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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

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What Goes Around, Comes Around

prompt: ( requested ) Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!cheerleader!reader -> reader and Billy are both 18+, seniors in high school

word count: 6.7k+

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: you're a liar if you didn't immediately start singing Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around".

warnings: remember there are different responses to trauma! some people shut down, stop talking; others jabber and chatter nervously. reader is the latter. we got angst, we got literal hurt and comfort, established relationship. term "going postal" is used, cursing, technically underage drinking, not edited, author mildly gave up at the end. triggering content: depictions of physical violence, depictions of injury and blood, depiction of abuse, violent plots, Billy's girl gets physically assaulted (but it's minimally detailed).

DO NOT read if this content can potentially trigger you. you are NOT missing anything, you will miss NOTHING by skipping this, but i do try to keep the details as neutral as possible. again, prioritize yourself, mental health, and emotional state - this ain't worth the read if it's gonna upset you, i promise. author loves you all

"That's fucking her, I swear to God."

"You sure?"

"100%. That's Billy's little bitch he's obsessed with."

The three guys smirked at one another, eyeing you across the living room as you giggled and drank with a few friends in adorable, fashion forward outfits. Someone started a game of beer pong, you on the sidelines to cheer, giving them a full-show of your form.

"She's hot," Jake mused. "I can see why he keeps her so close."

"Nah, not tonight," Lawrence frowned, "heard they got in some huge fight at school. Like, she walked home and he sped off in his car."

"Hm, heard he's ridiculously protective of her... She must've really pissed him off," the third boy, Steven, nodded. "So, he's not here tonight?"

"Doubt it," Jake nodded.

"Go find out," Steven advised. "There, the basketball bros - one of them would know. Or a cheerleader," he eyed the crowd. "Chrissy's over there, Brittany's beside her - they'd be the best bet in my mind."

"We seriously considering this?" Lawrence asked with a small, nervous chuckle. "I mean, it's kinda crazy, isn't it? We're gonna send Billy Hargrove a message by roughing up his girl? There's not some better way?"

"I'd love to hear it," Steven scoffed. "Billy's too comfortable at the top of the school, broke my fucking nose and deviated Jake's septum. Didn't he fuck your sister the first week he was here, Lawrence?"

"I mean - "

"Broke her fucking heart, didn't he?" Jake tacked on.

"Well, yeah," Lawrence sighed, shrugging.

"You tell me, dude, was that shit fair?"

"No," Lawrence looked down.

"So, yeah, I know, it's bad to hit a lady - but what about my boot? Huh?" Steven smirked, nodding. "Go find out what you can. Last thing we need is Billy walkin' in the party, right?"

Jake nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Lawrence behind. He hesistated but then did as Steven asked; asking the present basketball team members if Billy gave indication he was coming. The cheerleaders assured he wouldn't dare show up when you were there after a very public fight, and if he did, it would be to cause another scene.

So, after reporting back to Steven, a plan was formed. Lawrence didn't seem fully on board, but in an effort to save his own skin, he went along with what Jake and Steven were plotting - even if that meant roughing up a woman. Something his mama and grandmama vehemently taught him not to do...

Something churned in his stomach when he heard how the two lads were nearly foaming at the mouth to get their revenge. So, he casually went to grab another drink - pausing where a few of your friends were. "Oi," he whispered, earning their attention.

"Hey, Law," Chrissy smiled.

"Hey, Chris," he sniffled, glancing around. "Listen, uh, you seen Billy 'round?"

"No? Why?"

"Hmm, just, uh... Heard his girl was all upset, thought maybe her drinking all that much was a bad idea without him around."

"Oh," Chrissy blinked, looking up at her boyfriend, Jason, as he approached the group with two drinks in hand. "I didn't think about it like that, Law."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"No, nothing, Lawrence just pointed out how shitty it is to drink without someone watching your back," she pouted.

He nodded, "You lose your friends, man?"

"No, just tryna look out," Lawrence shrugged. "Few girls here drinking a lot, not a lot of defenses 'round them."

Jason frowned, "That's kinda their man's job, isn't it?"

"What if their man isn't here?"

"I'm gonna be right back," Chrissy smiled, parting ways with her girlfriend in tow - and when Law looked, they were using the kitchen telephone. He prayed they were phoning the Hargrove residence.

Lawrence sighed in slight relief and nodded to Jason; the white boy just nodding back silently and letting the other athlete pass him by to head back for Jake and Steven. He grabbed an unopened beer on his way to maintain appearances.

"Hey, we got it," Jake smirked at the third boy, "she just went outside, we should move now."

"Huh?" Law mumbled.

"C'mon," Steven growled, pushing off the mantle and stalking for the backdoors to follow your retreating form.

"Wait, what're we doing?" Law asked, trying to keep up with the drunken, elongated strides of the two dickheads he called 'friends'. "Hey! Guys, c'mon - what's going on?"

"Just - shut up, pussy boy, let's go, fuckin' keep up," Steven sneered, shoving the glass door out of his way and nearly cracking it.

Outside, the in-ground pool was alight with multicolored lights. There were teenagers littered all around the pool deck; some lounging and some standing, all drinking. There was a kegstand in play, ping pong table hosting another game of Beer Pong, and the thick stench of cigarette smoke in the air.

"She's over there," Jake pointed, their sights turning to see you leaning over to huff on your cigarette while Tammy May Flipsen lit the end of it. Your smile was genuine as you thanked her, just stepping two feet away to gaze up at the stars - a perfect time to strike.

The alcohol in everyone's system made them slow, vulnerable, and downright stupid; leaving Steven and Jake the opportunity to seize either of your arms and literally rush you around the corner of the house without anyone intervening.

Once in the remote side yard, the sickening plan commenced.

Lawrence could barely approach, managing to watch with tears in his eyes as the noises of the party masked the noises of pain you emitted; two nearly full-grown men took out their anger towards your boyfriend on you. You cried, begged for reprieve, sounded so confused and broken that it shattered Lawrence's heart - briefly thinking what if someone did this to his sister...

That made him spring into action. "Hey! No! No, this ain't right! Get off her!" Lawrence barked, shoving the two away from your body on the ground. "That's enough - back off - fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Steven demanded.

"Bitch has it coming!"

"What? You fuckin' her, too? Got you pussy whipped like Billy Boy?"

"Just fuck off, beating on a girl!" Lawrence snapped, but it was a huge mistake. Jake and Steven shared a single look before launching at the third boy, beating him as they had you - but much harder. He swore he earned a concussion, their heels stomping his neck, collarbones, wrists, ribs, ankles; exactly the same as they did to you.

"Tryna defend her now!?" Jake heaved, giving a swift kick to Lawrence's kidney. "Huh? You're so scared of Billy but you're gonna mess with his girl?" He laughed. "She must have a magic cunt or something!"

"You're so fucking pathetic, you have to beat up a girl!?" Law shot right back, earning a swift kick to the jaw from the lad that used to play soccer (or American fútbol). "Huh? Two on one? Such big men, aren't yah?" He sneered again, spitting blood to the side.

"Leave it," Steven halted Jake when he charged again, "they're both pretty fucked."

"Well, that dumbass should learn a lesson 'bout interfering!"

"Law's learned - he has, bro, and if he wants, he can learn again," Steven spat on Lawrence's form, Jake doing the same to you - both eventually stalking away like bored toddlers walking away from broken toys.

Slowly, Lawrence grunted as he pulled himself up to sit against the side of the house. "Fuck's sake," he whispered, wiping his eyes and wincing when he felt the sore skin - trailing a finger up, wincing again when he discovered split skin above his eyebrow. "Ohhhh, fuuuuck," Law drawled when you slowly peaked up from your fetal position on the ground. "Hey, hey, you all right? Stupid question," he hissed in pain when he moved to try and assist you.

You cried out when his grip laid on you, but powered through to let him help you sit against the house, too. "Holy shit," you whispered, blood dribbling from your mouth; teeth feeling loose, a headache already assaulting you, and cuts stinging in the bitter night.

"I'm so sorry."

"N-No, you - it would've been so much worse if you hadn't..." You trailed off, sniffling, "You didn't have t'jump in, you got hurt 'cause of me."

"You got hurt 'cause of Billy," Lawrence frowned.

"Huh?"

"That's why they're so pissed off," Lawrence explained, spitting more blood to the side; his jeans stained with mud, blood, and grass. "Billy got their asses few weeks ago, they're still pissed... I heard them," he deflected smoothly, "talkin' about teaching Billy a lesson through you. Didn't feel right, but I should've stopped them so much sooner. I-I'm sorry I didn't do more, Y/N."

"You did more than anyone else," you whimpered, drawing your knees into your chest to lock your arms around them. "I don't even know them, they go to our school?"

"We're all in AP History with Snyder."

You paused to nod absently, not even bothering to try and recall any interactions you might've had with Steven and Jake. Instead, you eyed your savior, mumbling, "You're Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Your sister's... Cara? Sarah? No, no," you paused to think, his frown deepening as you seemed so nice and authentic. "Your sister's name is Natalie, right?"

"Yeah," he half-smiled. "You know her?"

"She's a sweetheart, has those cute glasses? Yeah, I like her; she just joined cheer, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

You eyed him for a moment, ignoring the blood dripping off you both from the beat down; then whispered with a sniffle, "Is that why you helped? 'Cause your sister's on the cheer squad, too?"

"No," he replied instantly, sounding quiet (like you), "I'd like to believe if I saw something I know is wrong... I'd be the type of person to step in, try to stop it."

"You did tonight."

"I should've done more a lot sooner."

"You could've been really hurt, Law."

"Like you?"

"I'm just - look, two guys? Beatin' on me? Yeah," you scoffed, wiping blood from your split lip, "like I ever stood a chance. But you didn't have t'do all that, they wanted Billy, found me instead. You could've walked away, but instead, you jumped in, and you could've been really hurt. That wouldn't help anyone."

"I'm still sorry..."

You sniffled, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps thundering over the lawn; a voice shouting your name in frantic, panicked little outbursts. Looking up, you caught sight of a black leather jacket and unruly blonde curls, frowning deeper. "Oh, fuck," you whispered, withdrawing into yourself, "oh, no, no, not now. Not now, Goddamnit. Think I can make a run for it to the street before he sees me?" You asked Law quietly, nearly hissing your whisper.

"Ain't that Billy?" Law asked, finger pointed.

"He can't see me," you rushed in a panic, eyes wide and tears welling. "Lawrence, he can't!"

"Why?"

"He'll go on a fucking rampage, Lawrence! Ever heard going postal? Yeah, Bee gives that shit new meaning."

"They'd deserve whatever Billy wants t'do," Law frowned, tensing up when Billy had turned, caught sight of you two, and made an angry beeline for you in the grass. "U-Uh, Billy's approaching," he warned you as your boyfriend arrived, trying to pull back to give privacy, but wincing in pain that made him stop.

"The fuck is going - ? Oh, my fuckin' God," Billy trailed off, then whispered when he saw you huddled on the ground; your dress in tatters. Your head was bowed, knees drawn in, refusing to meet his eyes; making your leather-clad boyfriend lower himself to a knee. "Baby? Hey, look at me, sweet girl, lemme see... C'mon, baby, please, look at me."

You only sniffled.

"It was Jake and Steven," Lawrence told Billy, trying to find his feet; falling over and just giving up.

"Hell happened to you, man?"

Lawrence frowned, looking nervous, but your voice answered, "He saved me, Bee. Jumped in, took some of the beating."

Billy looked between you and Lawrence, but focused on you - seeing the injuries to your face and chest in full light. "Oh, my God," he breathed, looking you over in shock. Those pink, pillowy lips you adored licking and sucking on were parted in shock.

You half-smiled, "Think you pissed a few of the wrong guys off."

"Jesus Christ, sweet girl. What happened? Tell me, please, before I start making assumptions," he demanded, reaching for your cheek - making you recoil hard enough that your head banged on the house supporting your exhausted body. "Hey, hey," he whispered, looking physically wounded by your action, "'s just me, baby, it's just me, it's Bee, I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, sweetheart, lemme help you."

You sniffled, letting him reach for you again and caress your cheek so he could direct your head left and right; giving him a full view of your injuries that continued to weep. He stiffened as he took note of a new cut or bruise upon every new sweep of his eyes, his anger skyrocketing with every passing moment.

"It hurts," you whimpered. "Apparently, you beat the shit outta those guys weeks ago - guess they were waiting for an opening to strike back."

"You don't deserve this," he growled angrily. "Fuck - look at you! Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, princess, this is my fault. All my fucking fault, shit," he hissed, looking close to tears, "I put you here, I'm so sorry, baby."

"Got Lawrence his ass beat, too," you pouted.

"Sorry about this, man," Billy instantly offered the other boy, who was practically slumped over in the grass. He still managed to give a thumbs up. "But, uh, thank you for stepping in. You know, not a whole lotta people would."

"Nah, it was the right thing to do," Law frowned, waving him off.

"You said Jake and Steven did this?"

"Mhm," Law nodded. "Jake Chastain and Steven Barton."

"Yeah, I know 'em," Billy shook his head, "and I'll fuckin' kill 'em - "

"Can we get cleaned up first? Before we go murdering high school jocks?" You pouted in pain.

"Hey, man. You got a friend here or something? Someone to help us?" Billy asked Lawrence, still caressing your face with his thumb sweeping the apple of your cheek.

"My sister's 'round, yeah..."

"Want me to grab her?" Billy offered awkwardly.

