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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds.

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen.

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks.

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him.

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds.

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright.

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too.

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there.

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age.

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs.

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk.

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?”

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?”

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion.

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday.

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table.

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?”

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better.

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!”

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle.

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water.

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher.

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass.

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed.

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself.

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days.

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you.

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track.

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons:

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you.

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace.

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words.

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back.

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt.

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them.

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room.

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie.

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same.

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side.

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore.

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had.

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot. “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss.

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

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wintersoldiersoul · 5 months ago

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Drowning

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one but I'm currently going through this situation with my boyfriend and I thought that writing about it might help me feel better. Haven't gotten to the part where I talk to him about it but maybe this will inspire me.

It was late. Too late. You should be sleeping but it was impossible with your mind racing. You and Bucky had been together for almost a year now but you never really felt secure in your relationship with him. Maybe it was the way that your last boyfriend had broken up with you out of nowhere. You wish you knew why, but you always felt like Bucky was going to run.

As much as you loved him, you also wanted more from him. More reassurance. More romance. More small gestures to show you that he cared. And you couldn’t blame him for not giving them to you when you hadn’t asked but as much as you preached the importance of communication to your friends, you were a hypocrite. You could never apply that to your own relationship.

Everytime you tried to express your feelings, you couldn’t do it. What if I’m right? What if I tell him that I’m afraid he’s gonna leave and he finally takes it as his chance to do so? You would think. Or what if I plant the idea in his head?

All of this was made harder by the fact that you were younger than him. While he was established with a career, living on his own, you had just graduated college and were back living with your parents. Finding a job felt nearly impossible despite the countless resumes and cover letters that you sent out every single day. Your brain constantly flashed back to a conversation you had in May, where you asked him if you would stay together when you moved back home. Your hometown was less than an hour from where Bucky lived in Brooklyn, so in your mind it was a no brainer. But when your question opened up a conversation that blindsided you.

Bucky explained that he was ready to be settled down. You were shocked when he had said the words, “Sometimes it feels like we have an expiration date.”

The next morning he said he was being ridiculous. That he loved you and of course the two of you would figure it out. But ever since then, you hadn’t been able to relax. Even now, a month into you living back at home you still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to change his mind. You saw him just as often as you had when you were still living in the city. You didn’t mind taking the train to go see him 3 or 4 times a week. But the stress and anxiety was weighing on you. Combined with adjusting to post-grad life, you were not doing well.

You had never felt so lonely in your life. All of your college friends had also moved back to their hometowns while most of your friends from high school were still dispersed around the country. The job search left you feeling defeated every single day. And the lack of things to do and structure made life feel meaningless. It was safe to say that you had hit a low point.

But you wanted to hide it all from Bucky. Because what if you brought up how hard it was to find a job and he realized that this wasn’t going to work? What if you told him how lonely you were and he was offended that he wasn’t enough? He knew that you struggled with anxiety and he was no stranger to mental health issues of his own but you just found it impossible to open up to him about all of this.

So there you were, in the midst of another sleepless night overthinking everything. Laptop opened, frantically searching on LinkedIn for jobs in the hopes that one thing just might work out. You read back your text messages from the past few days. Does he seem distant, or is my stupid brain playing tricks on me? As your spiral continued, you could feel a panic attack brewing. You tried your best to focus on your breathing but it became impossible. You just wanted to talk to Bucky. You needed to talk to Bucky.

Fuck it, you thought. Losing him would be horrible, but so is living in this fear. Through your tears and shaking hands, you typed a message.

Y/N: Are you awake?

You shook your legs and bit your nails as you stared at the screen waiting for those three dots to show up.

Bucky: Yeah.

You took a deep breath as you sent the next message, trying to not go crazy over the dry single word he had responded with.

Y/N: Can I call you?

You desperately wished you could be with him right now to have this conversation. To analyze his body language in person. But you weren’t with him and you wouldn’t see him til the end of the week and you needed to get this out. Now.

Bucky: It’s late. I’m trying to get some sleep.

You knew work had been kicking his ass lately. He was putting in insane hours, usually waking up at 6 and not finishing up til midnight. You knew he needed to rest and you almost responded back saying nevermind, and goodnight. But no. You needed to be a little selfish or you would crumble. Tonight felt like a turning point. Or a breaking point.

Y/N: Please Bucky. I really need to talk to you.

Bucky: Ok

Pressing dial on his name, you felt your heart rate increase even more. You tried to take deep breaths to calm your tears but it didn’t help. You were practically sobbing by the time he answered the call. “Bucky…” you said into the phone.

At hearing your voice, Bucky was alert. He could tell that something was wrong. You had never cried in front of him. “Y/N? Baby, what's wrong? What's going on?” His desire for sleep was completely gone. All he cared about was you. He knew that he wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew he could treat you better. But the years of trauma he had experienced made it hard for him to be vulnerable with anyone. He loved you so much that it hurt him and he hated himself that he couldn’t fully give himself to you.

“Bucky, I’m not okay. I’m really really not okay,” you practically hyperventilated. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t.”

“Shhh, can you take some deep breaths for me?” He said calmly. “I need you to calm down and tell me what's going on.” He listened quietly as he heard you breathe deeply.

“Bucky, I’m terrified,” you finally spoke after a couple of minutes. “I don’t feel secure in our relationship. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells constantly because I’m petrified that you’re gonna leave. That one day you’re just gonna decide that you’re done with me because I’m too young and I live with my parents and I don’t have a job. And trying to find a job has really been taking a toll on me. I’m trying so fucking hard but it feels impossible. It’s so defeating waking up every single day to an email inbox full of rejections and I feel worthless and stupid. I’m not doing well not being in college anymore. I don’t have any structure to my days and life feels really fucking pointless right now. I’m so lonely. Fuck, I’m so lonely, Buck.” You took a pause, bracing yourself for his response.

“Baby, why haven’t you brought this up sooner? Why haven’t you told me any of this?” There was genuine shock in his voice.

“Because!” You cried. “I don’t want to remind you about how hard it is to find a job right now. I don’t want you to think about the fact that I live with my parents now while you have your own independent life. I never want to remind you of it because I don’t want you to change your mind and leave. And I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough for me because I’m lonely. I love you so much but I just… I really fucking miss my friends.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me. Like, really listen to me. I am well aware of your situation. I know it’s hard to find a job right now. I’m not gonna leave you, okay? I’m committed to this. To you.”

You sniffled. “But you said that you wanted to be settled down. That we might have an expiration date.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for that. I never should have said those things. When we had that conversation I was tired and not thinking clearly. And I spent that whole night wide awake thinking about how stupid I was and how stupid I would be to let you go because you need some time to find your footing after college. I hate that those words affected you so much. I’m so sorry.”

You talked to him for a while longer, pouring out all of your insecurities that you’d been holding back. After a while, the conversation started to shift to more normal things.

“Baby,” Bucky yawned. “I love you so much but I gotta go to bed. And tomorrow after work I’ll come see you, okay?”

“Okay. I love you too.”

Your worries wouldn’t fade overnight. You wouldn’t suddenly be able to get a job. Your friends wouldn’t all come back to you. College was over and life was drastically different. But at least now Bucky knew. And he wasn’t going to leave.

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jvnluvr · 2 years ago

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blue lock boys when you surprise them ! pt 1. ♡

ft. sae & kaiser x f!reader

(neo-egoist arc spoilers!! be warned)

author’s note: my last blue lock post got a lot of love and it made me more motivated, so thank you everyone! might do a part too where the roles are swapped, or with more characters. lmk by asking if you have any other requests. enjoy more bllk content, my lovely readers. <3

itoshi sae:

sae is gone a lot. you knew from the moment you got into a relationship with him that this would be the reality of your relationship. you loved him though, so even if you missed him tremendously, he would always come back home into your arms. there wasn’t much more you could ask for.

sae had gone to brazil for three games. it was a week stay, but it felt so insufferably long. maybe 3-4 days in, you were sick of being home after work not having anyone to go to or not having anything to do. so what did you do? obviously book a ticket to brazil yourself! to avoid suspicion, you told sae that you might not respond to his texts because you were going out with your friends and end up staying over at their place. (all your friends were busy that week.) but he didn’t catch anything!

you fell asleep on the flight, waking up to your landing. your heart was racing as you walked off into the airport. you’ve never really done something this grand before. surprising your boyfriend right before his game? god, you never expected to even set foot in another country for a while. all you could do was quickly rush to get a taxi, (you learned basic portuguese for this) and off you were to the stadium where his last game was being hosted.

quickly playing the driving, you ran inside. even if shidou was annoying, you thanked him for not revealing your plan to sae and helping you enter the stadium freely. “your boyfriend is a lucky one, yeah?” you could only nod in nervousness. why were you scared to see him? what if he just told you to go back home, what if he didn’t want any distractions, what if-? “c’mon he’s about to get on field, go!” shidou pushed you near the place his team was getting ready.

“hey [name]! sae didn’t tell us you were gonna’ be here.” one of his teammates grinned at you. you saw sae slowly turn around when he heard your name, an annoyed look plastered on his faces, thinking his teammates were tricking him for a stupid laugh. that was until he actually saw you, that his eyes widened.

“uh,, surprise sae?” he kind of just stood there for a second, not even being able to process the fact that you were physically standing in front of him. you only were able to feel dejected for a mere second, assuming he wasn’t happy to see you, that was until you were suddenly enveloped into a warm hug. and for a second, it felt as if you were the only two in the blazing stadium. “stupid, why are you here?” he whispered in your ear, not letting you go. despite his chosen words, his voice was filled with nothing but softness.

“cause i missed you, sae. you’re always gone, and even if i was prepared, it hurts not being with you.” you replied back. god no, you weren’t going to cry right before he went on the field. “don’t cry princess, i’m right here.” you were trying so hard to hold it in, but you couldn’t help it, he was with you, after what felt like an eternity. “thank you for surprising me, you’re the best thing i could ask for.” he kissed your forehead, still whispering so his teammates couldn’t hear the sweet nothings he reserved for you.

michael kaiser:

the ace of bastard münchen loved you very dearly. kaiser loved selectively, but the moment he laid eyes on you, he was smitten. truly, he tried to make as much time as humanly possible to spend with you but when blue lock joined the top teams, his brain had been haywire because of isagi. all he could think of was how to improve, how to crush him.

so naturally; with his brain occupied and all, he gradually started spending more and more time away from home to practice. sure, he still texted you sometimes and all, but you felt more lonely before than ever, since you were so used to kaiser being there to smother you in his love and adoration.

so when today finally came, the day where they would go up against barcha fc, it was him to finally prove he was a better player than isagi. he left super early that morning. he didn’t expect you to even try and leave the house because you studied from home, and he was going to be gone practically the whole day. to be honest, you really did want to go and surprise him at the game, but you couldn’t afford to skip class today. so you had to come up with something else grand to surprise kaiser.

so you went out after class, an hour before he was supposed to come home. you bought heart-shaped balloons, confetti, a cake, and any other decorations that you could drape onto the walls in your shared house. just before you were about to go back, you got a *ping!* from your phone.

ml michael: baby we won!!!! i’ll be home in a bit <3

you: congrats ! i’m waiting <3

you knew after that you had to rush home and get ready. gratefully your house wasn’t too far from the store. so you quickly unloaded everything from your car and put everything up in the living room, near the entrance of your house. “i hope he likes it, and isn’t too tired to just ignore everything..” you let out a slight sigh before continuing to finish up putting up the decorations.

you heard a loud engine outside and you would have been surprised if it was anyone besides kaiser. you quickly ran to shut off the lights before hiding behind the couch that faced the wall. the sound of the keys jingling as the door opened made your heart race as you held your hand over your mouth, not wanting him to even hear your breathing. “my dearest love, i’m home- huh? why are the lights off?” you couldn’t help but internally giggle at his insanely slow reaction time.

“[name], are we playing hide and seek or something? you know i’ll find you.” at that, you unintentionally rolled your eyes at his confidence. there’s no way he would expect you to be behind this couch, not to mention he hasn’t even turned the lights on- “found you.” you yelped as kaiser picked you up from behind, sitting you on his lap on the side of the couch.

“now, does my pretty girl wanna tell me why she was hiding behind the couch?” he kissed your cheek, and he swore he could see them turn red in the darkness. your entire plan? ruined. this really wasn’t the way you wanted to surprise him. “just wanted to surprise you, y‘know? you didn’t even turn on the lights silly.” kaiser gave you a confused look but nonetheless got up to turn them on. “surprise! and of course good job on winning your game today.” you smiled at him, but he just stared at you with the biggest heart in his eyes.

“you’re the cutest thing ever.” he lifted you up again and you wrapped your legs around him. “there’s a cake too, we should eat it.” you mentioned, totally forgetting that you set it out on the table. “i love you, liebe.” he couldn’t stop kissing you after that surprise.

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hellfirenacht · 4 months ago

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Wing Man: Epilogue

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair�� Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Corroded Coffin takes flight, and you're on air.

1.4k Words

(Master List 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15)

“Oh, is it on? Sorry about that everyone! You’d think after a year on air I’d get this cue right, but apparently we’re still working out some of the technical bugs for getting that timing right. Anyway, welcome back to LTRD, The Right Road to Good Music.”

That was a lie, you hadn’t missed the cue. You had only ever missed the cue once on your first week on air, and the few listeners had found it so funny that you had been instructed to keep it as a bit. The radio persona you put on was a bit more air-headed than you might have picked out for yourself, but you had fun with it.

In all the time you had tried to be on stage, who knew that you’d do better when no one could see you? The sound mixers not-withstanding, of course.

“In studio today we actually have Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame here to tell us about their new studio album.” You smiled across the table at your boyfriend, who was leaning back casually in his chair, as if he’d done this a hundred times.

And he might as well have with how many times you two went over everything the past week to get ready for this interview.

