#I mean bar is low for me but ugh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silentglassbreak · 2 months ago

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Well guys, you let me write your delulu fan fantasies, and it was an absolute blast. I had the best time with it, and hope to open myself to doing that again someday. Thank you all for letting me bring some semblance of your fantasies to life. It means the world to me!

Now…I think it’s only fair that I write mine.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None.

Breathe

The last three days had been a blur. They’d been exciting, exhilarating, and unbelievably fun…but they were so exhausting.

Flying all the way out to Grand Rapids…amid a cyber defect, no less…delayed flight, no one can take cards, two days at a rock music festival…I was beat.

Nicole and I had been planning this trip for months, and it felt like regardless of how many things we did right, we were fighting against some unseen force against us. Everything we tried to do was halted at each turn, and it had become rather annoying.

Despite all of the mishaps, we had persevered, determined to enjoy ourselves against any and all odds. We got to listen to great music, meet some bands, and ate the most disgusting food the festival had to offer.

It was a dream.

By the drive back to the hotel after day two of Upheaval, we were sitting in near-silence, the radio humming low in the vehicle.

"Babes?" I looked over to Nicole. "We need to eat."

I groaned in response, sinking further into my seat. "Sounds dumb. I want to sleep."

She chuckled. "Same, but if we don't eat, we're going to feel like shit tomorrow."

"Ugh," I rolled my eyes toward the pitch darkness outside the window of the rental. "you're right."

She smirked. "As always."

I sucked my teeth. "Can we at least shower first?"

Back at the hotel, we each took our time scrubbing the day off of us, erasing the sweat and makeup left from the weekend. I slipped into my heavy sweats and black crop-top, beads of water still falling from my long, dark hair. Nicole was rubbing moisturizer into her skin, standing in front of the bathroom mirror as I ran my fingers bluntly through my hair.

"I don't want to eat Taco Bell again." Her voice was pleading, and I snickered.

"Same, dude. But what else is open?"

She picked up her phone, opening Google Maps, and scrolling through.

"IHOP?"

I sighed. "It was so bad when we ate there on Thursday..."

She nodded, pursing her lips. "I know, dude. Let me keep looking." Her fingers swiped the screen. "That Denny's looked fucking scary."

I laughed, walking out of the bathroom and grabbed my wallet from my purse, stuffing it in my pocket.

"Oooh!" She stepped into the room, a smile on her face. "There's a TGIFridays open! Only for like, another hour? But if we eat fast, we can make it."

The restaurant was desolate, only one other large SUV in the parking lot. Before opening my door, I slipped my phone from my pocket and checked the screen.

No notifications.

"Have you heard from him?"

I just shook my head, re-locking the phone, and putting it in my pocket. Her look was sympathetic.

"He's an idiot. Don't even worry about it, babe." She put a hand on my arm. "That's a 'tomorrow you' problem."

I nodded, giving her a small smile. "I know. Thanks, Nic."

We walked into the restaurant, eyes glancing around and seeing only one table in the corner filled with no less than five men laughing and eating. Craning my neck around, I searched for the server.

"You think they'll even seat us this late?"

Nicole shrugged, eyes trained on the table with the patrons. "Don't know."

She was distracted, so I stepped forward toward the host stand, looking around toward the bar.

"October..." Her voice was small, just above a whisper.

I didn't look back at her, my empty stomach motivating me to keep checking for the employee. "Hmm?"

A hand gripped my wrist, which made my head snap back to her. "I need you to, discreetly, look over at the table of guys in the corner."

I furrowed my brows, looking her directly in the eyes. "What? Why?"

Her face was stern. "Just do it, but don't be obvious."

Exhaling a breath, I continued searching around the restaurant, letting my eyes fall on the table for only a split second longer than anywhere else.

I counted six men, all black t-shirts and hoodies. Three of them wearing black baseball caps. Half of them were sitting with their backs turned to me, but my eyes caught one of them facing our direction, hands air-drumming feverishly in front of him.

He looked so...familiar?

I stole another glance, and my eyes widened.

"Is that...?"

"Nick Folio." Her voice whispered to me.

I averted my eyes to the floor, hand rising to cover my mouth. "Oh my God."

"If he's here, that means it's them."

I couldn't process that.

Bad Omens was my favorite band. Nearly the entire reason I had flown sixteen hundred miles to a state I had never been. I ground my teeth together, shutting my eyes.

"No fucking way, dude. We just saw them at the festival." I let my eyes look up at her, and she smirked.

"Well, clearly, they're hungry."

"Mkay, well I'll be out in the car if you need me." My legs started for the door, but an arm hooked mine, swinging me back to my spot in front of her.

"Oh, no no no. You're not leaving."

My eyes blew wide at her. "I can't fucking be here while they are! They're my fucking heroes, Nic!"

She nodded. "Uh, fucking same! But when will we ever get an opportunity to be this close again?"

I rolled my eyes. "We're not at a zoo, Nicole. They're just guys."

I didn't even believe the words I was saying.

"Yeah?" She crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow. "Then why leave?"

My face deadpanned, my lip pouting. "Cause I'm going to throw up."

She chuckled at this, eyes darting back to the guys, completely oblivious to our turmoil unfolding fifty feet away.

"We should talk to them."

My heart fell straight to my gut. "I beg your finest pardon?"

She shrugged, considering me. "Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

"Uh, we interrupt their meal and I die of a stroke?"

This time, she rolled her eyes. "If you don't go say hello, I'm going to do it."

My brain short circuited. We couldn't have that. Who knew what Nicole's unhinged mouth would say to them...

"Can't I just eat and go? Pretend I didn't even see them?"

"And you'll never forgive yourself. You can't be this close to Noah Sebastian, and not tell him how much his music means to you."

I chewed on my lower lip.

"C'mon, babe. It'll be fine, and I'll be there with you!"

I steadied myself, wiping my hands on my pants. "Okay. Okay, I will."

I turned, looking directly at the table. The server had finally emerged, a tray full of plates in his hand. I waited as he set them all down, and he finally approached us.

"Sorry about that wait, guys. Just two?"

Nicole nodded, given I was nearly catatonic. The short, blonde man led us to a booth, only two away from the table I was dreading. He handed us menus, and took our drink orders.

"Before or after food?" Nicole asked as she scanned her menu.

"Can't you just do it?" I grimaced. "Without being a weirdo?"

She didn't even bother looking up at me. "Nope. Weird is built into my soul, sorry."

I sighed hard. "Before, then. If I eat, I will vomit all over them."

She folded her menu, and stood from the booth. "Let's go, then."

I closed my eyes, and took her outstretched hand, standing. Taking a quick second to right my hoodie - my Bad Omens hoodie - tied around my waist, I took in a hard breath.

"Alright." I squeaked out.

She led me carefully the few paces over to the table, moving behind me. I walked about four feet from them, likely looking pale as a ghost. I caught Folio's attention first, smiling awkwardly and giving a short wave.

"Hey! Can we help you guys?" His voice was upbeat and sweet as candy. Exactly how I expected.

"Hi." I cleared my throat, taking a careful step forward. My hands kneaded each other, and Nicole held a steady hand on my low back. "I'm s-so sorry to interrupt."

All heads had turned to me, and I didn't have the nerve to look to my left, where I knew Noah was sat.

"No worries!" Folio was smiling widely at me. "Are you guys fans?"

I nodded, looking down at my feet. "We are. We just saw you guys perform tonight, and I wanted to just-" My voice cut off abruptly, a catch in my throat. I swallowed hard. "We wanted to tell you how amazing you all were."

My eyes bounced to the other two men facing me. Nick Ruffilo and Matt Dierkes. They were both grinning.

"Thank you, that means a lot." Nick's voice was tired, but his smile was genuine.

Folio stood from his seat, pushing a hand out to me. "I'm Nick."

I took it with shaky fingers, feeling his grip mine tightly. "Folio, right."

He nodded. "And you are?"

Wow, I forgot my name. Smooth.

It took me a moment, but with a more certain voice, I was able to respond. "October." I let go of his hand to move to the side. "This is Nicole."

He shook her hand as well.

She smiled a toothy grin at him. "We flew from Las Vegas to see you guys."

Folio smiled wider. "Really? Wow! That's so fucking cool!"

Trying not to combust, I dared a glance slightly to the left, seeing Jolly and Bryan, who were both chewing food.

"I would introduce the rest of these guys, but I'm sure you already know who they are." Folio chuckled, and we both nodded.

"Yeah, we're familiar." I added.

"Well, that's great. Now, do you mind?"

The voice came directly from the left of me, where I had been avoiding. The tone made my blood run cold, and I felt all of my muscles tighten.

Finally, I looked over to meet his large, brown eyes. Noah looked anything but appreciative of us coming over to give our praise. In fact, he looked downright annoyed.

I couldn't process what he had said, and I stupidly asked, "Excuse me?"

He narrowed his eyes at me slightly, gesturing to the table. "Look, as much as we all appreciate it," His voice was dripping with disdain. "we're exhausted. We just want to eat so we can get out of here."

My heart had stopped beating. If I had anything in my stomach, it would have erupted out of me right then and there.

Maybe it was the jet-lag, or the fact that when I got home tomorrow, my life was actively in shambles, or maybe it was just being hungry...but I was enraged.

My hands balled into fists instinctively, trying to control my irritation, and I repainted my sweet smile.

"I'm sorry, we'll go. We just wanted to let you guys know you did great tonight. And you all are extremely talented."

He nodded, eyes now looking about as bored as they come.

"Great. Thanks." He snapped, turning his body back toward the table.

"Noah." Folio's voice was stern, and he turned back to me, an apologetic look on his face. "Don't mind him. He's cranky. You guys really aren't bothering us."

I heard the sound before I really registered what it was.

He sucked his teeth.

Oh, I see. He was a fucking child.

Now having lost all sense of nervousness, I could feel Nicole's hand tugging at my arm. "C'mon, babe."

I let myself be turned for a second, but my anger spun me back around, now facing directly toward him, which made him glance up at me like an inconvenience.

"You know," I started, sucking my own teeth in mockery. "you're not at all what I expected?"

He snickered, leaning back in his chair. "No?"

I shook my head slowly. "Nah. I expected someone with as much talent and success as you to be a decent person. Guess I was wrong."

Nicole's near silent gasp behind me was not lost, and I smirked.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, sweetheart." His voice was so nonchalant, it made my blood roar in my ears.

My hands twisted around the knot in my hoodie at my belt line, pulling it loose. I pulled it off with one hand, holding it out in front of me and let it go, leaving it to fall directly in his lap.

"Here." I caught him off guard, him looking up at me with wide eyes. "You probably want this back."

He picked it up, recognizing it was one of theirs. "Why would I want this?"

I smirked, a darkness in my eyes. "Well, you're pretty cold, Noah." I leaned down just to meet his eye level. "Might want something to warm you up before everyone realizes."

I heard a stifled snort come from the table, but I couldn't even begin to tell you who it was. Standing back up, I backed away from the table, and looked back at Folio.

"It was really nice to meet you guys. Have a safe night."

With that, I snatched Nicole's hand, and stalked away from the table, only pausing at the booth to grab my bag, before heading for the doors.

Once outside in the brisk night air, I took three large breaths, rounding the building and leaning down. My hands caught my knees, and Nicole stood in front of me.

"Holy shit!" She was nearly hysterical. "You just told off Noah Sebastian!"

Breathing hard, I fought the tears welling. It was too much all at once.

Was it that significant? No, not really. But after the year I'd been having, I couldn't handle that encounter at all.

"I want to leave. I want to go home."

"I know, babe. I'm sorry that went that way. I can't believe how much of a douche he was."

Shaking my head, I stood back up straight, wiping the moisture from my eyes. "Me either."

"Well," A voice came from behind us, and my eyes blew out, seeing him towering only a few feet away, hoodie in hand. "I don't know if I'd go as far to say douche."

My eyes squinted, jaw clicking. "I would."

He approached us slowly, holding the sweater out to me. "Take this. It's yours."

I held a hand up to him, shaking my head. "No, thanks."

He rolled his eyes. "You paid good money for this. And you made your point. Take it."

I considered him, counting my breaths. He was unmoving, so I reached out, gripping the fabric.

His foot kicked at the sidewalk, hands retreating into his sweater pockets. "Look, I'm sorry." I stood, shocked. "Folio's right. I'm just cranky. I haven't eaten all day, I'm tired. You just caught me on a bad moment."

My lips tightened, and I sighed hard. "So that makes it okay to be rude to someone who just wanted to tell you how great you were?"

His teeth chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I said I was sorry."

A hand touched my arm, and I looked back at Nicole, who gave me an amused smile. "Babe? I'm going to go back in. I'm also hungry."

I just nodded, letting her walk past the both of us.

He took two steps toward me slowly, eyes fixed on my face. "Nicole, right?" He asked, without taking his eyes off of me. She stopped short in her stride. "Pull a chair up to the table, dinner's on me tonight."

I caught the small smile on her lips before she continued her trek back into the restaurant.

"Well, you all enjoy that." And I turned, ready to get into the car, when I hand caught me by my purse. I stopped, looking back at him.

"Come eat."

Stitching my eyebrows together, I crossed my arms with my sweater between, considering him.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Cause I was a douche."

I sat relatively silent at the table, munching slowly on the personal flatbread pizza I had ordered. It was one of the cheapest items on the menu, and I would be damned if I didn't somehow manage to slip him cash for it before we left.

Noah had loosened up substantially once he started eating. He was leaned back in his chair, flicking fries at Nick across the table, and participating in the conversations swirling around. Nicole, as she always did, melted into the group comfortably, sat next to Folio, and telling story after story of our trip and the festival.

"You guys seriously had to drive to an ATM to pay at the IHOP?" Nick asked incredulously.

"Yep. We sure did. The guy couldn't take card, and we felt bad. We could've just not come back, but that wouldn't be good karma."

I smiled at Nicole, the memory of two nights ago flooding in. An arm bumped mine, and I looked to my left to see Noah, eyes searching my face.

"You still mad at me?"

His voice was entirely different, soft as butter and warm like a fire. I smirked, leaning my elbows on the table.

"Haven't decided yet."

He nodded, sitting up so he was sat closer to me. "Yeah? Well, you shouldn't be."

Resting my chin on my hand, I gazed at him. "Why not?"

He smiled brightly. "Cause you came all this way to see me."

This made me snort, rolling my eyes. "Uh, no. I came all this way to see Bad Omens. Which I did."

"Why fly to Michigan? We were just in Vegas in April."

I nodded. "At Sick New World. I was there." He quirked an eyebrow. "Also at the show in October."

He looked confused. "So why come to Michigan?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I smiled a small grin. "Favorite band."

"We are?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

He smiled, smug. "I mean, not really."

I laughed, leaning back from the table. I was wearing my hoodie now, having become chilly halfway through the meal.

"Bet I can guess your favorite song?"

My eyes darted to his face, amused. "Really?" He looked so sure of himself. "Go for it."

He pursed his lips and stroked his chin dramatically, like a Medium. I tried to hide my laughter.

"Just Pretend?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "You think I'm that basic?"

He chuckled. "Fair enough." He stared hard at me, trying to get a read. "Death of Peace of Mind?"

Nicole raised a hand. "That one's mine!"

Both of us glanced up at her, not realizing anyone else was listening. He turned back to me, still wracking his brain.

"Dethrone?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Nowhere To Go?"

"Nope, close third, though."

"Third?!"

I giggled, a blush flushing up my neck.

"Which album is it off of?"

"Nuh-uh, that's cheating."

He threw his hands up. "How is that cheating?"

I pursed my lips. "Second album."

"Limits?"

"Bingo."

He clapped his hands together in triumph. "Ha!" He pointed at me. "Knew I'd guess it."

Laughing, I pushed him with my arm. "Yeah, after you guessed half of your songs."

We both broke out in laughter, and it occurred to me that some of the other conversations had stopped. I caught Nick in the corner yawning hard, and my eyes met Nicole's. It was time.

"Well, Noah," I looked back at him. "thank you for the food. We should get going."

His lips downturned, but I was sure I was imagining it. "Oh," He looked back at the rest of the guys. "yeah, us too. Early morning."

I nodded, standing out of my chair, everyone else following suit.

As a group, we made our way out the door, pouring out onto the sidewalk. Nicole bid goodbye to the guys, and I did the same. We hugged them each separately, Noah being last.

I wasn't sure if hugging him was appropriate, given our encounter, so I just stood in front of him while everyone else headed for the cars.

"So," I let my lips turn up in a smile.

His face mimicked mine. "This was fun."

"It was. Despite how it started, it was really great meeting you, Noah."

"You too, October."

The bill in my hand was getting sweaty, so I stepped forward, pushing it toward him. His eyes looked down at my hand, and he put his hands up.

"Oh, no. Dinner was on me."

"Please take it, Noah."

He took a step back, as if what I was holding was poisonous. "Not a chance."

Scoffing, I stepped toward him, pulling my hand back. "I don't like people paying for me."

He pursed his lips. "I'm not taking money from you." I groaned, slipping the two twenties back in my pocket. "I will, however," He looked at me from under his lashes. "take your number, if that's okay?"

I froze, my mind stopping. "Oh, uh,"

He looked as though he may run in the opposite direction, eyes becoming panicked. "You don't have to. I totally get it."