"I'd actually appreciate it," Law whispered. "Gotta get home, yeah?"

"Yeah, man. Stay here, I'll grab her," Billy agreed. "What's her name?"

"Natalie, she's a cheerleader. Um... Y-You dated her beginning of the year?"

"I remember," he sighed, standing to his feet. He told you earnestly, almost sweetly, "I'll be fast."

But the thing is, you knew Billy all too well by now. "Wait, no," you gasped, trying to stand, "Bee, don't!" It was too late, he was already gone by the time you and Lawrence stumbled out from hiding; just in time to watch Billy point Natalie towards where you and her brother were. Then, he turned and surged up to an unsuspecting Jake and Steven; launching an all-out brawl against the two.

Neither of them stood a chance when Billy was THIS angry. Nobody did. In fact, if Jason, Tommy H., and two other guys hadn't pulled him back, surely, there'd be a lot more than a couple of broken bones. However, when Billy told the other basketball players in a spit-flying rage that these two cowards had attacked his girlfriend (a few turning back to get a look at you), it launched a new, mutual anger. Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders wanted to step in when the "fight" (more like attack) started again, but when they saw you, Lawrence, and Natalie, nobody said a single word. Nobody interfered. Nobody interrupted, and luckily, nobody else joined in...

Before Jake and Steven could lose their lives or sustain serious injury that would result in any arrests, Billy was pulled back by Lawrence - of all people. "Hey, hey," the beaten boy barked, "hey, man, chill - chill! These guys deserve it, yeah, I fucking know, but look, hey!" He grabbed Billy's shoulders to prevent him from turning back for the fray. "Hey! Your girl needs you, man. She needs you more than these bozos. C'mon, you can't go to jail over this shit, right? Right? How mad you gonna be if you get bagged 'cause of these jackasses?"

This seemed to force Billy back to reality and out of his homicidal rage. A few dudes who played football stepped in to hoist the unconscious jocks over their shoulders just to leave them on the curb a couple houses down the street.

Billy raced back to you.

Chrissy and Natalie were helping wipe blood from your skin and hair; clothes damaged, ripped, stained, beyond repair, and another cheerleader was holding a bag of frozen peas to your head as you leaned on her stomach. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, easing you off the girl's belly to leave it around your trembling form and then taking the girl's spot, supporting your body as you were tended to.

Eventually, Chrissy sighed, "I think that's the best we're gonna get you, honey. You want us to come over in the mornings? Help you get dressed and do your make-up?"

"No offense, but I don't think that's necessary... It's not like what happened is a secret," Natalie whispered, looking you over.

"Make-up might irritate the injuries," the other girl offered softly. "But it might cover some of those bruises, I just would avoid the cuts."

"I'm okay, girls, but thank you," you assured softly. "Bee's here t'help."

"Yeah, taking you straight to the hospital," he decided stiffly from behind you.

"What?"

"Think I'm not gonna get you checked out after this? Two men attacked you, I gotta make sure ain't shit's seriously wrong, baby. Don't fight me on this, please."

Billy's mind was warped with memories of sitting in ER's and other clinics with his mother nursing a broken wrist or damaged eye socket. His father's anger had always been a temperamental switch, something Billy felt he always had to outdo. Being in the hospital with you felt too similar, another bolt of rage zinging through his blood; hating the idea that you were the victim, and like his mother, he wasn't able to protect you.

Unlike his mother, this situation was directly his fault. He didn't even remember why he beat the shit outta Steven and Jake all those weeks ago, but whatever the reason, it cost him now. Cost you both.

The party continued inside the house, but Billy walked around the side yard, down to the front, then towards the street full of parked cars with you secure in his arms. After getting you settled safely in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Billy rightened and shut the door; seeing Lawrence and Natalie approaching their own car, the bag of peas now held to his jaw and cheek.

His sister was under his arm, helping him hobble. Billy gulped, realizing Lawrence was beat to hell, too, and if he hadn't jumped in, Lord only knew what state you'd be in now. When the two men caught one another's eye, Billy offered a nod of respect and thanks; the other lad returning it as if to say he was welcome. Billy raced for the driver's door, sliding in, and without turning any music on, drove off towards the hospital.

You were grumpy to be there, but one look at you had the medical staff moving at a quickened pace to help you; offering speedy aid. You were cleaned and cared for; questions regarding the level of assault making you nervous, but you answered honestly that two classmates had jumped you at a party. This meant the police were called; tears in your eyes and down your cheeks when you had to tell Chief Hopper (a close family friend) exactly what happened.

Billy provided their assailant’s full names and promised they wouldn't be in the best shape when (slash if) the two were found.

After hearing your story and writing the names down from Billy, Hopper sighed in empathy, "Kid... Don't admit t'anything."

"I'm not, I'm just making a casual note," Billy countered. "You know, people don't take too kindly to people hittin' a woman. Less so when she's drunk, alone, and they fuckin' stomp on her - "

"All right," Hopper tried to halt his built up anger. "Let's just take a breath here - "

"Uh, Chief?" His deputy interrupted. "Them boys? Uh, a... Jake Chastain and Steven Barton? They were just wheeled in from an ambulance."

"Interesting," Hopper noted, sparing Billy a small look. "From where?"

"A neighbor called them in, said there's a party few houses from her on Hawthorne."

Jim Hopper sighed and turned to you and Billy with his hands on his hips. His face was passively angry. "Sound familiar?" He asked, tongue sweeping over his teeth.

"Yes," you answered for you both, "that's where it happened, Chief."

His eyes softened when he looked back at you. "All right," he nodded, looking to his partner. "Go stand by their room, keep an eye - I'll be there in a second, but the victims made a positive ID. Doc's will treat 'em and we'll book 'em." When left alone, Hopper took a suspicious look around the hospital floor before sliding the curtains shut around your bed; moving to your other side, removing his hat, and kneeling. "Listen, kid," he whispered, taking your hand softly, "I got a daughter at home, too, and if anyone - and I mean, anyone - laid a hand on her the way you were tonight, I'd burn this town to the fucking ground."

Billy snorted in amusement, "Know the feeling."

Hopper nodded, "So believe me when I say, I need to know, off the record, what really happened tonight. Your father will need to know that I am doing everything to help - but I need to know the truth."

"I don't know what to tell you, Hopper," you frowned, matching his quiet tone, "I've told you what I know. I was a few drinks in, stepped outside t'smoke, and that's when they grabbed me, took me t'the side yard, and started wailing on me. I dropped, they kept goin', that's when this other boy stepped in. He got beat up pretty good, too, but he helped get them away. Billy showed up, we came here - "

"I hit them," Billy interrupted, making you squeak lightly. Hopper just laid his other hand over yours so he cocooned it; glancing around the under skirts of the curtains to make sure you remained alone.

Then he asked, "When?"

"After I made sure Y/N was okay," Billy explained, petting a hand over the back of your head; never looking away from Hopper. "I found her friend's sister, made sure someone knew where they were, and then I hit them... And I didn't stop hitting them."

"Kid - "

"Some teammates pulled me off, don't worry - it could've been so much worse. But when the others found out what they did to my girl?" He hissed quietly, "They took matters into their own hands by themselves, sir. My girl was attacked, I couldn't let that just slide, Chief, I hope you understand."

Hopper sighed, "Well, I can't condone the violence, but since it was a group effort, be a helluva lot more paperwork bringing you in versus those two who started it."

Billy nodded absently, your free hand laying over Hopper's to stack. "Did you call my dad?" You asked nervously.

"Not yet," he frowned. "I gotta check on the suspects, but I can after."

"Could you not? For me, please?" You sniffled. "He'll just worry and would get all pissy 'cause his trip has to be cut - "

"He's not home?" Hopper asked in earnest confusion with knitted brows.

Your head shook, "Chicago for the week."

"He left eight days ago," Billy snipped.

"Bee," you reprimanded sharply.

"Hey," Hopper squeezed your hand, "it's okay, you're over 18, I don't have to call him. But El and I are gonna drop by later with dinners and to check on you, her little friend, too, probably. You know, the, uh... The little red head?"

"Max?" You asked.

"Yeah, her. Nice girl."

"She's Billy's step-sister," you snickered, wincing when your broken ribs protested.

"You should rest," Hopper bid, "and thank you for being honest," he stood to his feet while nodding at Billy. "Tell you what, I won't report you starting the fight - technically... It'll be reported as a randomized group effort after they were caught assaulting Y/N."

Billy nodded, too shocked for words as Hopper patted your hand, placed his hat on, and exited the little curtained room. "Wow," your boyfriend breathed. "Since when are you friends with the Chief of Police?"

"He and my dad go way back," you eased.

"All cops like him?"

"Fuck no, you know that." After a beat, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers with him, "Hey," you bid, "I-I'm really sorry."

"Baby, just - don't even start - "

"No, for earlier, for our fight," you interrupted, "and for feeling petty enough to go to the party alone when I know you don't like that... For drinking, not being more aware like you taught me. I didn't use the buddy-system when I went t'smoke, it was a major fuck-up, I know, but I'm just sorry. I feel like I've disappointed you or something - "

"No, hey, sweet girl," he rushed, sitting on the edge of the gurney to stare at you directly, "don't you ever feel that way - you didn't do nothing wrong. Hear me? You didn't put yourself in this position, you didn't deserve what happened, you didn't - no, just," he sighed deeply, "you didn't do any of this, sweetheart. Okay? If anything... If anything, this is my fucking fault and I'm the one who is so sorry."

Your head shook, but Billy continued,

"They did this to you because of me." Tears filled those sweet baby blues. "Because I don't have a hold of my temper - I fucked them up, so, they fucked you up. This is my fault, I'm so sorry. But look, hey, I'll fix this, okay? I swear to God - I'm gonna fix this."

"The cops got 'em, we don't have t'do anything else," you mumbled. "You don't have to do anything else, Billy."

"Maybe not, but I can't let this go - look at you," a single tear dripped. "Fucking look at you, my sweet girl. In the fucking hospital 'cause of me - I can't - this ain't right. I gotta make it right."

You couldn't answer because a technician was arriving to take you for a CT, MRI, and X-Ray - all of those scans that would tell them what was going on internally. Hopper was seen outside the two boy's rooms - Billy following your bed closely as you where wheeled away. Every scan or test he could remain close for, he was; stepping back when needed, but being sucked right back to your side when able.

By the end of the night, you were released into Billy's care because all patients with head injuries had to have some kind of chaperone, and a few floors up, Steven and Jake were being handcuffed to their hospital beds by Hopper.

"Real lucky I wasn't there when you hit her," Jim Hopper seethed quietly, tightening the cuff on Jake to an uncomfortable grip. "Your parents would need money for your funerals - not bail," he offered one single more glare before leaving the next shift of deputies on duty. He sped all the way home and held Eleven in a suffocating hug.

Turns out, you sustained decent injuries from that night.

A (cleanly) broken ankle. Six different broken ribs. Split lip that required two stitches. Stitched earlobes from where piercings were ripped out. Severely bruised collarbones, bordering on broken. One blackened eye. Along with other generic bruises and cuts, more seemingly discovered as the days drug by slowly.

Billy was ready to mow down anyone in his way at any point, but his only ability to get through the school day was that he saw you everyday afterward. He dropped whatever sport and / or club that held his interest, collecting coursework you missed, then driving Max and "Jane" Hopper to your place. He would've lashed out if this was any other situation, but because you asked him to behave and bring you the materials you needed, he did. He played nice.

The two assailants, Steven and Jake, had been arrested by Jim Hopper. They apparently had a rough ride to the station, but that wasn't here or there. What they did to you was far worse that nobody batted a single lash when the two were brought in the station for booking, looking freshly beat up and bloodied. A judge also rejected their bail.

Billy brought you whatever work you missed during your recovery at home, most teachers shocked to see him so diligent in showing up and making the collections. He didn't understand whatever the teachers told him about the work, but you did - and it was fascinating to him, watching you work or study. He usually sat by your window to smoke, but on the occasion, you asked for a toke and wouldn't care about where the smoke blew. So, as weeks passed, he stopped specifically going over to your window; just leaving it open for ventilation so he could remain at your side.

Anything you needed, he got. He did. He gave you. Guilt was one helluva motivator and Billy was chalked-full; so, he did the only thing he knew he could, being acts of service.

You were laid up, it made sense. He could bring you into the shower, get naked himself and help you bathe. He could carry you downstairs, cook for you, help out around the house by keeping it clean because he knew it stressed you out. He would collect the mail, water plants, do dishes, just turned into a househusband that made your stomach and cheeks feel all warm and fuzzy. Never did you think Billy had the ability to be domestic, but here he was, in your great-grandmother's kitchen, wearing a stained apron while trying to bake cookies while you worked on a physics project.

"Hey, Bee?"

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly, setting the hot tray to the stove.

"No, hey, calm down," you smiled with a small laugh. "I was just wondering... You know, like... What's gotten into you?"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean," you huffed, setting your pencil down. "You literally haven't let me out of your sight except when you're at school."

He shrugged, "You need help."

"You don't ask if I do."

"I don't need to ask when I can just see it."

"Billy."

He sighed and begrudgingly scraped cookies off the hot tray to rest on the cooling sheets. "Your dad asked me to stay close," he offered.

"Bullshit."

"No, really," Billy insisted. "He's in and out with work, so, he asked me to stick around, just in case."

"Okay, fine, but it's more than that. Billy, tell me the truth, baby, please. It's not a bad thing, I'm just curious what's really going on."