“It was going to be a garage album, but it turns out the studio doesn’t want everything recorded on a tape recorder.” He gave you a winning smile that still gave you butterflies, even now a little over a year later.

“With the way your popularity has taken off in the area, I’m sure more than a few people would be willing to shell out for that.”

“Maybe, but we aren’t shell outs.” Eddie looked at you with the biggest grin and you had to take a deep breath. That had NOT been in your practice, and you were so mad that stupid joke almost made you laugh.

“Welp, this has been a good interview, but we’re gonna have to cut it short- I’m joking, Merv.” You said to the station director who was shooting you a look. “So, tell us about the new album.”

“Thanks for having me on to talk about this.” Eddie said, fiddling with one of his rings. His hair had grown even longer in the past year, falling down just passed his chest now. His arms had a few more tattoos, and you knew from up close and personal experience that his thighs now had a few very nice pieces. You tried not to think about that while you were on air. “The new album is coming out this October, and it’s called Fire Shroud. The whole album is heavily inspired by a Dungeons and Dragons campaign that we all played together a few years ago.”

“Dungeons and Dragons?” you asked, pretending to know less than you did for the sake of the interview. “Pretty brave to say that on air. I think we had a few people storm the phone lines a few weeks ago for dating to mention the game.”

Eddie grabbed the mic and pulled it closer to him. “I want people to know that enjoying fantasy, using your imagination, and learning basic math isn’t even close to the Satanic bullshit people say it is- wait, can I say that on air?”

You looked at the clock, it was just passed 1 am. “Fuck no.” you smiled at him.

“Good.” he continued. “Listen, whatever freaky sacrificial rituals I do, happen in my off time when I’m not playing music or running a game.”

“I take it that the blood just gets all over the game board?”

“I spend so long painting my game pieces, so I don’t like getting blood on my hard work.”

The interview went on like this for a while, and you and Eddie effortlessly went through the basic points that you two needed to hit. The albums release, how excited Corroded Coffin was to be working on this, and how excited they were to hopefully put the game that meant so much to them in a better light.

“So, if anyone wants to come see Corroded Coffin live, where can they go to see you?”

“We’re actually playing a few venues and theaters in the Indianapolis area next month, we’ll be sharing the stage with a few other bands. We are also going to be helping out with one of the shows at the latest Rocky Horror Picture Show revival soon.”

Columbia (you were sure Robin told you her real name at some point, but she would always be Columbia in your mind), had staged a coup after the theater had been handed over to Left Turn. She had taken the remaining members and had gone to another theater. When news about Corroded Coffin’s graduation take-over hit, she had Robin reach out to you and you had talked to Eddie and everything came together pretty easily from there. It would only be for one night, but you found yourself really looking forward to seeing the show again.

Merve signaled at you to wrap it up, and when the light went off you sighed and sagged in your seat. Eddie got up to get you some coffee, and you were thankful for that. Being a late night radio host had made your sleep schedule a bit weird, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Are we still on for breakfast when you get off?” He asked. “Still doing a double date with Steve and his latest girlfriend?”

You snorted. “As far as I know. He might sleep in again and miss it.”

“Well, if he does then we’ll just get breakfast to go and I can keep you to myself then.” Eddie said. “I’ll need a nap after this.”

“You know, you don’t have to stick around. You can go home and get some sleep.” you suggested. “Just because I’m here all night, it doesn’t mean that you have to be. You already spend most of your time down the hall with the rest of the boys.”

“I gotta make sure no creeps call in and try and flirt with you.” he said. “Not while I’m here.”

“Eddie, I do this five nights a week, and I’ve only had, what, maybe 3 creeps call in and most times Merv is able to catch them before they make it on air.” You reached up and scratched at his scalp. “I appreciate the concern, though.”

Eddie yawned and closed his eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he mumbled, his eyes closing. “If I go home, I know I’ll miss picking you up.”

“We drove here separately.” you laughed. “Go take a nap on the couch in the break room. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”

“Fine, but I’m taking your blanket.” He said, grabbing the fleece that was draped over your chair. Eddie leaned in and gave you a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”

“Only if you bury them.” you smiled back at him.

The night went on with music, call-ins, news, and weather. When the first rays of morning light peaked through the windows of Left Turn Studios, you signed off, got your notes from Merv, and went to the break room where your boyfriend was already nursing a room temperature cup of coffee.

“Let’s get you some real coffee.” you took the flimsy cup away from him and tossed it in the trash.

Eddie stood up and leaned in and kissed you, his hand cupping your jaw. You hummed against his lips and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“What was that for?” you asked as he pulled back.

“It’s a better wake up than shitty coffee.” He said, kissing your forehead. “But now I want mediocre coffee.”

It was a surprisingly cool morning as the two of you stepped out of the studio. You said your hellos to the morning shift as they filed in, and Eddie walked you to your car. “See you at the diner. If Harrington doesn’t show up within fifteen minutes, we’re taking our food to go.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You agreed.

Within an hour, you were dozing off on Eddie’s chest in bed together. Your leftover breakfast pushed to the side as MTV played some song that you were glad you didn’t have to put on your show. Eddie’s arm was around your shoulders and tracing patterns absently against your skin.

There had once been a time where you felt like a fish out of water, and then later you could breathe. Now, so long after making the dumb little deal with Steve you realized you weren’t meant for the land or sea.

From now on, you could fly.

a/n: The End

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

@mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea

@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

@perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh

@siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @kores-mun-son-n-more @eddiebuttcheeks @kirsteng42 @dreamerjj

@moonisu @em022O @cosmorant @kurdtbean

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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lunatic-pudge · 4 months ago

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General Medic Headcanons (Requested by poker_face_12)

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Am happy to be putting some TF2 stuff out. It was feeling wrong giving Postal so much attention and not TF2. I'm also thinking about writing some stuff for Duke Nukem. I know there's not really an audience out there but he and Nick from L4D2 have been holding me in a chokehold recently

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SFW:

-My baby boy, Medic, I feel like I don't give him enough attention.

-I promise, he isn't as crazy as you think he is. Maybe. He does care about his teammates, he'll never admit it though. Always trying to make sure they take care of themselves. Sometimes it can feel a bit preachy, but he means well, truly, he does. You just gotta look past his "I'm the doctor and know what's best" attitude. But he tends to neglect listening to his own advice, like the hypocrite he is

-I'm 85% confident he has a jar of lollipops in his lab. He sometimes has to use them as a bribe, and other times as a reward, but they're actually for him cause he has an insatiable sweet tooth. That sweet tooth of his will be the cause of his downfall also. He get rather excited when Pyro bakes, cause homie knows how to make some amazing hard candy and cakes. Pyro has even made Medic a cake for his birthday, and now Py gets special treatment when in for checkups and experiments

-Loves traveling. He's a nerdy German tourist and would clear out a gift shop if given the opportunity. When, he has time, he likes to go out and travel a bit. He's so nerdy when he's out and about, it's adorable. Probably takes Heavy with him as well cause why not

-God, this man would be petty for no reason. Also very good at holding a grudge. Ain't no way this man gonna forget what Scout did to him 3 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days ago. He will forever hold that against him. I think Medic is just being a drama queen, but that's just me. It can be hard to make it up to him. The best way is to spoil him in desserts. Only then will he CONSIDER letting the grudge go.

NSFW:

-Medic is one horny merc. Practically ready to have a little bit of fun. He's very good at hiding it, though. It's dangerous, man. Once you sleep with this man, you'll never be the same (the medussy be crazy)

-I also wouldn't out it past him to have some rather intimate moments with each merc. Nothing full on sexual, but it most certainly borders on that line. I blame it on him being fine as fuck. He really is one of the most attractive mercs (they all are but work with me here), and combine that with the German accent, not even someone like Spy could fight the charm Medic has

-Also one kinky motherfucker. This man is willing to try almost anything and everything. Some of his kinks are doctor/patient roleplay, blood, needles, BDSM (huge sadist with a little bit of masochism in him), bodily fluids, thighs (especially think ones in thigh high stockings), high heels, whips, restraints, biting/marking, and sounding to name a few.

-Man's a freak and I love him for it

-He's very much a dom, rarely will he ever be a sub. When he's a sub, he's such a brat. He likes to be so defiant cause he lives for the punishments he'll recieve. He knows the type of games he's playing. Sly bastard

(That's all I got for now. Will post more when I get ideas)

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader

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uptondixon · 5 months ago

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Heavy Sleeper - Upstead Foster Daughter Drabbles

These are some snippets of Olivia's relationship with Hailey and Jay that didn't make it into the main chapters.

This is the after of Jay and Hailey's conversation with Olivia in the district from Chapter 3. They drive Olivia back to her foster home and get to know her a little better.

"This car is nice," Olivia said all of a sudden. She was resting her head on the comfortable car seat, the warmth coming from the heater making her sleepy. Hailey and Jay were surprised she even said anything. Olivia was always quiet and it seemed impossible to get more than 10 words out of her. Their conversation at the district tonight was the most they had ever heard from her.

“You like cars?” Jay asked.

“Not really, I just think this one is comfy. I really like bikes though.”

“Really?” Jay asked in surprise.

“Yeah, I would love to have one someday.”

“I had one years ago. I like bikes but it’s hard to drive one in Chicago winters.”

“I guess it’s just a matter of getting some serious winter gear,” Olivia replied.

“You’re right, but I always loved cars more. This one for example has always been my dream ride.”

“This car is his baby,” Hailey said. Jay chuckled and, surprisingly, didn’t say anything back. “See? He agrees.”

Olivia smiled lazily, her eyes were getting heavier and heavier. All the stress from the long day was catching up to her. This didn’t go unnoticed by Hailey or Jay.

“You can rest, we’ll wake you up when we get there,” Hailey said.

20 minutes later, Olivia is still fast asleep in the backseat when Jay is parking the car in front of the house.

“Watch out for the—,” Hailey warned him, but it was too late, Jay had hit the curb with full force. Both Jay and Hailey’s heads snapped back to check on Olivia.

“It wasn’t that bad of a hit, she didn’t even move.” Jay looked at Hailey.

“It was that bad, Jay,” Hailey grinned. “Luckily for you, she’s a heavy sleeper."

The next day, Olivia woke up with the faint memory of being carried and put into bed by a strong pair of arms.

On the way back to their apartment, Jay and Hailey talked about the night’s events. It wasn’t the first time they met a kid in the foster system, but this time was different. This was not a case. She was not a case. She was a kid who unexpectedly came into their lives and now she needs their help.

“What are we going to do?’ Hailey asked him.

“I don’t know, but we’re gonna find a way.”

I’m alive everyone! Life’s been crazy for me these last weeks, work and uni are killing me so I’m not writing much but I decided to start posting the drabbles I had planned a while ago. Chapter 4 is not ready yet but I'm working on it!

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prettygirl-gabi · 1 year ago

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Rainy Streams

Rating: General Audiences

Warning:Fluffy fluff, even more fluff

Category:F/M

Fandom: Vinnie hacker (streamer, tiktoker)

Relationships: !boyfriend Vinnie x !f reader

Summary: You and Vinnie do a late night 24 hour stream

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Vinnie has become a household name in the online world, especially with the teen girls and gamers. However, what many people don't know is that behind his charismatic persona lies a soft-hearted and affectionate person who loves nothing more than spending time with you, his girlfriend.

One rainy night, you and Vinnie were cuddled up on the couch in the cozy apartment watching your all time favorite anime. As you snuggled closer together under a warm blanket, Vinnie turned his head to rest on yours and said, "I have an idea. How about we do a 24-hour stream together?"

You looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure? That's going to be a lot of work, plus its like 3 am right now."

Vinnie grinned mischievously. "Come on Y/n, it'll be fun! We can play games, chat with the fans, and just hang out all night long. Please baby."

You couldn't resist Vinnie's infectious enthusiasm and agreed to the idea. You and Hera watched as Vinnie quickly set up the equipment and started streaming.

"Hey guys I wanted to do a 24-hour stream at 3 am how smart of me right, but I'm gonna have help form my lovely girl to keep me up with you all!" Vinnies stated as he pulled you onto his lap.

As the hours ticked by, you and Vinnie played games together while chatting with the fans who had tuned in from all over the world. The rain continued to pour outside as you laughed and joked around like old friends with chat. The both of you kept taking turns plaing a few rounds with some of the fans from chat just to keep this interesting.

At one point during the stream, You leaned on head on Vinnie's shoulder with Hera in your arms as he wrapped his arm around your waist. "I'm so glad we're doing this," he whispered.

"Me too," you replied softly as you kissed his neck without squashing Hera.

You were about 12 hours into the stream

As the both of you played game after game. Exhausted but happy from how early you both decide to start streaming together, you both had ended up in the pull out bed from the couch in each other's arms.

But the stream was still going and you could tell that some of the fans we just rolling in or just lurking the stream.

"That was the most amazing sleep ever," you said with a yawn.

Vinnie smiled sleepily at you as he rubbed his eyes."Yeah, it was. But you know what's even better?"

"What?" You asked while yawning once again.

Vinnie leaned in and kissed you gently on the lips. "Spending time with you."

The cause you to blush and snuggle closer to him. "I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," Vinnie replied as they took turns keeping the stream interesting while they each got ready and freshend to finish out the stream.

"So Vinnie they said we should cook dinner to end the stream, watcha think." You asked us you look up with the most purest doe eyes ever. "Yeah, yeah let's do it."

Buy the time the both of you were done the kitchen was a mess, the food had long been devoured and stream was ticking closer to the 24 hour mark.

"Alright chat, we're done with our food and it's almost 3 am. I just wanna say thanks for watching and staying the whole stream, and also if we don't post for two days we're sleeping." You chuckled at his statement but nod in agreement.

"Yeah even though we took at 4 hour nap it didn't help much, but we will do another 24-hour stream in a few weeks and we shall be better prepared." You stated as you yawned once more for the 10th time

"Yes but for now everyone, everywhere, I hope you all have a good morning, day, or night, we shall be going to sleep now."

