smirked.

“What about you?” You asked. “I mean obviously I’m just going to drag you along with me wherever I go until you’re old enough to fight me off but…”

Ellie smiled at that.

“Anywhere?” She asked. You nodded. “I’d go up.”

You smiled and nodded but Joel frowned.

“Up.”

“Up,” Ellie repeated. He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t have many other places to want to go from inside the QZ, it was all walls and water and it’s not like I got to see anywhere else so I just looked up. It’s why I got to know Doc, I read everything in the school library and it wasn’t enough and my friend… She told me to see Doc about it, said she’d find stuff for me.”

“Did she?” Joel looked at you. You were looking at your lap, embarrassed, but smiling a little.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie smiled. “I read about fucking everything. There’s a probe that’s out past Pluto now, did you know that? We sent something outside of the fucking solar system. It’s probably still trying to send signals back to NASA because it’s a billion miles away and doesn’t know about fucking infected.

“But the astronauts were the best. People who left the planet? So fucking cool. They were all fucking cool but know who the best one was?”

“Sally Ride?” Joel smiled a little.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride,” Ellie nodded. “Coolest astronaut name ever. So yeah. I just… I’ll go up.”

Joel looked up at the stars as he tried to settle enough to sleep, trying not to think of you keeping watch, looking out for him because he needed protection. Because he seemed bound and fucking determined to find new ways to fail you.

It was daylight when he woke up, you asleep at his side, Ellie standing with the gun. He shot up.

“I insisted,” she smiled, a little proud. “Woke up right when Doc was about to get you up and talked her into it.”

“Should have let her,” he growled. “You can’t just…”

“Oh but I did,” she said. “And no one died. Look at that.”

He ground his teeth.

The three of you made it over the river without incident, Ellie thoroughly unimpressed with the “river of death.”

“Haven’t seen any people,” she said. “Not even an infected to try to use for target practice. It’s kind of a let down, I was expecting better…”

“You’re going to jinx us, Gremlin,” you warned.

“Jinx sminx,” she said cheerfully.

The walk was almost too easy. It set Joel on edge, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon and watching for the inevitable. It couldn’t be this fucking easy.

“You know, I was stayed up all night wondering where the sun went,” Ellie said. “And then it dawned on me.”

You laughed and Joel sighed. You smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile a little back. When you were happy, it seemed to spill out of you and he wanted to devour it. He wasn’t sure how to get there on his own anymore, he couldn’t remember the last time he was happy on his own. But you were there. You could guide him to it, surround him in it, crack him open so he could soak it up. That was the way of you.

“Dam,” Ellie smirked a little, standing and looking down at the water below.

Joel smiled a little.

“You’re no Will Livingston,” he said.

“Well who is?” She replied. “So that made electricity?”

“Yeah,” he said. She opened her mouth and he cut her off. “Ask the science teacher, kid, not me.”

“OK Doc,” she said. “Science for us!”

You laughed a little.

“Basically, water moves through the dam and pushes a turbine that generates energy,” you said. “But I’d like to remind you both that I’m a biologist, not a physicist. You want me putting your organs back in your body, not making a building.”

“Or running a dam?” Ellie teased.

“Or running a dam,” you replied before you frowned. “It looks like it’s in really good shape, though. I’m surprised it held up that well, especially with the temperature swings you get in this part of the country… It looks like it’s still running…”

Your frown deepened, stepping closer to the edge of the overlook the three of you were standing on. Joel reached out and took your wrist, instinctively holding you back.

“How would it still be running,” you said, almost to yourself.

“Guys?” Ellie said. “What if this is the river of death?”

You looked at Joel.

“We should move,” he said.

You didn’t make it far.

He heard them before he saw them, about a dozen riders on horseback, cresting a hill and running for you.

“Behind me!” Joel grabbed you and Ellie, putting you both behind him, looking over his shoulder. You were behind Ellie, your back against hers as the riders circled you, your arms looped through hers. Joel’s hands went up.

“Joel,” you looked back at him. Your eyes were wide.

“I’ll talk,” he said. “Just stay back…”

You were fully circled now. But no one was shooting yet. No one was even pointing a gun at you yet. A good enough sign.

“Ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” Joel said. “Just passin’ through, headed west…”

“Drop the gun,” one of the riders ordered. “Anything the girls are carryin’ too.”

Joel looked back at you and gave you a nod. You took your gun from its holster and dropped it on the ground, keeping your arms back around Ellie as much as you could. Joel slid the rifle from over his arm and put it down.

“You two,” the man who spoke before said. “The girls. Take five steps back, in opposite directions…”

Joel looked back to you and you looked at him before you crossed to his right, Ellie to his left. Your hands were up and you glanced his way, eyes wide and pleading. He knew what you wanted to do. He gave you a look, one that he was sure you were about to fucking ignore.

“We can talk this through,” Joel began.

“No, we can’t,” the man snapped.

“Yes we can,” you said quickly. Joel groaned. Of course you were going to fucking ignore him. “I’m a doctor, I have some medications with me. I can provide medical care for you or any of your people…”

“Won’t do us any good if you’re infected, will it?” The man said. “Been near any infected?”

“Ain’t any out here,” Joel said.

“The hell there ain’t,” the man replied before whistling. A dog - big, at least part German Shepherd by the looks of it - came forward. “You’re infected? He’ll smell it. Rip you to pieces. Last chance to go with some dignity.”

Joel looked to Ellie. Her eyes were wide. The man whistled again.