"I'm just... I'm just nervous, you know?"

Your head cocked, "Why's that?"

"Look what happened to you," he chuckled ruefully. "All fucked up, can't even go t'school until your ribs are healed - all 'cause of me. 'Cause I fucked up and went too far - "

"William," you snapped, making his wide, shocked eyes meet yours. "I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. Okay? I know you're sorry, you tell me everyday, andI know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't your fault, you're not the one who put hands on me - "

You flinched when he lobbed the cookie tray into the sink, causing a ruckus, his voice yelling over the noise, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"William!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" He yelled, tears swelling when he whipped around to face you. "I-I don't know what else to do! Look, okay, say what you fucking want, but the truth is, those two assholes came at you 'cause of me. Okay? 'Cause I had to be myself and beat the shit outta them 3 months ago, they never forgave - they didn't forget. I put you in this situation, that now? Now, yeah!" He laughed without humor. "Yeah! I'm fucking nervous leaving you alone! Fuck knows what could happen to you, and who's to say there aren't more people out there just waiting for this kinda opportunity! Baby!" He rushed for you at the kitchen table, your mouth sewn shut in shock as he found his knees in front of you and took both your hands in his. "Baby, listen to me. You're the only thing - no, I'm serious!" He insisted when you looked ready to protest this sentiment you've heard before. "You're the only thing I fucking care about, that I want to protect, and they all know it - I don't exactly hide it. I love you so fucking much, they'd do this again - they'd fucking hurt you to get to me and that idea just..." He sighed, looking lost.

You pulled a hand free to instantly caress his cheek, turning his attention upward until his eyes met yours. "Billy," you whispered, "baby, nobody's after us. This was just a freak accident, this was a fluke, okay? You're worried anyone else is gonna come at me, at us, but I know nobody else is that fucking stupid. They wouldn't test you, and Jake and Steven took advantage of an already bad situation. Okay? We had a fight - which was pretty public. So, people knew we were at odds, and when I showed up at that party alone, started drinking, it was their perfect opportunity to strike."

"You can't say that, we don't know if anyone else is gonna test us," he sniffled. "I've made a lot of mistakes... Pissed a lot of people off. One of them might've grown a pair."

"Okay," you relented, "then I guess we're gonna have to stick together, you know... So you can keep me safe, right?"

He chuckled dryly, "I'm trying, princess."

"Well, we can work out a better way - one that doesn't run you into the fucking ground, Billy, Jesus," you searched his face. "Are you sleeping? At all?"

"'Course I am - "

"Don't lie to me."

He sighed, deflating a little, "I sleep... Only when I stay here."

"Billy, you stay only a couple nights a week when Daddy's home."

"I know."

"So, you basically only sleep when Daddy's out of town and you stay here?" You squeaked, watching him nod; pouting and feeling your own guilt brew. "Baby... Look, can we just agree that this isn't either of our faults? Right? Yeah? If I'm not allowed to think this was my fault, you aren't either."

"I was the one they wanted t'hurt," he shook his head. "They did this 'cause of me, sweetheart, how can you be so - so - fuck! So fucking understanding a-and forgiving?"

"Because I love you," you answered like it was common knowledge, even giving a small giggle.

"That doesn't... But that doesn't even - "

"What? Mean anything? Bee, it means everything," you smiled at him. "I love you, so, when you make mistakes, I forgive you - even though there's nothing you've done. I mean," you winced slightly, "sure, maybe we could reduce the kids you bully or beat up, you know, limit the enemies we might make. And this is something that can be redeemed, can't it?"

He stared at you from the floor, slowly deflating, "Can it? I've fucked up so much, doll, I don't think I deserve whatever forgiveness you wanna give me."

"You can't keep beating yourself up," you snipped. "Hey? Hear me? Look, it happened - it fucking sucked, but it happened and it's fucking over. We both need one another to help move on, okay? So, I need you back, Bee, I need my man back because we need to get through this together. You don't get to sulk in your guilt, I don't get to stew in my regret, we need to help each other out of this."

Billy sniffled, "How? How do we move on when you've still got stitches in your lip?"

"They'll dissolve in a few days," you shrugged meekly. "We move on together, okay? Maybe you pick up basketball again, try to distract yourself. Billy, we need some normalcy again, right? You know?"

"Doll, being away from you makes me feel like my lungs are gonna pop," he shook his head. "I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not there, it's fucking scary after finding you in your own blood."

"Then I'll be at every practice," you eased. "You can drive me to and from school, then you know where I am - you'll know I'm safe."

Billy stared at you a moment, fully dropping to the floor as his energy finally drained. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling the curls, admitting in a soft voice, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not feel so guilty, how to move forward."

"There's no playbook," you agreed. "Guess it means we gotta figure it out ourselves, but again, we do it together. C'mere," you sighed, lowering yourself to the floor with your booted ankle held out.

"No, don't - "

"Fuck off, I'm not totally unable to do shit," you grunted, adjusting yourself and reaching for him. "Come here, please, I wanna hold you! Been cuddling me this whole time, lemme be the big spoon, please."

"Just told me to fuck off, sweetheart, kinda sending some mixed signals, aren't'cha?" He chuckled, turning so his back was to your chest; leaning so you supported him in his slump. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, holding the arm around his collarbones. "I really - if I knew this was gonna happen, I'd never of fought them."

"I know, and I forgive you," you whispered in his ear. "But we can't keep doing this back and forth, okay? I forgive you, Billy, no more apologies."

He sighed, "Yeah... All right..."

"Steven and Jake are arrested, we won't have t'see them again. Hopper will make sure of that," you smirked against the shell of his ear. "And the doctors said I should be good to return to school next week, but I'm out of cheer and everything."

He groaned, "Just something else I've fucked up for you."

"Oh, please, I love the time off," you teased. "Gives me all the time I need to watch my man on the court, huh?" He half-chuckled at your words. "You know I'm ahead in all my classes now, too? Teaching myself at home is far superior than the teacher's bitching at us for eight hours."

"You're gonna love college, baby," he chuckled, the two of you lulling into a comfortable silence. You held him tightly, nuzzled into his neck; both sitting in your emotions, trying to navigate a way out.

"We good?" You whispered.

"We're good," Billy agreed, just as soft. "No more apologies... Try to have less guilt. But you're gonna let me stay close, right?"

"I want you clinging to me so hard, I can't fucking breathe," you smirked. "And if Daddy really asked you to stick around, then you're welcome to stay here longer, even if he's here... Where I can have you close to me," you whispered, licking the skin under his ear. He stiffened.

"No - you better not," he squirmed when you licked again, adding a little teeth in a scrape.

"Billy," you pouted. "It's been weeks!"

"You're still hurt," he argued, turning on the floor to look at you. "I'm not gonna be responsible for breaking another of your ribs 'cause we were horny."

"I'm doing so much better, though!"

"Tell you what," he smirked. "Next business trip of your dad's, I'll fuck you all weekend - wherever you want, however you want."

"He has one in two weeks."

"Mhm, and you have a check up before he leaves."

You eyed him for a moment, "When did you become responsible?"

"I've always been."

"No, this is new. You're remembering dates and my doctor appointments and my dad's work schedule."

"Maybe I just like taking care of you," he whispered against your lips with a growing smirk. After pecking you lips, he quipped, "So, shut up and let me."

"Yes, sir."

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x female!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove request #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things

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fatehbaz · 2 years ago

Text

Good question:

In the United States, many jails and prisons can and will charge you money for every single night that you spend imprisoned, for the entire duration of your incarceration, as if you were being billed for staying at a hotel. Even if you are incarcerated for years. Adding up to tens of thousands of dollars. What happens when you’re released?

In response to this:

---

So.

You’re getting charged, like, ten dollars every time you even submit a request form to possibly be seen by a doctor or dentist.

You’re getting charged maybe five dollars for ten minutes on the phone.

Any time a friend or family tries to send you like five dollars so that you can buy some toothpaste or lotion, or maybe a snack from the commissary since you’re diabetic and the “meals” have left you malnourished, maybe half of that money gets taken as a “service fee” by the corporate contractor that the prison uses to manage your pre-paid debit card. So you’re already losing money every day just by being there.

What happens if you can’t pay?

In some places, after serving just a couple of years for drugs charges, almost 20 years after being released, the state can still hunt you down for over $80,000 that you “owe” as if it were a per-night room-and-board accommodations charge, like this recent highly-publicized case in Connecticut:

Excerpt:

Two decades after her release from prison, [TB] feels she is still being punished. When her mother died two years ago, the state of Connecticut put a lien on the Stamford home she and her siblings inherited. It said she owed $83,762 to cover the cost of her 2 1/2 year imprisonment for drug crimes. [...] “I’m about to be homeless,” said [TB], 58, who in March [2022] became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging the state law that charges prisoners $249 a day for the cost of their incarceration. [...] All but two states have so-called “pay-to-stay” laws that make prisoners pay for their time behind bars [...]. Critics say it’s an unfair second penalty that hinders rehabilitation by putting former inmates in debt for life. Efforts have been underway in some places to scale back or eliminate such policies. Two states — Illinois and New Hampshire — have repealed their laws since 2019. [...] Pay-to-stay laws were put into place in many areas during the tough-on-crime era of the 1980s and ’90s, said Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology at University of Southern California who is leading a study of the practice. [...] Connecticut used to collect prison debt by attaching an automatic lien to every inmate, claiming half of any financial windfall they might receive for up to 20 years after they are released from prison [...].

Text by: Pat Eaton-Robb. “At $249 per day, prison stays leave ex-inmates deep in debt.” AP News / The Associated Press. 27 August 2022.

---

Look at this:

To help her son, Cindy started depositing between $50 to $100 a week into Matthew’s account, money he could use to buy food from the prison commissary, such as packaged ramen noodles, cookies, or peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. Cindy said sending that money wasn’t necessarily an expense she could afford. “No one can,” she said. So far in the past month, she estimates she sent Matthew close to $300. But in reality, he only received half of that amount. The balance goes straight to the prison to pay off the $1,000 in “rent” that the prison charged Matthew for his prior incarceration. [...] A PA Post examination of six county budgets (Crawford, Dauphin, Lebanon, Lehigh, Venango and Indiana) showed that those counties’ prisons have collected more than $15 million from inmates — almost half is for daily room and board fees that are meant to cover at least a portion of the costs with housing and food. Prisoners who don’t work are still expected to pay. If they don’t, their bills are sent to collections agencies, which can report the debts to credit bureaus. [...] Between 2014 and 2017, the Indiana County Prison — which has an average inmate population of 87 people — collected nearly $3 million from its prisoners. In the past five years, Lebanon’s jail collected just over $2 million in housing and processing fees.

Text by: Joseph Darius Jaafari. “Paying rent to your jailers: Inmates are billed millions of dollars for their stays in Pa. prisons.” WHYY (PBS). 10 December 2019. Originally published at PA Post.

---

Pay-to-stay, the practice of charging people to pay for their own jail or prison confinement, is being enforced unfairly by using criminal, civil and administrative law, according to a new Rutgers University-New Brunswick led study. The study [...] finds that charging pay-to-stay fees is triggered by criminal justice contact but possible due to the co-opting of civil and administrative institutions, like social service agencies and state treasuries that oversee benefits, which are outside the realm of criminal justice. “A person can be charged $20 to $80 a day for their incarceration,” said author Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology and a faculty affiliate of Rutgers' criminal justice program. “That per diem rate can lead to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees when a person gets out of prison. To recoup fees, states use civil means such as lawsuits and wage garnishment against currently and formerly incarcerated people, and regularly use administrative means such as seizing employment pensions, tax refunds and public benefits to satisfy the debt.” [...] Civil penalties are enacted on family members if the defendant cannot pay and in states such as Florida, Nevada and Idaho can occur even after the original defendant is deceased. [...]

Text by: Megan Schumann. “States Unfairly Burdening Incarcerated People With “Pay-to-Stay” Fees.” Rutgers press release. 20 November 2020.

---

So, to pay for your own imprisonment, states can:

-- hunt you down for decades (track you down 20 years later, charge you tens of thousands of dollars, and take your house away)

-- put a lien on your vehicle, house

-- garnish your paycheck/wages

-- seize your tax refund

-- send collections agencies after you

-- take your public assistance benefits

-- sue you in civil court

-- take money from your family even after you’re dead

#abolition

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misctf · 1 month ago

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The Wrong Number

Kyle grins as he snaps a post-workout selfie, quickly sending it to the chick he met at the bar the night prior. His grin widens as he sits naked on his bed, thinking about her. He could still feel her lips against his, the way her hands roamed his body. He could still hear her moans. And as his thoughts continue, he absentmindedly strokes his hardening dick.

“Fuck...” He mumbles.

Probably one of the best hook-ups he had in a long-time. And he couldn’t wait for part two.

“Hey babe, you around tonight? Ready for round 2?”

He stares at his phone, awaiting Stacy’s... no Brittany’s... no... He chuckles as he realizes he doesn’t even remember her name. But did it matter? He’d make an effort to learn it tonight- he wasn’t the least bit concerned she would turn him down. Especially with that selfie he sent. His muscles bulging, dusted perfectly with manly hairs. Yeah- totally irresistible.

“Come on.” He whispers as he sees she’s writing a response.

His heart sinks when he receives her response- a selfie. And it is not a selfie of the blond, double-D, bombshell he bagged last night. No, this was a dude. A buff, cocky dude. Kyle feels his dick soften as his own cocky grin shifts to a frown.