After you both said your final farewells you both crashed and you crashed hard. "Sleep well baby, you deserve it." You said in a low tone as you drift into a deep sleep.

#vinnie hacker imagine #oneshot #streamer #tiktoker #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker #vinnie fluff #24 hour stream #vinnie imagines #vinnie fanfic #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker oneshot #y/n x vinnie #poc reader #rebloging

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kinktae · 1 year ago

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novocaine pt. 4 || (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

Going home was hard – painful even. But falling back in love with Jimin, the boy you left behind? Downright gut-wrenching.

pairing: punk!jimin x reader

word count: 8.7k

genre: 1990s au, exes au, angst, smut

warnings: 90s slang, alcohol, fighting, car sex, oc has dead parents, bittersweet ending

A/N: PLS MAKE SURE REREAD 1-3, I KNOW ITS BEEN A FAT MINUTE BUT PLEASE CONSIDER ALL CHAPTERS WHEN READING THIS ENDING

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

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PART FOUR (FINAL)

“You’re gonna break my damn neck!” Jimin complained, eyes shutting as you moved his head closer to the shower’s stream.

“Shh,” You giggled, fingers gingerly rinsing your boyfriend’s head.

Jimin was fully clothed, head thrown over the tub’s edge, insisting that he remain dry as you washed the orange dye from his hair.

Just the other day you had MTV playing in the background as Grams and you were making cookies when the video for The Flaming Lips’ She Don’t Use Jelly came on. You hadn’t heard the song in ages; Hoseok used to belt the nonsensical lyrics religiously on early morning bus rides to high school. But more importantly, you had never seen the music video and became consumed by the lead singer’s tangerine-colored hair.

It quickly became a topic of conversation between you and Jimin, nudging a shoulder into his side anytime you’d pass by an orange car or a shelf of hair dye. A week of your less-than-subtle teasing had gone by when he finally begrudgingly agreed to dye his hair orange. You were beyond excited, even if he had only agreed to get you to finally shut up.

So here the two of you were, kneeled on the tile floor of your bathroom, random splotches of bleach and dye on your shirts, the sound of The Smashing Pumpkin’s latest CD coming from your room.

“You should be grateful you have a girlfriend that’s willing to dye your hair for free.”

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought you were trying to drown me.”

“Alright, you big baby,” You rolled your eyes, reaching over him to turn off the shower head. “I’m done.”

“Pass me a towel, please?”

His eyes were scrunched shut, hand flailing about for the towel rack aimlessly. Chuckling, you passed the wet-haired boy a towel, sitting back on your heels as you watched him pat his face dry.

“Here, let me get your hair.” You offered, grabbing the towel back from his face and onto his head, careful to be gentle as you had bleached it earlier today.

Jimin sat obediently, quietly admiring the way you took your time and cleaned the dye-stained skin around his hairline. He loved having your attention; you were always so gentle with him. His chest tightened as you hummed along to the song in the background, oblivious to the splashes of orange dye that had found your cheek.

“Oh my god. It’s hella orange.” You giggled.

Jimin pulled you onto his lap, partly to help you work more comfortably, mainly because he liked having you close.

“Does it look bad?” His warm eyes peered into yours, sounding somewhat unsure.

Brows furrowing, you paused to press a kiss on Jimin’s pouting mouth. As if there were any universe in which Jimin looked bad. Seeing as his frown ceased to let up, you kissed him once more, “You look great, Minnie. My little pumpkin.”

“Real convincing.” He glared. Stealing one more kiss from you, he helped you off him and back up off the bathroom floor.

You watched intently as he moved towards the bathroom mirror. You weren’t anticipating him to hate it, but should the situation present itself, you had made a point to buy an emergency bottle of black hair dye, ready to remedy the situation at a moment’s notice.

Jimin said nothing at first, merely tilting his head from side to side as he ran his hands threw his newly orange, somewhat damp hair. A smile broke across his handsome face.

“It’s actually pretty sick.” He grinned, clearly pleased with the final result. You let out a breath of relief.

“I told you! Admit it, I was right, you look fucking hot. No one ever trusts my artistic vision.” You sighed dramatically, earning you a chuckle.

“Alright, Picasso. Remind me again the plan for tonight?” He rolled his eyes, reaching for the hairbrush he had laid out on the sink counter earlier.

“Well,” You watched as he sorted through his hair, “Hobi left a message saying he scored all of us tickets tonight for the drive-in theater but failed to mention what time or what movie it was.”

Jimin chuckled, “Typical. And you tried calling Hobi’s line?”

“No one picks up. I went and knocked on his door before you came over. The Jungs are out of town so he’s probably kicking it at Gwen’s.” You shrugged.

While you could in theory go and look up Gwen’s landline in the phone book, it seemed like a tremendous amount of work just to locate someone who quite literally lived right next door. He’d show up eventually. He always did.

You sighed, “Man, I can’t believe that old drive-in is still kicking. I thought for sure it went under in the time I left town.”

Jimin nodded, “Nah, it’s still around. But the only people using it are the old folks who were around when it was first built. They’re still playing the same ten shitty movies on repeat.”

“Let’s just get ready and go hunt him down in an hour, yeah?”

And so the two of you spent the next hour readying yourself, Jimin styling his new hair and you waging war against the blue eyeliner Gwen had somehow convinced you to purchase.

It was just around the one-hour mark that you received a call from the very person you had been hoping to find.

“Yo, kid! Come on out, I got two tickets with your name on them!”

Jimin and you ran out onto your grandmother’s driveway eagerly, laughing as Hobi slammed on his car horn melodically, a bright smile written across his face.

“Great timing, we were just about to go break down your door.” You smiled, grabbing the two bright yellow admission tickets that Hoseok had dangling out his car window. “Thanks, Hobi.”

“Where’ve you been, man?” Jimin questioned his best friend.

“Why? You keeping tabs on me, Carrot Top?” Hoseok giggled, eyeing your boyfriend’s new hair.

“Funny.”

“I’m playin’, it looks fresh, dude. I dig.” Hoseok assured, holding his hands up as if to show he meant no harm.

You rolled your eyes, “Lemme guess, you were at Gwen’s.”

“You kidding? Her place? Her dad’s sheriff— hell no!” Hobi shook his head before a greasy grin took hold of him. “Besides, I’ve got the open crib, a pretty girlfriend, and stamina like a racehorse.”

Jimin’s giggle was instantaneous, immediately clueing you in on what exactly Hobi was implying.

“You pig. I rang you and knocked on your door!” You scrunched your nose at him.

“Like a racehorse, kid,” Hobi emphasized, only furthering your frown.

“Jeez, okay, got it… TMI.”

“So we ready to watch Jurassic Park or what?” Hoseok first pumped the air.

Jimin’s eyes went wide, “They’re playing Jurassic Park tonight?! Sweet!”

You too were shocked. The film had come out only a few years ago.

“How the hell did that lame-ass drive-in get the license for a film that recent?”

“Got the old lady to pull some strings.” Hobi flashed you both a smug look, reaching over to pop his collar out theatrically.

“So your mom gave you the tickets? Councilwoman Jung sure has pull in this town.”

You were thoroughly impressed. Hoseok struck out in the parents department. Not only did they tolerate his tomfoolery throughout his teen years, but as his mother was on the city council, they were often occupied with work, giving Hobi free reign to do as he pleased as long as he remained out of jail.

His mother’s words, not yours.

“Oh Nah, I got the tickets myself.” Hobi corrected.

You squinted at him, suspicious, “…Should I even ask how you got these tickets?”

“Depends,” His voice lowered suddenly, eyes flickering from side to side, “are you gonna snitch?”

“No?”

“I broke into the ticket booth last night and just grabbed a bunch of tickets from the drawer.” He shrugged.

Your jaw fell, “Hobi!”

“Dude!” Jimin burst out laughing.

“What?!” Hoseok’s eyes went wide, as if entirely innocent of any crime. “Why are we wigging out? It’s not like I stole money from the register! Besides, is it my fault that so many places here are easy to break and enter?”

“Tell that to Gwen’s dad when he finally locks your ass up.” Jimin teased. Your childhood friend tutted, shifting his car into reverse.

“Whatever. You still took the tickets, ungrateful bastards. Your hands aren’t clean either. The movie is in twenty minutes. I dropped Gwen off at hers so she could go get changed so I gotta bounce and pick her back up. You guys need a ride?”

“Nah, we’ll take my car,” Jimin assured him.

Hoseok began to pull out the driveway, window still rolled down. “Meet up at mine after for drinks?”

“Sure. Thanks, Hobi!”

“See ya later, man!”

The three friends waved goodbye to one another as the eldest pulled out onto the street and drove off.

“Do you really think he and Gwen were busy fucking all this time?” Jimin pondered the second Hoseok was out of earshot, making you scowl.

“I think that Hobi is like a brother to me and if I think about it too much I’ll actually barf.”

Jimin chuckled, throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to his car.

———

“A medium popcorn, one Junior Mints, and Buncha Crunch please.” You smiled at the concession’s attendee.

You were about 20 minutes into Jurassic Park and could make out the sound of the film as you ordered Jimin and yourself some snacks. He had offered to go make the snack run himself, of course, but seeing as it was his favorite movie playing, you decided that the sacrifice would be yours to make.

Handing over the necessary cash, you moved to the side, watching patiently as the attendant assembled your order. Just then, someone else approached the concession counter. You glanced over at the person not particularly interested, before realizing at once just who the next patron was.

“Yoongi?” You called out before you could stop yourself.

A head of faded mint hair turned towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours, and took on an expression that you could only guess mirrored your own. The kind of expression that can only be shared between two people who had their tongues down each other’s throats not too long ago.

A pregnant pause fell between you.

“Y/N. Hey.” He breathed after a beat.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you contemplated your next words, wondering what exactly to say to your boyfriend’s ex. You know… the one you had tried to have sex with.

Thankfully, the arrival of your popcorn and other snacks made it so you didn’t have to respond, a flustered ‘thank you’ escaping your lips as you grabbed your order.

“Uh, two medium sprites,” Yoongi told the attendant once she moved to take his order. You tried your best to look occupied, not wanting to look like you were waiting on the mint-haired boy even though you most definitely were.

Within a minute, he moved towards you, drinks in either hand and a sheepish smile on his face.

“So, uh… this is awkward.” He admitted honestly, joining you as began to walk away from the concession stand, deciding the spare the innocent concession girl from the unfortunate conversation that was about to unfold.

“Super awkward.” You affirmed with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping around your bucket of popcorn.

He nodded.

“Hey, so,” He came to a stop suddenly, halting your stride. “I’m sorry if I caused problems for you the other night. I wouldn’t have… I mean, I didn’t know that you were… We were also both probably way too drunk–”

“No, no, honestly, don’t sweat it!” You were quick to cut him off, not wanting him to assume that he had done anything to make you uncomfortable that night. “I didn’t know who you were either. You seemed cool and hot and, you know… I wanted to. So… yeah. ”

Wow. This just nearly beat the moment Jimin walked in on you two in the scale of awkwardness. At least you weren’t sober then.

Yoongi nodded once more, “Cool. I also wanted to. But, um… listen, you’re a cool chick and all but you should know there’s someone else. Plus, there’s the whole you being my ex’s ex thing…”

Oh god. Was Yoongi… rejecting you? Fuck, he totally thought you were still coming onto him. How utterly humiliating.

“Yeah, no, gotcha. That can literally never happen again. It’s all good.” You laughed, purely because of how ridiculous this entire conversation was. He grinned back at you, remembering exactly why he liked you in the first place that night at Guyi’s.

“No hard feelings?” He offered you a crooked smile.

“Deal.” You mused, eyes falling on the two drinks in his hand. “So are you here alone?”

You watched in interest as Yoongi suddenly turned a shade of pink.

“No, actually… I’m here with a coworker.” He told you, a certain bashfulness to his tone.

“Oh, a coworker.” A knowing smirk grew.

“I’m kind of seeing him, I guess. I don’t know, it’s too soon for labels.” He shrugged.

“So you’re seeing your coworker. Scandalous.” You teased.

“Again, sorry. If you were literally anyone but Jimin’s ex-girlfriend–“

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at his joke, making him laugh.

The sound of various screams rolled over the area, catching both of your attentions, undoubtedly belonging to the moviegoers in response to a scary scene that must’ve just played out.

“I’m not really into dinosaurs,” Yoongi admitted lightheartedly to which you giggled, agreeing.

“Where do you work by the way?” You made casual conversation. “I just realized I never asked.”

“I work at a daycare.” He told you, making your smile drop.

Right. The daycare.

You supposed that was the thing about ghosts. They tended to haunt you.

Your chest felt hollow once more as he took a sip from one of the drinks. “Not huge on snot and boogers but the pay is decent so who cares, right?”

“Whatever happened between you and Jimin? I mean, why did you guys break up?” You said suddenly.

It had just made its way out like word vomit, desperate to change the conversation. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask if you were at all familiar with the property.

Yoongi looked at you in surprise for a split second before shaking his head.

“Jeez, how ironic.” He said, mostly to himself.

“Huh?”

“No, nothing I just… it’s funny you asked me that. Because it was you. You were the reason we broke up.” He confessed, bringing the straw of his drink back up to his mouth.

Weirdly, a feeling of guilt washed over you at his words. It rendered you silent.

“At the time it pissed me the hell off. He was dumping me for an ex-girlfriend he hadn’t seen in what? Four years? Took a hit to my ego for sure.”

All you could do was stand there looking dumb. You hadn’t the slightest idea how to react to what he was saying. Part of you was… delighted? Happy that Jimin wasn’t as dedicated to that relationship as you feared he might’ve been. But another part, a much more prominent part, felt awful. Terrible that you had hurt Jimin so deeply that he couldn’t even commit himself to another person. That he couldn’t move on.