The dog went for him first, smelling him and moving on to you. You were looking at him, panic in your eyes. You didn’t know what the fuck to do either. Joel tried to think, come up with some kind of plan, something to at least get you and Ellie out of there in one piece. If he could get to the gun he could maybe shoot the dog but that’d likely just get all three of you killed. He could try taking down as many of the riders as possible while the two of you ran for it but there was no way in hell you could out run people on horseback.

The dog was satisfied with you and trotted to Ellie. He was out of time. His heart was pounding, his stomach in knots and he could only watch as… the dog started licking Ellie. She giggled and got down on the ground with it, scratching behind its ears.

“Hi there!” She let it lick her face. Joel looked at you and saw you relax.

“So what the fuck is a doctor doing all the way out here?” The man snapped.

“Lookin’ for my brother,” Joel said. “That’s all.”

“I’m happy to take a look at anyone who needs it,” you said, glancing at Joel again. “Then we will move on, we don’t want any trouble, we’re just looking for his brother.”

A woman came forward, her eyes narrowed at Joel over the handkerchief covering most of her face.

“What’s your name?” She asked, voice sharp.

He looked at you before he answered.

“Joel.”

***

“Why’s Joel get his own horse?” Ellie muttered.

“Because you’ve never ridden a horse,” you replied.

“Can’t be that hard,” she said.

You smiled.

“Just sit tight,” you said. “I think we’re almost there.”

There was a wall, looming on the horizon and it seemed like you were being led right for it.

The woman hadn’t given you much of any context but you were trying to not get your hopes up. You hoped she reacted that way because she knew Tommy and that Tommy had talked about Joel. They looked enough alike, Joel was an unusual enough name, that might be all it took to get her to want to bring you into town.

You hoped that meant he was still alive.

You weren’t sure what to do about Tommy if he was there. Your mind had been plenty happy to not really think about it, putting it off until it would actually be an issue.

Tommy had been one of your best friends before he left. He was the person you were closest to outside of Andrew and Jess. But he’d set a bomb. He’d killed dozens of people. He’d almost killed you.

But it was Tommy.

And that was before considering the fact that, the last time you’d seen Tommy you’d been sleeping with him and now you were back together with Joel.

“Think they know Tommy?” Ellie asked quietly.

“Not sure,” you replied.

“Do you think Joel will be OK if they don’t?” She looked back at you over her shoulder from her place tucked against your torso. You gave her a little squeeze with your arms, keeping your grip on the reins.

“We’ll make sure he is,” you said.

The front gate loomed and creaked open as you approached, at least 25 feet tall. Whatever this was, it was well protected.

Behind the gates was a small western town. It was almost painfully charming, small storefronts with front porches, no building taller than two stories. But the strangest thing about it was the fact that there was no sign of decay, no indication of a looming power ready to crack down and crush the life out of everything. You nudged your horse along side Joel’s now that you were safely within the walls of the town.

“You OK?” You asked. He just gave you a nod, searching the town as you rode through it, eyes never stopping.

You knew the second Joel did that Tommy was here. You didn’t see him, you just saw Joel. The way his eyes went wide, the way his face softened, the way a tension left his body.

“Tommy!” He yelled, raising an arm, flagging him down. You followed his gaze and saw him, clambering down from some structure he was building. Joel jumped from his horse and ran, meeting him in the middle, both men holding each other tight.

For half a second, the worries you had about what to do if you saw Tommy again were gone. It was Tommy. You wouldn’t ever be OK with what he did. You’d have to talk to him about it at some point but it was Tommy. Tommy, the guy who taught you how to light a grill. Tommy, the guy who made you laugh so hard that you shot Shiner out of your nose. Tommy, the man who had made it so you felt like you could do more than just survive without Joel.

“Want to come with or stick with the horse?” You asked Ellie.

“Think I’ll keep out of the family reunion,” she said, sounding a little wounded.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. “OK?”

She nodded and you dismounted, coming up alongside Joel just as the two men broke apart.

“Holy shit, Kid!” Tommy grabbed you and hugged you next, holding you close and tight. He still felt the same, even after years apart, he still felt like Tommy.

“Hey Miller,” you laughed, choking up a bit. “You sure are a hard man to find.”

“Yeah well, that’s kind of on purpose,” he laughed, releasing you. You stepped back and Joel put his arm around your waist. Tommy looked between you for a moment and smiled. “So you two finally got your shit together, eh?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel smiled, tugging you close.

“Took you long enough,” Tommy shook his head a little, smiling at Joel. “About fuckin’ time.”

A/N: TOMMY'S BACK! Yayayayayayayayayaya!

I'm excited to dive into some of these family dynamics in Jackson for the short time we're here - and dig into Joel and his growing anxieties.

Now that we're back into canon, please let me know how you're feeling about how canon integration is feeling (if you want to obvs, no pressure!) It's still an area I feel shaky on so notes are welcome :)

I have a taglist! If you'd like to be added, please comment below.

Thank you for reading! I hope you're still enjoying it as we come in on the tail end of the story here. I'm really excited for how things are going to go now that we're into this part of the canon and how it builds to the end of the story. Thanks for being here, for reading, for sharing, for commenting, for everything. Love you!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling @winchestergypsy90 @imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @pedrosaidsheispunk @commanderawkward @n7cje @elliesgirlll @tsunamistorm123 @spookyxsam @leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae @fifia-writes @fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #slow burn

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