“Hey there cutie.” The message underneath the selfie reads.

“Sorry, wrong number.” Kyle replies quickly.

A fake number? Really? Kyle felt pissed. Did she really give him a fake number? And who the fuck was this guy? And why did he call him ‘cutie’? Kyle groans as he realizes he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Her loss, he figured. The young man started to stand up, but his phone buzzed again. It was that guy.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Lol, sorry bro. Chick gave me the wrong number.” Kyle replies, “Women, right? Lol.”

Based on the selfie, Kyle figured the guy frequented the gym. Maybe they’d have some stuff in common. And part of Kyle felt maybe he could commiserate with a fellow bro. But his thoughts slow as he stares at the pic. Drinking in each detail and contour of the man’s body. The guy’s massive, juicy pecs taking up most of the selfie. And Kyle absentmindedly wonders what they feel like. And as he scratches his chest, he does not register his chest hairs falling away, leaving him cleanshaven and smooth.

“Wouldn’t know, cutie.” The man replies, “Thought you’d know that after last night lol.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow- his thoughts speeding back up. What did this guy... ohhhhhh... Now he knew. Kyle feels rage build up at the realization. Was this guy flirting with him? First he gets a wrong number, now some gay guy is trying to make a move? Just his luck...

“Don’t swing that way, bro.” Kyle replies.

Kyle went to block the number, but something causes him to stop. What did the guy mean ‘after last night?’ Kyle knew he hooked up with a chick. And two, Kyle wasn’t gay. He’d never... Kyle shifts uncomfortably as his his wide frame and proud muscles begin to decay. The increasingly slender young man barely registering his shifting frame.

“You sure? Could’ve fooled me.”

Kyle bit his lip, “What’re you talking about?” He types with his increasingly more dainty and feminine hands. His thick callouses from his workouts smoothing over and becoming soft.

“Did I fuck your brains out or something, cutie?”

Kyle shifts uncomfortably as his ass swells, filling with squeezable fat. An ass no gay man would be able to resist.

“OMG please stop.” Kyle texts back, “Like, I don’t even know who you are.” He stares at the messages he just sent, part of him registering that something was off with his word choices.

“What about now?”

Kyle gasped at the selfie the man set. His perfectly chiseled muscles and exposed pits causing him to blush. A thought crosses his mind- he would want nothing more than to be laying on that man’s chest. To thrust his nose into those dark, musky forests. And as he thinks of more things he’d want this man to do to him, he strokes his dick. Up and down, up and down. Not even registering that his prided manhood was getting smaller. And smaller. And smaller yet. Settling on a measly three inches hard.

“Like, no... something’s like totes...”

Kyle moans as the pleasure from stroking his dick suddenly intensifies tenfold. And then begins to dwindle, only to return. But he realizes it’s no longer his dick that brings him pleasure. No, it’s his ass. His hole clenching desperately for something to fill it. His mind racing with the new realization that he desperately needs his prostate stimulated.

“Need another reminder?”

Kyle can barely contain the feminine moan that escapes him as he gazes upon a dick pic from the stranger. And as he stares at it, licking his increasingly puffier lips, he realizes he needs it. And he needs it now. In his mouth, in his ass- anywhere. As long as it was inside him.

“Please daddy, I need it.” Kyle quickly texts back, sending a selfie of his own.

“Good boy. See ya soon slut.”

Kyle moans again, as his ass pulses with pleasure. The anticipation clouding his mind, his thoughts slowing. But as he stares at his new selfie, he can’t help but feel that this is wrong. That he wasn’t some smooth, bubble-butt, horny twink desperate for a quick fuck. No... he was... he was... A giggle escapes his increasingly puffy lips and he stands up. His ass sticks out as he saunters over to the mirror. Drinking in his new look. Loving his thicc ass, his small cock, and lean figure. His mind filling with all the knowledge he would need to please any man and a desire to do just that.

“Mmmmm daddy...” He moans, as he squeezes his own ass. His voice sultry and high-pitched.

It’s only a few minutes later until there’s a knock on his door. And the young twink saunters over, opening to reveal the man he had been texting with. Only a few minutes later, his nose is buried in the man’s musky pits. His memories of the girl yesterday vanishing from his mind. And as he deep throats the man’s dick, any interest he may have had in growing his muscles vanishes. It’s only when he’s thrown onto the bed, his ass up in the air, does Kyle panic. A sense of dread filling his psyche. Images of the man he was- his memories- filling his mind. But it all comes to a screeching halt as he feels his partner’s dick enter him. And with each thrust and feminine moan that leaves Kyle’s lips, more of these memories vanish.

Its only a few minutes later that the man leaves. Kyle is still lying in bed, cum leaking from his needy hole. His mind in shambles. But as the post-orgasm bliss fades, Kyle can feel the desire for round two start to grow. And with an ass like that, Kyle wouldn’t be waiting for long.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #straight to gay #twink tf

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starkwlkr · 2 months ago

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just a girl | f1

an: this is me asking for your letterboxd pls i need letterboxd mutuals 🤭 my account is deadpunks also made the reader have glasses because we need more glasses representation in fanfics 😔 (to the girlies that wear glasses, this is for you!!!)

Las Vegas Grand Prix Weekend

“What movie did I watch?” Y/n read the comment that a fan left on her instagram live. She adjusted her glasses and smiled. “I just finished ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ it’s so underrated. The cast is so iconic like you have Kirsten Dunst, Brittany Murphy, Denise Richards, Amy Adams and Allison Janney in one movie. It’s definitely in my top four.”

It was hours after qualifying and Y/n was exhausted, but all she wanted to do was finish watching her movie. Unfortunately for her, the movie she had just named wasn’t anywhere on streaming so she brought her portable dvd player and a stack of dvds. When Lando saw her watching a movie and crocheting a scarf for herself in her garage, he laughed at the scene. He actually found it adorable.

“What’s my letterboxd? Okay, listen. . . I don’t give it out to just anyone so this is between you lovely people and me, okay? My letterboxd is ilovecillianmurphy420 and please follow me, I am desperate,” Y/n laughed. She then took her phone and saw all the new follower notifications from letterboxd. “I’m going to ask the social media admin to ask everyone on the grid for their four favorites. Lando is definitely going to name animated movies. That or he’ll forget what a movie is and say nothing.”

What’s your four favorites?

“Whoever your asked for my four favorites, I’m blocking you. How dare you ask me that question . . . Paddington 1 and 2, Saw and Mamma Mia. I know I said drop dead gorgeous was in my top four, but I lie all the time.”

The next day, her letterboxd account had become the second most followed account.

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, letterboxd and others

yourusername just watched the masterpiece that is jackass number two

formulaupdating can i ask why you don’t post about f1 that often?

yourusername no you may not

oscarpiastri i was there too

yourusername ok

landonorris didn’t you watch that last week?

yourusername this is my own private domicile and i will not be harassed

landonorris ?

yourusername bitch

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After The Race / Interviews

Y/n hated being interviewed, it was the absolute worst thing on earth. No wait, forgetting her AirPods was the worst thing, but interviews were right behind that. She was exhausted and now she had to deal with reporters asking her what she thought about the championship battle.

Her fingers brushed the strap of her cap nervously as the interviewer’s voice cut through her anxiety.

“Y/n, P7 today—solid result. How are you feeling?" The reporter asked.

Y/n blinked, her eyes flicking around as she tried to process the question, and then her gaze landed on her own shoes. She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking up only to meet the camera for a brief, uncomfortable moment.

“Uh, yeah. It, uh . . . it was. . . good. I mean . . . yeah, I’m happy with it, I guess," she mumbled, her voice faltering.

The reporter smiled kindly, already used to the shy responses. “What do you think made the difference here in Vegas?" He waited patiently for Y/n’s answer.

Y/n’s lips parted as she prepared an answer, but the words tangled up in her brain. She shifted from foot to foot, adjusting her grip on the cap. Fuck, why can’t you think of anything?!, she thought to herself. “Uh . . . I don’t know . . . it’s just . . . uh, a little . . . weird, with all the lights and, you know, the . . . Strip, and, um . . .” Her voice trailed off.

The interviewer gave her a soft chuckle, understanding that Y/n’s awkwardness wasn’t lack of confidence, but rather a product of her introverted nature. Before the interview could go on, two figures appeared behind Y/n.

Oscar had cut in, Y/n’s pair of glasses in his hand. He placed a hand on her shoulder and handed the glasses to her while Lando ruffled her hair. She happily accepted them and placed them on her face.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve tortured her enough, mate.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh as she turned to Oscar, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, really,” he said quietly, his tone meant to ease her nerves.

Lando then spoke up. “Are we done with the interrogation? She's literally about to disappear into her own head if we keep this up."

The reporter chuckled. “I was just asking Y/n about her performance today.”

Y/n hadn’t even noticed that she had completely abandoned the interview. She had started doodling on Oscar’s hand. The Aussie had given her the pen he had used from a fan when he was signing autographs. It was their thing. Whenever she would get nervous and Oscar was around, he would let her draw on his hand. Somehow the hand doodles calmed her.

“Right, Y/n?”

That’s when she picked up her head and noticed Lando was staring at her. “Sorry, what?”

“The race,” Lando reminded her. “She was brilliant out there. Absolutely nailed it.” Y/n didn’t have the words to argue. Instead, she ducked her head, feeling both embarrassed and grateful.

The three drivers said their goodbye to the reporter and walked away. Lando threw an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, grinning. “You know, for someone who hates interviews, you’ve got a hell of a lot to say . . . just not when it’s on camera.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she felt a brief wave of gratitude for her friends’ protective camaraderie. She glanced at Oscar, who gave her a knowing nod, his usual quiet confidence offering her a sense of calm.

“You guys are unbelievable.” Y/n laughed lightly.

“Yeah well you’re the idiot who’s going to have to deal with us.” Lando replied.

“Unfortunately.” She teased.

“The idiot with the crocheting skills and silly little film reviews that are very popular on the box app.” Lando added.

“What?” Y/n stopped walking and stared at Lando. She looked over at Oscar for an answer, but the Aussie just shrugged his shoulders.

“I do believe our dear Y/n wants a hot priest?” Lando teased, bringing up Y/n’s lastest letterboxd review about Fleabag. “That’s a bit scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Hot priest?” Oscar couldn’t believe Lando had just said those two words together.

“You two don’t get it! Come on, we’re watching Fleabag!”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 #f1 driver!reader #platonic f1 x reader

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months ago

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As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 10

Written with the help of my beloved @munson-blurbs

Summary: The time comes for the first custody hearing between Eddie and his estranged wife. You do your best to be there for both him and his sons.

Note: I do not know the ins and outs of the legal system, so I did my best when it came to the court scene

Warnings: mentions of bad parents, Brittany, slut shaming, i think that's it?

Words: 9.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

There’s just over a week to go until the first court date and you can tell your boyfriend is on edge. Every time he sees the boys, he’s overly cheerful. You know he’s trying to make it seem like nothing is wrong, but the kids aren’t dumb. They see right through the forced happiness, even confiding in you after school one day about how weird they think Eddie is being. That night you pull him to the side to relay that message—but in much nicer terms.

Since that discussion, Eddie’s been more himself. He still forces himself to be more upbeat around the boys, but that’s more of wanting them to be around positivity and as much light as possible while they continue to struggle with the thought of two separate homes.

Once the boys are in bed, or are at the house with Brittany, you take advantage of the time alone with your boyfriend. He’s stressed beyond belief, and you want to make damn sure that he knows you’re here for him in whatever way he needs.

Evenings usually start with dinner, then a movie on the couch, but end up with Eddie’s head on your lap and you play with his hair as he gets things off his mind. Sometimes you just listen, sometimes you speak your mind in reply.

“I know I’m the better parent,” he tells you one night a few days before the trial. “But I also know that courts usually rule in the mom’s favor. And what if…what if the boys don’t want to be with me most of the time?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t they want that?” you ask. “You know you’re their favorite. Because you are the better parent.”

Eddie squeezes your hand gently where they rest entwined on his chest.

“I know. But home is familiar to them. It’s the only home Luke has ever known and the only one Ryan remembers. There are memories there, their old rooms are there, their favorite toys. It’s safe and comforting.”

“Do you think it’s going to feel that way with just Brittany around?” you ask in response. “Also, I think you have a double-edged sword there.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you said that the boys have memories there.” With your free hand you gently boop the tip of Eddie’s nose with your index finger. “I’m sure there are memories from that house that the boys would rather forget. Yeah, there are memories of Christmases and birthday parties, but there are also memories of Brittany screaming at them for no reason. Or of times when their mom was supposed to come home for whatever reason, like dinner or a special occasion, but she was late as usual. Here, Ryan and Luke won’t look at the front door and think of all the times they stared at it, waiting for it to open with their mother on the other side. The walls here don’t hold disappointments like the ones at the house do.”

Eddie gazes up at you with those big doe eyes and a charmingly crooked smile.

“My college girl is so smart,” he says softly.

You chuckle in reply and bring a hand up to his hair. Gently, you scratch your nails against his scalp. Eddie hums in appreciation and turns on his side so his face is buried in your belly. He mumbles against the material of your shirt, but you can’t make out what he said.

“What?”

He pulls away just enough for you to hear him.

“I’m scared.” His voice is low, and he keeps eyes on your midsection.

He’s never said that to you before. You frown as you gently card your fingers through his bangs.