"No, no. I can give it to you." His head snapped up to look at me. "I just, uh," My face fell to stare at the ground for a moment before I spoke. "I'm not really looking for..." I trailed off.

"Oh! No! I just had a lot of fun talking to you. Figured we could keep talking? Like, friends?" His smile was nervous, and it warmed me.

"Okay."

"He asked for your number?!" Nicole nearly screamed at the windshield as she drove us back to the hotel.

I cackled. "Yeah."

"And you gave it to him?!"

I didn't verbally respond, only dropped my head in my hands.

"Holy fuck!"

"He said he just wants to be friends."

"Oh, bullshit. He fucking liked you. I could tell he was into the attitude."

I gasped. "Not true!"

"So fucking true."

"No way, dude. He's Noah Sebastian. And I'm...me."

"You're fucking amazing, I don't know what you mean." Nicole looked nearly offended.

"I know. But he just wants to talk."

She smirked. "With his dick, maybe."

The shrieking laughter that exploded out of me was a mix of shock and hilarity at her comment.

"We'll know for sure if he texts you."

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "We'll see."

As fried as my nerves were, nothing was stopping me from passing out the moment my head hit the pillow of the hotel room bed. I was absolutely cooked, ready to return back to my normal life.

I had received no messages before I knocked out, so I put it out of my head. It was a fun experience, and a sweet gesture of him to take my number, but I knew the likelihood of ever hearing from him again was so slim, it wasn’t worth hoping for.

He didn’t know me, and from what I knew about Noah Sebastian, he was an extremely private person. How did he know I wouldn’t give out his number or share our messages online? I would probably pause before I did anything if I were him.

When my eyes finally cracked open, the fog settled behind my eyes slowly evaporating, I saw Nicole sat up on her bed, looking down at her phone. I grunted, rolling onto my side and pulling the blankets up to my chin.

“What time is it?”

“Nine. We don’t have to leave for the airport for another hour.” She didn’t look up at me, but she smirked when she spoke.

I yawned, letting my eyes fall closed again. “I should go back to sleep, then.”

“You could.” She set her phone in her lap. “Or, you could check your phone.”

Snuggling deeper under the covers, I stretched my legs.

“He hasn’t texted me, dude.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Your phone went off twice about half an hour ago.” She leaned back on her hands. “I already looked at the screen, and it wasn’t your Dad or…anyone else.” She spoke the last words carefully. I knew who she was referring to, and my chest squeezed at the idea.

My hand carefully reached onto the nightstand, gripping my phone. I pulled it in front of my face, tapping in the code, and letting it open. My messages icon showed two red notifications, which I opened hastily.

The messages came from an unknown number. When I opened the thread, my heart halted all its movements.

+17475558326: Hi.

+17475558326: It’s Noah.

My breathing picked back up, and I shot straight up in bed.

“Was it him?!” Nicole was bursting.

My eyes slipped over to look at her, my mouth fallen open. “It was.”

She squealed. “I can’t believe he texted you!”

My fingers shook while holding the phone, threatening to drop it in my lap. “What do I do?!”

“Fucking respond!”

I nodded, my thumbs hovering over the screen but freezing. “What do I say?!”

“Hi? I don’t fucking know?!” She looked amused. I was not.

Me: Good morning.

My finger hovered over the send button for a moment before I finally sent it. Instinctively, I tossed my phone on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest,

“Holy fuck, dude.”

She stood, walking over to my cell and checking the screen. “He’s already read it.”

“Give it.” I held my hand out, and she placed it in my palm.

His type bubble was already up. I took a second to save his name into my phone.

Noah: Sleep okay?

Was this real life?

Me: I did, how about you?

Noah must’ve had the chat open, because my message was read instantly and he started texting back quick.

Noah: Eh, yeah. Hotel beds aren’t my favorite.

Me: Me either. I was so tired, though.

I stood off the bed, stretching my arms over my head. Nicole had disappeared into the bathroom. I pulled my hoodie over my head, and looked at my messages again.

Noah: I’ll bet. You had a busy weekend. Excited to go home?

I thought about my response carefully.

Me: I am. I’m sure my kids are missing me almost as much as I miss them.

It shouldn’t be any big deal to admit that I’ve got kids casually, right? We’re just friends…

The thread indicated he read the messages, but it took him a full five minutes to start typing. My breath held what felt like the entire time, waiting for his text to come through.

Noah: How many kids?

My pulse raced, and I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Me: Two.

Noah: How old?

I raised an eyebrow.

Me: Why do you ask?

He responded slowly.

Noah: Just curious. Making conversation.

I sighed, now slightly concerned.

Me: 9 and 5.

Noah: Boys?

Me: Boy and a girl. My son is older.

Noah: Big brother, huh? Very cool. What’re their names?

I bit my lip, and Nicole was now stood next to the bed staring at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I told him about my kids.”

She eyed me, confused. “And?”

“He’s asking about them.”

Quirking an eyebrow, she sat down next to me. “Are you not comfortable telling him? That’s a valid feeling, babe.” She put a hand on my knee. “You just met him.”

I nodded. “It’s just kind of…I don’t know, strange? Why would he care what my kid’s names are?”

She pursed her lips, staring down at my phone. “Maybe he’s trying to get to know you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I should just tell him?”

“It’s up to you, babe.”

I sent back a quick response.

Me: Michael and Willow

Noah: Nice.

I was brushing my teeth, so I didn’t immediately respond before his next text came in.

Noah: So, if you’ve got kids, does that mean you have a husband?

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

Me: Don’t have to be married to have kids, Noah.

His text that came through almost made me spit my toothpaste all over the mirror.

Noah: Children out of wedlock?! Unacceptable!!

I cackled, and I knew Nicole was wondering, but she didn’t ask.

Me: What can I say? I’m a heathen.

I followed it up quickly.

Me: But, no. Not married. Their Dad is around, but we’re not together.

Noah: I see.

I sighed, not really sure where to go from here. Resolving to changing the subject, I was also packing up my things into my duffel to prepare for our journey to the airport.

Me: Anyway, enough about me. What’re you up to?

Noah: On the bus headed to Mansfield. We should be there in about an hour.

Me: Oh, that’s right. You play Inkcarceration tonight, right?

Noah: Yup. Surprised you won’t be there. 😜

I laughed out loud.

Me: Well, I can only stalk you so much. I have work tomorrow.

Noah: What do you do?

Me: I work for a law firm as a paralegal. It’s a mostly remote gig, so I work from home most days.

Nicole and I loaded our bags into the car, dropping our key cards off at the desk.

Noah: Oh that sounds fun.

Me: It’s not, but it pays the bills.

We made it to the rental car return, and I waited outside while Nicole dropped the keys in the box. We made our way into the airport, now having to pay full attention to the tasks at hand.

Check in, move through TSA, head to Starbucks, find gate.

Nicole had stopped at a gift shop that had an impressive bookstore inside, where I opted to go find seats at the gate. It wasn’t until I was settled in that I was able to check my phone again.

Noah: Well, what would you rather do for a living?

I chewed my bottom lip thinking about this.

Me: I don’t really know, honestly. Thats a tough question.

Me: I’d have to think on that.

Noah: Great, I expect a report back in 3-5 business days. 👍🏻

I cackled at the message, and Nicole sat next to me right as I did.

“Still texting the love of your life?”

I scoffed, locking my phone and looking at her. “Oh, stop. He’s just a guy.”

“Yeah, mhm, sure.” She opened her crispy new novel and began reading the first few pages, successfully ending the short conversation.

Noah: What time’s your flight?

Me: We board in about ten minutes.

Noah: Sweet. You’ll be home soon, you must be relieved.

Me: I am, but I hate flying…

Noah: Really? I’m the same way. It’s the worst.

Me: Any tips for me?

Noah: Depends. Is it the small spaces, or the fear of crashing?

Me: Crashing.

Noah: Oh, yeah…no. Can’t help you there. I have an insane irrational fear of being in a plane crash.

I audibly groaned, sinking into my seat.

Me: Awesome, thanks.

Noah: LOL you’ll be fine. It’ll be a smooth flight and you’ll be home to your kids in no time.

Noah: I usually blast music through the whole flight and just tune everything out.

Me: I’ll try that.

The call for our boarding came, so Nicole and I stood, headed for the line.

Me: We’re about to board. Talk later?

Noah: Yup. Fly safe. Text when you land.

Noah: If you want.

Smiling at my phone, I typed back swiftly.

Me: Will do.

Falling into my bed, I took a moment to stare up at the ceiling.

It was over. I was home. All that was left to do was gather myself, pick up my kids from their Dad, and return back to my regular life.

The thought consumed me. I only had an hour until I was due to pick them up, and as excited as I was to see my babies, I was absolutely floundering at the idea of seeing their Dad…

Things had not ended well between Sean and I. Earlier in the year, we had finally called it quits after nearly a decade. Although we tried hard to amicably end things, it just wasn’t in the cards for us. There was too much history and hurt to let it die peacefully.

I gave myself a few minutes to gather myself before I took my phone out, shooting him a quick text to let him know I’d be there at 5PM, as agreed.

Sean: K.

Sounds about right.

I then realized I had forgotten to text Noah, so I opened our thread.

Me: I got home okay. Did you make it to Ohio safely?

Heading for the backyard to let my dog, Steve, out to use the bathroom, I sat at the table, staring out at the grass.

My phone chimed.

Noah: Nope. Bus crashed. Fiery mess. Blood everywhere.

I smirked.

Me: Damn. RIP.

Noah: We’re at the festival, just hanging for now. We’ve got about an hour before they set up the stage.

Me: Same setlist from last night?

Noah: Probably. We haven’t taken the time to make a new one.

I sighed, making my way back into the house and moving around the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Me: You should.

Noah: Yeah, how so?

Thinking for a moment, I leaned against the counter, and typed on the screen.

Me: Maybe add in something different? Something you haven’t played in a long time?

Noah: Such as…?

I snorted.

Me: Isn’t that your job to decide?

Noah: You can tell me, as a listener, what you’d want to hear.

Noah: What’s your favorite song off the first album?

Me: The Fountain, but that’s too slow.

Noah: I doubt I even know the words to that anymore, dude.

Me: Exit Wounds?

Noah: Meh.

Me: OMG…

Noah: What else?

Me: Worst In Me?

Noah: Hate that song.

Me: Jesus actual Christ.

Noah: Second album? Other than Limits?

Me: Burning Out?

Noah: …

Noah: That might not be a bad one…

Me: Oop?

Noah: I’ve got to talk to Nick. I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll text you later?

Me: Yup. Have a great show!

Noah: That you should be at…

I ignored his last message, sipping my coffee, and steadying myself. He was a little flirty, sure. It didn’t mean my heart didn’t jump each time he did it.

My knuckles tapped the door, and I was greeted by my son Michael, his smile huge.

“Mom!” He rushed me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Hey baby!” I knelt down, pulling him into a tight squeeze.

Behind him, inside the house, my daughter came running as well. “Mama!”

I pulled an arm open for her, encapsulating them both. “Ugh, I missed you guys so hard.”

Letting them loose, I noticed they already had their backpacks on.

“Where’s your Dad?” I looked around inside the apartment, but Michael just waved a hand.

“In his room. He told me to tell you he’ll see you next week.” He was so nonchalant, and although I knew it was forced, I was thoroughly impressed at how strong my young man had been throughout this difficult process.

Silently, I thanked the universe that Sean and I didn’t have to come face to face, and we made our way out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“How was Mushygen?” Willow asked, and I laughed at her pronunciation.

“Michigan was good. Auntie and I had fun, but I’m so glad to be home with you both.” I buckled her in the back of my minivan while Michael climbed in his seat next to hers.

“Did you get to meet any cool bands?” He asked me.

This made me smile as I slid into my seat, starting the vehicle.

“I did. I actually got to meet my favorite band.”

“Bad Omens?!” His voice cracked, and I smiled bigger.

“Yes! We ran into them at a restaurant last night!”

“What were they like?” He was curious, being a bit of a fan himself.

“Super nice, really cool guys.” I skipped over mine and Noah’s introductory debacle.

“That’s so cool, Mom!” Willow chirped from her seat.

“How was your weekend at Dad’s?” I asked them.

They proceeded to give me the full rundown of their three days with their father. They went to the park, out to dinner, but mostly stayed in at the apartment, given how hot it was. They couldn’t wait to go back next weekend.

Sean was a lot of things, but I’d never lie and say he wasn’t a good father to his kids.

Once back at home, I began working on dinner. Spaghetti, per the children’s request. After dinner were baths/showers, two hours of hangout time, before they had to go to bed. It was summer, so bedtime was midnight.

About 8:30PM, while I was sat on my Chaise lounger curled up with Willow watching Inside Out, my phone buzzed next to me.

Noah: That was a good choice. Turns out, a lot of people know that song.

Me: I’m glad it went well! Did the rest of the set go smoothly?

Noah: Sure did. It was tiring, and I’m ready to go home. But festivals are fun.

Me: When do you head back home?

Noah: Tonight. We’ve got stuff coming up on Thursday, so we’ve got to get going ASAP. Takes three days to make it back to LA.

I felt Willow shift next to me, and I noticed she was snoozing comfortably. It was already after 9PM, so I decided it was time to carry her into her room.

Laying her small body in bed and tucking her pale pink blanket over her, I left her with a kiss on the forehead and turned on her nightlight.

When I made it back to my spot, I flipped to SVU, and responded to his text.

Me: That’s a long drive. I don’t envy you.

Noah: You’ve got work tomorrow, I don’t envy you.

Smiling, I leaned back in my seat and covered up with my throw blanket.

Me: Fair enough.

The days passed tediously. Two weeks had gone by since I came home from Michigan. Every day, like clockwork, Noah texted me. Not the entire day, but most of it. We talked about a lot. My job. His music. Our favorite movies. Favorite places. Our hobbies. Our tattoos.

I was working in-office today, smiling at my phone because of the messages we were exchanging.

Noah: How big is it?

Me: Hip to knee.

Noah: WOAH.

I smirked. I was referring to a tattoo of an octopus I have on my left thigh.

Noah: Pic?

Me: I don’t have any off hand.

The flirting had been mild at best, but once in a while, he would say something suggestive, and it made me smile. Still, I would typically change the subject.

Noah: Damn. I’ll just have to see it in person.

This made my stomach twirl. In person? Throughout these last couple weeks, at no point had we discussed meeting in person again. I mean, it was possible, I’m sure. But it hadn’t really registered as a possibility.

While talking to Noah over text only, it almost made the entire experience feel unreal.

Me: I don’t remember seeing any Vegas tour dates on your website, sir.

His text took a few to come through.

Noah: Sir…?

Whoops. Maybe that was a bad move.

Noah: Vegas isn’t far. And didn’t you say you’re going to be in LA in September?

Chewing the skin off of my lip, I clutched my phone.

Me: To see Falling in Reverse and Black Veil Brides.

Noah: Maybe I could go.

Me: I didn’t think you listened to them?

Noah: Not so much, but if you’re going to be there, I think it could be fun.

That made my insides twist. He wanted to see me?

Me: Well, guess I’ll see you there, then?

After work, I dropped the kids at Sean’s. He had requested we do contactless drop off now, to try and avoid any arguments…like my children were a fucking Uber delivery.

He would stand outside, I’d let them out of the car, and they’d walk up to the apartment. It was fucking childish, but I didn’t argue. I had no energy left for Sean anymore. He had taken it all.

At home, I began the process of decompressing for the week, still fuming over my ex’s immaturity. First order of business was to uncork my Rosé, and fill my tallest glass.

I stood at the counter, heels kicked off to the floor of the kitchen, and chugged a few gulps of the drink.

My phone began chiming in my bag, and I fished it out. Someone was FaceTiming me?

Noah…

Noah was FaceTiming me?

I swiped the call open, not bothering to check my appearance first, and his face looked back at me. He was sitting at a desk, bed behind him, wearing a t-shirt and his hair was messy.

“Hey.” I said, apprehensive.

“Hey, sorry, is this a bad time?”

I shook my head, taking another long pull from my glass. “Not at all. Just got home from dropping the kids off.” My tone contradicted my words, my agitation still leaking in.

“You sure? Lookin’ a little stressed there, October.”

I snorted, propping my phone against the stove, and refilling my glass.

“Long day. What’s up?”

He sat back in his chair, hands folded over his chest. “Just wanted to see you.”

My fingers gripped the counter. “You did?”

“Yeah, texting gets old.”

I nodded. “It does.”

“Want to talk about your day?”

I groaned, the alcohol already softening the edges of my brain slightly. “You don’t even want to know.”

He pursed his lips. “Try me?”

Waving a hand in front of me, I swallowed the last of my second glass. “It’s just my children’s father being a dick. Nothing new.”

Lifting a brow, he cocked his head to the side. “What’d he do?”

As messy as ever, I poured a third and final glass, emptying the bottle, and dropping it in the trash can. Lifting my hand to my hair, I pulled the clip loose, shaking my hair out.

“He asked for contactless delivery with the kids.” I said as I lifted the glass to my lips.

He looked taken back. “Like…a pizza?”

“That’s what I said!” I shook my head. “He’s a fucking coward. He can’t even fucking face me without being an asshole.”