“But anyway, it was for the best. Weirdly he did me a favor. No point in being hung up on a guy who was still hung up on the past.” Yoongi paused suddenly, scrunching his nose as he shook out his mint locks. “Dammit, I sound like such a cliche bitter ex, huh?”

“At least you’re not the shitty ex who broke his heart.” You offered half-heartedly.

Yoongi stared at you for a moment, allowing himself to freely admire the girl who had captured Jimin’s heart all those years ago. Despite your otherwise neutral expression, there was a gloom around you that he couldn’t quite ignore.

He pressed his lips together, wondering if he could offer you any solace.

“If it makes you feel any better, there’s no guarantee it would’ve worked out even if you had stayed.”

Your head tilted in confusion. Yoongi stole a piece of popcorn cheekily, popping a piece into your mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you told me yourself that night. You’re a city girl. You would’ve wanted to go see the world eventually and everyone knows Jimin has no plans to ever leave this tiny ass town. Maybe you just got the inevitable over with. So don’t beat yourself up over it.”

You were suddenly acutely aware that Yoongi had no idea that you and Jimin were back together. A wave of nausea rolled over you as you considered his words.

He was right, of course. You had always dreamed of making it out of here. Even when you were young and running down the halls of your grandmother’s house, your adventures took you far away, towards weather unlike your own, towards faces and cities you’d never recognize.

So what was it that you were doing now? Getting closure by opening up a chapter with Jimin you had closed years ago?

Jimin was the boy who had his kids' names picked out when he was in elementary school. He was the boy whose biggest dream was remodeling his parents' home so that it would one day fit his own family, the family that he wanted to start here. He was the boy who looked for you months after you went missing, and who ended a relationship because he was unable to let go of the past. He put his life on hold for you. And who was to say he wouldn’t do it again when you left?

Your feet felt heavy as if you were sinking into the dirt of the drive-in lot, crushing guilt piling onto you.

“Hey.” A voice called out, making both Yoongi and you turn to face whoever was trying to grab your attention.

It was Jimin. Of course, it was. You had gotten caught up in conversation, taking far too long to get snacks. It was only a matter of time that Jimin would head over to check in on you. His hands were tucked away in his jeans, expression unreadable as he eyed the two of you from where he stood.

“Oh. Hey.” Yoongi replied, eyebrows pulling up in surprise. His surprise was quickly replaced with confusion as Jimin walked over, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he took the snacks from you, always the gentleman.

“Sorry, I took so long. We bumped into each other and lost track of the time.” You explained awkwardly to your boyfriend through warm cheeks.

“I see that.”

You could see the way Jimin’s jaw was tense as if swallowing back words that weren’t exactly pleasant. You almost see the puzzle piece coming together in Yoongi’s mind as he looked at the two of you interact.

“Well… it was nice seeing you again. Good luck with everything.” You waved Yoongi goodbye, already heading back where Jimin had set up the car, eager to walk far from the second most awkward situation the three of you had found yourselves.

“You too.” You heard Yoongi called back, a note of disbelief in his tone, one that you forced yourself not to dissect further.

———————

You did your best to keep your eyes on the screen ahead of you, but the tension in the car was palpable. Jimin was taking those sharp short breaths through his nose like he always did when he was angry. You licked your dry lips.

“You’re upset.” You broke the ice.

“No, I’m not.”

You tilted your head against the car seat’s headrest, facing your troubled lover.

“Yes, you are.” Your tone took a soft timbre. “You’re doing that angry sulky thing you do.”

“I don’t sulk,” Jimin said, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“Minnie, you sulk.” You chuckled but failed to receive a chuckle back in return from him.

You straightened up in your seat.

“Nothing is going on between Yoongi and I.”

“I know.” He said.

Your brows furrowed at his words, “Okay. Then is it something else?”

Jimin said nothing, eyes pressed against the movie screen but clearly not paying attention to the film at all. You sighed.

“Can you roll your window up?” You asked. Your boyfriend met your eyes curiously, seeing that you had done so on your side before complying and rolling his up.

The second his window was up, you were unbuckling your seat belt and maneuvering yourself across the car and onto his lap.

Pressing kisses onto his neck, you felt as he noticeably relaxed, a soft sigh falling from his pillowy lips.

“Talk to me.” Your mouth traveled onto his jaw, kisses sweet and reassuring.

“I love you.” Was his breathy response, hands gripping to sides of your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

He couldn’t say how insecure seeing Yoongi made him feel. He didn't know how to say that if you left him once, what was to stop you from leaving him again? If he wasn’t good enough to make you stay all those years ago, what would be different this time?

“I love you too, Minnie.”

His hand found the side of your cheek, drawing your mouth into his, kissing you with intention.

You pulled back suddenly, “Wait, this isn’t talking.”

“Don’t wanna talk. Just wanna touch you.” His voice was lower than usual.

Your face flushed at his honesty, unsure of whether to press further. Ultimately you gave in.

“Okay.”

Your fingers curled into his t-shirt, tongue finding his, heavy breaths filling the small space of the car as you lost yourselves in each other.

Breaking the kiss with a groan, you pulled up at your shirt. You nearly laughed at the way Jimin had already begun to tug at your bra clasp before you had even successfully removed the garment from you.

The lacy bra fell down your body, tossed aside mindlessly as he pressed a kiss onto your chest, hand working your soft flesh. You let out a breath as he sucked the supple flesh into his mouth, thumb rolling over your pert buds.

“Wait, drop your seat back, I don’t want someone from another car seeing.”

Jimin nodded, leaving your chest to comply with your request. Immediately though, his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and into a kiss.

Making out in Jimin’s car was admittedly nostalgic — the two of you having spent many afternoons fooling around whenever you got the chance. And maybe that's what the two of you were going for, slipping back into each other in a way that came naturally.

You rolled your hips into his desperately, every inch of you buzzing at the way you could feel the way he had hardened underneath you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He muttered as his thumb lolled over your sensitive nipple. You whimpered.

The sound took him back to the night of the bonfire when he had buried his head between your angelic thighs that night of the bonfire, your greedy fingers tugging at his scalp as you cried against the feeling of his tongue.

Fuck, he was hard.

His hand reached down to undo his jeans in desperation, the pressure of his strained cock in his thigh jeans too much to bare. His actions caught your attention, your teeth finding your bottom lip as you watched the anguished boy reach into his underwear and readjust himself.

Suddenly, his mouth was on yours again, hand angling one of your thighs so that he could grind his hips against it.

You were getting far more worked up than you anticipated, his hot mouth leaving marks across your exposed skin. You needed more of him.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” You asked innocently, hand pressed against his abdomen.

“Fuck yes.”

“Hm...”

Your hand dipped into his underwear, eyes glimmering in mischief as you pulled his cock out, wasting no time in working the shaft.

“Fuuuuuck.” Jimin’s voice was drawn out and pleading, chest rising and falling in rhythm to the pace your hand had set around his cock.

“Does it feel good, Minnie?” You cooed teasingly, sucking a bruise into his pretty neck.

You preened as his hips suddenly jerked up, a whine pushing past his swollen lips before he cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me. Sit on my cock already.” He begged.

You smiled into his skin, head moving back up to kiss him as you ran your thumb over his red tip, swallowing his moan.

“You feel so good in my hand though.”

You weren’t lying. Hot, engorged, and pulsing under your fingers, his cock was truly a fine piece of craftsmanship. If it weren’t for the cramped location that was the front seat of his car, you would’ve had your lips wrapped around him, using your tongue to remind yourself of every vein and ridge.

“I promise I’ll feel even better inside you.” He groaned.

“What’s the rush? I don’t remember you ever turning down a handjob.”

“And I don’t remember you being such a fucking tease. Clearly, things change.” He tutted.

You frowned at his tone but allowed one of Jimin’s hands to push its way between your legs and down your underwear.

You stifled a noise as he ran his fingers up and down your slit.

“Oh, love bug, you’re so wet. That for me?”

You fought back a blush, somehow still flustered at the way Jimin’s dirty talk after all these years.

“You got yourself this worked up over touching me, yeah? Fuck.”

A shutter ran through your body, pleasure running over you as he toyed with your clit. Your hand fell from his member altogether, finding leverage against his thigh as you pushed yourself closer to his feathery touches.

Your hips moved on their own accord, mouth opening as a silent moan tumbled out.

“Bet that feels so good, huh? So cute.” He praised, pinching one of your cheeks.

“Now whose teasing?” You pouted.

A whimper escaped you against your better judgment as his fingers suddenly made their way down, spreading you open as he lightly pressed against your entrance.

“Acting so tough but losing the act as soon as I touch you.” He placed a kiss against your head, spurred on by the way you had suddenly become pliant and placid under his touch. “You're practically sucking my fingers in.”

You weren’t certain if the whine that greeted him in response was from his words or the way he pulled his hand back every time you tried to sink onto his fingers.

“Please.”

“Sorry, angel. I’m not gonna finger fuck you. Just gonna sit here and play with what’s mine.”

Jimin was not usually particularly possessive but god was it hot.

If his fingers hadn’t immediately moved back to roll over your clit, you might have had the energy in you to complain, but instead, you found yourself plaint in his arm, thighs trembling.

“I’ll... shit... I’ll cum if you keep that up.”

“Bummer. Guess there won’t be any need to fuck you then.”

“Dammit! Just fuck me, Minnie!”

“Hm... I dunno, I think I’m going to need a little bit more convincing before I do–“

“Oh, please, please!” You were rambling before he could finish his sentence. “Fill me up, Minnie. I need it so badly. I can take it I promise.”

“H-Holy fuck, okay. Dirty fucking mouth. Come here, baby.”

And just like that, you pushed yourself back up onto your knees, moving to hover over Jimin’s painfully erect cock.

Your boyfriend’s hands cradled your hips as you aligned the two of you, kneading the soft flesh tenderly.

“I love you.” You promised as you sank down. He threw his head back as you fell into the rhythm that felt as natural as breathing with him.

“Damn right you do, you're my fucking girl. Mine.”

He loved the way you moved with him - loved the way you felt like the piece he was missing. He loved everything about you and couldn’t help but shower you with praise as you rode his cock, wishing he could give you more than just car sex. He felt helpless near you, nowhere near as confident as he came across. You were spectacular in every single way, smiling as you leaned over to kiss him.

——

“Tell me about New York City,” Jimin ran his fingers down your arm.

The two of you had long forgotten about Jurassic Park, now reclothed and cuddled up in the back of his car.

You raised an eyebrow, “Honesty? It’s loud and dirty. Not to mention traffic is shit.”

“That sounds… terrible?”

“It is,” You breathed, “But it’s not. It’s the perfect place to disappear. No one gives you a shit about what you’ve got going on, no matter how fucked up you feel. Everyone is just trying to deal with their own chaos and get through the day.”

“Sounds kind of lonely.” He muttered. You hummed in contemplation, wondering how it was that you felt just the opposite. It was weirdly comforting to know that no matter your story, those in the city had seen worse.

“Did you know that when you’re deep in the city, there isn’t a single star in the night sky. Not a single one.” You recounted.

Jimin tilted his head, “What do you mean there are no stars?”

“It’s like they’ve all gone missing and the sky is just this massive empty black hole.”

“How can there be no stars? Where do they go?” He laughed.

“My theory? The city needs so much power to run that they had to steal every star from the sky above them… Though I’m told it’s something called light pollution that just covers the stars.”

“I like your theory better.” He smiled.

You turned towards the massive screen, watching as dinosaurs wreaked havoc.

“There’s a complex above the bar I used to work at. They have a rooftop that you’re not technically supposed to access but everyone does anyway. At night you have the most perfect view of the city skyline. The sky is just this hazy gray color but the further out you look, the lights from the surrounding buildings start to look like little stars sprinkled on the ground. I’ve always thought of it as New York’s version of the night sky. Like looking at the world upside down. It’s just… spectacular.” You marveled.

You could still see it so vividly in your mind, how the empty sky glowed and the buildings twinkled.

“You’ve always had stars in your eyes,” Jimin said suddenly, eyes fixated on you. You turned to meet his gaze.

“Hm?”

There was an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

You blinked, taken aback by his abrupt question.

“Hoseok introduced us. Second year of high school. Homeroom.”

Jimin shook his head.

“Do you remember the last home football game of our freshman year?”

Freshman year? Football game? Yeah, you remembered that.

“I mean, yeah. That was before I decided I hated school functions and only wanted to hang out with social rejects and lowlives. First and only high school football game I attended. Why?” You pondered.

“You and Hoseok were standing on the top of the bleachers. I think the two of you were trying to figure out how to climb the announcer building without dying or getting caught.” Jimin went on to recount.

“Oh, snap! I remember that! We did it, too. I remember it took me ages to convince Guyi to come climb up. Hoseok got a bunch of kids to come and join us… You were there?”

Jimin nodded at you, also remembering the way you and the thick-framed girl were close back then.

Jimin actually remembered much more than that. He recalled almost vividly how he and a few friends were called to follow the rowdy boy he knew from history class and how he led them through the bleachers and toward side the side of a building. There were two girls sitting on top already, the louder of the two turned around and waved at the newcomers, before turning back towards the sky, legs stretched out in front of her as she chatted with her best friend.

The other girl you were with, which he would later learn was Guyi, was sitting away from the edge, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she shivered at the night’s chill. She looked uncomfortable and he could hear her muttering about wanting to go back down but you insisted that the view of the stars was better where up here, leaning back on your palms as you faced the night sky.

He was taken by you immediately and spent the rest of the time on the roof glancing your way in hopes even just a quick peek of how the twinkling lights reflected off your irises.

You were all he could think about, even as the principal came screaming at you guys to come down. He thought of you as his older brother Jihoon drove him back home, silent in his seat as he stared up at the very same sky that captured your attention. He thought of you throughout that following summer and the very first day of your sophomore year, when he finally worked up the courage to tell Hoseok how he felt, leading the more extroverted boy to introduce the two of you.