“Of what?” you ask softly.

Eddie shrugs and you move your hand to cup the side of his face, your thumb gently brushing over his left cheekbone. It feels like the entire apartment complex has gone silent, not a sound to be heard except your breathing.

“A lot,” he finally admits. “Messing up in court and not getting to see my boys anymore. Brittany lying so viciously that I don’t get to see them anymore. Them deciding they don’t want to stay with me. Putting them in the middle of this and it messing with their heads. Of Brittany trying to turn them against me.” He pauses and chews on his bottom lip, and you know there’s something else that he doesn’t want to say. You don’t want to push him, but you also want to make sure he knows that he can confide in you.

“What, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. You watch the reflection of the ceiling fan spin round and round in his dark misty eyes. After a minute of silence, Eddie reaches up and takes one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to the back of it before he holds it in his own and rests them on his chest.

“I know I can,” he says. “But I know you. And if I tell you that I’m worried that you’re somehow going to get hurt during all of this, you’re just going to tell me not to worry about you. Which, I don’t know if you know this or not, doesn’t really work.”

It's another double-edged sword, that he knows this about you. Because, on the one hand, it feels really good to be known so well and loved so deeply by him. But on the other hand, now you can’t use that reasoning with him, which doesn’t give you much of a leg to stand on. Instead, you come up with another question.

“How do you think I’m going to get hurt?”

A long inhale puffs up Eddie’s chest before a heavy sigh deflates it.

“I’m worried someone is going to say something dumb on accident. Me or the boys. Or Brittany, only it wouldn’t be an accident. I’d rather you not be near us while all of this is going on, really. But I’m too selfish for that. I need you here with me.” He brings your joined hands up to his lips and presses a few kisses against your knuckles. “You keep me sane when the rest of the world is trying to throw me off my rocker.”

“Eddie, my love,” you begin, “it’s very sweet that you’re thinking about me but I’m not some delicate little flower that will crumble at an unintentionally—or intentionally, in her case—unkind thing that’s said while you’re all going through this. It’s insanely stressful, which can wear down patience sometimes. But I know you love me. I know the boys love me. The three of you would never say something to try and hurt me on purpose. And Brittany? Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what she says to me—or about me.”

A small smile grows on Eddie’s face, and you’re relaxed by the sight. He licks over his lips before he speaks.

“You be my rock now, and I promise to be yours from now on. Whenever you need me.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you know what you’re signing up for there, buddy,” you say with a chuckle.

“You somehow deal with me, a genius little boy who is always rattling off things that he’s learned, a little hellion tornado of a boy, and did I mention me? Princess, if you can handle the three of us, the three of us can be there for you with no problem.”

You gaze down at him with a fond smile on your lips.

“I feel super honored that you trust me enough to open up,” you tell him in a voice close to a whisper. “I know how lucky I am.”

“I open up to you because I feel safe with you,” he tells you. “It’s weird, I never… This is a new kind of safety for me. Finding safety in another person. I didn’t know this kind of thing existed.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you admit. “It’s a deeper level of trust than I’ve ever had before.”

“I thank God just about every damn day that you came into my life. And the boys’ lives.”

“Oh, Mr. Religious all of a sudden?” you tease, leaning down so your face is hovering over his.

“Hey,” Eddie says with a chuckle, “I’ll thank whatever being in whatever realm or universe that had us cross paths.”

“Maybe it was aliens,” you joke, widening your eyes in alarm.

“Then I’ll learn how to thank them in Klingon.”

Your nose wrinkles up, and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do aliens speak Klingon? Does Spock speak it? Is Spock even an alien?” you ask.

“Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my nerd knowledge doesn’t reach quite that far. You’ll just have to be content with me knowing an inordinate amount about D&D creatures.”

You shrug, pretending to consider it.

“I guess I can live with that.”

The long-awaited Monday has finally arrived, and it fills everyone with nerves. Eddie took the whole day off from work, so he takes his time making the boys breakfast and getting them ready for school.

As the two boys take their seats at the table, Eddie notices Ryan acting a bit more withdrawn than usual. Luke is his usual self, shoving spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth while his short legs swing back and forth beneath the table. Ryan is older and the more sensitive of the two, so Eddie isn’t surprised that he has the better sense of what will be happening today.

“Whatcha gonna be working on today in school?” Eddie asks his oldest as he plops down between his boys at the table, a full bowl of cornflakes thudding on the table in front of him.

“Oh, uh,” Ryan starts, looking down into his bowl as his spoon stirs marshmallow pieces around, leaving streaks of blue, pink, and green throughout the milk. “We’re reading about Sacagawea.”

“Ah, alright,” Eddie says between bites of cereal. “She was a pretty cool lady, huh?”

Ryan nods and scoops some oat pieces onto his spoon.

“Who’s Sar…Sarcas…Sarcophagus?” Luke asks through a mouthful of cereal.

“Sacagawea,” Eddie corrects him with a soft chuckle. “Go ahead, Ry. Tell us what you’ve learned so far.”

“Uh, okay.” He sounds less than thrilled. But when the second grader starts to talk about something interesting he’s learning, he gets excited. “She was a Native American. And she went with Lewis and Clark to explore the west.”

“What makes her so cool?” Luke asks, shoveling in another spoonful.

“She did the whole thing with her newborn baby strapped to her,” Eddie replies.

“And she was only sixteen,” Ryan adds.

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“She was a mommy at sixteen?”

Eddie thinks Luke’s eyes are going to pop out of his skull.

“People had babies earlier back then,” Ryan answers, much to Eddie’s relief. He also notices the improvement in Ryan’s mood now that his brain has something else to focus on.

The more pleasant atmosphere keeps up while the boys get dressed and Eddie packs their lunches. It does feel weird to put on a suit instead of his normal t-shirt and jeans, though.

“You look funny,” Luke says as his eyes scan over his father’s gray slacks and matching blazer.

“What else is new?” Eddie jokes, trying to keep the mood light. The white dress shirt tucked into his pants is an odd feeling and all Eddie can focus on is wanting to yank it free.

“Where’s your tie, Mr. Fancy Pants?” Ryan asks as he grabs his lunch off the counter.

Eddie stalls in his movements before turning to face his oldest son.

“Should I wear one?” He feels silly for asking the seven-year-old, but he feels self-conscious now that Ryan pointed it out.

“I dunno,” Ryan answers with a shrug. “I just thought you’d wear one.”

The first real tick of nervousness hits Eddie now. It irks him that it’s not even about court itself, but whether or not he should wear a tie. He sighs and goes to grab one of the few ties he owns from his dresser. You’ll know if he should wear it or not.

Instead of waiting for the bus, Eddie says he’s going to drive the kids to school since he has the time. He doesn’t have to be in court until this afternoon and he’s meeting you for coffee after your first class.

It’s a nice mellow morning and it continues to get better when they’re all loaded up in the truck and Luke turns on the radio.

“Ah, this song!” The six-year-old’s face lights up and he bops his head along to the beat. “It’s my favorite part!”

Both Ryan and Eddie join in to sing:

Chickity China, the Chinese chicken

You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'

Eddie turns the volume up as the truck approaches a red light. Once they’re completely stopped, Eddie thrashes his head back and forth, headbanging to the song that’s taken over the airwaves. Ryan and Luke both giggle, watching their father’s frizzy curls go flying all around, before joining in and headbanging to “One Week” as well.

The light turns green and Eddie resumes driving responsibly, but that doesn’t mean his boys have to stop headbanging.

It's been one week since you looked at me

Dropped your arms to the sides and said, "I'm sorry"

Five days since I laughed at you and said

"You just did just what I thought you were gonna do.”

Ryan finishes singing out the song while Luke flails his curls around for the remainder of it. It’s perfect timing, as Eddie is pulling into the drop-off lane at school just as the song ends.

“I’ll see you squirts later, alright? Have a good day at school.”

“Bye, Daddy!” Luke gives Eddie a quick side hug before climbing over his older brother to get out of the car.

“What time are you going to be home?” Ryan asks.

“I’m not sure,” Eddie tells him honestly. “But I’ll definitely be home in time for dinner.”

The boy nods, placated by this answer. He leans in and wraps his arms as far as he can around his dad’s torso.

“I love you,” Ryan says.

“I love you, too.” Eddie rubs his hand over his son’s back, trying to convey so many thoughts and emotions in the one touch.

It’s going to be okay.

I’ll see you soon.

I’ll never stop fighting for you.

The moment Eddie sees you tucked away into the corner booth at the small cafe on campus, he feels lighter. Simply being in your presence is enough to melt Eddie’s stresses away. Instead of sitting down across the table from you, Eddie decides to slide into the same booth you’re sitting at and instantly wraps his arms around your waist.

Without looking up from the book you’re reading for your Renaissance Literature class, you say, “If you’re going to feel me up you better hurry, because my boyfriend is on his way.”

“This boyfriend of yours is very lucky,” Eddie murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to the side of your neck.

“He is. Especially because I ordered his coffee just the way he likes it.” You shut your book and slide a white paper cup tucked into a brown cardboard sleeve in front of him.

“You taste better,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss just below your ear.

The feel of his warm breath dancing across your skin coupled with his sultry words sends a shiver down your spine. Eddie notices the little tremor that passes through your body and pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Drink your coffee,” you say, trying to will the heat away from your face as you put your book away. The last thing Eddie needs is to be late to court because you can’t keep your legs closed when it comes to him.

That statement is especially true when you turn and get your first real look at your boyfriend. You’ve never seen him in a suit before and the urge to drag him into the back of your car grows even stronger.

“Damn, you look good,” you say softly, leaning forward to run your hands over the material of the blazer.

Eddie does his best to ignore the way your eyes darken and how you bite your lip—but it’s tough. Maybe this suit isn’t so bad after all.

“Oh,” Eddie says as he remembers the rolled-up tie in his pocket. He fishes it out and holds it up for you to see. “I wasn’t sure if I should wear this or not.”

Your eyes take in the dark red tie, then look back over Eddie’s ensemble.

“I say yes. It’ll add a nice pop of color, as well.”

Eddie flips up his collar and slips the tie around his neck. You watch as his deft, guitar-playing fingers fiddle with it until it’s properly knotted.

“Do you think I should put my hair back?” Eddie asks.

Opposing emotions fight for dominance in your body. One side is getting worked up because he already looks drop dead gorgeous and now he wants to put his hair back in a bun? Is he trying to kill you? But the other side hears the slight shake in his voice and breaks because this poor man is so nervous and unsure. Never more have you wished for a magic wand to wave and make all his problems go away.

“Want me to tie it back for you, sweetie?”

He nods and you can see a minuscule amount of relief in his eyes. It’s no secret that he loves your hands in his hair, and it always calms him when you play with it. Though you don’t have time for that, you make sure to gently brush his hair back from his face with your fingers before securing it at the base of his neck.

When he turns back around to face you, he lets out a sigh that has his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly.

“I know.” You reach up and gently cup the side of his face. “But everything is going to be okay. You’re going to tell the judge the truth and he’ll see that you’re the all-around better parent. And I’ll pick up the boys from school like usual and distract them to keep their minds off of what’s happening today. Even if I need to use puppies and candy to do it.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head.

“Great. Now I get to worry about coming home to a hopped-up Luke begging me to keep a dog.”

You smile at him and lean forward to gently peck his lips.

“You’ve got this, Eddie.”

He takes a deep breath and nods his head.

“I got this.”

Everything echoes. That’s Eddie’s first thought as he steps inside the courthouse. Every footstep, every cough, every conversation bounces off the walls and reverberates in the hollow space of the atrium. Brown eyes take in the gray marble that seems to cover every surface. Towards a hallway to the left, Eddie spots his attorney, which relaxes him and kicks up his nerves at the same time.

“Hey, Carl,” Eddie greets as he approaches the man. He can’t help but notice that his lawyer’s suit looks infinitely more expensive than his own. It makes sense though, given that the man practically gets paid by the hour what Eddie makes in a day.

“How are you, Mr. Munson?” Carl asks as he offers his hand.

Eddie’s told him several times to call him by his first name, but it always reverts back to the more formal. It makes Eddie feel old, though. When he hears “Mr. Munson” he either thinks someone is talking about Wayne or has flashbacks to Ms. O’Donnell scolding him in high school.

“Doing alright,” Eddie replies, but his shaky tone conveys that it’s less than true.

“Ah, it’s going to be okay,” Carl says, gesturing for Eddie to follow him down a long hallway. “I’ve been in front of Judge Rogers plenty of times and he’s a fair guy. One of the better ones we could’ve asked for.”

Eddie nods his head and takes a deep breath as Carl comes to a stop in front of a set of mahogany double doors. The air in the courtroom is stifling, invading all of his senses. It only gets worse when he takes his seat next to his lawyer.

Sweat beads at the nape of his neck, and it takes all of his willpower not to yank off his tie right then and there. His slacks—a far cry from his usual cotton coveralls or denim jeans—itch his legs. His dress shoes are laced too tight, squeezing his toes until he feels his pulse in his feet.

I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.

Negativity floods every pore. Eddie shuts his eyes, steadying his breathing with reminders of who this is all for. In—Ryan. Out—Luke.

Happiness. Peace. Love. Family.

The room is silent, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. The secondhand glides past the twelve, signaling that it is now officially one o’clock. Time to begin. A glance at the other side of the courtroom shows that there is no other parent of Ryan and Luke present.