“Then maybe it’s better you don’t see each other?”

Shrugging, I ran a hand through my hair. “Fuck, probably.”

Looking at him, I noticed he was walking now, phone in hand.

“Anyway, fuck that guy. How was your day?”

He set the phone back down, and he was clearly in his kitchen. “Uneventful. Played with some beats. Caught up on some of the shows I’d been missing.”

I walked to my room, pulling a t-shirt from the hanger. “I’m going to set you down a sec so I can change.”

He just nodded. “Should I make pasta or tacos for dinner?”

I shouted at the phone as I pulled my shirt over my head and slipped my pants off. “Pasta, always pasta.”

Satisfied, he began pulling items from the cabinet.

“Oh, Noah!” I stood, only in my shirt covering my underwear. He turned to look at me as I lifted the phone. “Did you want to see the tattoo now?”

He padded back to where his phone was at, and leaned down close to the screen. I set my phone on my dresser and stepped backward to get myself in the frame. Feeling sheepish, I carefully worked to only show my ink, and not my crotch.

“Hmm,” He mused. “Cant see it. Better take the shirt off too.”

My eyes rolled, and I grabbed the phone. “Perv.”

He snickered, smiling at me. “What? Beautiful tattoo on a beautiful woman? Can you blame me?”

My cheeks reddened, and I quickly slipped my sweats on. “Guess not.”

He placed a pot of water on the stove to boil, and stepped back, twirling a wooden spoon in his hand. His eyes considered me as I moved back into the kitchen to start working on my own meal.

“Can I ask you something, October?”

Distractedly, melting some butter, scallions, and garlic in a pan, I responded. “Sure.”

“When I asked you for your number, back in Michigan, you acted like you weren’t looking to date anyone.”

My eyes shot over to the phone, my hand stopping its stirring. “Mhm…”

“That’s true? You’re not looking to date?”

Trying to concentrate on my task, I added the cream to the roux I had made. “Not right now, why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, dropping his pasta in the boiling pot. “Curious.”

“Yeah? Cause that’s a super pointed question for just curiosity.”

He smiled to himself, not looking at the camera. “Alright, maybe I’m a little more than curious.”

I turned my full attention to him, adding Parmesan to my Alfredo base. “What’s ’a little more than curious’?”

He looked at me then, eyes piercing me. “Interested?”

Death. That’s what I felt right then. Heart rate explosive, mind racing, eye twitching. No words can describe the feeling when someone as unbelievable as Noah Sebastian tells you they’re interested…

“Y-You’re…interested?”

He nodded slowly, stirring his pot. “I am.”

Stuttering like a cat, I nearly dropped my spoon. “Why?” I managed to choke out.

His face was bewildered. “Why not?”

Biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, I nearly let my sauce boil over.

“Uh,” I moved the pan from the burner and poured my pasta in the water. “I mean, it’s a valid question.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Noah…” I sighed hard, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Have you seen you?”

“A few times.” He laughed as he strained his noodles. “And?”

“I’m not,” I pointed toward him. “that.”

“A dude? Yeah, I didn’t think so but I didn’t exactly want to ask.”

I narrowed my eyes, smirking. “Smart ass.”

“I don’t see the confusion here.”

“You’re being willfully ignorant.” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“How so?” He answered as he threw butter and seasonings into the pot.

Sucking my teeth, I rolled my eyes. “Noah, you’re an actual rockstar.”

“Kay, and?”

“And I’m a normal person.”

“I’m sorry,” He held up the spoon that was scooping noodles into a bowl. “Am I not?”

“I have kids. A job. Baggage. We live in different states. You’re,” I gestured to him again. “far out of my league.”

He shook his head. “I disagree.”

He moved to his table, propping me up on something I couldn’t see.

“Well, you’re wrong.”

He shoveled food into his mouth, taking a moment to chew. I strained my own pasta.

“How do you figure? You’re funny, interesting, fiery, beautiful…”

My throat went dry.

“What’s the issue?”

Putting my pasta together and getting it onto a plate, I walked over to my own table. “You’re forgetting the baggage part.”

He waved a hand. “You’ve got kids. So what?”

I dropped my fork. “So what?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, what’s the big deal?”

“Uhh,” I drawled. “you don’t? And probably don’t need that in your life right now.” I sighed. “Or someone who has them. They’re always first priority.”

Nodding, he continued eating. “As they should be.”

Biting into my food, I stared at him, no words coming to mind.

“Look,” He set his fork down. “I’m not saying I want to marry you.” I choked at the word. “I just like you.”

My eyes widened, my jaw stopping mid-chew.

“I just want to take you on a date or something. See how it goes when I’m not super cranky.” He smirked.

Oh God. It was so enthralling, hearing the words come out of his mouth…

The temptation was strong.

But…

“I can’t, Noah.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “No?”

My head hung in frustration.

“I like you, too. A lot. But,” I pushed my plate away, suddenly losing all of my appetite. “I’m still dealing with a lot. I’m trying to get back to a sense of normalcy here. Sean just moved out three months ago. My kids are my entire life. I feel like I’m living in a storm at all times. I’ve got to get a handle on that for now.”

He was silent as I spoke, and I knew I had blown it.

“Are you mad?”

His tongue rolled around in his mouth before he spoke. “No. I won’t lie, I’m disappointed, but your reasoning is valid. I respect that.”

A man? Respecting me? Wild concept.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk anymore.”

He looked perplexed, taking a drink from his water bottle. “Why would I want that?”

I didn’t verbally respond, I just stared at him.

“I like you for more than a date, October. I like talking to you. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep doing that.”

My face warmed, and I couldn’t stop the smile spreading. “I’d like that, too.”

“Alright.” He slapped a hand on the table. “That settles that. We’ll stay friends.” He picked his fork back up and kept eating.

I almost didn’t catch the last words come out of his mouth.

“For now.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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icepoptroll · 2 months ago

Text

@rtcpickyourpoison day 4: Ricky - Karaoke/Drag Night

I've seen a lot of art of Ricky and Noel being the perfect drag queen duo and I'm in total agreement. Their fabulous costume changes and wildly imaginative songs in canon are proof enough for me that these two would absolutely kill it in a drag performance, ignoring the haters and putting on a great show!! Starrypoet is such an awesome but oft-forgotten ship.

I felt like doing something with Ricky's love for who he is, his creative endeavors, and his bright spirit. Noel was also fun to explore here in that he's both very loving and very firey. I imagine that, after reaching adulthood, Ricky would become a comic book writer/illustrator and Noel would work in a drag bar, and they'd both take great interest in each other's work. It's bring your boyfriend to work night at the club!! hehe

Image description under the cut.

Page 1:

Panel 1: Shown is Ricky and Noel's reflections in a lighted mirror. The adjacent wall is made of bricks and there is a garment rack with various dresses hanging on it in the background of their reflection. There is a long, wavy, pink and purple wig hanging on the mirror. Ricky is smiling a bit shyly, wearing a voluminous, long purple wig with bangs. He has on pink cat ears, a sparkly silver necklace, a black leather strap wrapped around his arm and a pink bodysuit with black tiger stripes. His makeup is hot pink and bright purple with purple false lashes, glitter along his cheekbones and black tiger stripes painted on the sides of his face. Noel is wearing a dark bob wig, a sparkly dark purple gown, and four strings of pearls around his neck. He is wearing sparkly purple eyeshadow, glitter on his face and body, and dark red lipstick. He is leaning over and kissing Ricky on the head, saying, "Ugh, Ricky darling, you look absolutely sickening!!" Ricky's narration explains, "I knew that, in the context of a drag culture colloquialism, Noel meant "sickening" as a compliment.

Panel 2: Ricky's narration continues, "But I don't think I was meant to take what this other performer said as a compliment." Noel is in the background walking past, now with long, dark, violet gloves on, as a drag queen in a curled blonde wig, pearl jewelry, a black and white polka dot dress with red frills and red high heels walks by Ricky, who is sitting in his wheelchair, smiling and waving, wearing silvery fingerless gloves of uneven lengths. The drag queen says, "Okay, I'll bite. Who invited the make-a-wish kid?" Ricky goes on to explain, sarcastically, "Oh yeah, she got me. That was so funny that last time I heard it I laughed so hard I almost fell off my dinosaur."

Page 2:

Panel 1: Ricky continues, "She went for the low-hanging fruit. Noel went to bat for me." Noel comes up, pointing to himself. He says, "Uh. That would be ME. Got a fucking problem?"

Panel 2: The other drag queen gestures to Ricky, who looks on, bemused and annoyed. She says, "Monique. Honey. Baby girl. Look at him, I mean, seriously? Do I even have to say it?" The dressing room mirrors are in the background.

Panel 3: Closeup of Noel's face. He looks angry as he says, "Ha! After your shit performance tonight I wouldn't bother saying ANYTHING more about him. Save yourself any further embarrassment." Ricky explains, "I didn't mind the comments all that much."

Panel 4: Noel is getting up in the other queen's face, pointing an accusatory finger up at her as she crosses her arms defensively. He says ". . . Aaaand another thing!!" Ricky continues, "Noel did warn me some of his colleagues could be kind of mean sometimes. And, as he would say, I looked "fierce," and I knew it."

Page 3:

Panel 1: Ricky's narration continues, "And, I guess you could say Noel actually sort of WAS granting me a wish." HE propels away to go do his own thing, looking back with a sense of concern and weird curiosity as the other two argue. Noel says, "I can't even, you're just mad that Ricky is a cute young thing, and underneath your makeup YOU look like the damn crypt keeper!" She replies, "Crypt keeper??? Oh, you little. . . "

Panel 2: Ricky continues to explain, "Noel works as a performer at a drag bar and he told me about lip-syncing being a big part of drag shows. While I am unable to sing, I've always loved lip-syncing to my favorite songs." Noel continues to yell, "This is some shady shit. Even for YOU."

Panel 3: Ricky is surrounded by drag queens against a sparkly hot pink background. His narration continues, "So I told him I would love to try it, and he brought me to work with him, did my makeup, and gave me some tips. We even developed a persona for me: Savannah, with the Fiercest Smize. To 'smize,' I'm told, means to smile with only your eyes. I was so excited, though, I wound up smiling with my whole face." A queen with light skin in a sparkly green dress, big wavy brown wig, and floral accents stands in front of Ricky, a hand laid over her chest. She says, "I LOVE silent acts. So mysterious!" A queen with tan skin and dark hair in a high bun dressed in a sharp gold dress and matching jewelry says "Her hair is EVERYTHING!" as she examines Ricky's wig and looks up at her friend, a tall chubby queen with dark skin and a purple afro, with purple jewelry and a sparkly purple body suit. She smiles and nods approvingly. Ricky goes on, "No one else seemed to mind my being there. In fact, people liked Savannah."

Page 4:

Panel 1: Noel and Ricky hug. Noel says, "No one will EVER dull your shine, love. You're beautiful and you know it. Let's get to work, okay?" Ricky says, "I knew."

Panel 2: Ricky and Noel are performing. Noel is dancing at Ricky's side. Ricky is lip syncing, holding a microphone and leaning back, his other arm spread out. The song he is lip syncing to is True Colors by the Studio Killers:

Show me your true colors

In their blinding brightness

Show me your true colors

Like they glow in the night when you are dreaming

Forget about the others

The unbearable lightness of our being

Even spy satellites won't see this coming

Our love that's hiding in the dark

Reach out and I promise you soon we'll be lovers

'Cause it's our true color

#rtc #ride the cyclone #starrypoet #noel gruber #noel rtc #ricky potts #ricky rtc #my art #art #artists on tumblr #rtc pyp week 2024 #rtc pick your poison week

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leo-muscle · 9 months ago

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I’ve heard a little bit about this King Leon guy. Who does he think he is to call himself a king? Seems far to pretentious if you ask me. I wouldn’t be caught dead bowing to someone like that. Not in a million years.

Sure I’m the most basic looking white dude on the planet. My face gets lost in the crowd and my body is light enough to be blown by a breeze. But a king can’t change that, and I would like to see him or any of his subjects try to.

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender told you. You had just arrived on your vacation in Haiti, and the resort's bartender had decided to strike up a conversation with you over drinks. He was enormous, seven feet of pure surfer boy muscle, with a thick gut that was the very picture of strength. He would have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, if you weren't in the middle of a massive rant.

"Oh, absolutely." You continued. "Whoever these 'kings' are, I don't want anything to do with 'em. Who are they to declare rule over the entire world, and who are we to listen to them?"

It was true, of course. Much of Africa, the British Isles, Central America, and even the islands you were now in had been united under the rule of these Kings. While many praised them for their novel social reforms and exponential increase to quality of life in their domains, many others, yourself included, remained attached to the old ways. Even this vacation was a scouting trip, to see if whatever propaganda these Kings were putting out was true.

"On the contrary, my friend, I am perfectly happy to listen to the rule of my King. You should have seen this island before King Kai came here. Homelessness, poverty... it's all been amended since he arrived."

"Really?" You asked, taking a big swig of your drink, savoring its tingle on your lips. "And NO one's uncomfortable being ruled by just one person?"

"People love King Kai. He is kind and just, like any good king should be. You'll see that soon enough." The bartender said.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, your heart racing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just give it a few seconds."

"What are you-- UGH!" You doubled over, your skin on fire with a sensation entirely alien to you.

The bartender walked out from behind the bar, and soon, his magical hands went to work. With his kingly essence in your system, you could be molded into a respectable citizen of the world.

He started with your pecs, cupping them from behind as they burst through your tropical shirt with new strength. They were enormous, voluptuous pillows, jiggling with muscle and a thin layer of fat.

He then moved his hands along your shoulders, pumping them into cannonballs of strength. The moment his hands reached your arms, they pulled and pushed, leaving your twiggy biceps and forearms as but a fleeting memory, replacing them with pulsing, powerful cannons of strength. In awe, you flexed your right arm, forming a mound easily as big as a baseball if not more.

You moaned softly as King Kai's beautiful hands lightly traced a six-pack onto your stomach, each ab popping into existence, forming an impenetrable wall of strength.

Soon, his hands navigated south, one massive hand palming your flat ass, while the other grabbed your tiny three-inch cock. You moaned, long, low, and hard as both of his hands began to move out from your body, pulling your cock and ass with them. Your cheeks rounded out into a big, bouncy bubble butt, bigger than most women's. It shook with strength and sexuality with every slight movement you made, much like your cock, which had grown so big with the King's touch that no pair of pants could conceal your enormous bulge. His touch was electric on your shaft, causing you to pre almost endlessly.

Your mind was in heaven as he continued to your legs. Your cock was at full mast at its enormous eleven inches as he took his hands to your legs, and blew them up into corded steel pillars as big as any christmas ham. You moaned, your cock firing blanks as he looked you deep into your eyes, placing one hand to completely cover your currently-unchanged face.

"As much as I love my people, we cannot be a global community if all my citizens are homogenous." King Kai said. "Hmm, where should I send you..."

Your skin flickered through thousands of shades in a single moment, before settling on a tone a few shades darker than your original. Your hair darkened to black, and you instantly sprouted a thick dark mustache, and a chinstrap beard to match. Your eyes became narrower and monolid, your stare intensifying into a sexy smolder. As King Kai leaned in and kissed you, your bulk increased, and your muscle became padded with a thin sexy layer of fat.

"Cum." King Kai commanded you, his voice sexy enough to send you over the edge.

You had been reborn, a Vietnamese stud in the Carribean. Your brain was aflame with new neurons, making connections faster and better than ever before. You knew you had been improved, in every conceivable way. You were stronger, smarter, wiser, and you had no one but your new king to thank.

#male tf #male transformation #race change #muscle bear #bear tf #jock tf #pec growth #butt growth #asian tf #mental change #kings of the world

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yesimwriting · 9 months ago

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MA'M I LOVE YOUR BEST FRIEND FELIX WRITINGS BUT MY JEALOUS AND SOFTY SHORT ASS CAN'T HANDLE IT 😭 IM HURTING MYSELF BUT IT HURTS SO GOOD, LIKE IF I WAS BEST FRIEND Y/N ID BE BAWLING MY EYES OUT AFTER SEEING HIM WITH ANOTHER GIRL LIKE- WHY IS ALL OF THIS SO CARDIGAN BY TS CODED-

a/n i love taylor and taylor related angst and i get the jealousy thing,, but i think the thing with bestfriend!felix is that he's so obvious about his priorities that by the time reader can register jealousy,, felix is already there

so here's a drabble

----

Going out tonight wasn't your idea. A week of long lectures and even longer homework had drained you. But Felix wanted to...and you...You wanted to be around Felix.

Maybe Farleigh's comments about you following Felix around like a puppy aren't as exaggerated as they feel when you're sober. Ugh. The thought of Farleigh being right gives that pinch of irritation something to latch onto.

"They have those drinks you like." The voice is clear despite the base of the music that you can still hear from right outside the club. You turn your head away from the group of stragglers hanging around the outdoor bar. "Had. I got the last one."

You grin at Felix, any lingering angst not exactly evaporating into the cool night air, but the shift is enough to make the smile feel unforced. "Lucky."

He's finally within arm's reach, a fact that he takes advantage of immediately. Felix's palm settles against your shoulder, his thumb dragging across your skin. "Extremely." There's a fondness there that chips away at what's left of your irritation. "Here." You take the glass from him. "Sam almost tackled another bar tender to get the last of the simple syrup."