And he had loved you ever since. Even now he loved you, eight years later, sat on Hoseok’s couch as you and the people you grew up with all played a drinking game, the movie since wrapped up, and the function heading back to Hoseok’s place.

He watched as you smiled and laughed with the others and imagined a world in which this could become your guys' new normal. Where every day could be just like how things were and he could just love you as easily as breathing.

But real life was never as easy as fantasies. Real-life consisted of messes and trauma and hurt feelings; there was no glossing over the past four years. And the more Jimin drank from his cup, the harder it was to keep up this game of pretend the two of you agreed on. One day you would have enough and you would leave him again.

He knew this was temporary - he agreed to it after all. He had kept you in this town despite how much he knew it hurt you to be here. Truthfully, as he sat on the couch getting far more inebriated than he should’ve, Jimin was angry. Perhaps with himself, perhaps with the world, perhaps with both — it didn’t matter in the end.

Because every day with you meant waiting for the day you would leave and what was he to do but keep on loving you?

He felt helpless.

“Where did you go?” Were his words as you sank back next to him on the couch, having been eliminated from the game taking place at the coffee table. Hoseok, Gwen, and a few other familiar faces were still sitting around it, laughing and joking with one another drunkenly.

“Huh? What do you mean? I was sitting right there.” You giggled, glancing down at the cup of liquor that Jimin had in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re still a lightweight, Minnie?”

He was boiling, and the words were spilling up and over faster than he could make sense of.

“Where were you, Y/N? I tried to find you I– You left me.”

Something was wrong. You could hear it in his words, and see it in the way his glossy eyes threatened to spill over. He brought his cup back up to his mouth, taking a large sip. You took it from him the second you realized just how drunk he was.

“Hey, that’s enough… let’s go outside, okay? Get some air.” You were up on your feet in an instant, eyes flickering over to the group to see if anyone had heard.

“You left me,” Jimin repeated.

“Jimin. Please.” There was a desperate look in your eyes, clearly not wanting to have this conversation with other people present.

Blinking away the lump in his throat, he got up from the couch and followed you out of the room, slipping through the sliding glass door onto the patio.

The patio door shut with a quiet click, the chill of the cold night greeting you both.

“How did you just... pack your bags and leave it all behind? Leave us behind? I thought you loved me.” Jimin wiped away at his cheeks blindly, unsure of when he started crying.

“I did— Minnie, I do.” You tried your best to keep your voice level, growing emotional at the topic at hand and at the man you loved hurting.

“Was I not enough of a reason to stay?”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly as you struggled to answer him. You, just like him, were intoxicated and nowhere in the right state of mind to be having this conversation.

“I mean, fuck, love bug! You just left!” His voice pitched up in disbelief, clearly not aware of his volume raising as well.

You were trembling. Though from the cold or the guilt you weren’t sure.

“I-I know, I-”

“You just left and never came back? This is your home–”

“Don’t fucking say that!” You snapped, surprising both you and Jimin.

A tsunami of emotion crashed into you.

“My parents are dead, Jimin. And I know you get it, I know you lost your brother but… Minnie, I couldn’t breathe! I-I felt trapped, and… god, after they died— it was me who was dying. Yes, I was wrong to leave but I was young and hurting and.. I just couldn’t let this town kill me too.”

Your hands found your face, covering it as a wave of melancholy rushed over you.

“I was supposed to be in that fire. I ran off to Grams because of a stupid, meaningless fight with my mom. After they died, I spent an entire year wondering if I shouldn’t have just died right there with them.”

You couldn’t bear to look up at Jimin. You couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes as you laid out the worst of you for him to hear.

“The second I stepped out of this town was the first real breath of air I had taken since they died. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life but I know that this town stopped being my home the second they died.”

Any and all anger had melted away from the orange-haired man.

“Y/N–”

You looked up suddenly, frown furrowed and eyes blurry with tears.

“I don’t need forever. I just need right now, okay, that’s what you said to me the night of the bonfire. You said that, remember?”

“I remember.” He sounded sorrowful.

“I love you, Minnie. I never stopped loving you. But they’re gone.” You mourned, breaths uneven. “And they’re everywhere I look in this town. I mean… why can I come back but they can’t? How is that fucking fair?!”

You were nearly inconsolable, watery eyes barely widening as your face was suddenly taken into Jimin’s hands, his thumbs brushing past your wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re right. I’ve already asked so much of you. This town has taken too much.” His eyes searched yours. “I... I wish you would’ve told me. When they died… for a year you said nothing. I thought you needed your space so I gave it to you, but I never would have if I knew you were planning to leave. What if I could’ve helped? You helped me when we lost Jihoon, remember?”

“I know...” Your answer was lackluster. Because you didn’t have an answer for him. You didn’t know why you pushed away those who loved you when your parents first died.

Was it teenage naivety? Was it fear of losing anyone else?

You wished you could give the sweet boy a solid answer. But you weren’t even sure that sober you could. God, he deserved so much more than you had given him.

“It was you and me against the world, remember? Through all the shit and garbage life throws at us. You were my person. You still are.”

“I just… there is so much out there, Jimin. So much this small town can never offer. If you only saw the cities, the kinds of people that come in and out.” You emphasized, suddenly inspired.

“What if… what if you come with me.” Your voice was small, knowing the impossibility of what you were asking him.

His eyes told you the answer to your question he even spoke.

“Bug, I… My family needs me here. Everything is here… I don’t know if I can just leave. This… this is my home.” His brows fell, rubbing your cheek apologetically.

“I know. But I can’t let you put your life on hold for me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I strung you along for another four years. When I leave I don’t want you holding onto me. You deserve to move on and find a life here like you’ve always wanted.”

“The life here that I always wanted was with you.” Jimin cried, pulling you into him.

You buried your face into his neck and for a moment the two of you just held each other and cried.

“I’m sorry.” You said, knowing that neither of you could do this anymore.

“I’m sorry, too.” He held you tighter.

The game of pretend had drawn to a close and neither of you had won.

—

Your grandmother was awake and doing a crossword in the kitchen when you walked back home later that night without Jimin.

“Hi, darling.” Your grandmother greeted, only noticing the way your hair stuck onto your wet cheeks once you came into the kitchen light.

“Oh, bless your little cotton socks, come here.”

She held you as you cried — she cried too, knowing that this meant goodbye in more ways than one.

She slept in your bed that night, holding you close in a way that she did for your mother and that your mother once did for you. There was so much you could never repay your grandmother for. You’d spend the rest of your life calling her from every city apologizing if that's what it took for her to forgive you for choosing to leave once again. But even if hadn’t told your grandmother you were leaving, even if she didn’t help you pack your bags that very next morning, she would forgive you because all she ever wanted was for you to follow your heart.

The same heart that had her drop you off at Jimin’s the next day.

Your knuckles rapped a somber tune onto his door, the sun pleasantly hitting on your skin, very polar opposite to how cold your insides felt.

You could hear a scuffling from inside the shed, suddenly embarrassingly aware of how little soundproofing Jimin’s room had. Thank goodness it was far from the main house.

“Y/N?” Jimin called out, the door handle turning.

Panicking, you gripped the handle, holding the door shut.

“Wait! Don’t open the door.” You warned, not exactly sure what came over you.

“Why? Bug, what’s wrong?” Jimin sounded concerned but let go of the handle regardless.

You fought with your thoughts for a moment.

“I can’t... If I see your face I’ll...”

You were a coward. You swore this time you wouldn’t just disappear, you had seen the pain you had caused him. But even still, even when you came to tell him you were leaving, you couldn’t bear to see his face. You could not see the face of the man you loved so much and tell him you were leaving him. You just couldn’t.

You didn’t feel strong or brave or anything Jimin insisted you were. Hand pressed against the closed door to Jimin’s room, you felt small and pitiful, far from someone who should be asking what you were about to do.

“I’m going to say something. It doesn’t need a response now, okay?” You called out, loud enough so he could hear.

You swallowed roughly, your throat dry. “My bus ride back home is today. Noon.”

Silence fell.

Your heart was pounding in your throat, nearly blocking out the words you had spent all night rehearsing.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll go. And I won’t come back. I mean it. I want you to move on. You have to try. Don’t give up your life for me.”

Jimin was just on the other side of the door, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, having just rolled out of bed. You didn’t explain yourself further, and perhaps you didn’t need to. He mulled over your words in his head.

If he didn’t show up, you’d hop on the train and slip out of his life forever.

“But if you show up...” you trailed off as if losing your nerve. But he understood all the same.

If he showed up to stop you, you’d stay.

You knew he could never physically ask you, but if he wanted you to stay, you would. Just seeing him would crumble your resolve and you’d stay with him here forever, even if it killed you.

“This isn’t a test or anything.” You said after a moment as if the thought came to you suddenly. “I know you love me. You don’t have to prove that to me.”

His shoulders sank, realizing what you were asking of him.

“I just... I didn’t give you a choice last time.”

Your words wrapping around Jimin like an old shirt— warm but ill-fitting.

How many nights had he dreamt of you saying those exact words? How many times had he pictured the night you left going different, with you telling him your plans of leaving and him convincing you to stay? Nothing would’ve changed and you’d go back to spending every night tangled up together and every day in his passenger seat, window cracked and wind brushing past your hair as you sang along to one of his playlists.

All he ever wanted was to go back to loving you like he used to. Loving you and imagining the life the two of you would build here.

“I-I’ll stay here and… and love you and figure out all my emotional garbage. I won’t leave you again.” Your voice was shaking. “If you ask me to, I’ll stay.”

Tears found Jimin’s eyes.

From the moment he met you, way back in high school, you had talked about seeing the world. You had big dreams that couldn’t fit in this tiny town. You were larger than life and he always knew to an extent that he have to spend the rest of his life running in order to catch up to where you were.

He just never thought you’d run further than he could go.

Don’t give up your life for me, you had said as you offered to do exactly that for him.

He saw the spark behind your eyes whenever you spoke of the city. He saw the way you turned into a shell of yourself at old memories. He would break his own heart ten times over before he would ever keep you here.

But you would break your own heart ten times if it meant you could save his heart from breaking again. Because if he wanted you to say, you could try to be happy here. Maybe you could try to be happy and try to be with Jimin and try for a nice ordinary life. You wouldn’t stay for you but you would stay for him.

Because you loved him far more than you loved yourself.

“If this is goodbye, then just know that… I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Sorry was all you could ever feel in this town. Sorry for all the hurt you caused and the mess you always left behind. Sorry for yourself and the life you would never get back. Perhaps it would’ve been better if you had turned down Jimin’s advances that night at the bonfire. More likely it would’ve been better if you hadn’t come back at all.

But the one-sided conversation through Jimin’s door was your best attempt at undoing a fraction of the hurt you had caused him, however pathetic it was.

——

You were standing amongst a crowd of moving bodies, watching anxiously as other buses began to board.

“He might show up.” You muttered to yourself. “It's not too late, he might show up.”

“Darling!”

You heard your grandmother call out, and you scoured the crowd before finding her, a breath of relief finding you. She had driven you to the bus station and left momentarily to use the bathroom for a moment — you feared you might have to board your bus without seeing her again.

“They just called for my bus.” You said the second she was within earshot. She looked around with you, watching as a line began to form in front of your bus. But your eyes wandered further, looking past the line, past your bus, and Elvie knew at once who you were looking for.

“You don’t have to go, you know.” She placed a hand on your cheek, pulling your attention back onto her.

“I know…” You nodded back at her, biting on the inside of your cheek.

“…But you want to.” She acknowledged. You were her blood after all. And no time apart could undo the way she knew her grandchild.

You met her eyes regretfully, guilt written all over you.

“I’ll call you every week.” You promised.

She pinched your cheek, “Even every month would do. I will miss you greatly. And I love you dearly.”

“I love you, Grams.” You pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Stay safe, darling.”

The two once estranged family members shared one final hug before the final call for your bus rang out. Shooting the bus station one final once over for a shade of orange, you waved your grandmother farewell and joined the line, boarding and sitting on the bus within a few minutes.

Elvie stayed at her spot for ten minutes, watching as the bus drove off and took her grandchild with it, waving goodbye even when you were too far to even see her.

A tear ran down her face as she clasped her hands together, hoping that you might find whatever you are continuing to search for.

A man joined her just then, emerging from behind the wall where he had been hiding, yanking off his grey beanie to reveal a bright mop of orange hair.

“There you are. Thought you were going to stand behind that wall forever.” Elvie acknowledged him, wiping away her tears.

“Sorry... And sorry to bombard you while you were on the way to the bathroom. Did you manage to slip it into her bag?” He asked.

“Of course I did. She was too busy looking for you to even notice.” Elvie reassured, watching as Jimin stared off in the direction you had left.

Jimin wasn’t sure when you’d find it, but eventually you’d find the black cassette tape he had dedicated to you all those years ago.

“It’s a playlist I made of all the songs that remind me of you.”

If it weren’t for you rummaging through his car, the tape would’ve continued to slip his mind— a forgotten relic forged from the time in which he swore he would never see you again. Carefully selected songs forming a cacophony of bitterness, longing, anger and sorrow.

After you left him this morning, Jimin lay across his bed, listening to your mixtape for the first time in years. An emotional time capsule in the form of plastic film and faded sharpie. He remembered vividly what every song meant, he remembered every raw unfiltered feeling he held for the last four years.

He held onto you for so long.

"Thank you for giving that to her."

“I have to ask… I mean, you showed up. You could’ve given her that mixtape in person. Why hide?” Your grandmother pressed.

“I had to see her. But I knew if she saw me she wouldn’t have left, and she would’ve continued to hurt herself just for me.” Jimin’s eyes welled up with emotion. “She deserves so much more than that, even if she doesn’t see it yet.”

Because you were the girl with stars in her eyes and big dreams and he was just the boy who loved you just enough to let you go.