The mahogany doors open once more and Eddie looks over his shoulder, expecting to see his soon-to-be ex-wife. But the only person walking down to the front of the room is another lawyer, by the looks of his suit. Brittany’s lawyer, presumably. He’s taller and younger than Carl, but Eddie just tells himself that means Carl has more experience on his side.

A heavy door behind the judge’s stand swings open on squeaking hinges and a bailiff steps out, the judge following right behind him.

“All rise,” the bailiff says. There are only three others in the room, so Eddie, Carl, and the third attorney stand as the judge takes his seat.

“So, we’ve got Eddie Munson, correct?” Judge Rogers looks down at a few pieces of paperwork set in front of him before looking over the top of his bifocals at Eddie.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And it looks like Brittany Munson is not here.” Judge Rogers looks up at the other lawyer for confirmation.

“Um, no Your Honor, I—”

A large bang covers up his next words as the double doors are shoved open. This time when Eddie looks over his shoulder, it is Brittany hurrying into the room. Her usually impeccably styled hair is a little askew. It’s all pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, that she sometimes wears to work. Her outfit is also one of the many skirt and blazer sets that are part of her repertoire for her job at the bank.

Eddie glances at the clock on the wall again. Maybe this was her lunch break and there was traffic. But as Brittany gets closer, Eddie notices her blouse. It’s a silky pale blue that she’s worn a hundred times, but that’s not what catches his eye. It’s the fact that the blouse is not buttoned up correctly. She either missed a hole or there’s a button not tucked into where it’s supposed to be.

A low disbelieving chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s mouth at this all-too-common occurrence he became acquainted with during their marriage. The unkempt hair, the disheveled clothes, and the way her face is slightly flushed, and her breathing is a little faster than usual tells Eddie exactly why Brittany is late, and it has nothing to do with work. Unless it was one of her co-workers she was fucking. Hell, Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if she was fucking her lawyer.

“Nice of you to join us, Mrs. Munson,” the judge grumbles as Brittany takes her spot next to her lawyer.

Ugh, did he have to call her Mrs. Munson? Eddie internally gripes.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Brittany says as she tries to smooth back some loose strands of hair. She offers no explanation or excuse for where she’s been, and Eddie thinks that’s for the better.

“Alright.” Judge Rogers clears his throat before he smacks his gavel down. “Let’s begin.”

After school today it’s just you, Ryan, and Luke. Karen Wheeler came to pick up the Harrington kids and take them back to her place so your focus could be on the Munson boys.

Neither brother has said anything about their parents being at court today by the time you get back to Eddie’s apartment, and if they’re not going to bring it up, neither are you. You prepare them a snack while they sit at the kitchen table, starting on their homework.

It’s not long before the apple slices and peanut butter have disappeared, and the homework has been finished. Luke shoves his work folder back into his book bag and wanders off for a moment before returning with crayons and a small stack of paper. While he’s rummaging through the crayon box, Ryan reaches over and plucks the piece of paper on top of the pile. Instead of reaching over to use some of his little brother’s crayons, Ryan picks up the pencil he used for his homework and presses the tip of it onto the top of the sheet of paper.

“Whatcha doing, Ry?” you ask as you dry off their snack plate that you just washed.

“Um…” Ryan chews on his lip for a moment before looking up at you. “I wanna write a letter. Actually, can you help me?”

“Of course.” You put the plate away and make your way over to the table. The chair next to the seven-year-old scrapes against the floor as you pull it out to sit. “Who is the letter for?”

The little boy bites at his lip again and it makes you frown. This isn’t a usual habit of his. He avoids your eyes as he looks down at the blank paper, nerves radiating off of his small frame.

“The judge at court,” he finally says.

“Oh.” You clear your throat after realizing your pitch was too high. “What do you want to say?”

Ryan sighs and taps the point of the pencil against the paper.

“I don’t like that I can’t go with Daddy and tell the judge how I feel. They’re talking about me and Luke, but Daddy said they might not ask us what we want. I don’t like that.”

The words crack your heart. He feels like he has no control over the situation. and the sad fact is that you can’t tell him that he’s wrong. The court might not ask Ryan and Luke who they want to live with. But Ryan’s determination to have his voice be heard is a testament to how Eddie’s raising him.

“I’m proud of you,” you tell him, reaching up to move some of his hair off of his forehead. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“I also don’t wanna be there cause I’d be scared,” Ryan admits quietly.

“That makes complete sense, sweetheart. I think most adults even get nervous in court. I know I would be. Daddy doesn’t like it either. But he would do it over and over again for you both. He’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” he says confidently.

“Good.”

Luke’s crayons scratch against his paper, and you look over at him. He’s hunched over the table with his small tongue poking out as the green crayon moves back and forth against the page. He doesn’t seem stressed like his older brother is. You hope that’s really the case though, and he’s not hiding or internalizing his feelings.

“So,” you say with a sigh, turning to Ryan again, “how do you want to start the letter?”

So far, the hearing isn’t as bad as Eddie thought. For some reason he thought he’d be tripping over his words, not sure how to answer the questions asked of him. But even though it is nerve wracking, it’s pretty easy; all Eddie has to do is tell the truth.

“What is the living situation of the children?” the judge asks.

“They live with me in the house,” Brittany is quick to answer. “Eddie sees them after school sometimes, or on the weekend.”

“I just moved to a new apartment,” Eddie says once Brittany has finished. “And the boys are almost done setting up their rooms the way they like. So, I’ll start having them overnights as well.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

Brittany’s lawyer leans in to whisper something in her ear after the outburst.

Judge Rogers scribbles something down before moving on to the next question.

“How are each of you involved in their daily life?”

“I’m very involved,” Eddie makes sure to answer first. “I’m the one who makes them breakfast, moves them along to get ready for school, and gets them out on the bus. I know their favorite toys, games, shows, movies. You name it, I know it. They feel comfortable telling me anything because they know I’m always there for them.”

“He’s also very involved with the babysitter,” Brittany adds.

Eddie’s vision goes red. His hands tighten into fists beneath the table, and he does his best to breathe through his anger.

Brittany doesn't attempt to add anything further, which Eddie realizes is because there’s nothing much she can contribute. She doesn’t know anything about her own sons and has virtually no part in their everyday routines.

When the judge realizes there’s nothing else coming from Brittany, he moves on.

“That brings me to my next question, then,” he says. “What third parties are involved in their care?”

“My uncle, who is grandpa to the kids, will watch them sometimes,” Eddie says. “They like to go over and spend the night at his place a lot during the summer because they like to make s’mores over the fire pit. And there’s my best friends, Steve and Nancy, whose kids are best friends with my boys. So, they spend a lot of time there. And my, um, their babysitter. She picks them up from school every day and watches them until either I or Brittany come home from work.”

A witch’s cackle comes from the other side of the courtroom. Fitting, for who it’s coming from.

“That ‘babysitter’ is the whole reason why we’re in this mess! She’s a little homewrecker who seduced my husband and now they’re shacking up together with my kids there.”

If Eddie thought he was mad before, now he’s in danger of turning into the Hulk. Brittany dares to call you a homewrecker when she’s the one who has been cheating for most of their marriage? When she’s the one who has skipped out on countless family events just to go fuck some other guy? The fact that she even had the audacity to entertain the thought that she might have the higher ground? Eddie’s surprised flames aren’t shooting out of his ears.

“That isn’t true, Your Honor.” Eddie is doing his best to sound calm, but there’s a noticeable edge to his voice. “I mean, yes, I am involved with the babysitter, but the rest of what she said is a lie.”

Judge Rogers takes his bifocals off and sets them down on the desk in front of him. “Care to elaborate?”

“First of all, this divorce was a long time coming. I don’t mean to get crude, Your Honor, but Brittany has stepped out with countless men while we were married. It was lie after lie, but I knew the truth. And I was relieved when it was very obvious my sons are mine. That is what led us here today.”

“So, did you leave your wife for this babysitter? And are you living together?” Judge Rogers puts his glasses back on and makes another note.

“No, Your Honor,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “To be perfectly honest, I was at a place of not caring that I was constantly being lied to and cheated on anymore. I became numb and just went through the motions of my life. I didn’t want to break up my boys’ family, so I did nothing. But when I met her—the babysitter, she helped me realize that I deserve better. In my opinion, I was a great husband. I did my best and stuck it out. But it became clear that the atmosphere in the house was too hostile for the boys. I’d rather them have two peaceful homes than one painful one.” Eddie pauses and licks over his lips before continuing. “I briefly stayed with the babysitter while I went through the process of getting my apartment, but the boys never stayed the night there. And the babysitter continues to live in her apartment and I in mine.”

“How do the boys feel about this babysitter?” Judge Rogers asks as he keeps writing. Eddie can’t help but wonder what he’s taking down.

“They love her. In fact, they tried to set her and I up.”

Brittany scoffs but says nothing. Eddie refuses to look in her direction and keeps his focus on the judge.

Talking about you was relieving. Honestly, a part of Eddie had been afraid that he wouldn’t come off looking good if you got brought up. But he now sees how ridiculous that is, because in the reality of everything, Brittany has no leg to stand on whatsoever when it comes to you.

“This is a vacation with me and my best buddy.”

“Donald Duck?”

“No, silly, with you!”

A knock on the apartment door distracts you from A Goofy Movie, and you push yourself up off the couch, leaving a gap between the boys as you head to open it.

Wayne stands on the other side, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his rugged jeans.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets.

“Hey, Wayne. Come on in.” You move to the side so the older man can step inside.

“How they doing?” Wayne asks quietly, nodding his head towards the boys on the couch.

“I think they’re doing alright,” you tell him as you close the door, making sure to keep your voice low as well. “Ryan wanted to write a letter to the judge before. So, we did that, and I think it let him get some of his emotions out. Luke seems like his usual self. I’m just worried he’s bottling it all up.”

Wayne nods his head and lets out a small sigh.

“And how are you doing?” he asks.

The question catches you off guard. Honestly, you haven’t been thinking about how you’re feeling today. Your focus has been on Eddie and the boys and trying to make things as painless as possible for them.

“I’m…okay,” you say. “More worried about Eddie and the boys. It affects them more so than me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you, hon,” Wayne replies quickly. “You’re part of this family.”

His words cause you to choke on your emotions. He considers you family. He sees that you’re in this for the long haul and that you really do love and care for all of them.

You force yourself to swallow and take a deep breath. It’s like Wayne’s words also gave you permission to feel your feelings about this whole ordeal. The front you had been putting up for Eddie and the boys was up so consistently that a part of you forgot that you had your own fears and worries deep down. Now, with the turn of a key, they all flood your head, dizzying you as you hold onto the back of a kitchen chair for balance.

“How can I support him?” you ask, voice soft and wobbly. “What if I somehow make him feel worse?”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you. Luke lets out a chuckle over where he’s watching the movie on the couch still, so Wayne gestures for you to follow him into the kitchen.

“Darlin’, I don’t think you could do anything but make Ed feel better. You seen the way he lights up when you walk in a room? All you gotta do is be there for him. Ask him how he is. Listen to him. Nothing special, just what you’ve been doing for him all along.”

“Well, that’s easy,” you say.

Wayne smiles and you tilt your head in question.

“It might seem a simple thing to you…but Ed ain’t had that kind of support in a relationship before. He ain’t been able to open up and talk freely. I remember he learned real quick to keep how he was feeling to himself when he started dating her. It broke me, but what could I do? He was dumb and in love. If I said anything ‘bout it, I would’ve lost my relationship with him and I wasn’t about to do that. But, hell, I saw him be open and comfortable with you practically from day one. You’ve always been willing to lend an ear and somethin’ inside of him picked up on that right away. Hon, by just being his friend you gave him more than his own wife did. It’s just who you are. And it’s part of why everyone in this home loves you so much.”

It’s impossible to see Wayne clearly through the tears that have pooled in your eyes. You refuse to let them fall, not wanting the boys to see even a hint of a tear track on your face. But your heart is so full it feels like it could burst. Somehow Wayne always knows the right thing to say. You’ve been grateful from the start that the man took Eddie in after everything went to hell with his parents, but it’s so obvious that was the best thing for Eddie for a myriad of reasons. No one could have raised him better or taken care of him more.

“Thank you, Wayne.”

“It’s nothing, darlin’,” he says with a shake of his head. “I should be thanking you. For loving my boy the way he’s always deserved. All my boys.” He looks over to the couch where Ryan is sound asleep, and Luke looks to be in a losing battle with the sandman himself.

“That’s something you never have to thank me for,” you tell him. “It’s the greatest pleasure of my life.”

As many times as Eddie got in trouble as a kid, he’s never been interrogated by the police before. Never had one of those moments you see on television where someone sits in an uncomfortable metal chair as a light shines in their face bright enough to burn their retinas. But sitting here, answering question after question for the judge, starts to feel like an interrogation after a while. Eddie could talk about his boys all day and night, but this was mostly talking about himself when it comes to the boys. He’s starting to feel over it all. But he keeps pressing through, always thinking of those two sweet faces at home anytime he wants to throw in the towel.

“What are each parent’s plans for housing and stability loving forward?” Judge Rogers asks.

“I’m in the house,” Brittany reiterates, a smug tinge to her words. “With the yard and the pool.”

“Will you be able to remain there with solely your income?” The judge follows up.

Brittany’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. It tickles Eddie, but he manages to keep the smile off his face as he looks across the room at his ex.

“I, u-um…” Brittany stutters.