Ironically, the sip that's halfway down your throat seems to lose any hints of sweetness as soon as the words come out of Felix's mouth. You've met Sam, and while you don't dislike her, you're not sure the neutrality is mutual.

It's a fact you don't dwell. Sam's a bottle blonde bar tender who looks like she was born to walk around in low cut tank tops and cut off shorts. Not that her being pretty matters, but there's an edge to her beauty that implies an effortless coolness that doesn't usually meld with who you are. It's no one's fault. You think those types of girls are charming and fun in a way that's somehow even bolder than the friends that you consider wild. It's just never been a mutual admiration.

And Sam's been hanging around Felix a lot lately, showing up at parties, staying later than anyone else besides you. They've gone home together a few times. Felix hasn't said too much about that, but that doesn't indicate anything. You guys don't talk about that kind of stuff. Even best friends as close as you two have boundaries.

Not that it matters if Felix is with someone like Sam. She seems fun and pretty and bold and--the total opposite of you.

That hits you like a thumb jabbing into a bruise. Since when is Felix's constantly rotating door of flings a sore point? When he pawns you off on Farleigh--even when he's not in the mood for you--so he can have a moment in the employee bathroom.

"Y'okay?"

You nod, "Yeah." Felix's eyebrows pinch together, a barely there implication of concern that's almost ignorable beneath the poor lighting. "Everything's just kind of hitting me a little."

He nods, "Do you need to sit?" Felix's hold on your shoulder tightens. "Is that why you came outside?"

"Uh--no." The response feels flat. "I mean--yeah, I wanted some air, but I don't feel sick or anything."

He watches you openly for what feels like its own eternity. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you must not pass the inspection because he frowns. "Okay." As if to validate Felix's attempt at letting your mood go, you bring your glass back to your lips. "You know--if you're not feeling--if you want to go, you can tell me."

"I know." You do know that. Felix has always been good about listening, about wanting to make sure you're comfortable.

You take another sip of your drink. Of course Sam's good at mixing drinks. You can picture her tripping over herself, rushing to grab the nearly empty bottle of syrup and risking making an enemy of a coworker to avoid having to tell Felix no.

Felix takes a step forward, his hand sliding across your back so that his arm can settle around your shoulders. It's instinct to lean into the contact. He's warm in a way that rivals the buzz in your system. "When we do go, we're going to have to go out the back way."

You let your head rest against his side. "Why?"

"Don't think Sam's going to be going out of her way to get me drinks again."

You crane your neck to look up at him, "What? Why?"

His eyes meet yours, and then he's dropping his gaze to the floor. "You have become such a gossip."

A sound that's a combination between a scoff and a laugh tumbles past your lips. "Have not."

"You and Farleigh," Felix continues, "You two always need to ask, always need to have an opinion."

"Not true," you defend weakly, "If I was a gossip I'd talk about how slutty--"

You cut yourself off, regretting your phrasing as soon as the word is out. Felix pulls back slightly, mouth falling open in exaggerated offense. "You called me a slut?"

"No," you defend yourself through a laugh, "I was saying that you have been slutty." Felix raises his eyebrows at you. "It's different." Felix's eyes narrow in an attempt to offset the smile tugging at his lips. "It is."

"Yeah?" He leans forward with no warning, his lips pressing against your cheek. That kiss is followed by another. Again and again, each more affectionate and touchy than the last.

His lips brush against your jaw. "Fe-lix." It wants to be a warning, but the nervous giggle that breaks his name into two makes coming off as threatening impossible.

"What?" He hums, his lips finding your neck. "If I'm that slutty, we should have a go at it."

You laugh, ignoring the heat burning its way up your neck because it's just Felix. "There's a bathroom inside."

Felix stills before pulling away enough to look you in the eye. There's the faintest flush tinging his skin. You laugh again, this time the sound fuller. It's nice to see flashes of the softer side of Felix while out in the real world. Felix laughs with you.

You tilt your head, pressing a kiss against his cheek. "For you, I'd spring for a hotel room."

"Now I feel special."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

#saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #bestfriend!felix x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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the-faceless-bride · 3 months ago

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Yandere Oc (Valarie) × Reader ⚰️🕊

This series is A DARK ROMANCE/HORROR and may have content that some readers may find disturbing. Triggering. Or harmful. I strongly suggest that if you don't enjoy Dead Doves content this story isn't for you. @pricegouge had inspired me to get into writing like this again for their AMAZING slasher 141 stuff. So thank you for the inspiration to continue this.

Proluge: "Stranger..."

As most times in your life. You're bad decisions came from your friends and their wild ideas. Your boyfriend Mike, your friends, Jessica and Ashley had all decided that this week would be a party week! No rules, no responsibility, no consequences for anything! It was part time.

And it was draining your social battery...

Before your boyfriend you were a homebody. You liked being alone with your music, your fantasies, and your cat... well...

You tried to stay positive, this trip was for you after all. You'd been so sad when your cat Gizzmo passed away, they thought this would cheer you right up. Apparently, they don't know you very well. Not like you thought anyway...

At the moment you were at a bar/club; drained, a bit tipsy, and a bit jealous at the sight of Mike dancing a bit too close on Jessica. Ashley had tried an chatt a bit, you'd always liked her a little more than Jess. She at least checked up on you here and there. Jessica seemed more interested in just coming around for Mike.

"Not having fun?" - a voice calls to you over the music, turning your head you see a handsome man. Shoulder length hair pulled into a low ponytail, his bands and strands falling to Frame his gorgeous face. His voice sweet and seductive like honey. - "not really, and not looking forward to the future either!" - You yell over the booming base of the speakers, - he raises his brow confused on what you mean, - "my friends found some pond they want to skinny dip in after this! My friend Jessica suggested it! I'm not to thrilled to go swimming in a random pond!" - "ah, I see. Not alone then! That's good, i wouldn't wanna go to 'Dead Hookers Lake' alone either!" - Dead... what? - "w-What does that mean?" - You ask scooting over in your barstool to get closer to the tall man. - "Well, It's kinda a rumor y'know? Just something this small town says! Apparently with all the passers-byes some folks end up missing! But they can never really say for sure. This town is almost a ghost town by now! So really, it's just something scary people say to keep pretty girls from wandering out too late at night!" - oh, great. Just what you need. A story that's gonna fuck with your tipsy brain and make you paranoid all night long. Thanks random stranger at the bar. Just what you needed. - "you staying here long?"- you were about to answer but then that paranoia set in, - "I can't tell you." - "...why?" - "cuz you're a stranger."- that just made the man pause. Just... staring at you...

"BABE!!" Mike yelled across the bar, - "LETS GO!!"- he called with the wave of his hand Ashley and Jessica already making their way out. Giving the stranger a short good bye you lightly jogged to Mike before looking back at the strange man once more...

"Are you sure about this?"

You call to your friends and boyfriend, who had already stripped down and gone into the cool muddy water. "Ugh! Stop being a Debbie Downer!! Get in, it's fine!" Jessica called back, making a face to Mike before giggling.

"MHmm," - you make a noise of uncertainty and slight disgust, "the water looks questionable to me!" You respond, "It's fine Babe just drop the tee-shirt already"- Mike said, a bit uninterested. You knew why, he was busy staring down Jess.

Then again, you couldn't blame him, she was very pretty.

Dusty blonde hair, honey brown eyes, plump lips, a full curvy body with great legs and very nice breasts, hell even you looked.

But now, it made you all the more self conscious.

But taking a deep breath, you slowly dropped your boyfriends shirt you had been holding infront of you to hide yourself for a bit longer before the inevitable.

Dead hookers lake. Huh. If you felt anything touch your leg you were gonna flip.

Getting into the water, after many little pep talks you slowly tip-toed through the water to reach your Boyfriend. Every now and again anxiously looking around the water, looking for nothing and everything. Ripples in the water distorting the shadows of the pond, making shapes of horrors just below the surface. Your eyes looking around picturing what could be right there and you wouldn't even know it till something touched you. A fish, a plant, a body, HELL even a crocodile or something! Finally making it to Mike, you pull and cling on to him like a baby koala. Refusing to let go, and slowly the paranoia and anxiety started to disappear.

"What the hell was that-"

Until it came rushing back, "what's what?" Jessica asked a confused and disgusted Ashley, "I think I just stepped in something?" Ashley reaches under, her lip curling up in a grossed out face before starting to rise whatever it was she stepped on out of the water.

"I think it's like a dead fish or something-"

A Hand.

A Mushy. bloated. Discolored. Rotted. Hand.

And everything begins happening all at once.

Ashley is screaming, dropping the hand back into the water, watching the loose skin stretch and wrinkle as it sinks back to the bottom where it once laid. Jessica is rushing out of the water, a never ending stream of- "oh my God. oh my God. Oh My God." 's leaving her soft pleading lips, Mike rushing to get you all out of the water and to your phones to call the cops.

This can not be happening. It just can't. You feel your chest tighten as it gets harder and harder to take a steady breath. You fight the urge to gag as you too begin to rush out of the water.

"They're gone."

Huh?

"What do you mean "'they're gone.'" Mike?!"

"Our phones! THEYRE ALL GONE!"

Everyone is in full panic mode now. Mike and Ashley looking feverishly on the ground to see if maybe they had fallen, Jessica is now telling herself this isn't read. And you're vision is getting Hazy.

Then a Scream.

an ear bleeding, gut wrenching. Scream.

The scream turns to a gurgle, and Jessica holds her neck as she bleeds freely from the new wound. Eventually falling as the tries to press the hole in her neck. Twitching as the dirt and mud covers her naked body, ruining her perfect skin as the rocks under her leave cuts and scrapes against her backside.

"JESSICA!" Mike screams; a mix of fear, horror and anger.

And within a fraction of a second, Mike and Ashley take off running.

Not bothering to fully get dressed. Ashley tossing on her long sweater and Mike is boxers, you clumsily pulling on Mike's tee-shirt and panties as you try and keep up, "wait! Please! Wait for me! Please don't leave me!" You scream out to them, trying to navigate the way out of the thickly packed wood that over casted the dirt trail. And then as you tumble from a tree root a large hard hand grabs you, pulling you to a strong chest and holding you down.

In a panic, unable to use your hands and the large hand comes close to your nose and mouth with a cloth you toss your head back hoping to hit something to make the attacker let go, a man gasps but ultimately it only seems to hurt you more than him... and in that moment a sweet smell hits you, the soft cloth over your face being the only comfort in that moment.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them. You just rest for now. Goodnight Darling." The voice slowly fades away.

A/n: here is what "Stranger" looks like, you'll get his name in the first chapter.

And here is voice claim. (Let me know if it doesn't work. It's been weird. And dont mind the capcut 🤓💀)

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wisteria-blooms · 11 months ago

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (7/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!) A/N: Well, this was a gargantuan chapter, such a pain to read over. My apologies for any errors ugh, I'll re-read and fix anything. Happy New Year, my loves!!

CHAPTER 7: Charlie shows you a more serious side of him at the bar. And as your 'relationship' begins to solidify, you gain a confusing wave of support. Namely, from his brother, Bill. (7.5k words)

CHAPTER 7: PARTNERS IN CONTRACT

“You’re late!”

Alicia berated the twins at the door as they waltzed in. Charlie trailed behind the pair, hands in pockets, and you followed behind him. The door swung shut, barricading the crisp autumn air outside. The inside of the bar was almost as dim as the night, with ropes of fairy lights on the wall giving you much needed visibility. Shrubbery shrouded the corners and a blanket of roses were pinned tastefully around the bar. You were certain that Lee hadn’t picked this place.

“Fashionably so,” George corrected with a wave of his finger.

“Our older brother was keeping us from being timely. He enjoys long showers, it seems.” Fred snickered as he eyed Charlie in blame. Charlie just shrugged, letting the accusation slide off. Alicia’s eyes swept from you to Charlie. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused midway and redirected her focus to Charlie.

“You must be—”

“Charlie Weasley.” Charlie inched forward and he extended a hand.

Alicia’s eyes lit up. “I’ve heard so much about you!” she remarked.

“From who?”

“Oliver Wood. And Professor McGonagall.”

Charlie let out a steady laugh. “As expected of my two biggest fans.”

“Well, come on, then,” Alicia said, waving you in. “The party can’t start with you.”

She led you to the back of the bar where a long wooden table was erected. Lee, wearing a paper crown, was flanked by Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell and some other familiar faces. Fred and George immediately began making their rounds, and so did Charlie, introducing himself to everyone. A couple of people lifted themselves off the neighbouring barstools to join in on the formalities.

As you watched Charlie being circled in and meeting your friends from your year, you wondered if it was odd that he was so much older than your group. But it seemed like no one cared, so you resolved not to worry about it either.

You left him to his own devices and went to the bar instead. There was a flock of young women, dressed up in skimpy tops and leather skirts, chatting on the stools beside you.

The bartender, a woman in her forties, approached to serve you. She propped her arm on the counter to propel herself forward. “What are you having tonight, love?”

“A gin and tonic,” you responded.

“Make that two.”

You turned around and nearly smacked your face into Charlie’s broad chest which was outlined by a soft navy sweater. He stood so close behind you that even moving an inch would be perilous; someone here had forgotten the meaning of personal space and it wasn’t you. Charlie had finished greeting everyone and had the same idea as you—to get a drink.

“Meeting people is exhausting,” he commented in a low voice, feigning exhaustion as he stretched his arms behind his head. He peered down at you, sharp blue eyes glowing even in the dark. “I didn’t know people had so many questions about me.”

“You’re one of the mysterious older brothers,” you said as you thanked the bartender for the drink. “So, get used to it.”

“Hm, maybe I will.”

Charlie extended an arm, snaking it around the curve of your body to reach for his drink. He slipped a bill for the bartender and made a note for her to keep the change. Unmoving, he cocked his head towards your ear and said, “But I’d like to ask a question about you for a change.”

“Sure,” was all you managed to squeak out. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his body.

The ice clattered in the glass (like your heart was) as Charlie raised his arm to take a sip of his drink. You caught an elusive glimpse of his lip partially suctioned on the rim of the glass. “What’s this mysterious briefcase you’re toting around? Work? It’s a birthday party, live it up.”

Honesty was the best policy. “It’s just paperwork for the rental unit.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t handed it in yet? You sounded pretty sure about it.”

“I’m going to slip out and hand it off tonight,” you affirmed. “Because I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow morning.”

“Passed out in the flat,” Charlie surmised.

“How would you know?”

“Just based on the rate that you’re consuming your gin and tonic.”

“My next order will be water,” you shot back.

Charlie pulled a barstool from in front of you and motioned to it. “Well, station yourself, then.”

You swiftly sat down. Charlie followed suit a second later by pulling out a barstool for himself. You immediately crumbled into a pile of honesty. “Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s even worth a shot.”

“The apartment?” Why not?” Charlie implored, his playful eyes settling into more serious ones.

“Mr. Circelli, the head of the company, is under the impression my father is footing the bill,” you explained. “But there’s no way he would, not after...” You trailed off, not wanting to bog Charlie down with details of the argument that occurred after he left. Fortunately, he didn’t press you about it.

He drummed his fingers on the dark oak table. “What about your mum?”

“She doesn’t want me to move out,” you said, giving your cold glass a hard squeeze. “She reckons the whole lead-up to it was foolish, so she won’t do it.”

Charlie stopped drumming his fingers. “That sucks.”

You took a long sip and sighed. “Tell me about it. And my reference is from Fred.”

“From Fred?” Charlie repeated, jaw falling slack.

You groaned loudly though the noise was quickly swallowed by Lee hollering in the back.

Charlie chuckled. “Say no more.”

You frowned. “And my paystub is deficient in some ways,” you admitted. “Mr. Circelli is going to have a heart attack when he sees the state of my wages.”

Charlie’s expression shifted to one of inquisitiveness. “Bill can write you a reference,” he said.

“Bill?” you asked, exasperation written all over your face. You really thought of Bill as the epitome of maturity. To falsify a reference would be out of character and there was no way he would participate in chicanery like this. “He doesn’t know me. And this application is due in ten hours.”

“Bill is already on baby-time,” Charlie remarked with a grimace. “Trust me, I know. He’s up at all hours.”

“And you know,” Charlie continued, his tone almost lecturing. “I don’t think the person reviewing your application really cares about the content, however well Fred can write. The name, position, and stamp is more important. ‘Bill Weasley, Curse Breaker, Senior Bank Manager and Head of Global Affairs at Gringotts’ already looks much better than ‘Fred Weasley, Co-Proprietor’. Bill could write two lines and it would be a worthier reference.”

“What if they ask him questions?”

“Then Bill will answer them.”

You pouted. “But he doesn’t know me.”

Charlie sighed. “You’re working on so many hypotheticals.”

Before you could interject, Charlie called the bartender over and asked for a parchment and quill.

You tried to stop Charlie’s hand by placing yours over it. “Really, you don’t have to.”

“Do you want this place?” Charlie asked.

You nodded. “Yes, absolutely.”

“So, let me,” he said. Then, he shot you a look that meant business. “But you are going to be able to pay, right?”

“Of course.”

He chuckled, shook his head, and got down to work.