------------------

THE END and before you yell at me, please respect my artistic vision EEEEP!! I love these characters and want what is best for them and the only way to do that is to honor the life that both truly deserve, even if that means it's not a life with each other. I thought long and hard about how to end this series, just putting that out there bc I know a bittersweet ending can be disappointing. AAHHH ILY MWAH! <3

#bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin #bts jimin #bts fanfics #bangtan smut #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin ff #bts ff #bts fanfic

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mikachacha · 1 year ago

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𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛) 𝙿𝚝.1

𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎, 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗��𝚜.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: slight angst and start of toxic relationship 🥹🥹

(A/N: im so nervous and happy to be finally uploading this piece here in tumblr 🥹🥹 ive been thinking about this for so long and finally had the courage to upload it now)

Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

It's been a week since you graduated in college and it still felt like a dream to you. You're one step closer to your dreams and how can you ever forget that day? It was the same day that Bada finally asked you out to be her girlfriend after knowing each other for a year. You couldn't believe your luck to have all your hard work finally pay off and to have such a gorgeous girl to be yours. It's like you've won the lottery.

"Baby, I have a surprise for youuu.." Bada said with a grin on her face and you looked at her, curiosity visible on your face which made her grin even more. You're hanging out in her apartment since you have nothing else to do and you're just waiting for a response from all the companies you've applied to, not that you're way too worried about it since you had other plans if no one responds.

"What is it?" you asked and she placed two plane tickets to Korea on the coffee table that made your eyes go wide and for you to hug her tight. Despite being Korean like her, you grew up in the states since your family migrated before you were even born. So going to Korea with Bada will be your first time there and you're thrilled.

"We're gonna go to Korea, go to my hometown and maybe introduce you to my family and close friends." she says and you couldn't stop yourself from kissing her. You're overjoyed. So many emotions are playing in your head. You're happy that you get to go to Korea, happy that she's going to introduce you to family and friends but also worried that they're not gonna accept you since you barely speak and understand Korean and don't know much about the culture.

Days pass and both of you are busy buying gifts for her parents, packing your things and last minute checking. You're ecstatic and Bada is happy seeing you get all excited. She loves how adorable you look and would often tell you so. She'd take you out on little dates, give you lots of love and just doing her best to make you feel loved. You loved it yet there's a small voice at the back of your head that kept saying it's a bit weird but you pushed it away as overthinking considering you came from toxic and abusive relationships.

"Alright, ready for our flight baby?" Bada asked and you nodded eagerly. You just arrived at the airport with her and she was holding your hand the whole time which made you feel giddy and loved. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze as you and her begin your adventure together.

The trip was long yet it was all worth it. When you landed, you were in awe. Everything is so different from the states, it's definitely a shock for you and you're just thankful that Bada is there to help you. She did the talking, navigating and just made your life much easier for you. When you were inside the cab, Bada turned a bit to talk to you since she said it's gonna take a while to reach her parents house which you didn't mind at all.

"Baby.. I know this will sound like shit but can we keep it low-key at my parents' house? Like we're gonna act like best friends while we're there since they're pretty traditional and don't really accept us as a couple yet. But don't worry, I will slowly talk to them about us so they'll be more open minded about us." Bada says and you feel your heart break from her words. You looked at her, trying to reassure yourself that your girlfriend is just playing a joke on you but the look on her face says otherwise. You wanted to cry, you wanted to get out of the cab and go back to the states but you forced yourself to think rationally. You took deep breaths and sighed, nodding your head. What else can you really do in this situation? You're already here, yeah it hurts but you also didn't want to ruin the trip for Bada.

"Alright.. But we'll talk more about this when we go back to the states." you said sternly and she nodded, placing kisses all over your face and saying sorry for putting you through the situation you're about to go through.

You finally arrived at her parents' house and they were waiting for you outside. Her parents welcomed you warmly and they even had a meal set up for you and Bada, saying that both of you must be starving from such a long trip which is quite true. Seeing the feast in front of you, you were amazed. Bada would always order Korean food or take you to a Korean restaurant, having authentic homemade ones really hits differently. Bada talked to her parents mostly while also translating stuff for you and you would also make an effort to talk to them in Korean to which Bada's parents really appreciated. It was fun, you felt happy that you forgot the pain you felt earlier when you were with Bada in that cab.

You both rested for a bit after the meal since Bada told you that she'll drive you around the neighborhood so you can fully enjoy Korea's beauty since the fall season has already begun. You didn't talk to her that much, you're still pretty upset from earlier and what made you more upset is she didn't try to talk to you. You were about to contact your best friend just to vent out when Bada took your phone and tossed it on the bed before kissing your lips. It's like she didn't want you to talk to anyone regarding her odd behaviour.

"What the fuck?" was all you could say after pulling away from her kiss and she looked at you, her eyes getting all sad and you strangely felt guilty even though you didn't do anything wrong.

"You're still upset.. I'm sorry.. I really wanted to introduce you to them as my girlfriend but then they won't welcome you and I don't want that to happen.." she says and hugs you, resting her chin on your shoulder.

"Yeah I'm still upset but what can I do, really? We're already here. Might as well stick to your plan until we get back to the states then we'll sort this out." you told her and she nodded, placing a kiss on your cheek.

She took you out that afternoon, driving around the neighborhood and taking you to the places she used to go to. Bada's really doing her best to make you feel loved, to make you feel special until you forget everything that happened earlier. You loved the affection you're getting from her. It got you thinking that maybe she's really making up for this whole situation and that everything will be okay eventually. You're really hoping for things to go well eventually for you and Bada.

"And this is where I usually grab dinner during my highschool days with my friends. They sell the best fried chicken here and their kimchi is to die for." Bada raves as she pulls you inside a small restaurant. You couldn't help but smile at how cute she is. You gave her hand a small squeeze as you followed her. You were busy looking around and bumped into her when she suddenly stopped. You were about to ask her why she stopped when you saw a guy in front of you and Bada.

"Who's this pretty girl with you, Bada?" the guy asked and you looked at Bada, confused. She smiles at you, before facing the guy again.

"Hey Howl. This is Y/N, my girlfriend." Bada said coolly and the guy just chuckled, shaking his head in amusement like he couldn't believe that you're Bada's girlfriend.

"I'm hurt, Bada. You didn't break up with me properly and now you're back with a girlfriend? Will this make us a trio now? Do we have an alternating schedule?" Howl teased and Bada just shoved Howl out of the way, not saying anything. You're stunned by the interaction and wanted to ask Bada what that was about but from the look on her face, you're sure that you won't be getting any real answers soon. You could feel your heart sink, the person you thought you knew might be hiding a secret from you. Maybe not just a secret, maybe you don't really know who the real Bada is.

#bada lee #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #lee bada #bada lee imagine

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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Two to Tango Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is ready to up the ante on your wager, and he finds he doesn't mind the idea of you winning.

Warnings: Adult banter, swearing, smut, fluff

Length: 1900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun.

Part 3

Bradley was unsurprised when you took the lead in points by a small margin at the end of Thursday. He had tried his best to rattle your nerves by whispering to you that you looked like a pretty princess during the lecture, but it backfired on him terribly.

You had started laughing, trying your best to hold it together, but Killer turned around and glared daggers at Bradley from his spot right in front of you.

When the lecture ended, and everyone made their way out onto the tarmac, Killer came up behind you and asked, "He's giving you a hard time, Tango?"

Bradley watched as the enormous man glared at him again, and then he watched you rub your chin like you weren't quite sure how to answer.

"Do you want me to get my ass kicked?" Bradley whispered, pleading with you.

You laughed again. "Nah, he's alright, Killer."

The only response was the sound of Killer snorting like a bull before he strolled over to Phoenix. His expression changed from pissed off alligator to lovesick puppy in an instant when Nat looked up at him.

Bradley would have to interrogate his friend about her taste in men later, because right now he had something to ask you before he climbed up into his aircraft.

"Tango," he called to you as you were walking away. "How about we up the ante on our wager?"

Your smile was instantaneous. "What did you have in mind, Rooster?"

"Loser takes the winner out for drinks. Back in California." He knew he was making a bold assumption that you would be interested in going out with him after this week, but he couldn't help himself.

"Let me get this straight, sweetheart.... when I win, I get two hundred bucks, you have to say something nice about me, and I get free drinks? Sounds great."

You stuck your hand out for him to shake, and then Bradley pulled you a little bit closer to him. "You're beautiful."

You smiled and looked at your boots, and Bradley loved how flustered this made you. "Just make sure you come to my room later and not Killer's, okay?"

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Bradley couldn't believe himself. He honestly didn't care if he won the bet or lost. It didn't matter to him if you were better than he was. And when he arrived at your room on Thursday night, and you started listing off your favorite cocktails, he just laughed.

"I want you to know what I like. For when you take me out for drinks," you informed him as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Bradley really thought you and he would just get down to business and start undressing right away, so he was a little surprised to find you snuggling up to him. He folded you up in his arms and kissed the top of your head.

"I'll buy you as many drinks as you want. Maybe we can even go out more than once," he whispered as you started slowly working on the buttons of his shirt.

You looked up at him, and Bradley braced himself for rejection, but instead you told him, "For some reason beyond my comprehension, I really like you. And your mustache."

"I really like you. And your smart mouth."

You smiled at him as he scooped you up into his arms.

"Tomorrow's our last day here. Are you gonna miss me?" you asked as Bradley dropped you down on your bed and climbed on top.

"Why do you think I tricked you into agreeing to meet up with me for a date?"

You laughed as he kissed your neck and hiked his hands up under your shirt. "I guess I fell for it."

"I'm so charming, you didn't stand a chance," Bradley told you, digging his fingertips gently into your sides.

"Yeah, yeah, age and experience and all that shit. Come on, old man, I want you to earn your walk of shame."

Bradley took his time and made you cum on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his face as you whined. He stretched out on the narrow bed and pulled you on top of him. His dick was rock hard as you started to ride him, your movements languid, a hazy look in your eyes. You already looked a little fucked out, and now you were enjoying his body slowly, rubbing your tits against his chest and rolling your hips.

"Nice and slow, Tango. Make it last," he whispered, and you stilled your motions with him fully seated inside you.

"So slow," you murmured, moving just ever so slightly. "God, you feel good."

Bradley basked in your words as you praised him. "Tango," he moaned as you moved your body up and down his length a little faster. Bradley gripped your hips and enjoyed the way you were looking at him, the way you were working him closer to the edge.

He watched you cum for him, all of your little gasps growing louder as you ran your hands along your breasts, teasing yourself as your eyes drifted closed.

"Fuck," you moaned, and when you squeezed around him, Bradley thrust up into you until you got loud. Then he came too, and held you as you smiled at him.

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When your alarm went off on Friday morning, Bradley reached for your phone and silenced it.

"Tango," he whispered, playing with your hair. "Let's get up, baby." You barely stirred, so he added, "So I can kick your ass and win this thing."

You rolled out of your bed, alert and ready to go. "Like hell, sweetheart. Come on."

Bradley laughed as you started to get your flight suit on, still determined to win. You narrowed your eyes at him as you tied your boots.

"Maybe I'll just stay here and skip the competition," he said with a yawn, pulling the blanket up higher. "Let you have it."

You shook your head and stomped back across the small room. "Get up, Rooster! I'm winning this thing fair and square! I can't wait to hear the nice things you have to say about me. And I can't wait to hear you say them in front of everyone."

But all of the nighttime activities had started to catch up with Bradley, and the day was not working out in his favor. You destroyed him and everyone else in the ten mile run. You took the lead early, and you were unrelenting. But this time when Bradley and Jake came huffing across the finish line together, you handed him some water and let your fingers linger on his hand.

"Thanks," Bradley mumbled before downing all of it in one go. "Damn, you're fast, Tango."

Then Bradley thought he was going to faint during the obstacle course; the temperature was nearing ninety five, and he barely managed to beat you.

He was exhausted, laying on the ground, looking up at you as you blocked the sun for him. "Comes down to the five mile run," you told him, placing your hands on your hips.

You were sweaty and muddy, and Bradley wanted to take you into the locker room with him. He could feel his body humming as he looked up at you and thought about his hands all over your body.

He thought about asking you to come spend a weekend with him in San Diego; he had an enormous walk-in shower at his place. But he thought better of it. He would give it more time.

"Five mile run. Fuck. Just take your two hundred bucks now. You win, Tango," Bradley groaned, still on the ground when the rest of his team crossed the finish line. You reached out and helped him to his feet. He staggered around rubbing the stitch in his side, and you grinned at him.

"I'll see you at the finish," you told him, leaning in to kiss his sweaty cheek, right in front of everyone. Bradley watched you walk away as Killer glared at him, but Bradley couldn't stop smiling. Maybe you wouldn't say no to a weekend with him after this.

He smiled as you immediately passed him and stayed well ahead of him during the five mile run. And he was still smiling when he finished in second place for total points on the week.

"Congratulations," he told you, sticking his hand out and shaking yours.

"You are so slow, old man. I can't believe your only claim to fame is landing on a freaking boat. How embarrassing." You kissed his lips softly before you added, "Now, I want my compliment as soon as everyone else finishes."

"Nah, I'm going to start now. You're beautiful. You're funny. You're smart and charming and competitive. You make me want to get to know you better."

You were trying to hide your face behind your hands as the final stragglers finished the five mile race, and Bradley loudly announced, "Tango is more talented than I am. All I have is experience from being so old."

You started cracking up, and you wrapped your arms around him. "I tried to tell you that on Sunday."

"Yeah, well, you were right and I was wrong."

You kissed his sweaty cheek and told him, "I'll see you in Cali, sweetheart."

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Bradley picked the spot, a cute restaurant halfway between Edwards Air Force Base and Top Gun on North Island. He'd dressed up a little bit, anxious to see you again. It had been a week since you beat him at his own game, and Bradley had talked to you every day since.

You had refused his two hundred dollars, but Bradley would insist on paying for everything tonight. And he was hoping to score a second dinner with you in the process.

"Old man."