She’s got nothing, Eddie realizes. He knows her finances very well, having shared bills with her for the last decade. The mortgage took up most of their combined incomes every month, so Eddie knows there’s no way she can afford to stay there without him.

“I’ll be able to remain there for a time,” Brittany finally says. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

Eddie has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, leaving little crescent moon shapes behind, so he doesn’t burst out laughing. Brittany’s not going to get a second job. She hates the first one enough as it is. All Eddie can think of “making it work” meaning is finding a sugar daddy, winning the lottery, robbing the bank she works at, or maybe borrowing money from her parents. Or a worst case scenario would be Brittany’s sister Sandy and her bratty kids moving in with her.

“Mr. Munson?”

“As I’ve said, I have a new apartment. It’s now all fully furnished, all unpacked, and the boys have their rooms.” Eddie hates how repetitive this all is. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s mentioned his apartment, and he’s sure the judge knows it by now as well, but Eddie understands there are procedures that need to be followed. No matter how annoying they are.

“Are there any concerns about the safety or well-being of the children in either home?” Judge Rogers asks, looking back and forth from Eddie to Brittany over the rim of his glasses.

“I have reason to believe the boys are better off with me, due to Eddie’s drinking.”

This time Eddie almost succumbs to his rage. Brittany lying and the judge believing her was one of his worst fears, and here she is trying to do just that. Eddie can’t remember the last time he had a hard drink, only a beer or two after work. And actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he isn’t sure when he last had a beer. After moving into his apartment, he thinks. A bunch of them drank beer with the pizzas they had once the work was done. But a moment of clarity leads Eddie to a realization. He used to come home every night and have a beer. Now, it occurs to him that he hasn’t had a beer after work in a number of weeks. Because he doesn’t need one to deal with Brittany. He doesn’t need to attempt to numb himself to the horrible woman he was living with. Now he comes home to you. He can hug you, kiss you, talk with you. There’s something to be excited for when he comes home, now. You and his boys.

“Drinking?” Judge Rogers asks her.

“Yes, Your Honor. Eddie drinks every night.”

“Is this true, Mr. Munson?”

“No,” Eddie responds confidently. “I used to have a beer or two when I’d come home from work, but that hasn’t happened in at least a month. And it was never more than one or two beers. I have never been drunk in front of my boys, but Brittany is not able to say the same.”

“Is this true, Mrs. Munson?”

“No,” she lies reflexively. The boys may have been too young to realize that’s what was going on with their mom, but it was most certainly the case.

Eddie catches a quiet sigh from the judge as he jots down another note. It causes some of his nerves to flutter back in.

“Any other concerns about safety or well-being?”

“Perhaps you should mention how your upbringing has caused you to prioritize the safety of your boys,” Carl says softly to Eddie.

He nods and clears his throat before speaking.

“Your Honor, I lived in an unsafe environment with my parents when I was young. Thankfully, I was placed with my uncle instead, which is the best possible place I could have been. I’ve lived and seen the difference between a home that has the well-being of children prioritized and one that doesn’t. It taught me how to make sure that my boys are always safe. Not just child-proofing the space or taking them to the doctor, but also by making sure they know how loved they are and that they can make mistakes and everything will be okay. That my love is unconditional, and I’ll always be on their side.”

“Would you say Mrs. Munson has those same priorities?” Judge Rogers asks.

“No.” Eddie didn’t even need to consider the question. He has so many examples on the tip of his tongue that if he told them all, they’d be there for days. “There have been instances of Brittany hiding the fact that our son Luke was sick from me, then taking him out of state just so her plans weren’t canceled. Both boys have also made remarks to me about knowing their mother does not care about them.”

“The boys have a preference?” Judge Rogers asks.

“Yes. They’ve both informed me that they’d prefer to be with me.”

“I don’t believe that,” Brittany immediately snaps back.

“Feel free to ask them,” Eddie responds without looking in her direction.

Carl nods at Eddie, letting him know he’s doing a good job. It comforts Eddie, but more than anything, he wishes for this to be over already.

Thankfully, it’s only a short time later that the judge wraps things up.

“Alright, let’s get to the temporary custody arrangement,” he says. “What is the arrangement between the two of you now?”

“The babysitter,” Brittany begins, the acidity emphasized on your title, “brings them either to my house or the apartment, depending on our schedules.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way from now on, then,” Judge Rogers declares. “It’ll be fifty-fifty custody right now. Between the two of you, look at your schedules and decide how you’ll split the time. Weekends are also fifty-fifty, which can either be one parent with them on Saturday and one on Sunday, or both days with a single parent every other weekend.”

The arrangement doesn’t thrill Eddie, but he’s mostly relieved that Brittany didn’t get primary physical custody. He can live with this back and forth right now if he has to.

Court is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief as he steps outside. The stuffiness of the courthouse disappears, and Eddie feels he can take a deep breath for the first time since entering earlier this afternoon.

“Okay, let’s figure this out.”

Eddie looks behind him to see Brittany approaching him, her lawyer not exiting the building with her.

“Okay.” The familiar feeling of wanting to rip Brittany’s head off is right below the surface, but Eddie knows he has to keep things civil.

“Why don’t you come back to the house, and we’ll talk about it? Since the boys are at the apartment.”

There’s a glimmer in her eye that instantly makes Eddie uncomfortable. Going back to the house with her? With them being the only two there? His stomach roils at the thought. Eddie has absolutely no trust in this woman whatsoever, and he wouldn’t put it past her to try something when they’re alone. Whether she tries to seduce him or uses the period of time to later claim that he harmed her in some way, Eddie isn’t risking it. He also wants to spend the least amount of time possible with her.

“Why don’t we go to a diner or something?” Eddie offers instead.

Brittany stares at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. It’s clear she’s irritated, but is she really dumb enough to think Eddie would fall for whatever is going on in that twisted mind of hers?

“Whatever,” Brittany scoffs. “I’ll do Monday to Wednesday morning, and you can do Wednesday night to Friday.”

The fact that she already had a plan in her back pocket only enforces Eddie’s idea that she wanted him to come back with her for another reason.

“Weekends we’ll do by ear? Depending on if you work Saturdays or not,” Eddie says.

“Fine. Have your tramp drop them off at the house tomorrow.”

“Brittany…” Eddie seethes.

“Bye.” She gives him a small wave over her shoulder, throwing him an over-the-top smile before heading towards her car.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mumbles to himself as he heads towards his car in the opposite direction. “How did I ever love that bitch?”

As much as Eddie is yearning to see you and the boys, he knows he needs some time to cool off before going home. He takes a detour to visit the man who has the best track record of talking him down off the ledge.

“None of that surprises me, sadly,” Wayne says once Eddie finishes filling him in on the hearing.

Eddie rolls out his neck, trying to dispel some of the tension as he stretches out on the couch next to his uncle.

“What do I do?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. “How am I supposed to refute every goddamn lie she tells?”

“You just tell the truth,” Wayne says simply. “You got nothing to hide. Everyone knows you’re better for the boys, all you gotta do is let the judge see it, too.”

“How the hell did you go through this for me?” Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah, well, at least Al had the decency not to fight me tooth and nail.”

Eddie chuckles. “At eleven, I never thought I’d be happy about that. But thank God.”

“I know what ya need.” Wayne smacks Eddie’s thigh before pushing himself up and walking into the small kitchen.

“Oh, Wayne, no beer,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna touch the shit at all, now.”

“I’m not getting you beer, ya dingbat,” Wayne teases, making Eddie smile.

The older man grabs two mugs off the wall–an old army one and Eddie’s favorite Garfield one. Wayne pulls a glass bottle of YooHoo out of the fridge and pops open the lid. Eddie laughs as he gets up and goes to join his uncle near the refrigerator.

“Your favorite as a kid,” Wayne says as he pours half the bottle into each mug.

“Luke’s favorite now,” Eddie adds.

“What, you think I have this here for me?” Wayne asks as he tosses the empty bottle into the trash.

“Eh, you’re a kid at heart,” Eddie says, picking up the orange cat mug.

“Here’s to the best outcome we could hope for,” Wayne says as he raises his cup.

“Brittany getting eaten by the Loch Ness Monster?”

Wayne snorts a laugh and shakes his head.

“Sounds good to me. Hopefully the judge can sentence her to that.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Eddie clinks his mug against his uncle’s and they both down the chocolate milk.

The pots and pans clatter together as you pull out the skillet to get started on dinner. Just as your hand reaches for the dial to turn on the burner, the front door opens. You immediately set the pan down and march right over to Eddie. Without saying a word, you wrap your arms around his middle and pull him into a hug.

A small smile grows on his lips as he returns your embrace. He hums softly as he closes his eyes and rests his head against yours.

“How’d you know I needed this?” he asks quietly.

“Lucky guess,” you mumble against his shoulder.

He pulls back, but you don’t let go of him. Your hands rest on his waist, below the blazer, as he drops his wallet and keys on the counter. His back arches and stretches as he shrugs out of the blazer and tosses it onto a barstool.

“What did you and the munchkins get up to today?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you again.

“Y’know,” you say with a shrug. “I let them bungee jump, then skydive, and then they ate their weight in Pixy Stix.”

“I figured.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Daddy!” Ryan runs in the room and takes advantage of the small space between you and his father to wriggle in. But when you try to step away to let the little boy have his father all to himself, Ryan catches your hand and keeps you there with the two of them. “What happened today?”

“Just answered a bunch of questions,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to ruffle his sandy hair.

“Did Mom go?”

“She did.” Eddie nods. “We talked with the judge and with each other. Everyone just wants to make sure you and Luke are happy.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder at you, then back to his father.

“Can I show you my letter?”

“Letter?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing.

“Ry wanted to write a letter to the judge,” you explain, resting your hands on the seven-year-old’s shoulders.

“I’d love to read it,” Eddie tells him.

The little boy slips out from between the two of you and goes to pick up the piece of paper on the kitchen table. He comes back and silently hands it to Eddie.

Dear Judge,

My name is Ryan Wayne Munson, and I am Eddie’s oldest son. I am seven years old and my brother Luke is five. I know we are young and sometimes grown-ups don’t listen to kids, but I wanted to share how I feel anyway. My daddy is the best man in the world, and he loves me and Luke more than anyone else in the world. We are always happier when we are with him than with our mom. Our mom has missed lots of things in mine and Luke’s lives. I had a Christmas concert last year and she didn’t show up at all, even though I had a solo and was very excited. But Daddy made sure I got there on time and told me how good I was and how proud he is of me. He always makes sure to tell me that. And he tells Luke, too.

I don’t want to live at the house with my mom. I want to live at the house with my daddy, but I know he does not live there anymore. Even though I love my first room and my house, I would rather live with Daddy anywhere. I have a cool new room at his apartment and Daddy worked hard to help make it special for me.

I am writing this letter while you are having your first meeting with my mom and dad. I had some help with spelling and punctuation, but the words are all mine. I would be scared to come to court and talk, but if it meant that I would get to live with my daddy, I would do it. I know Luke would too. I hope this letter helps you make your decision.

Love,

Ryan

Eddie can’t help but smile through his tears at the endearing “love” signoff. That’s Ryan in a nutshell; always spreading love.

The words have restored Eddie’s exhaustion and fill his drained soul.

Small arms wrap around Eddie and large brown eyes look up at him.

“Why are you crying, Daddy?” Ryan asks.

“Because that was a really sweet letter, Ry.”

The older brother doesn’t get a chance to respond as Luke rushes into the room and runs head-first into his dad.

“Daddy! Can we get ice cream for dinner?”

“After dinner?” Eddie suggests, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” Luke pouts, “because then I’ll be too full.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as he lets out a laugh.

“You earned yourself an extra piece of broccoli with dinner tonight, kid,” he tells his son.

Luke lets out a growl and sticks his tongue out at Eddie. Eddie sticks his tongue right back out at the five-year-old, who giggles in response.

“Oof,” Eddie grunts as he scoops Luke up and throws him over his shoulder. “What do you say we order pizza? Hmm? Have a movie night?”

“Yes!” Luke cheers.

“Can we watch Hook?” Ryan asks.

“Sounds great,” Eddie says, rubbing his hand over Ryan’s hair.

You watch as the three of them head towards the couch. It’s impossible not to smile as Eddie plops Luke down on the cushions and flops down next to him. The youngest Munson laughs as Eddie rolls on top of him and laughs even harder when Ryan gets on top of the pile of boys.

Tears begin to fill your eyes as you reach for the telephone. You sniff and blink them away as you scan the fridge for the magnet with the pizzeria’s phone number on it. Hearing the three of them laugh as they roughhouse is a balm to your heart after the stress of the day. Unfortunately, this is just the beginning of the journey to keep these boys where they belong, but as long as there is laughter and love at the end of days like today, you think it won’t be so bad after all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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quinnfebrey · 5 months ago

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to anyone making jokes about how brittany and patrick need to “stay away from her” im gonna need you to sit down in a quiet room and reflect on the fact that she’s a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. she is choosing, actively, to put herself in these positions and be around these people. pretending like you can infantilize her out of being responsible for her choices is frankly just embarrassing

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ltwilliammowett · 5 months ago

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Memorial Brooch to Rear Admiral McKerlie, Died 12th Septr 1848. Aged 74 years, 1848

Rear Admiral John McKerlie (1774-1848) entered the Royal Navy as a volunteer in April 1794 having been at sea in the Atlantic and Baltic merchant service from a young age. Rated Able Seaman, he was sent from the receiving ship Royal William to join the elite frigate force based at Falmouth that cruised the Channel countering the activities of French commerce raiders. McKerlie was assigned to the frigate Arethusa (38) commanded by one of the most successful frigate captains of the day, Captain Sir Edward Pellew.