You studied Charlie’s face as he wrote, his jaw tightening and loosening as he pondered the best way to word his request. For once, he maintained an air of seriousness longer than a minute; there was no flirting or suggestive moves he was pulling from his sleeves. It was night and day from a couple of hours ago, when you were in his bedroom and losing your sanity over his every word and movement. You observed in awe as he sent off his letter in a languid yet fluid manner; obviously sent out many a letter in his lifetime.

Your admiring daze was broken when someone peered over your left shoulder, a ringlet of orange hair grazing your cheek. His brother dangled over Charlie’s right shoulder. The same culprits thrust a shot glass in front your chests.

“First shot of the night!” Fred announced.

“Drink up,” George added, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “You look like you need it, (Y/N).”

As the four of you raised your glasses, the action elicited a wave of cheers. The trio of women beside you stopped their chatter and looked on. You threw back the liquor—tequila—on Fred’s cue and let it wash over you, eyes firmly shut. It scratched and burned your throat as it trickled down, and was all you could feel through the wave of cheers circling you.

“Come on,” George said, lifting you out of your seat with his hands suctioned on your arms. “Let’s go throw some darts, play some pool.”

As the minutes passed by, the effect of the shot began settling in your bloodstream, blurring your dexterity. You missed the dartboard by a mile and nearly struck Lee who complained that he couldn’t be maimed on his birthday. You went back down to the bar after forfeiting the game, much to Lee’s pleasure. You ambled back to the bar and saw that Charlie was still there, laughing at something one of the blonde woman who was sat beside you previously was saying. Your empty chair separated them. When he caught you from the corner of his eye, he swivelled around.

“You’re terrible at darts,” Charlie commented suavely.

You turned around and saw a wall. “You can’t even see from here.”

“I knew it was your turn when I heard Lee’s bloodcurdling screams.”

“That’s not funny.” You slapped him on the shoulder as you reclaimed your spot. For some reason, you didn’t feel too bad about cutting off Charlie’s conversation with the blonde prematurely. You felt smug, even. If it was any solace, you reminded yourself that it was him who redirected his attention to you. “So, has Bill responded yet?” you asked instead.

“Of course he has. He says his reference is on its way. Though we both agreed it was a bit of a sweet predicament to have.” Charlie teased with a small smile.

“I suppose,” you responded, suddenly a bit stricken with guilt that Charlie was helping you land a place while he was shuffling between houses. And the only way you’d gotten here was by using your connections which was a bit counterintuitive because those connections were the exact thing you were trying to disassociate from.

“Swimming in luxury and eating fondue on quartz countertops, indulging in vintage wines while I’m wedged in between my two loudest and most annoying brothers on a bed that can barely support my weight,” Charlie wallowed in self-pity, punctuating his remarks with a long sigh. “The universe really chooses favourites.”

A crescent of sweat grazed your neck, outlining your sweater, at what you were about to say. Feeling your guilt implode, you blurted out: “You can stay over if you need.”

Charlie stopped and eyed you curiously. “Really?”

“Yes?” Your voice was chock full of uncertainty.

“You can’t take that back, you know.” He nudged your hand with his, the back of his index finger gently prying your fingers apart. “Let’s make an unbreakable vow before you do anything else.”

You looked down at where his hand was touching yours. “I know.”

That statement couldn’t have been more contradictory. Clearly, you knew nothing.

Had you forgotten that you were inches from death the first time he cornered you at the bar, trying not to lose it when his firm hand spun magic on your knee? Then you almost lost your mind having him over for dinner, when he took the liberty of kissing you in front of everyone. You were only spared tonight because Fred and George and the rest of your friends were around to tame him. You couldn’t imagine what living in the same closed quarters as Charlie would ensue. Maybe your evenings would be spent being pinned down on the bed, or—

“Where would I even be? In the living room?” Charlie laughed, pulling you out of your tantalizing, domesticated daydream.

You veered on the factual side. “There’s enough space in the office for a bed or futon. And that room is totally separated.”

“You have to get the unit first before dreaming about living with me,” Charlie teased, emphasising the word ‘me’ by pointing at himself, and subsequently, ricocheting your lack of faith against you.

“Because I’m going to get it,” you retorted. “If Bill doesn’t reckon this reference is a practical joke.”

“Hey, we’ve been together long enough to tell when we’re joking or not,” Charlie said, instilling some confidence into you. “The only time he believed me was when I splashed water on his face and said he was late for his potions N.E.W.T in his last year. He woke up in a right state. I almost died that day. To be honest, I felt kind of bad,”—a loud cheer from the bar caught your attention—“And I think Fred just bought a second round for the whole bar. Let’s go.”

The festivities imploded after the second round. You felt lighter, happier, like this night was the best night of your life. One moment, you were talking to Lee, apologising and kneading his face to check for scars. And then you were caught up in the juicy details of a guy that Katie was seeing. Then you were dragged up by Fred to dance to some song that was popular in your sixth year, recreating your performance at the Yule Ball. Then, an owl flew into the window, nearly swiping one of the women at the bar, and you rushed back to Charlie, asking—correction: screaming—if Bill had written back.

“He did!” Charlie affirmed.

You squealed when you saw a piece of rolled parchment with a stamp on it. “Let’s go drop it off now!”

Charlie ushered you back. “Hang on, (Y/N).”

“What is it?”

He pulled your contract out of your briefcase. “If you were serious about letting me stay over, I have to sign the contract as well.”

“Then sign it.”

“Only if you’re certain”—Charlie tapped the quill on your contract— “because it adds me as a second tenant.”

You nodded firmly.

His eyes bore into yours. “You’re not going to change your mind tomorrow morning?”

“Of course not!”

“Alright, then,” he obliged, signing on the adjacent dotted line. “Let’s go.”

And finally, you found yourself wrapped in Charlie’s navy sweater, a shield against the weather. The two of you ran out into the cold night and down the block to smush the envelope into Mr. Circelli’s mailbox slot. You gave Charlie a high-five before running back to the party and dancing and drinking the night away, and the next thing you knew…

Glurgghh.

“W’ssat?” you mumbled weakly. You raised your head to investigate before a migraine, precipitated by a ray of sunlight, pushed you back down. You let out a pained sigh as you dug into the pillow.

“Congratulations, (Y/N), you didn’t end up on the floor this year.”

“Yay!” you said sarcastically, slowly propping yourself up by the elbows to stare at George’s face.

“You did crawl into Charlie’s bed though.”

“I did?” As your sense of place settled, you realised that yes, this was definitely where you were. Your palms pressed flush against checkered blue bedsheets and wrapped in dark blue duvet that wasn’t yours.

“Are you cold?” George asked, inching closer.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“Drink up,” George suggested as he tilted a vial containing antidote towards you. “You’ll feel better within the half hour.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to drink anything anymore.” You took the vial anyway.

“I know, I know,” George repeated empathetically. “I should’ve stopped you but you were having too much fun. Anyway, I’ll leave you be, but Fred’s already complaining about breakfast. He's in the shower, and I'm next.”

“Alright.”

You tilted the vial to your lips and held it there. George left the room.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Charlie suddenly peeked his head out from behind the wall. “How are you feeling?”

Suddenly, you were conscious of everything: from your dishevelled hair to your smeared makeup to your hungover state to how weakly you presented under crumpled sheets. It was night and day from Charlie, who seemed as fresh and chipper as ever. Were you at the same party last night?

You hid your face under the blanket. “I’m well.”

‘Well about to retch’ would’ve been the more accurate response.

Your nose nuzzled the bedsheets that smelled faintly of him from his first stay. You wondered what it’d be like to wake up next to him, face snuggled up against his chest, his detergent wafting from his soft white tee and overwhelming your olfactory senses. Or you could wake up to Charlie spooning you, and to his body greeting you good morning…

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Charlie inquired, arms folded, smiling.

“Erm, it seems I stole your bed?”

“You made a dash for it, that’s for sure. Even pushed me out the way.”

“I—”

And then memories of last night flooded through your mind, your migraine fading in the background to make way for it. You remembered everything up until you dropped your application off. After that, you only had a faint recollection of Fred hoisting you up the stairs on his back because ‘heiresses don’t walk’ which prompted an argument between him and George if you were legally an heiress to the estate or not. Whatever the conclusion was, it ended with Fred dumping you by the entrance, and then you dashing into what was your usual bedroom.

“I remember,” you said. “It must’ve been muscle memory. It’s where I usually sleep after we go out.”

“Not a worry,” Charlie assured. “But you were awfully clingy towards Fred. Is that muscle memory, too?”

Before you could respond, Fred whined out from outside the door: “Let’s get breakfast, I’m bloody famished.”

“What do you say?” Charlie asked, extending a hand towards you. “Are you up for it?”

You nodded and grabbed his hand, letting him pull you out of bed.

After a greasy breakfast, you bid your goodbyes and headed home. You slipped upstairs and shoved yourself back into bed. Waves and waves of drowsiness washed over you, lulling you to slumber until the late afternoon.

You spent the next few days at work a shell of yourself: all short-fuse and tangled live-wire, ready to electrocute whoever touched you next. You were beyond nervous, having heard nothing from Mr. Circelli’s office about the rental. Every time you received a memo, you were upset to find it was from Angus, your newly-graduated coworker, about reports actually related to work. On the brightside, having to look at reports with Angus asking you a thousand questions actually took your mind off the rental application. And when your boss, Rhys, asked to stay overtime, you quickly agreed. It meant less of your father boasting about how he was right and more money in your shrivelled bank account.

You penned in a correction on Angus’s draft as the clock struck eight. The Ministry halls were bare, with only a sprinkle of people walking around. It felt lonely. You hadn’t been in touch with Charlie since you went out for Lee’s party, and you missed him in a sense, but there was nothing to talk to him about and you didn’t want to be the first to write.

When Friday afternoon came around, you paced around in the copy room like a mad woman. You’d had three cups of coffee already, and you were going to claw your skin off if you had to wait a second longer. If you were rejected, Mr. Circelli surely would’ve had the decency to let you know, right? Unless your father had some hand in this and was waging psychological warfare on you.

Yes, that was definitely it. They were in cahoots—!

“(Y/N)?” asked Angus nervously through a crack in the door.

“Yes, Angus?”

He peered in. “Are you alright in there?”

“No,” you responded truthfully.

“It seems, uh, like something’s been on your mind this past week,” he said. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You decided to humour him. “Do you know how long it takes for a rental application to be approved, usually?”

“I’m not sure, (Y/N),” Angus responded earnestly. I still live with my parents.”

“Fair enough,” you sighed.

“Maybe you could inquire with the Housing Department on the fifth floor,” Angus suggested meekly, afraid to question his superior. “But the only reason I came to find you, well, besides to make sure you were okay, seeing that it’d been much later than I expected you to return, was that an owl pecked at me to give this to you.”

He handed you a letter with a familiar stamp on it. Angus jolted like a mouse in a trap at the electric look in your eyes.

No one loved Monday more than you did today. If Monday were a person, you’d plant a big, slobbering kiss on her cheek.

Mr. Circelli’s secretary, Isobel, smiled at you. “As you may have read, your application for 63 Primrose Gardens, Unit 1100, is approved.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Circelli approved it before he left for his vacation, but we had to finish up some paperwork,” she explained with a beaming, blinding, smile. She swivelled around to open the cabinet and consequently plucked an envelope from it. “If you could sign here, Ms. Malfoy.”

You never signed faster.

“He’s left you the keys. The unit is vacant, so you’re free to move in at your earliest convenience.” She opened the envelope slightly to show you the sets of keys. “One for you, and one for your co-tenant, Mr. Charlie Weasley.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Ms. Malfoy,” Isobel affirmed. “Enjoy your stay at Primrose Gardens.”

When you were down the street from Mr. Circelli’s office and looked in all four directions to ensure that you were alone, you let out a victorious whoop alongside a little gallop. You ran out into the streets feeling like you were given a new lease on life—quite literally.

It was a warm, sunny day with perfectly blue skies. Your temperament must’ve had influence on the weather. You walked past waves of Ministry workers fluxing in and out of restaurants on their lunch break. You flirted with the idea of treating yourself, but the reality of now renting the unit on Primrose Gardens meant that your bank account was now deciding how fine your dining was.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned around, trying to locate who was calling your name. The man’s voice sounded garbled in the sea of people.

Before turning back, you scanned the area once again until you saw a tall man push his way forward. He apologised to an elderly lady for passing her too suddenly before waving at you.

The probability of bumping into Bill Weasley at noon in the core financial district was high. Very high and not at all impossible. Though, the chances of him seeing you in this crowd was low. Bill looked dapper in a suit of all royal blue, his hair slicked back. You surmised that he must’ve been handling affairs in the office today.

“Good afternoon, (Y/N),” Bill greeted. “Fancy bumping into you here. What brings here you on a weekday?”

“I had to finalise some matters at Mr. Circelli’s office,” you responded. “With the application.”

Bill’s eyes lit up. “And?”

You dangled the keys in your hands. “I got it.”

Bill shook his head in contentment. “That’s wonderful news, really.” He shifted his sleeves up to read his watch. “Are you hungry? I’d love to hear about the move over lunch. On me, of course.”

Now that Bill mentioned it, it had been an unreasonable length of time between now and breakfast.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Bill smiled warmly at you. “I mean, given you’ll become my sister-in-law at some point, might as well get acquainted now.”

You laughed. A fantastic joke by Bill. Who knew he had such a great sense of humour? But when his expression remained unchanged, you halted, body and face frozen. You studied Bill’s expression and it was clear he wasn’t joking; he really thought you were going to be his sister-in-law.

“Yes, of course,” you said instead. Bill nodded and led you away from the puddle of people.

When you settled on a quaint cafe on the east edge of the financial district and had your orders taken, you opted to talk about something else. “It’s always nice to see you, Bill. Your time must be so limited nowadays.”

He made a face, a perfect cross between excited and nervous, and took a sip of water. “It’s about to be swallowed whole. Actually, I was just making arrangements at the bank for my leave as well.”

“You’ll be on leave?”

“Paternity leave,” he confirmed your suspicions. “It’ll only be fair to my poor wife. I don’t want her to take on all the duties of child-rearing.”

You smiled. “That’s wonderful of you. I reckon more fathers should do the same.” You stirred your coffee a little. “How are you feeling with the baby coming so soon?”

“Nervous, honestly,” Bill responded. “I’ve been asking everyone for advice. I’ve read all the books but there’s nothing like first-hand experience. Charlie has started asking me questions about it, too.”

“About the baby?”

“About fatherhood,” Bill clarified. “I think the atmosphere at home was getting to him, making him sentimental.” Bill continued. “Mum reckons I’m setting a good example for him. That my being a father will cause him to think more about becoming a father, too. It’s never seemed to be a point of thought until now.” Bill raised his eyebrows suggestively at you, as if you might help make it a reality.

You were at a loss for words. And a loss for what to do. You couldn’t ask why Bill was making suggestions like your relationship was real, because if this was some elaborate prank, then you didn’t want to be made out to be the fool. But you didn’t want to play along blindly, because, well, that’d net the same result.

But on the surface, things were cementing themselves as more real than you could’ve wanted. You’d met Charlie’s parents and he’d met yours (in an explosively memorable manner). Strip away that layer of polished goodness and this whole rental unit thing was only happening because he’d kissed you in front of your parents, leading to an argument about your independence, and you acting on your words.

In some twisted form of inception, you were what you imagined Bill imagined you were: Charlie’s serious girlfriend. But the question remained unwavering in your mind: why didn’t Charlie just tell Bill this was all a sham? It wasn't like Bill was going to snitch to your parents; Fred and George were far more culpable in ratting you out.

You treaded cautiously instead, remaining as vague as possible. “I’m told you and Charlie tell each other everything.”

Bill chuckled. “That’s a given.” He took a sip of his water. “I had quite the laugh when Charlie sent your letter to me. Flew it across the hall at home, actually.”

“My letter?”

“The one where you asked him what he was wearing.”

You pouted. “I was midway through writing when something exploded in the other room.”

“Uh-huh,” Bill sounded with a nod. “I’m sure that’s what happened.”

“I didn’t even finish that sentence!” you defended yourself a little too loudly. “Have a second look at the letter for me, will you, Bill?”

“Sure, just for you, (Y/N).”

You smiled.

“You have a nice smile, (Y/N),” Bill complimented. “I can see what Charlie sees in you.”

You feigned agreement. You were back to being wary of this conversation.

“That’s kind of you, Bill.” You returned his compliment. “So, when do you reckon you’ll see Charlie next?”

“Probably tonight. He’s coming back to set up some things in the nursery.” Bill finished his coffee. “Has he heard the good new yet?”

“No, I just found out an hour ago.”

Bill pressed a finger to his lips. “Well, I won’t spoil anything.”

“You should.” You placed Charlie’s keys on the table, urging Bill to take them. “I don’t trust Fred or George enough to know they’ll be handed off correctly. Would you give them to him for me?”

Confidence.

That was the manner you strode into the manor with your application, stamped with a big, fat ‘approved’ by Mr. Circelli’s assistant, in hand. The sun was setting, signifying it was time for dinner. As your heels clacked on the marble floor that led to the dining room, a second pair of faint footsteps approached from the opposing end of the hall. And like enemies in some old-school, crackly, black-and white muggle-cowboy film that Fred adored watching at full volume, you stared at Draco who was flush in front of you, ready to draw guns.