Bradley spun around from his spot at the bar to face you. You were wearing a dress and some makeup, and he was at a loss for words.

"You okay, sweetheart?" you asked softly, eyeing him up and down. "You look nice."

Bradley leaned down and kissed you, pulling you against him. When you took his face in your hands, Bradley used his lips to separate yours, and he briefly tasted your tongue.

"I missed you," he whispered against your mouth.

"I missed you too, Rooster. I hope you remembered the list of drinks I like."

Bradley chuckled. "I remember everything, Tango. Now let's eat and drink so we can spend more time catching up and making plans."

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Thanks for reading this one! I hope you enjoyed this final part!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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l-starlight-l · 9 months ago

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The love of a hero

Missed Confessions

Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

A/n: Just a quick chapter with Red hood I whipped up

Description: Red hood is worried about how much you’ve been working lately and pays you a visit

Pairing: Red Hood x Reader

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:Reference:

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Dead tired. You were dead tired. Being short staffed was understandable at first, manageable but now it’s just getting annoying. Your past five shifts, they’ve made you stay overtime and it was horrible. Your patients, even being horrible people, didn’t deserve to get a lesser service just because the hospital they are at doesn’t know how to manage staff. So in all honesty you were both very angry and very tired.

You stormed down the hallway on your way to your office with a stack of paperwork. Very kindly you offered to finish one of the nurses paperwork because her mother had gotten mugged. You practically threw the papers on your desk and plopped down in your desk chair, ready to get to work.

After about and hour or two there was a knock on the door. You huffed and spoke a loud come in, expecting a coworker to walk in giving you even more work. Luckily for you it was the charming red hood. You lifted your head and a soft smile formed on your lips, “what are you doing here” you said with a sudden perk in your voice.

He lifted his helmet off, revealing his concerned eyes under his domino mask. “Damn, you look tired” he said oddly serious.

Annoyed you rolled your eyes, “yes, thank you for the compliment” you bit back, “what are you doing here, red” you readied.

He shrugged, “I came by when you were on break” he explained, “you weren’t at our spot”. He plopped down on one of the comfortable chairs across from you, on the other side of the desk.

~Our spot~ for some reason his choice of words made you blush. You were to tired to feeling anything to aggressive though. “Oh, Im so sorry” you said guilt mixing with the massive headache you had, “I had to work through my break”. You looked up at him with a forced smile even though you truly did feel bad.

“What” he said sitting up in his seat looking quite mad, “how long have you been working straight?”.

Embarrassment creeped up your spine, “a long time” you hesitated trying to explain, “we’re understaffed, I’ve had to fill in”.

He shook his head and let out a sigh full of frustration for you. Softening his mood he suggested “Why don’t you just take a short smoke break then?”, holding a cigarette in his hands.

You narrowed your eyes at the cigarette and then looked at the pile on your desk, only a third of the work left. Hesitantly you nodded, “sure”. Getting up you pushed open the big window in her office and waved him over, “technically there’s no smoking in the building, but what are they gonna do fire me?” You let out a weak laugh at that idea. They would never dream of it, you could probably kill someone and they would cover it up just to keep you on the very small staff.

You admired his beautiful features as he placed the cigarette in his mouth, lit it and inhaled. He then passed it to you and you inhaled the same. “Thank you” you said softly looking off to the distant.

His eyebrows knitted, “what for?” He asked confused.

“For coming to check on me” a weird feeling laid in your stomach. The past few weeks had been confusing for you. You had started to develop feelings for Jason, your neighbor, but you felt similarly towards the man standing next to you. The situation has been stressing you out lately and you didn’t know what to do. You crawled up on the large window ceil, sitting and hugging your knees to your chest after passing Jason the cigarette back.

He watched you with sad eyes, “I’m just worried about you” he admitted, “you’ve been working to hard lately and I..” he hesitated closing his eyes, “and I’m starting to really like you” he admitted. He had wanted to tell you for so long but didn’t want to lose you as a friend and he figured doing it under the mask was the best option so, if it needed bad he still had you as Jason. When you hadn’t responded he looked over at you and let out a affectionate laugh.

A small snore came from your mouth as you slept up against the wall. He smiled as he admired everything about you. Smoothly he put one hand under your legs and the other under your upper back and lifted you. There was a small couch in your office and he set you down on that. He gently covered you with a blanket and hesitating kissed you on the forehead. He started to the the room but looked back just to make sure you were okay. He had been worried about you all day, you never leaving his mind. Which wasn’t unusual even on days he didn’t worry.

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#jason todd #red hood #batfam #dc comics #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #red hood x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader

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ssinnerplazahotel · 3 months ago

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╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Fifteen*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 5k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

finale pt. 2

“They want you for the cover of Harper’s Bazaar.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

“Because they think you’re ‘extraordinarily beautiful,’” He said, quoting the request directly. “‘Otherworldly.’

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Well, I happen to agree that you’re out of this world.”

He smiled as you sat down in his lap, hugging his neck as you glanced over the letter. You thought about the offer for a moment.

“You don’t have to think about it too much,” Elvis said when he noticed your contemplation. “I’ll tell them you don’t want to do it.”

“Will you do it with me?”

“They didn’t ask me, dirty bird, they asked you.”

You laughed. “I know but…we do everything together.”

You knew if Elvis was on the cover they’d hardly spare you a glance. Doing it alone opened up the floor for criticism—criticism you no longer had the tolerance for. Though the hit pieces you saw were few and far between (Elvis made sure of that) you knew there was another level of hate out there.

“It should be all about you,” He said. “You have a few months to make up your mind.”

“They may not want me in a few months.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged dismissively. “I might be pregnant.”

You felt him tense beneath you. “You think?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “I’m late but…I’ve been late before.”

“They said there was a chance~”

“I don’t want to get excited. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“That mindset won’t get you far.”

“And being optimistic will?”

You stood up before he could respond, taking the lighter from the corner of his desk. He watched you wordlessly as you took a cigarette from its case and lit it.

“How late?”

“Don’t start with the questions, E.”

He stood with a sigh, dropping the pen that he had been fidgeting with. “Well, let me know when you start giving a fuck.”

You faced him. “You’re upset?”

“No.” You stopped him from leaving. “Birdie, I don’t care if you don’t.”

“I care,” You said. “I’m just scared.”

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then that’s just it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do understand.”

“Do you know what a miscarriage feels like?”

He retracted, but he was still upset. “I don’t see the point in trying if we’re gonna ignore it when it happens.”

“I’m not ignoring it,” You said. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well.” He walked past you. “I guess we’ll see.”

The months slipped by agonizingly slow. It was a miserable day every day you woke up still pregnant. It wasn’t that you hoped for another miscarriage, you just hated the anticipation of it all. It was hard to even acknowledge the fact.

You were measuring small, even towards the end of term. The doctors told you it was due to stress. It wasn’t the baby that was stressing you out however.

“I can’t believe I’m the one telling you that we need to get some things in order around here,” Elvis said, forcing you out of bed. “That sucker’s gonna pop out any day now, honey. They told us that weeks ago.”

“It’s fine,” You complained. “I’m sure someone will have the room ready overnight if you ask them.”

“This ain’t the inn, birdie,” He said. “You don’t just put it together in one day. Shouldn’t you have some kind of maternal instinct by now?”

You weren’t prepared to have a baby, let alone be a mother. You feared that you’d mess it up, like you mess up everything else.

“Come help me put this thing together,” Elvis said, returning to his passion project for that afternoon—the baby’s bassinet.

“Put it together in the nursery,” You said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It doesn’t make sense to do it here.”

“She’s not sleeping alone in a nursery,” He said. “You gotta keep her close the first few months at least. Unless you want a psychopath on our hands.”

“You read too much.”

“You don’t read enough.”

“Down the hall isn’t close enough?”

“Don’t be cruel.”

You watched him as he intently read the instructions word for word—ordering you around as he did so.

“A should snap into D,” He said, pointing the pieces out to you. “And B into C.”

“What?”

“A and D, B and C.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Let me do it.”

It felt like everything was happening to you. You were nothing more than a variable in this equation and life was insistent on working you out.

“Just breathe for a second~”

“Is it happening?”

“Calm down~”

“Is it really happening?”

“Birdie, relax.”

You couldn’t, how could you? You were in labor, actual labor. Elvis had kept his wits about him when you told him but that didn’t stop you from succumbing to the feeling of impending doom that you had been trying to outrun for the past eight and a half months.

“Get off the phone, E,” You said, rushing him along. “We need to get there before they really start. I can’t handle it.”

“I’m coming,” He said, trying to keep his frustration at bay. “Go get dressed, you can’t go out like that.”

“I’m going to have a baby.”

“Go change,” He insisted. “You could use the distraction while I get this together.”

“Please hurry,” You said, going to find something decent to wear. “I don’t want to feel anything. I can’t take it, I already told you~”

“I know, darlin,” He said halfheartedly. “We’re practically already there.”

You were fully in labor when you arrived at the hospital and barely in time for the epidural. But, after twelve and a half hours, you were welcoming your first daughter into the world.

It was a moment that already felt surreal in your head but even more so as you watched it all play out in front of you. It was painless—as painless as it could be—and you were happy. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. In reality, you had no idea what you were feeling.

“Birdie?”

“Hm?”

“Her name.”

Your eyes met Elvis’s as you held your daughter. He looked down at the both of you with such admiration.

“Are you asking me what it should be?”

“No, I’m telling you.”

“Birdie’s no name for a baby, E.”

“It could be.”

You looked down at the child in your arms, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands balled into tiny fists. “How about…Lark?”

“…I like it.” Elvis kissed your temple before leaning his head against yours and looking down at his daughter. “Y’know…we’re gonna have to tell the press soon.”

“Yeah, I know,” You responded. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

“It’s no rush.”

“Of course it is. They’re probably camped outside waiting.”

You turned your head when he didn’t respond, finding a telling expression on his face. “E…they are not camped outside waiting.”

“I don’t know how they found out~”

“Why would you say anything about telling them if they already know?” Your shift in tone startled the sleeping newborn in your arms, causing her to fuss. “Oh god, take her please~”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You weren’t sure if he was consoling you or the baby as he took her and stood from the bed. “It’s okay, hunna.”

You stared in the direction of the window, unable to see out but still picturing the press crowded around the building.

“What are they saying?” You asked, looking at him. “I know you’ve heard something so don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” He said in a hushed tone, walking the baby over to the crib that the hospital provided. “It’s just a shock, really. Most of the reactions are good.”

You didn’t believe him but you didn’t argue. You were too tired to go back and forth any longer.

After a restless night, you were awoken by Elvis saying that you were being discharged.

“Liz is here.”

“Why?”

“We have to go through the press to get out of here.”

“Is there really no other way?”

“They want to see us.”

You went through hair and makeup, nursing Lark along the way. You handed her off quickly after she was fed.

“Doesn’t hurt to hold her sometimes, bert,” Elvis said.

“Please don’t start calling me that,” You complained tensely as Liz zipped the back of your dress. You could hardly breathe in the stiff fabric.

“You don’t like it?” He laughed.

“No,” You exclaimed. “How do you get ‘bert’ from ‘birdie?’”

“D’You hear it, Lizzie?” He asked.

Liz shrugged and muttered something about hearing where he’d gotten it from.

“I can’t hear it,” You said. “I also can’t breathe.”

“You definitely don’t look like you had a baby twenty-four hours ago,” Liz said, adding the final touches. “They’ll love it.”

You enjoyed your brief interactions with Liz. She wasn’t talkative—by nature or per Elvis’s request you didn’t know. She finished up and left.

“What’s wrong?” Elvis asked when she was gone, laying the baby down.

“I don’t want them to see me,” You confessed. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

“Why?” He wondered. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes threatened to roll at the compliment. You didn’t feel beautiful. You felt sore and tired—all but beautiful.

“It’ll be quick,” Elvis said. “Like tearin off a bandaid.”

The nurses insisted that you be wheeled to the car but you politely declined. You could make it walking.

Lark was carried out in her car seat first, heavily protected on all sides before you and Elvis casually strolled out of the building. It was pure chaos outside but you tuned everything out. When you finally made it to the car Elvis let you in before following suit. It was quick, like he promised.

“Andrea?”

You were shocked to see her waiting for you in the foyer when you arrived back at Graceland. She stopped you before you grew excited.

“I came back for the baby.”

You smiled despite her cold demeanor. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Her expression softened when Elvis entered with the car seat in tow. He sighed as he shut the front door.

“You came,” He stated.

“For the baby,” Andrea clarified again, kneeling down to peek at her in the carrier. “What’s her name?”

“Lark,” You responded. “Like the bird.”

“You named her after a bird?” Andrea asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s sentimental.” You shrugged. “You don’t like it?”

“I think it’s a beautiful name.”

Your head snapped instantly in the direction of Dawn’s voice. She stood off to the side watching the interaction unfold.

“Aunt Dawn,” You said delightfully. “You made it.”

“I promised I would,” She said, opening her arms and wrapping you in her familiar embrace. “I had to see this to believe it.”

You felt small in her arms, like the child you once were. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She rubbed your back as she held you. “I’m here.”

“Let’s get you to bed, little bit,” Elvis said, cutting your embrace short. “Doctor’s orders.”

Things were different around the house with the baby and Andrea. Dawn stayed for a few days but ultimately returned to her house a few minutes up the road.

You promised to bring Lark over as often as you could, and you meant it. You aimed to go over every other weekend, but that changed into whenever Elvis could make the trip. He hated for you to visit Dawn on your own. You hadn’t paid it any mind until she brought it up one evening.

“It’s like he’s afraid to leave you alone with me,” She complained. “I’m your aunt. I practically raised you.”

“It’s not like that, Aunt Dawn,” You said as you buckled Lark into her seat. “He hates for me to travel alone. That’s all. There are crazy people out there.”

“He hates for you to do anything alone. It’s concerning.”