In early 1795 McKerlie followed Pellew into the 44-gun heavy frigate Indefatigable with the rate of Quarter-Gunner. Owing to a sound Scottish education and his knowledge of the sea McKerlie was soon acting as Indefatigable’s schoolmaster instructing the other eighteen ‘young gentleman’ of the gunroom in the specifics of their profession, having himself been appointed a midshipman. Throughout 1795 and 1796 he participated in the capture of the numerous French prizes which brought further fame and glory to Sir Edward Pellew. It was however early the next year that Indefatigable fought what is generally regarded as one of the boldest frigate actions of the French Revolutionary War.

On the dark and stormy night of 13 January 1797 the French 74 Droits de l’Homme was sighted off the Brittany coast. Pellew, recognizing that he was heavily outclassed, saw that the waves prevented his opponent from opening the lower gun ports and that the severe weather had caused the loss of the enemy’s topmasts. Seizing the initiative, Indefatigable closed followed by the frigate Amazon and raked the French ship of the line at every opportunity. The enemy replied with 4,000 canon balls over the next few hours until finally driven in to Audierne Bay irreparably damaged by British gunfire and the unabated gale. The sight of distant breakers however threatened the destruction of all three ships. Indefatigable, though with masts damaged and with four feet of water in her hold, alone just had time to alter course and escape.

For Pellew the action was a triumph, Lord Spencer at the Admiralty acknowledging that for two frigates to destroy a ship of the line was ‘an exploit which has not I believe ever before graced our naval Annals’. For McKerlie the action was a trauma, costing him his right arm and a severe wound to the thigh. McKerlie's sacrifice was deeply felt Sir Edward Pellew whom he followed to his subsequent command, the mutinous ship of the line Impetueux. While serving aboard the Impetueux, McKerlie participated in numerous boat actions during the Quiberon expedition in 1800, and was present during the planning of a proposed attack on Belleisle. Marshall’s Royal Naval Biography relates how McKerlie ‘…not having heard how he was to be employed, went up to Sir Edward, interrupted him in a conversation with Major-General Maitland, and asking what part he was to act in the event of a debarkation taking place? The answer was “McKerlie you have lost one hand already, and if you loose the other you will not have anything to wipe your backside with; you will remain on board with the first lieutenant and fight the ship as she is to engage an 8-gun battery.”’

The loss of an arm did little to impede McKerlie’s career. He was regarded as a talented surveyor and draftsman, working at onetime with the celebrated civil engineer Thomas Telford. He was also considered a first class shot. He received his lieutenant’s commission in 1804 and served in H.M.S. Spartiate at the Battle of Trafalgar on 21 October 1805. He was present in the capture of Flushing and the Walcheren expedition, and commanded a squadron of ships stationed off Heligoland; oversaw the defence and retreat from Cuxhaven; and was responsible for destroying enemy shipping on the Braak.

Unable to get a command after 1813, McKerlie returned to his native Galloway where he married, Harriet, daughter of James Stewart of Cairnsmuir, had one daughter, Lillias (1821-1915), to either or both of whom the present brooch no doubt belonged. In a post service career McKerlie served as a local magistrate and operated commercial vessels from the port of Garlieston. After almost twenty years ashore, he made an unlikely returned to the Royal Navy as captain of the experimental frigate Vernon between 1834 and 1837. He was awarded a Pension for Wounds on 8 May 1816.

Despite the ever growing kudos that was accorded to Trafalgar veterans in the early Victorian age, it is perhaps with greater pride that Admiral McKerlie recalled his service under Pellew (or Lord Exmouth, as he became); and in 1847 was one of only eight surviving veterans who had lived long enough to apply for the Naval General Service Medal with a clasp for the Droits de L’Homme engagement. The following year, in 1848, he died at Corvisel House, Newton Stewart, at the age of seventy-three.

#naval history #naval artifacts #memorial brooch #18th century #19th century #age of sail #rear admiral mckerlie #trafalgar veteran

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best-seungkwality · 2 months ago

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"stars, screams, and spoonings"

pairing: hazel callahan x popular!easily-scared-of-horror!reader

summary: astrocamp in highschool with less stargazing, and more horror movie marathoning and waking up in hazel's arms.

contains/warnings: fluff; highschool romance; nothing else that's too explicit or serious c:

author's yap note/s: ofc my first fic here would be wuh luh wuh based on a catholic all-girls highschool memory as a gay 😩

The hallways were buzzing with excited juniors and seniors that afternoon, organized into neat lines of students. It was Astrocamp day for them, so they were preparing to go to the field to put up their tents and place their things inside. Astrocamp had finally made its comeback from the trenches, giving them a free sleepover in their tents under the stars after a night’s worth of fun activities like stargazing and using the telescopes.

“Gosh, guys, this is so exciting. I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go look at so many stars.”

You looked to your right and saw one of your classmates, and of course, your crush, Hazel Callahan, with a huge smile on her face— a huge contrast to the other girls around her. You felt bad that they didn’t share her joy as always, but it didn’t seem to mind her.

PJ noticed you were staring at their group and shot you a smile. Ah, you remembered that she did harbor a small admiration for you too, but one that’s not as intense as her crush for Brittany. You returned the smile before putting your attention to your own group of friends in your class. Your bestfriend, bff/n, was already looking at you knowingly. You rolled your eyes, simply making a face in response. She chuckled and looped her arms around yours, not pushing it for now. There was plenty of time for that later for her.

“Alright, you children. Go to the field and pick your own spots. Make sure a class’s tents cluster together for easier monitoring,” the head disciplinarian announced then ushered the sections closest to the exit of the building to get a move on.

You smiled, finally feeling as excited as your friends at the night to come. And your class was going to be camping together— technically— so who knows what interaction you may have with Hazel at the romantic setting of the night under the stars.

“Nooo!”

“There better be a refund!”

“This is so annoying.”

Complaints and groans erupted from the students after it was just announced that Astrocamp was cancelled and everyone would be moved into their classrooms to spend the night due to the sudden rains that poured. If there was anything the school was good at, it was avoiding responsibilities, so naturally, when the risk of students getting sick because of their activity appeared, they decided not to push through with camping. It was a real bummer because it was an opportunity for juniors and seniors to actually have fun at school, especially that it was finals season. Now, they were just stuck in their classrooms, their sleeping bags and other things for bedtime forced to be used on the tiled floors.

As for your class, everyone just went inside your designated room and set up their own sleeping mats, bags and blankets to cozy up for the night. Your heart did a small flip when you realized that your friend group and Hazel’s were beside each other, and she had set up her sleeping mat next to yours. You gave her a smile, which she thankfully returned, before the both of you looked away.

“I saw that,” bff/n whispered once you were facing your friends again. “You’re popular; Hazel’s cute and obviously has a crush on you. Why don’t you just make the move so we can stop with this insufferable little interactions that make me wanna crash your lips into each other!” She ranted exasperatedly. She had been your #1 supporter-slash-teaser, so she knew every bit of your relationship with Hazel— which, sadly, wasn’t much yet. Yet.

“I wanna be with her, bff/n, but c’mon. You know I’m not the most confident in making a move.”

Bff/n rolled her eyes. “Right, because it’s others who make a move on you. Forgot about that.”

The two of you laughed, but when your other friends started pestering the two of you about your crush again, you stayed mum until they changed the topic about their crushes. You’re honestly glad they respected the relationship you had with bff/n and your boundaries in the friend group. You had your special bonds with each of them, and you appreciated them for being such good friends to you.

“Guys, since we’re gonna be here for the night, are you all up for a horror movie marathon?” Your class president asked as she was preparing the laptop, white screen, and speakers. You’re not one to break the rules, but since it was the admin’s fault that Astrocamp wouldn’t push through in another schedule, you also felt like there had to be some compensation— like doing whatever the hell you all wanted.

One problem, though, is that you weren’t good with horror movies. You always loved the thrill, but you also always had to cover a big chunk of your line of sight, just enough to see the captions to still know what was going on. It was an unfortnate paradox.

But it wasn't like you could stop her because everyone chattered excitedly and started suggesting the horror movies they want in the lineup. So far, there was Smile, La Llorona, and Sinister listed on the whiteboard. You bit your lip with worry, already wondering how you were going to survive the night.

"Scared?"

You looked towards who asked you and saw Hazel with a small smile on her face. You sighed and nodded.

"I love watching the thrill of watching them, but I also get scared easily. I guess I'm gonna have to cover my eyes and just listen."

Hazel let out a low chuckle, making your heart skip a beat again at how attracted you were to her at this point.

"Hey, we're just beside each other. You can hide next to me."

"I'll keep that in mind," you grinned, feeling giddy at the thought of actually getting that close to Hazel, almost like you two were alone, cuddling while watching movies.

When your class's movie marathon started, you bought some time for yourself by inviting your friends to take a shower and do preparations for bed. Smile was not exactly your cup of tea due to the gore and triggering themes.

You guys talked about silly girl things, like your friends' relationships and interactions with their crushes, or what a bummer it was to not be able to do the actual Astrocamp. You all paid good money to use those telescopes, but at least some of it was returned for your dinner and snacks tonight. The rest, probably corrupted somewhere.

When enough time had passed, they suggested joining your other classmates in the room for the movie marathon. Your friend group had been talking for at least an hour, so maybe Smile was finished.

Thankfully, it really was. La Llorona was finally playing, which you considered one of the "chiller" horror movies. You went to your sleeping mat, positioned between bff/n and Hazel, whose eyes were glued to the screen. She mumble a short greeting to acknowledge your presence, but she remained focused on the story. 'Cute.'

You got cozy under the covers, turning on the more comfortable side, which was coincidentally facing Hazel. While she was probably clueless about how you two were facing each other, you were hyperaware of everything, including how close your faces were.

"Omygod!" You snapped out of your thoughts when La Llorona's scary face popped up on the wide screen, scaring you with the annoying sound effects they used for jumpscares.

It was a good thing the others were also surprised by the jumpscare, or else you would've caught everyone's attention. You covered your eyes with a hand, peeking only at the subtitles.

You saw Hazel stir from her statue position and give you a concerned look. "Y/n, you okay?" She whispered. "Wanna come closer and hide?"

"You haven't even asked me out yet," you told her, trying to play it cool even though the face of La Llorona was still etched in your mind.

Hazel looked a bit panicked and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that- but if you want it to be like that, I'm not opposed- BUT yeah.."

You put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "Don't worry, I was joking around to lighten the mood," you said, trying to reassure her, which seemed to work.

The two of you tried your best to focus on the movie again, now a bit more conscious of your proximity. For the most part, you were able to enjoy watching, if you were going to ignore how many times the sound effects frustrated and scared you. You didn't even notice your eyes becoming heavier by the minute towards the end of La Llorona— that was how comfortable you felt in your current position, whatever it was.

"Oh my gosh, that is so cute, just kick me in the stomach."

"Shush! You're gonna wake them up! I need to have thousands of pics to tease y/n with."

The first thing that registered in your brain was how cozy you felt and something that smelled really nicely, but when you kept hearing the whispers around you, your eyes fluttered open to peek at what was going on around you.

"Mm, shut up," you heard someone mumble in their sleep, and before you could react, you were suddenly pulled closer in someone's hold. Your eyes now widened, and you woke up to see none other than Hazel Callahan spooning you.

Hazel's face looked so serene and beautiful in the morning light— it was so nice to just stare at that kind of face lesbians would go to war for. Involuntarily, you reached out and caressed her cheek softly, not wanting to wake her up.

"Oh, that's so cute!" Someone squealed, finally waking Hazel up and making you get back to your senses.

The two of you saw that your classmates had surrounded your sleeping mat, their cellphones out to apparently take pictures of Hazel being the big spoon. You looked at Hazel and saw that she shared the same intense blush, being the center of attention and being in a romantic position with you.

"Ah, gosh, sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine!" You interrupted, getting up in a flash, grabbing things to freshen up before leaving the campus, and going to the washroom. You simply ignored the gushes and side comments everyone was spouting as you pushed past the crowd.

You closed the door of the washroom, despite it being communal, and stared at your beet red cheeks. That was not what you expected to happen, even if it was the best thing that you experienced. No wonder you slept so soundly— Hazel was spooning you!

"I'm coming in," you heard said person call from outside, and she really did come in. Thankfully, she also closed to door to block off the girls who wanted to gossip.

"Hazel, I'm sorry I-"

"I'm not sorry." She pursed her lips, breathed in deeply, before continuing, "That was the best sleep and cuddle I've had my whole life, and you know why? Because it was with you. I am sorry if you felt like boundaries were crossed, but I also want to tell you— now or never— that I have been madly in love with you since I laid my eyes on you and talked to you. And I know- I'm sorry, I'm rambling, but-"

You let out a relieved laugh at Hazel's confession. This was truly the best moment of your life.

"Then I'm not sorry either," you beamed at her, "I like you- a lot, Hazel."

Hazel beamed back and gathered your messy selves in a tight hug. "Oh, thank heavens."

The two of you separated when you heard giggles and more whispers from outside the washroom. You laughed together and opened the door, raising your intertwined fingers to tell them, "Yeah, we like each other!"

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #ruby cruz #wlw #oneshot #x reader #kittanthalos

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