“Finally joining us for dinner tonight, are you?” Draco snarled, standing with his hands in this perfectly-pressed pant pockets. “Let me guess, you can’t afford to keep dining out?”

“What are you talking about?” you responded pleasantly. “I’ve been busy preparing for something greater.”

Draco gave you a smug look. “To declare bankruptcy? I thought I heard whispers from the goblins when I was at Gringrotts the other day.”

“Far from it.” You tried to sound sure, but your decision to move out was leaving you in a precarious financial position though you’d never admit it to him. “But you’ll find out at dinner. Patience is a virtue, dear brother.”

With a sprinkle of sibling telepathy, the two of you turned into the hallway at the same time. You strolled inside with your dearest brother, footsteps in tandem. As expected, your parents were already there, waiting for you.

“Lovely of you to join us,” Lucius announced, almost spitting out the last word, hand gripping his chair. “Not faring well out there?”

Beside you, Narcissa clutched your arm, and corrected Lucius’s words. “It’s nice to come home to a freshly-prepared meal, isn’t it?” She directed you to your usual seat. “Have a glass of the red, (Y/N). It’s from one of your father’s colleagues in Spain. It’s delightful.”

You heeded your mother’s calls and sat down to focus on the Spanish red instead. As dinner was served, you waited impatient for a break in the conversation to make your announcement. Your eyes glossed over in boredom as Draco boasted about a promotion he was getting. Less than a month ago, you were sitting in the same seat, strong-armed into entertaining Goyle. That thought still made you want to gag. Two weeks ago, Charlie was here, engaging in banter with your father, kissing you. That was a much happier thought.

But tonight, you were ready to start life on your own terms.

“What are you doing this week, (Y/N)?” Narcissa asked.

“Well,”—you set your fork down—“my movers are stopping on Wednesday.”

“Your movers?” she asked.

“I’ve found a place at Primrose Gardens. I’m moving out as we discussed last week.”

If silence could kill.

Lucius's voice pitched. “Really?”

“It wasn’t as difficult as it was made out to be, the market,” you dug in. “It seems like your gloomy forecast was simply... wrong.”

Just as your father was about to rebut, your mother stopped him by calling for Dobby to take away everyone’s plates.

When the dishes were cleared and the dining room was returned to its untouched state, you rose out of your seat to head to your room. You assumed everyone had already filed out to withdraw for the night, but you were wrong. Your mother was waiting down the hall. Her lips were pressed in a tight line.

“Be straight with me, (Y/N),” Narcissa pleaded. “You don’t have to wear this bravado for your brother and father. Is it true you’re moving away?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re certain you want to?”

“I am.”

You almost flinched when a glint of sadness flashed in her eyes. She was genuine in her plea.

Narcissa began walking down the hall with you before you reached a point of separation: you, upstairs, and her, to the library. She pulled you into a hug. "Whatever happens, remember, there’s always a place at home for you.”

A day before Alicia was to return to America, she offered to help you set up your new place in exchange for a night’s stay before her ship’s departure. You’d invited her to the manor to pack some remaining boxes. And with Fred and George’s help in transporting everything, the move was done quicker than one could say ‘Hollow log, muddy paws, grant me a cauldron full of chocolate frogs.’

“That should be the last of it,” you proclaimed happily, standing at the front door of your new unit. Bright lights washed over the hallway and the faint scent of citrus incense lingered in the air.

You and Alicia walked through the door and down the immediate hallway. The unit was an enclave of natural light, a much-needed escape from the grimness of Malfoy Manor. To your right was a small closet and a guest restroom. The restroom held nothing more than a toilet , a sink, and a mirrow—just enough to freshen up. To your left was a room separated from your room by your connected bathroom. The rest of the hallway tapered off into the airy kitchen and living area. The couch and its complementary coffee table was to the left, and the kitchen on the right. The wall was crafted of glass; it was window that boasted an impressive view of King’s Cross station.

“Oh, these are just lovely,” you remarked, drifiting towards a flower bouquet in a glass vase on the island. You flicked the attached white card over. “Congratulations on the move,” you read. You inched closer to smell the flowers. The strong scent and cut stems indicated they were fresh.

Most of your boxes were stowed in the living room. You patted down the first set of them, a dull thud resulting from it. “Let’s start here.”

Alicia stepped back and arched her head. “Will this be your study?” she asked, pointing to the first room that Mr. Circelli said was often an office.

You flirted with the idea of lying and simply saying yes, it’d be your study, but how would you keep up the façade when you were eventually going to ask her to help move a bed in?

You shook your head. “Not entirely. It’ll function as a guest bedroom.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, and in a light-hearted manner, she asked: “Who do you intend on having over? Besides me, of course.”

You smiled, keeping your answer vague. Surely, your next response would shut the door to any more of Alicia’s prodding. “Whoever needs a space to stay, I reckon.”

Alicia’s lips pulled down in dissatisfaction. “I like details, like names and reasons. The whole manifesto, if you will.”

“Well.” You huffed as you lifted a box and set it on the kitchen table before listing off names in rapid-fire succession. “You, Angelina, Katie, Fred, George, anyoftheirbrothers, Lee, my cousins, Charlotte and Clara, who often spend a week or two in England, some friends from the country club, like Anabelle, Chrystal…”

Alicia leaned in closer and put a hand behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Fred and George’s brother, who? Ron? Percy?”

“No, that’s not who I meant.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Then who?”

“All I’m saying is that my place is open to anyone who needs to stay. To friends, relatives, and relatives of friends.” You turned away to shield the splotch of pink on your cheek. “Anyway, these boxes will not unpack themselves. We should finish up so you can rest properly for your trip tomorrow.”

Alicia had greater plans in mind. She stood motionless in thought for a second, finger on her lip, then wagged the same finger when she came to a conclusion. “You must mean Charlie. I can’t believe I just glossed over him. I mean, you looked pretty chummy during Lee’s party, but I didn’t know you were—”

“No.” You cut her off sternly and breathed in deeply, trying to force your heart back in rhythm. “Apparently, it’s busy at home with the baby coming, you know, Bill and Fleur’s child.” When Alicia gave a nod of understanding, you continued. “And I’ve been around Fred and George to know that their flat won’t be suitable for long-term accommodations. Not for anyone. I felt terrible. So, I offered him a place to stay if he needed to.”

Alicia pouted. “I guess I won’t be coming over.”

“No!” you deflected. “He’s not staying here permanently, obviously.”

“Sure, we’ll see about that.” Alicia rolled her eyes lightly. She began attaching your curtains to the rods. “Speaking of Charlie, I met Nymphadora, or Tonks, when she was on an assignment to America,” she said. “She was Charlie’s year if I’m remembering right. We had lunch one day, and she told me all about her school years. Charlie made many honourable appearances.”

You cut open a box filled with books, eyes on anywhere but Alicia. “How so?” You did your best to sound disinterested, but on the inside, you were dying to know what he was like in school.

“That every girl wanted to be his potions partner, his transfiguration partner, his… partner in general. I mean, I don’t know him, but think about it. He was Head Boy, the star Quidditch player according to Oliver, and pretty fit. Definitely not bad to look at.”

“Yes, obviously,” you agreed reluctantly. Charlie was all of those things. You were none of them. An uncomfortable tingle stirred in your chest at the thought of it.

“And that group of women were definitely ogling him from the bar at Lee’s birthday party,” Alicia recalled passively as she drew the curtains back and forth, testing her handiwork. “I remember how fast they flipped when they saw Charlie give you his sweater and when you ran out to handle your important matters, or whatever you yelled to me.”

You looked up, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks, and a faint tingle of pride sparking in your chest. “Really?”

A sudden whoosh from the fireplace put a halt on your conversation.

“What’s that?” Alicia asked, pulling away from the curtains staring at the flames.

You ran over to the model fireplace, mainly used for communications with no heating function like a regular fireplace would have. “Someone’s ringing me.” You turned to the flames and spoke. “Hello?”

“Hi, (Y/N).”

The man’s voice was muffled by the fire. You inched closer.

“Who’s this?” you asked.

“Bill Weasley.”

“Bill?” you squeaked.

“And me!” another voice—Charlie—chimed in, sounding a bit further away.

Alicia paused. It was aurally evident when her knife stopped carving through the tape.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your hands clenching into a fist, knowing the shitstorm of questions that was about to come from Alicia.

“Let us in and we’ll explain,” Charlie said.

“Okay,” you agreed breathlessly. “Come on in.” At your command, you imagined that the front door had opened and that Charlie and Bill were on their way up.

Alicia threw her box cutter aside. “(Y/N), what is going on?”

You panicked. “I don’t know.” Bill and Charlie could not have chosen a worse time to prove your point.

“Good afternoon!” Bill’s cheery voice was the first to call out a few minutes later. He was dressed in a similar suit as he was the other day, his wavy hair slicked back, and nothing more than a silver necklace looping around his neck. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Who would you be to reject them at the door? Now, two Weasley brothers stood in your new, empty home. Bill stood a touch taller than Charlie who looked like he tried his best this morning to brush back his ginger curls. You’d grown so familiar to seeing Fred and George that it was uncanny for them to be swapped away for their old brothers.

“Bill, this is my friend Alicia,” you introduced. “Alicia, Bill.”

Bill walked over and extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Alicia.”

“All the same,” she responded.

“What brings you here?” you asked Bill. “I wish I’d known you were coming. I would’ve gotten something ready.”

Bill chuckled. “I had to see in person what I was writing a referral for.”

“Should I give you a tour?” you offered.

“I’ll let you give Charlie the tour. He’s the one staying here, after all.”

“Of course,” you corrected.

“Of course,” Alicia repeated, her tone forewarning of a barrage of questions.

“Well, I’m not staying over tonight, so don’t worry too much about it, (Y/N),” Charlie hummed. He glanced down at his watch. “I’ve got to get to King’s Cross in about half an hour. Luckily, this place isn’t far.”

“Mind if I peek in here, (Y/N)?” Bill asked, gesturing to the empty office.

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

Charlie followed him in.

“You can tear the wall down temporarily for a door here,” Bill explained to Charlie. “Any building erected after Kingsley’s inauguration into office is pliable for modifications without the risk of structural failure. I’ve checked the code myself. Percy backed me up on it after perusing the law a second time.”

You rushed over in a frenzy. “I’m sorry, what are you tearing down?”

“I’m the co-tenant, so I can do whatever, right, (Y/N)?” Charlie asked sweetly, nearly batting his eyelashes. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Bill explained instead, “There’s no shower in the powder room. Would you be amenable to creating a door from the room to your washroom?”

You dry heaved, thinking about the repair bill that was already on the way. If these two were anywhere as reckless as Fred and George… “Yes, but could we not destroy this place? I’m liable for any damages.”

Bill was first to speak. “I assure you we won’t destroy it. And Charlie will pay for it if I do.”

You shut your eyes and muffled your ears. Peril was a sure thing. Mr. Circelli’s disappointed face flashed in front of your eyes. Even though Bill wasn’t foolhardy, you were too used to false words of comfort from the younger Weasley brothers to believe that he could cleanly sever your walls.

“Done.”

At Bill’s words, you cautiously cracked an eye open, expecting a shroud of smoke and a pile of rubble. To your relief, there was nothing more than an oak door that connected what was now Charlie’s bedroom to your washroom.

“That’s all we’re doing,” Charlie assured, placing a firm hand on where your waist met your back, the action rocking you closer to him. He gently massaged the tense muscles in the region, and in some near whisper that only you could hear, he added: “You can relax now, (Y/N).”

Charlie sidestepped to group again with Bill. “I was thinking of staying over when I come home Friday night. It’s going to be late and I don’t know what Fred and George will be doing, and I don’t intend to know.”

You were half listening, half yearning for his hand on your waist. “That’s fine.”

“Don’t worry about getting anything ready for me,” Charlie added at the door. “I can sleep on any surface as long as it’s quiet.”

“Bye, (Y/N).” Bill smiled as he began to depart, too. “And Charlie’s not a terrible roommate. Take it from someone with almost 29 years of experience.”

Your scalp singed, a sure sign Alicia was staring daggers into the back of your head. When the calamity settled, you slowly scooted to Charlie’s room.

“I guess this futon will have to be in its bed configuration,” you redirected Alicia to help you pull the inside compartment out.

“You’re certain you’re not dating Charlie?” Alicia asked, gripping the frame, guiding it to turn into a full-sized bed. “Or sleeping with him?”

“I’m certain!”

“You say as you make the bed for him, your co-tenant. You left out that important bit. And I didn’t know you knew Bill.”

“I’ve barely spoken to him before this month.”

“Sure,” Alicia gritted incredulously. “I thought we were friends. And friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“We are friends.”

“If it were me, I’d have gone for Bill,” she mused.

“Alicia! He’s married! And I’m telling Fred you said this.”

Alicia snorted, making you smile.

When the whole suite was dressed and furnished to your liking hours later, you and Alicia swapped away the cardboard and box cutters for a cold, fizzy bottle of champagne and two glass flutes. Stripped down to a silky white nightgown and an eye mask, you laid on the couch giggling and talking until you both fell asleep.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley headcanon

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ultralightpoe · 11 months ago

Text

Full House llll l -Eddie Munson

Authors Note: And with this final chapter we say goodbye to the Munson family. Thank you to everyone who has read this series.

Warnings: angst, mentions of ptsd and fear of suicide but not a lot.

Word Count: 10,129

Part One HERE - Part Two HERE - Part Three HERE - Part Four HERE - Part Five HERE -

(Thanks for the gif @spookynebula )

Enjoy! -Warning. This chapter had mentions of depression and ptsd. Reader hints at suicide-

It was insane how fast things escalated that night.

Friday nights had become somewhat of a massive tradition in the entire group, since that was the one night that EVERYONE had off. It became a family dinner/ game night all around.

Everyone brought over plates of food, the kids all got to spend time together and the DnD party got a night to catch up on their campaign. Anyone who didn’t want to play got some time to relax with friends.

Tonight was an extra special night because everyone was celebrating Dustin and Erica’s son, Luke’s birthday.

So the second you all got home from all the activities and clubs and meetings everyone got cracking and starting setting up. Ziggy cleaned the downstairs living room that became the kids play room with the help of Halen.

You helped clean up the living room before leaving Eddie and Ozzy to set up their DND tables for their respective campaigns as you went to start the food.

By 7, an hour earlier than her normal time, Motley comes in with a smile that has you on edge immediately.

It’s not that she was a bad kid, you loved your daughter more than the world itself, you just didn’t like her current path. And you had gotten used to the coming in and stomping straight into her room so this smile told you something was up.

“Hey ma!” She smiles, moving forward to kiss your cheek.

“Hi angel.” You mumble, making a kiss noise back as you focus on the food. “We’re doing chicken Alfredo tonight for everyone so-“

“I was actually hoping I could go to Samantha’s for a movie night.” She smiles, watching you pause and then look at her.

“Again?” It had been a year since she had attended one of these family dinners since her and Samantha did movie nights. “Wait, I thought you were mad at Samantha for something. When I was doing laundry you were on the phone talking about her.”

“You were eavesdropping?!”

“No, I was doing your laundry and you were talking loudly!” You snap. “And I’m gonna have to say no to the movie night because it’s Luke’s birthday. A special event.”

“And next week it will be Uncle Jonathan’s birthday and after that Sara’s birthday-“ a small smile spreads across your face at the mention of Sara, the cute toddler girl Mike and El had brought into the world. She was so sweet and reminded you of your kids back then.

“That’s the thing about birthdays. They happen every year?” You mumble, confused on why you have to explain this as she curses under her breath.

“I just mean it’s always something with this family.”

“Okay. I already said no so suck it up buttercup.” You snap, turning back to the food.

Eddie comes into the kitchen with an excited smile when he sees Motley home, and you already know what’s coming.

“Hey Metalhead. You wanna see how cool I am?”

“Sure.” She snaps, rolling her eyes at him.

“People say I’m magic, cause I always have a few Twix up my sleeve.” Just as he says it he makes the Twix candy bar slide down into his awaited palm with such excitement.

“Wow dad.” She sighs. “This is an all time low.”

“Oh! Twix!” Halen snatches it and dashes to go fine his best friend.

“You eat today?” Eddie asks Motley, trying not to let her mood get at him. “We have snacks set up already-“

“Why do you constantly feel the need to ask me if I’ve eaten?!” She snaps.

“What?! I just want to make sure my daughter actually eats instead of that dieting smell a carrot bullshit!”

“UGH! Just leave me alone! This house sucks!” She stomps downstairs and Eddie turns to you.

“What’d I do now?”

“I actually told her no to something before you came in so it was me.” You explain, using the spoon to pull out a noodle and move to feed it to him.

And before you know it everything is packed with people.

Steve and Nancy came in a bundle of hugs, Eddie making a tall joke to their tallest son which makes Vinny laugh nervously as he moves out of the way for his three younger brothers to come in.

Vinny takes his spot at Ozzys table, getting his dice ready as two of his brothers join him while the third dashes to follow Ziggy to go play with Zeppelin.

Steve takes a seat at Ozzys table as well, since he wanted to play but didn’t really know how he was playing Ozzys campaign to learn the basics of the game.