“No, it’s sweet. And he really enjoys our visits.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I hardly recognize you. You look exhausted.”

“That’s because I am exhausted.”

“Andrea and Joel seem to think~”

“Are you really going to let Joel and Andrea ruin our day? They’re the reason he hardly lets me come over anyway. Have they turned you against him too?”

“My worry for you has nothing to do with my feelings about him.”

“Don’t believe anything they say, it’s all made up.”

“Why would they make these things up?”

“Because they don’t want to see us together.”

Elvis appeared from the house then, carrying Lark’s missing pacifier.

“Where was it, baby?” You asked, ignoring the disconcerted expression on Dawn’s face.

“Under the couch,” He said. “The drive back would’ve been hell without it.”

“You two be careful,” Dawn said. “It’s getting dark soon.”

“We will be,” You said, stepping forward and hugging her. “Don’t worry about me. Please, I’m okay.”

“See you, Dawny,” Elvis said, hugging her briefly as well. “I’ll bring them by again soon.”

“I look forward to it.” She watched the two of you climb into the car and waved as you left.

“What’s got her so worried about you?”

“Hm?”

“Dawn. You told her not to worry?”

You shrugged dismissively. “She’s always like that.”

He hummed, unsatisfied with your response. “Did you say something in particular to get her like that?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know…she said I looked tired.”

Andrea was there to scoop up Lark the minute you got back. She claimed to not trust the two of you alone with her. She meant it as a joke but a part of you couldn’t help but think she was serious.

“I was about to take her upstairs,” You said. “She needs to get changed and fed.”

“I can do it,” Andrea offered as she bounced Lark in her arms. “I don’t mind.”

“That’s alright~”

“Let her do it,” Elvis said. “We’re gonna be down here anyway.”

“I was going to,” You said as he took the diaper bag from your shoulder and handed it off to Andrea. “It’ll only take a second.”

“I don’t mind,” Andrea insisted. “Go relax. I’m on baby duty.”

“Come on, bert,” Elvis said, laughing at the nickname as he guided you away.

You watched Andrea carefully climb the stairs until she was out of your view.

The scene downstairs was too chaotic and you would’ve preferred to be anywhere else. Elvis kept a heavy arm around your shoulders as you sat silently by his side amongst the group.

Despite your presence, there were still numerous women who had taken the same mundane interest in him as the hundreds (thousands, or even millions) who came before them. You couldn’t blame them, or the way they stared shamelessly—he was too beautiful to only steal a glance.

What they wanted from him was surface level, they craved his body, but his mind and soul were yours—some crude part of you wanted them to know that. You felt invisible next to him as their eyes locked on his every move.

“What?” Elvis asked when he noticed you shifting closer.

“I want to go upstairs,” You said, giving him a look and hoping he’d understand. You placed a suggestive hand on his thigh to further express your point. “Please.”

“Don’t, birdie, come on,” He scolded, moving your hand from his thigh.

“I need you,” You said. “Don’t you want me?”

His jaw twitched. “Why are you being like that in front of all these people?”

“They like watching so much, I figured we’d put on a show.”

“What?”

“A show, y’know…”

His eyes narrowed as he processed what you were saying.

“I want them to know that you’re mine,” You confessed.

“And the only way to prove that is to…?”

“Show them.”

“How?” He laughed.

“Kiss me,” You insisted. “Touch me.”

“You’re crazy,” He muttered under his breath. “I don’t know how I put up with you.”

His words hurt but in some sort of satisfying way.

He kissed your cheek and his deep voice vibrated in your ear when he whispered, “Go upstairs.”

You stood, trying not to pout as you left the room. You stopped by Lark’s nursery on your way by and you saw Andrea but you didn't make your presence known as you watched them. She was so good with her.

Elvis came up the stairs as you stood there and you immediately went to the bedroom without a word. You shut the door behind yourself, making him open it moments later.

“What? You have a problem with me?” He asked, slamming the door.

You faced him—crossing your arms.

“How can I help that they were looking at us?”

“They were looking at you, not me.”

“D’you know who I was looking at? You.”

“Do they know that?”

“Who cares what they know?”

“I do.”

“So, what, you want me to fuck you in a room full of people?”

You pushed him away when he stepped closer but even with all your strength he didn’t budge. You struggled against him when he grabbed your wrists, trying to pull away. His grip tightened and he forced you into a rough kiss. As much as you wanted to deny him you gave in quickly.

He made you straddle him when he sat on the edge of the bed, assisting your movements with a tight grip on your waist and making you grind your core against the bulge forming in his pants.

“You’re gonna finish what you were trying to start out there,” He said. “Do you understand?”

You aren’t sure what came over you in that moment, but you brought your right hand up and struck his cheek in one swift motion. He seemed as shocked by the action as you were, his head cocked to the side—frozen for a moment before acting suddenly.

He stood and shoved you onto your back, wrapping a hand around your neck.

You nodded in encouragement. “Hit me back.”

He kissed you, there was a gentleness lingering behind his touch that you wanted him to let go of. “Don’t be brutal.”

“I want it.”

“You want me to hit you?”

“Yes.”

He examined your expression for a moment before pulling away. You waited as he sat back on his heels and silently removed his shirt.

“Take off your dress,” He finally said, waiting expectantly.

You smiled and shook your head ‘no.’ He was on you immediately, forcing you onto your front before unzipping the back of your dress. He stripped you, leaving you in only your heels and panties.

“On your back,” He demanded.

You turned over but immediately lifted your foot, using the pointed end of your heel to keep him from coming closer. He grabbed your ankle and ripped the shoe from your foot before wrestling the other off.

He forced himself between your legs. You tried to push him away but he pinned your hands beside your head—he wasn’t letting up but you could feel his frustration building.

You forced a heavy moan and arched your back, playing up your pleasure and becoming pliant. He released your wrists and you put your arms around his shoulders—you let him kiss you fully before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling. You tugged harshly and he groaned.

“Don’t do that,” He said through clenched teeth. “Fucking let go.”

“Make me,” You challenged. “Hit me.”

“What’s that do for you?”

“It makes me feel like yours.”

You closed your eyes as he kissed you, releasing your grip on his hair.

“You are mine,” He muttered against your lips. “I don’t have to hit you to prove that, do I?”

“No,” You agreed, trying not to let your excitement show as he grabbed your jaw and made you look at him.

“You’re my girl?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what that means?”

Your eyes widened when his ring and middle fingers suddenly pushed past your lips, forcing your tongue down. You gagged and tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let you. The rings on his fingers clanked uncomfortably against your teeth but you couldn’t avoid them.

“It means—” His face was close to yours. “—that you hold yourself together when other girls make you jealous, you don’t fall apart and turn into a desperate nag.” He only pulled away after you choked, his fingers covered in your saliva. “You should know that by now, birdie. You’re actin like an amateur.”

You hardly had a second to breathe before he was forcing you onto your back.

“You’re always asking why I never use your mouth and you can’t even handle two fingers. It’s fucking adorable.” His words must’ve had the effect he wanted them to, because he laughed when you started struggling again. “You’re just a little girl. You don’t know the first thing about what you’re getting into when you ask me to do shit like this to you.”

“You’d rather fuck one of them?”

“I probably would’ve if it weren’t for your bad attitude.”

You fought harder but he held you down under half his body weight.

“You don’t like that?” He asked knowingly, grunting as he thrusted his touch-starved erection against your core.

“No, I don’t fucking like that,” You spat. “You’re an asshole.”

“Your mouth.” He tutted, disapprovingly.

“Fuck you.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck y~”

You were stunned by the slap that crossed your face. It didn’t hurt but it stung in an addicting way and made you throb with desperation.

“That’s what you want?” He asked, you could hear the panic reserved in his tone. He was checking in.

“Yes,” You reassured him.

“When did you get like this?” He muttered, sitting up and instructing you to remove his belt. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after being such a mean little thing.”

You sat up with him to unbuckle the belt. He took your face in his hands and kissed you, still unable to resist your lips.

“Say you love me,” He demanded, breaking the kiss. “Fucking say it.”

“I love you,” You said. “I love you, I love you, I love you~”

“Alright, shut up,” He interrupted. “You’re gonna get yourself off, d’you think you can do that?”

You followed him as he sat back against the headboard, letting him force you to straddle him. You brought your hand up in an attempt to land your revenge, but he caught your wrist before you could connect.

“Don’t try it again.” He tore your underwear from around your waist, ruining them. “Take my rings off.”

You reached for his hand and he pulled it out of your reach.

“Uh, uh,” He hummed. “Use your mouth.”

You hesitate but parted your lips anyway. He swore as you used your mouth to remove each ring, leaving his fingers glistening with your saliva.

“Last one,” He said as you spit another ring into his right palm and took his left ring finger in your mouth. He hissed as the wedding band slipped from his finger and into your mouth. He stopped you from spitting it out. “Keep it in your mouth. Don’t swallow it.”

You wanted to protest but focused your attention instead on not letting the ring slip down your throat. He kissed your chest as his wet fingers glided through your slick folds.

With his left hand occupied and his right arm wrapped around your back, you had a clear opportunity to land another sharp slap across his cheek.

He released an involuntary gasp upon contact, clenching his jaw and sighing through his nose.

“Spit,” He demanded, holding his left hand out for the ring. You let fall out of your mouth along with the pool of saliva that had collected.

He tossed the ring aside and leaned forward until you laid flat against the bed. He forced his fingers into you, curling them deep.

“It’s not enough that I married you, and gave you my child,” He said through labored breathing. “You want me to use you in a room full of people to prove a point.”

“People you would’ve had the luxury of screwing if I were nicer.”

“You know I say that kind of shit to piss you off.”

You released an accented moan as he slammed his fingers harshly into you, cutting your rebuttal short.

His hand found your throat again and applied more pressure. Your eyes widened in shock when your breathing was interrupted and you struggled to push him off.

“What?” He stopped moving. “Too soft? Harder?”

He waited another second and let go.

“Harder,” You gasped.

“Really?” His thrusts became longer and deeper—making your legs tremble as he reached that spot that made your toes curl. “But you’re crying, mama.”

He knew as well as you did that the tears in your eyes had nothing to do with you crying and everything to do with him choking you moments before. But he’d use the tears as a testimony to your pain if it made you appear frail.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, knowing the answer.

You wanted to tell him to keep going, but it was too much. The last thing you wanted to do was prove him right by affirming your sensitivity. Rather than appear weak, you opted for silence.

“Okay,” He whispered, kissing your lips gently. “I’ll take care of you, darlin, don’t worry.”

He sat up and silently motioned ‘come here’ with both hands—his lids heavy and his pupils blown with lust. You forced yourself to sit up, figuring it best to agree. He wrapped his arms around your torso, expecting you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Stay,” He whispered. “What’re you gonna do?”

“…Stay.” You shivered when he entered you, relaxing into his hold and completely relinquishing your senses.

“Good girl…see? You can be a sweet girl.”

You couldn’t feel anything outside of him. You couldn’t see, hear, smell, or taste anything…only him.

“You walk around like you have so much to prove,” He said, his voice low in your ear. “I don’t know why.”

You couldn’t respond, you couldn’t form any words as that familiar knot started to form in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s like you’re jealous of a couple of strangers,” He continued, rocking his hips upward to thrust inside of you. “Do you want me to treat you like them? Like I don’t know you—like I don’t love you?”

The world fell away and for a moment you were just a body made up of electricity and burning pleasure. Your eyes rolled and you trembled. He kept going.

“Do you want me fuck you like a stranger?” He muttered, you couldn’t tell if he was talking to you anymore.

“Please,” You whispered, encouraging him. “…fuck me like a stranger.”

His hips stuttered and he came instantly, bursting inside of you like a teenager. You felt the warmth of his release pooling inside of you and seeping between your thighs.

You climbed out of his lap, leaving no time for either of you to come down or catch your breath. You tried to turn away—too woozy to get up—but he grabbed you by the arm and made you face him. You wouldn’t look at him, so he gripped your jaw.

“I love you,” He panted. “I…love you. That’s the difference. That makes all the difference.”

You met his eyes. “That makes everything okay?”

“No,” He admitted. “It doesn’t.”

You couldn’t read his expression—his lids were heavy with post-orgasmic bliss. He was still coming down from his high, not speaking for himself but from his pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

You hugged him back, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to revel in his apology while he was sorry—because you knew he wouldn’t be for long.

He pulled away from the embrace after a few minutes. “Say it back.”

You smiled, you almost thought he hadn’t noticed. “I love you too.”

He smiled, content.

“You should get back out there,” You said. “Seemed like the night was just getting started.”

“I’m not finished with you just yet,” He said, smirking suggestively. “You’ve awoken something inside of me.”

“Oh no,” You said sarcastically, laughing as his hands shamefully roamed your body. “What have I done?”

“Where’s Lark?”

“With Andrea still.”

“Perfect.”

You squeaked in surprise when he rolled onto his back and pulled you onto his lap.

“Tell me what to do."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

His fingernails grazed your bare thighs as he smiled timidly. "I want you to order me around. Make me do things I wouldn’t usually do.”

You would grow to accept that there would be no final retribution or day of reckoning. No fight, no agreement, no threat, no reconciliation.

Those things didn’t matter when it came to the two of you. At the end of it all—good, bad, ugly and indifferent—you two would remain. It was an undisputed truth…wherever you went, you went together.

You could be opposites, or just alike, it’d make no difference. He could be like the sea. Open, free, abundant in what he could give. Charitable, but indulgent. Hazardous, but certain. You could be like the desert. Brutal, unforthcoming, full of life in some areas but destitute in others. Fertile, but not nurturing. Guarded, but unprotected. You could have been all those things and one simple fact would remain.

Wherever there was Elvis Presley, so too was his baby birdie.

—fin.

#elvis presley #elvis imagine #austin butler #elvis smut #black reader #elvis fluff #elvis presely smut #elvis x black reader #elvis x you #the bikeriders #60s elvis

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