Jonathan and his son arrive soon enough, Halen snatching his friend and they dash upstairs to play video games as Jonathan takes a seat on the couch where you Nancy and Robin always sit and talk shit about anyone and anything.

Eddie tries to call Motley up for dinner but she doesn’t answer so he just shrugs and starts his campaign, missing the pointed eye roll Vinny had.

“He prefers to be called Vince now.” Nancy explains over her wine. “And Steve found not one but 4 little notes from girls or guys asking him out. All unanswered and just shoved into his desk drawer.”

“I still can’t believe you’re raising a valedictorian. Any idea on where he’s applying to colleges?” Jonathan asks.

“Oh come on. The kid is tall, attractive, has amazing grades and an all around good student. Not to mention the star baseball player for the team. It doesn't matter where he’s applying because they are all going to be reaching out to him.” Robin scoffs, making Nancy smile.

You hear a bunch of groans coming from Ozzys table and look over to see your son smiling just like his dad as the table is panicking on what to do.

When you look over at Eddie you see he is already smiling from ear to ear as he watches before the sound of Zeppelin barking in the back yard pulls your attention.

“What was that?” Mike asks, trying to look out the window.

“Probably just heard a car door. Dogs on about everything lately.” Eddie sighs, focusing back up on the game.

Then some more time passes and he begins to get to get more and more anxious. Motley hadn’t eaten so she should come up.

“Hey Zig?” He calls. “Send your sister up please!”

There’s a slight rustle downstairs and he hears Ziggy knock before swinging the door open. His first sign of trouble is when he doesn’t hear Motley immediately scream at her sister to get out of her room.

But he thinks that maybe she managed to fall asleep, she did come from cheer practice after all.

That is until Ziggy dashes upstairs and Eddie is met with her wide eyes that makes everything fall into a panic for him.

“What’s up?”

“She’s not there.”

“She’s not where?”

“She’s not in her room-“ Eddie is zipping out of his chair to zoom downstairs and check for himself, barging into her room to find it empty. “You’ve gotta be kidding me-“

He moved to see that she had somehow shimmied out of the small window she had and he gets pissed.

How long has she been doing that?!

He storms back upstairs, snatching the phone angrily as you come closer, watching him dial Perez' number and wait.

“Hello, this is Eddie Munson. I just need to make sure my daughter got to you house safely-“ he stops, heart thundering in his rib cage at the man’s response as you keep peering at him. “What do you mean she’s not there?”

Vinny is watching you both, an annoyed look on his face as everyone’s mood immediately drops, once again for Motley. She ruined everything these days.

“She’s at a party.” He sighs. “Her boyfriend Aaron and his best friend Henry are throwing a huge rager tonight.”

“I thought she wanted to go to Samantha’s?” He asks you, confused since that’s what you told him earlier.

“Her and Samantha haven’t actually been friends for months. Samantha is too nerdy now.” Vinny explains and Steve sighs.

“Vin, why didn’t you say anything?”

“She’s not my business. I try to stay far away from her these days-“

“Why?” You ask, getting defensive of your daughter.

“Because they make everyone’s lives miserable. They just constantly bully Mickey about his stuttering. Samantha is bullied about her weight and all they do is walk through the halls making everyone miserable. And she just lets it happen with a laugh. She thinks it’s great.”

Your heart breaks, imagining all the things he is saying as Eddie is losing patience.

“The party's address. Where is it?” He snaps, moving to grab his keys.

“Eds..” you mumble, reaching out to stop him but the second he has the address he is out the front door.

So you, and everyone else, wait.

Sending all the kids including your twins down stairs to watch a movie as the adults and teens sit around and wait for Eddie’s car to emerge again.

And when they do you already know it’s gonna be bad based on the way they both slam the doors.

He’s yelling before they even make it to the front door.

“I’m sick of this bullshit with you!” He shouts. “When’s it gonna stop, huh?!”

“Fuck off!” She screams back, obviously crying. “You just ruined my life!”

“No Motley, I just helped it!” He yells, opening the door. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Why do you care so much?!” She screams as they both come into view. “IT WAS JUST A PARTY!”

“YOU WERE DRINKING AND SMOKING!” He screams back, both red in the face. “I HAD TO PULL THAT FUCK OFF OF YOU! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED MOTLEY?!

“Right. So you’re the hero once again right? You barge in and take control over everything and now everyone is gonna say what a wonderful guy you were and how my mom is so lucky she found you.” She sneers, tears streaming down her face and makes her eyeliner stain her cheeks. “Thank god for Eddie fucking Munson. My family was fine before she met you! We were fine without you!”

“I don’t know what you’re on about but you’re on thin ice tonight.” He warns.

“Just fucking say it! Say I remind you of my dad! That’s why you hate me right?!” She snaps and his eyes widen.

“Motley- you don’t. Wait-“ your husband tries, you see the panic on his face as he realizes that this situation was spinning out far too quickly.

Meanwhile Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had just found his daughter half asleep with some jock on top of her at a party and he was freaked the fuck out. He was mad and stressed and scared but the feeling he was getting as she glared at him made him go cold.

He had his tiffs with her, these days all he could seem to do was irritate her but this was something entirely different.

“I’m Billys kid right? That’s all I am to you? I look and act like him! That’s all you see! Right?!”

“You’ve had a lot to drink.” Eddie sighs, rubbing his face. “Maybe you should go get some rest.”

“You talk all this bullshit about how it’s the people that raise us and not the ones we’re made from. But you know what I think? I think you’re lying because you know that’s not true. I’ll always be like Billy and you will always be like Alan.” She continues and Eddie feels something cold in his chest, a cracking feeling as his ears start ringing. He hears you shuffle closer already trying to diffuse the situation but neither of them look at you.

When he doesn’t respond she keeps going, like a feral animal backed into a corner.

“You think I haven’t heard the stories?! Huh?! Alan Munson arrested for drug abuse and manslaughter. Eddie Munson, the schools fucking freak that sold drugs and killed Chrissy Cunningham.”

“I am nothing like him-“ Eddie snaps, skin hot and fists clenched. Alan was an abuser, who had hit Eddie more than he hugged him. Eddie had never hit you, or the kids. He had never killed anyone, not even Chrissy and sure he sold drugs but he always made sure everyone was safe when using them.

Is that how she saw him?

“You’re just like him! Nothing but a low life fucking freak. You can take your cheap fucking necklace back, freak.” She sobs, tearing off the necklace he made her and chucking it at his chest. Some of the chain hits his cheek at how hard she threw it, and it falls to the floor beneath him with a clank.

And just like that he’s back to nothing. All the hard work he’s done to run from his name and all the hard work he’s put into supporting people is gone. She’s right. He’s nothing but a freak. Always has been and always will be.

Her face falls from one of pure anger to shock and sadness as she watches him. He doesn’t know what he looks like but by your devasted face it can’t be great.

“I’m going to bed.” He announces, voice sounding bland and empty, kicking his mothers ring away from his feet and moving upstairs without another word.

“W-wait dad-“ she gasps out, sobering up a bit. “Please just-“

He doesn’t hear. Or he just blatantly ignores her as the bedroom door slams harshly.

“No. No no no.” She sobs, falling to her knees to try and find where the ring had gone after Eddie kicked it. Her fingers grasp around the chain, sobbing harder when she sees it snapped and broken.

Ziggy comes into view then, eyes wide as she watches her sister scramble across the floor.

“Ziggy. You need to go downstairs-“ you try and control the situation, moving your daughter to head back only to find that all of the kids were standing in the kitchen and had heard everything.

“I think it’s time we go.” Steve mumbles, not looking at Motley as everyone begins to grab their kids and make their way out.

She can’t breathe, she can’t breathe and she can’t find the ring.

“Z-zig- help me p-please. I can’t find it.” She sobs, reaching her arm under the couch to try and feel for it.

Ziggy doesn’t move to help her sister, and you can only watch with tears streaming down your face as your oldest breaks down.

“Ididntmeanit!” She sobs. “Pleasebelieveme-“

“I think everyone needs to go to bed.” You state calmly. “Motley we will discuss all of this in the morning once we’ve all had room to breathe. Okay?”

She nods, still violently sobbing as Ziggy walks away from her and storms downstairs. Halen has tears streaming down his own face as Ozzy grabs his arm to lead him upstairs, hearing nothing but silence coming from their parents room.

You shuffle away too, trying not to look at her and trying not to cry. You had no clue what to do right now.

She searches for a couple minutes before realizing the point was mute since she couldn’t actually see from her eyes anymore with how hard she was crying and finally she gave up, shuffling downstairs.

At first she walks to her room, but the second she hits the door she realizes she doesn’t want to be alone so she moves closer to Ziggys door and knocks softly.

Back when you first moved in, Motley and Ziggy were terrified to sleep in the basement, both so sure ghosts were real. Motley often let Ziggy in her room so they could sleep together.

Now it was her knocking on her baby sister's door, chest aching as it opens a bit. “C-can I sleep with you Zig? I-I don’t want to-“

“Why do you have to ruin everything?!” Ziggy cries, shoving Motley away. “Why do you have to chase him away?!”

“Zig-“ Motley sobs but her sister doesn’t hear her.

“You ruin everything! And he’s gonna leave because of you!” And then the door is slammed in her face once more.

So Motley shuffles to the couch, curling into the cushions as she sobs. Eddie’s face stuck in her mind.

She had never seen him look so…. Broken and empty. She did that.

And he had never walked away from a fight with her.

“I want dad…” she sobs, shoving her face into the pillow to sob. “I’m sorry dad.”

You were going to be sick.

Never before had you seen such silence from your husband.

By the time you made it to the room he was just sitting on the bench in front of your bed, just staring at the wall.

“Eddie?” You mumble, moving closer to him and try to rub his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He just shakes his head no. Not actually looking at you as he brings his hand up to pull yours away from him.

There’s a crater in your chest as your husband pushes your hand away, this gaping hole just gushing out blood as you try and figure out how to fix this. But before you can think of something he stands and walks past you to go into the bathroom, locking the door and turning the shower on.

You’ve thankfully passed out by the time Eddie gets the courage to leave the bathroom, he can’t look at you right now.

He’s a coward.

A freak.

We were fine without you.

She thought he was Alan. She probably heard everyone at school making fun of her dad.

Nothing but a low life fucking freak.

Freak. Freak. Freak freakfreakfreak.

“You’re nothing Edward. You hear me boy?” Alan calls, watching Eddie dash to his room to hide.

Later that evening his mother would give Eddie a buzz cut, the hair being the thing that got him in trouble in the first place.

He could do nothing but stare into the mirror as she did so, looking at the deep purple bruise that covered most his cheek as she worked on his hair.

Nothing.

He didn’t mean to stay awake all night, sitting there staring at a wall. But he somehow managed to.

So he unplugs his alarm clock before it can wake you, shuffling around to get dressed silently. He was used to doing chores on the weekends, for the yard or the family cars.

Today he chose to head out for a bit. Leaving a tiny kiss on your forehead as he grabbed his wallet and keys before heading out.

Motley wakes up to the front door closing, her neck aching from the spot on the couch she had slept on and her head blaring from crying so much last night.

It takes her a moment to get up, shuffling upstairs half asleep until she is in the main part of the house, when she sees no one there she shuffled up the stairs to sneak into your room.

Her heart plummets when she sees it’s only you, her anxiety and guilt heightening as she crawls into bed to lay with you, pulling the blanket close as you turn to cuddle your daughter.

“I’m sorry mommy.” She cries.

“I know.” You mumble, still half asleep as you keep her close.

Soon enough the boys wake up, dashing downstairs, and you have to get up to go feed everyone. Motley stays close to you, sitting at the table awkwardly as you get the twins set up with cereal.

They don’t look at her. Neither of them even look near her as they eat silently which upsets her more.

“Have you decided what song you’re going to do for your performance, Oz?” She tries to break the tension, watching her brother shrug.

“Dad and I were going over some stuff. Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs again, spinning his cereal around the bowl as you go downstairs to grab Zeppelin for his daily walk and wake up Ziggy.

You rush Zeppelin out, the older dog excited as he is every morning and the second you leave the front door Ziggy emerges from downstairs.

“Morning Zig.” Motley tries to smile, stomach clenching when her sister ignores her.

“Hey Zig? Can I borrow your charcoal markers?” Halen asks, excited to see his sister. “I have this really cool idea to take my Halloween mask and make it look like the words are-“

Motley zones out watching all three of her siblings talk excitedly amongst each other. It had been a family tradition for as long as she’s known to have breakfast together on Saturday, just the 6 of them. A tradition she’s blatantly ignored in favor of spending time with her friends.

“I have a new eyeliner, Zig, if you want to try it?” Motley offers, once again trying to break the tension.

“I’m good.” Ziggys is quick to shut her down, moving to clean up her mess. “Remember guys. Dads birthday is coming up and we all gotta keep it a surprise what we got.”

“Right.” Ozzy smiles, tossing his bowl in the sink before dashing off while Ziggy rushes downstairs.

Halen is the only one left and Motley turns to him. “What’d we get dad?”

“I don’t know what you got him. But we all chipped our allowance in for something.” Halen mumbles, hands clenched.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me? I would have-“

“Why does it matter? He’s not your dad right?” Her brother mumbles out, getting up to slam his bowl in the sink as well. He stomps off soon after that, and soon enough the sound was mixed with the sounds of Ozzy practicing cello and Halen dashing around for his project. Ziggy playing music in her room.

“DADS HOME!” Halen yells excitedly, dashing down the stairs to come into the kitchen where you were preparing lunch. “I saw him pull in.”

“Good.” You smile, some of the anxiety easing as the kids collect at the table around where Motley was sitting and doing homework. “We’re going to eat lunch together. No fighting guys.”

The front door opens and shuts and Motley stands up awkwardly, both of you waiting for Eddie to enter.

When he does you are silent, eyes wide as he blinks at you slowly. “Y-your hair?”

It was cut, short. There were still some curls at the top of his head but the rest was gone.

“I….. yeah I thought I needed a change.” He mumbles, reaching a hand up to pull through it awkwardly. “Thought the mop head was a little outdated.”

I didn’t want to look like a freak. You know that’s what he meant even if he didn’t say it.

“Dad. I am so sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean any of it and I can’t believe-“ Motley begins, wiping her cheeks as some fresh tears roll down her face.

“Hey hey hey.” Eddie stops her. “It’s fine. Okay? No hurt feelings Motley. You had some stress and needed to get it out. I get it.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean any of it dad.”

“I know.” He nods. “I’m not upset at you Motley.”

And that was settled. But he doesn’t move forward to hug her, he doesn’t even touch her, instead he shuffles to sit down and look at the others staring at him.

“Does it look bad?” He asks as they all blink at him and his new hair. Immediately after he asks they all rush out to tell him no and that it looks good.

Motley takes a seat again and so do you, everyone beginning to eat silently.

Eddie had said it was fine, but everyone at the table knew it wasn’t.

Eddie didn’t try to crack any cheesy jokes or pull you into an embarrassing kiss that would make them all gag. He didn’t ask about their plans or if they all wanted to hang out. Eddie ate in silence. And the silence was the loudest part of the meal.

Things remained tense for the rest of the weekend and by the time Motley had to go to school she was tired and stressed.

Her bad was still shut down, he tried not to be but he was. And things were just so…..wrong now.

This morning was awkward enough. She had told Aaron she didn’t want a ride, and she really didn’t want her dad seeing him in general.

But he left early for work and you had assumed she already had a ride so you took the rest of the kids, which left her to walk to school.

She showed up drenched from the rain, bumping into Samantha by the door and dashing to the bathroom quickly.

By the time she gets out first period is already over and the hallways were already packed with people moving for their next class.

She just wanted to cry. She was cold and soaked and missed her dad.

She broke her dad.

“Motley! Hey!” Aaron calls, and she tenses, casting him a look before dashing down the hall and bumping into Vince harshly.

He manages to catch her as her heeled boots slip, hauling her easily into an empty classroom the second he sees the tears rushing down her her cheeks. He closes the door and pulls the blinds of the window down.

“Just take a moment.”

“I have to get to class.” She sniffles.

“It’s biology with Fitz. He barely takes attendance and we’ll be fine.” He tries to joke. “Just take a breather.”

“I can’t! I can’t catch my breath at all.” She snaps, and he moves closer to wipe at her eyes as she sobs before she is latching herself onto him with her face pressed into his chest as she sobs. “I’m sorry Vinny.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snitched on you like that.” He mumbles.

“No. No. It actually was for the better.” She moves to sit down after breaking from the hug, sliding against the door and sitting with her back to it.

He follows and they are side by side.

“I’m thankful my dad showed up.” She admits. “There was a split second where I was so fucking happy he was there actually. I saw him when he tore Aaron off of me and I knew I’d be safe.”

“Did Aaron….?”

“Oh. It’s….. I was just too out of it.” She mumbles, trying to get comfortable.

He moves slowly, unzipping her boot slowly to take it off and doing it to the other so it was easier to sit without the heels.

“Then what happened?”

“I…. Saw the look on my dads face when he dragged me out of there. And I just felt like….. Billy.” She admits, swiping the tears. “I remembered what you said and-“

“I lied.” Vince blurts. “Motley you had to have known that I lied. Your dad would never say that.”

“You lied?”

“I lied. I was trying to hurt you because you…. I was being a dick.”

She sniffles quickly, laughing a little. “Vinny.”

“I’m sorry Motley.”

“Oh my god.” She laughs and he can only blink at her from guilt. “I spent the past year bullying you with my friends and you’ve been holding back your punches.”

“I just….there is no excuse.” He mumbles but she just keeps laughing with tears still springing down her face.

“Don’t feel bad. I was…. Out of control and you ended up saving my ass.” She rushes out. “And then I just completely destroyed my life after.”

“You didn’t. I’m sure this can all be fixed.” He sighs. “Your dad is one of the…. Best.”

“He is.”

“And he forgives my dad after years of king Steve’s bullshit.” He mumbles. “Now they are best frie-“

Before he can finish his sentence her lips are on his. Warm and soft.

He can taste the salt from her tears, and his heart is beating through his rib cage as the girl he’s been dreaming about for years finally kisses him.

But then he pulls back, blinking at her. “Sorry.” He blurts out.

“Why are you sorry? I kissed you.” She blushes.

“Motley.” He begins, not really knowing what to say. “You’re beautiful.”

“I know.” She smiles, laying her head on his shoulder. “You are too.”

Family dinner was quiet, and Eddie spent most his time pushing the food around on his plate and everyone ate in silence.

Motley leans over, elbow pressing into his as she whispers. “Have you eaten today?”

A tiny smile breaks out, and Motley can’t tell if it’s real or fake. So she leans back and keeps pushing around her own food.

“I think I’m gonna drop out of the concert.” Ozzy blurts, pulling Eddie’s attention quickly.

“Why?”

“I’m just…. Not really feeling it.” Her little brother mumbles, shrugging.

Everyone turns to Eddie, waiting for him to talk Ozzy into it. This is what he did. A problem arose and Eddie was there to make them all feel better. He would talk Ozzy into the concert, get rid of all the anxiety and stress he was carrying about it.

But it didn’t come.

“Okay well….. just let your teacher know yeah?” He mumbles, picking up his plate to clean it before heading out of the room quickly.

“I hate you.” Ziggy snaps at Motley, storming off.

“EW! Absolutely not!” Motley snaps, slapping Vinny’s hand away which makes him laugh. “I refuse!”

“Go fish. Go fish!” He laughs, waving the card in her face again.

“No! I refuse!”

“That’s the point of the game!”

Motley and Vinny had been eating lunch together in the abandoned science classroom everyday for the past week. They did homework together and played card games. He told her about his mom and dads most recent fight where Steve had managed to break their bedroom door handle and trap them both in the room on accident.

“No it’s not. I win.” She mumbles, shaking her head as he groans out. “Which means I deserve a victory kiss.”

Whenever she won he had to kiss her. And whenever he won she had to kiss him. Oh how miserable life was.

He smiles, leaning forward to kiss her lips nervously which makes her giggle. When he pulls back he scratches the back of his neck. “So… the Sadie Hawkins Hawkins dance is coming up.”

“Yes. I hear them announce it every morning.” She teases. “Who you gonna ask?”

“Oh ha ha.” He scoffs right as the bell rings. “I have practice after school. You good to get home?”

“I’ll be good.” She smiles, watching as he stands up and heads out.

It was weird seeing Eddie like this, so bland and empty. It really scared you.

He had never shut down like this before, and you were getting to the point where you had begun to hide all the sharp objects and pills.

Today he sat on the bed, well more or less laid on the bed splayed out as he watched the ceiling fan turn slowly. It had been 2 weeks since that fight with Motley, and he had nightmares anytime he managed to fall asleep which wasn’t often.

You knew what he was dreaming about of course, between his father, Chrissy or Wayne’s passing he always woke up calling one of their names in a panic.

“Hey Eds?” You call, trying to get his attention. “Do you wanna try sleeping? I can lay with you.”

“No.” He mumbles out, not moving as the bed dios while you curl into his side.

“You need sleep.” You murmur, kissing his shoulder, taking your hand to rub circles on his stomach.

“I just need…..” What did he need? You’d give him anything.

“She didn’t mean it.” You whisper, tears beginning to burn your eyes.

“I know.” He whispers back. “I just can’t shake it.”

“Maybe, we should look into some therapy.” Your whisper, watching as he finally switches to lay on his side facing you pushing until it’s his forehead against your chest.

“If I start dreaming about them-“

“I’ll wake you up.” You promise.

Eddie’s first therapy session falls on a Monday, so you drop the kids off at all their clubs before taking him and waiting in the car as he spends the next 2 hours in the session.

You catch up on some of your book and when he gets back in the car you are happy to note that he seems a little better. Not a lot but he’s not too empty.

“You haven’t eaten in a minute. Want to go get a burger?” You ask and he shrugs. “You wanna wait for the kids to eat?”

“I just want to sleep.” He answers truthfully and you smile, because at least he was answering. So you turn down the radio and drive to pick up all the kids from their clubs.

First are the boys, Halen still in his karate outfit and Ozzy without his cello. When you ask he simply mutters since he didn’t need to practice he was gonna leave it there tonight.

Eddie closes his eyes like he is in pain when Ozzy says that, but no one says anything.

Next is Ziggy, but you are shocked to find both sisters standing together outside of Ziggys school.

“Motley? Why aren’t you at practice?”

“They end at 5.” She answers.

“Then why did you keep coming home at 8?”

She looks guilty as she shrugs, looking between you and Eddie as he keeps his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus.” You grunt, feeling like a crap mother.

Later that night you knock on her door, and when she lets you in you shut the door, sitting her on her bed so you could have a long conversation about sex and boys.

It was a little too late as you had come to find out. But she ended up telling you everything.

Friday rolled around and it was DND night, but no one set up any campaign tables and no one bothered to get excited.

Eddie helped you in the kitchen and Motley tried asking about any ideas he had for another campaign.

“Have you ever done a dragon one?”

“Yes.”

“Well maybe you can do a futuristic one then?”

“I actually think I’m done for a bit.” He shrugs. “It’s a game meant for kids.”

He shuffles off to the garage to grab the drinks for tonight as Motley looks at you.

“Hey mom?” Ziggy asks, coming up the stairs. “I have this project I’m doing and it smells really bad cause of the paint. Do you think dad will let me work in the garage?”

“I don’t care. Go for it.” Eddie snaps, walking in with the sodas. “Have at it. Take what you want.”

He drops the drinks by the coolers before walking up the stairs.

“He hates us.” Ziggy mumbles. “He hates us now.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Enough of that.” You snap. “You two have absolutely no clue what he’s been through or what he’s done to be where he is now. You throw Chrissy in his face and his father in his face and all he ever does is try to cheer you guys up constantly.”

They both blink at you.

“He’s upset. He’s gonna be upset from his trauma and it shouldn’t constantly be about you two. Have you bothered to ask if he’s okay ever?” You snap, irritable. “Go clean something.”

They disperse quickly and you turn back to keep cooking, slamming everything as you go.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, leaning against the door.

“No I’m not.” You snap. “I’m so sick of everything. When did this get so hard and - and you’re listening to me complain again. Even when I’m stressed about you carrying all our burdens I still give you more.” You laugh bitterly.

“I don’t mind taking in your guys’ burdens.” He sighs, moving closer.

“This isn’t working.” You snap. “None of this is working.”

“I know.” He sighs.

“I think it’s time we take a look at the next step here.” You mumble, turning away from him. “Because I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“I don’t think I can either.” He whispers.

“Then….” You can’t even put it into words, what are you saying? “I need to finish cooking.”

He doesn’t say anything, just merely disappears again.

“Divorce?” Robin scoffs. “You find out your daughter is a slut and this is where you end up?”

“No. Not divorce. We just need another strategy.” You mumble, not looking in the direction that Eddie was sitting in. “It’s like playing tug of war through a brick wall. Whenever either of us begins to make movement the other just hits the brick at full speed.”

Tonight’s ‘family dinner’ was extremely different. It felt more like an awkward party than a family dinner.

Motley sat on the stairs with Vinny, pretending to study as Ziggy sat in the corner sketching.

No dnd, no fun conversations. Your family was truly beginning to crumble under pressure.

“And I feel like absolute crap because how did I now see that my daughter had a sex life?”

“I hear that Aaron kid is a jackass.” Robin sneers.

“From Jonathan. His photography teacher.” Nancy clarifies.

“What great intel.” You sneer and she sighs, rollling her eyes.

You spend the rest of the night talking about Robins most recent girlfriend, and why it ended. By the time you said goodnight to everyone you truly thought you knew too much about her love life.

You wave off her car, being the last to leave, and you shut the door before pressing your forehead to it with a sigh.

When you turn around you are surprised to find Eddie standing there waiting for you and the kids still in sight watching you.

“Goodnight everyone.” You mumble, locking the door and moving to start picking everything up.

“I’m craving donuts.” Eddie blurts, making everyone look at him. “When’s the last time we had an actual Munson meal?”

“What?” Ozzy laughs. “We had dinner together yester-“

“No no. I mean an actual Munson meal.” Eddie shakes his head.

Ziggy catches on then, a smile spreading on her face as Motley soon gets it.

“Guys, I’m tired so maybe we should-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence because Eddie is there, pulling you to the kitchen with the kids to prep for Munson dinner.

A little while later you are all sat on the floor, knees connecting all of you together as you pass around the snacks and laugh.

Homemade donuts and ham wrapped around cheese sticks. Sliced apples and peanut butter with grapes. Any snack you could think of was in the center of the circle.

You all had pillows and blankets, and there was a cartoon playing in the background as Ziggy told you guys the story of how her math teacher broke his foot by dancing in class.

You’re laughing too hard, tears streaming down your face as you try to breathe in while she imitates his crying.

“Stop!” Motley cries. “He did the same dance thing when I had him!”

“Do the dance one more time.” Eddie laughs. “I gotta see it.”

So Ziggy does, looking like an absolute fool as she does but everyone is still laughing and having fun.

Halen catches you up on his drama club, and how he got the old grandma as a roll. “It’s not funny!”

“Its not!” Ozzy laughs. “But your costume is!”

“Wait. Tell them about your concert!” Halen mumbles to which Ozzy shakes his head quickly.

“What’s going on with the concert?” Eddie asks, leaning to snatch an apple slice out of your hand.

“I…. They….. well they gave my solo up before I quit.” He admits.

“What? Why would they do that?” You mumble, worry striking you. “Ozzy,”

“They said I lacked control.” He blushes.

“That’s not fair. You’re the best in that group.” Eddie snaps.

“Every parent says that about their kid.” Ozzy groans.

“Well yeah but I’m not just saying that because you are my kid.” He mumbles. “You’re fucking amazing Ozzy. And if they think you’re not then we need to look for another program.”

“But-“

“Dads right, Ozzy. You play better than any of them.” Motley mumbles.

“We’ll look for another program. Rather than the school.” You nod, and he shrugs with a small smile playing on his lips.

“What’s going on with you?” Eddie asks. “How is life at school, you know after I….”

“Life is better.” She cuts him off. “I actually…. I spend all my free time with Vince now and-“

She starts blushing, and Eddie and yourself are shocked by this image. It had been forever since you saw your daughter with no makeup and in her cheesiest pajamas.

“Well I like all my makeup and outfits but there is no stress of how I look around him so I get to have more fun with it all. You know?” She’s getting redder and redder now. “And the Sadie Hawkins is coming up and Iwastryingtofigurrouthowtoaskhim.”

She mumbles the last part out but everyone heard it, excitement jumping through the group.

“Oooo. Motley and Vincent sitting in a tree-“ a pillow hits Ziggy in the face as Ozzy and Eddie are already talking over each other with ideas.

“How about you write it on a baseball?” Halen asks, and everyone stops at his idea before Motley lights up.

“That would be very sweet.” You smile.

“I don’t have a baseball though.”

“That’s easy. Send Zeppelin outside for 5 minutes and he’ll find one.” Eddie teases.

“I have paint for it!”

“Then we have a plan.”

Eddie sighs, shifting a bit as he tried to conjure up what he needs to say. “I think we’ve been failing as a family lately.”

“How so?”

“When’s the last time we’ve actually talked? Actually sat down together and talked about life? We have all been so caught up lately that we haven’t made time for our best team and that needs to change.”

“How so?”

“I propose that we do family dinners like this from now on. Actually talk. Actually take time for each other and tell eachother everything.” He sighs. “But in order for that then there has to be complete honesty. And I have not given you guys that.”

It’s silent as everyone stares back. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something.

It takes you a minute to register it. It’s a bat tooth.

“Who wants the truth about Chrissy Cunningham and my scars?”

It’s around 3 am when you wake up, confused and groggy.

Somehow everyone had managed to cuddle together on the couch, everyone connected somehow. You were all merged as one, sleeping in a pile, with Halen snoring loudly.

You blink a couple times, wondering what had woken you up, so you sit up, making Halen stir a bit and try your best to sneak out.

You limp to the sound that had been waking you up, tense from the awkward position you had been sleeping before you shuffle to open the window and look out at what was outside.

A small laugh escapes you when you realize that you had left Zeppelin out and he was whining. “I am so sorry baby boy.” You coo, shuffling to the door quickly to let him in. He dashes to the couch to crawl his way into the pile.

You catch Eddie staring at you, trapped underneath all the kids as he nods his head for you to come back. So you do. Finding your spot and falling asleep with your family once more.

“Would you just take a breath?” Eddie laughs, watching his oldest daughter rush around in a flurry of panic.

He is standing in the center of the living room, doing his best to help her as she struggles to find her shoe.

“Dad I can’t find it..” she mumbles. “He’s gonna be here any minute and I-“

“Just sit down a moment.” He mumbles, moving her to sit before he starts looking. He instantly finds, throwing it at her to catch easily before shuffling back to the kitchen to find you sitting with Ziggy as she shows you her most recent project.

“How’s it going in there?” You ask, looking up at him for a second.

“Found her shoe. I came to get you for pictures.” And within a moment you are up, kissing Ziggys head and dashing to find your camera for the photos.

Eddie shuffles closer, snatching a chip from her bag as he looks at the oil painting. “Jesus. Did a teenage mutant ninja turtle possess you?”

“Huh?”

“You know? Micheal Angelo, Donatello-“

“Oh my god dad.” She groans as he picks up the painting.

“This is really good. You're gonna submit it for something?” He asks.

“My art teacher says I should compete in this art show thing.” Ziggy mumbles, watching him look at the painting. “That one is called lifeline.”

An extravagant oil painting with a blurry faced female holding a leather jacket. And when he tilts the photo he realizes that she had hidden bats into the jacket, using another paint so if it moved in the light you might be able to see the bats she had hidden. His bats. His tattoo but with them in a purplish paint hidden just the same were 4 birds.

“You’re really talented.” He mumbles, fingers tracing over the birds.

“Yeah yeah.” She blushes, snatching the painting back and shoving him away.

“HES HERE!” Motley screams from the other room and Ziggy moves to go into the living room to watch Vinny park the car and take a moment to prep himself.

He fixes his jacket and Motley is inside making sure all her makeup is set and perfect as he walks up the pathway.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Be cool.” She warns you and Eddie, trying to breathe.

“We’re cool. You’re the one over there hyperventilating.” Eddie teases and she snatches a pillow to throw at him.

The knock sounds at the door and Motley rushes to answer, tripping unceremoniously so Eddie has to catch her before she breaks an ankle.

He helps her stand straight and moves to answer the door himself.

“Vincent.”

“Mr. Munson.” He smiles, already blushing.

“Is there going to be drinking?”

“No sir.”

“Smoking?”

“No sir.”

“Sex?”

“N-no sir.”

“You know I can kick your ass if you hurt her. Right?”

“My dad said the same thing.”

“That he can kick your ass?”

“No. That you could.” And Eddie can’t help but laugh, letting Motley pass.

It’s another 30 minutes of you taking pictures and him giving her a corsage before they are taking off in his car, Motley smiling from ear to ear.

“Wait…” Eddie mumbles, looking at you with panic. “Something is wrong.”

“What’s that?”

“She’s leaving and I don’t feel that punching feeling in my gut.” He murmurs, looking genuinely confused. “I don’t feel the need to follow her and make sure she makes it there.”

“Yeah. Well if I trust anyone to protect my daughter it would be Harringtons kid.” You laugh. “Because we all know she will be the one throwing the punches and he will back her up.”

There was a nervousness in her stomach that she hadn’t gotten before, a blush on her cheeks as she does her best not to seem like she is going insane with panic.

“I’m…. shit- sorry. I am really nervous.” He mumbles after messing with the radio awkwardly.

“I’m nervous too.” Motley admits, smiling at him.

“You? Nervous? What for? I am the one dating way above my natural league here.” He mumbles. Before she can respond he is pulling into the school parking lot. The Sadie Hawkins Dance. Hawkins High School went all out.

There are balloon gates leading into the front doors and streamers covering the door itself. She kept a firm hold on his arm as they went to get the tickets, ignoring the way Aaron and his friends snicker when they see the both of them together.

“Drinks first?”

“Lead the way.” Motley smiles.

Eddie lays on the couch, reading the eragon book that Ozzy and Halen wouldn’t shut up about, with your head on his lap as you doze off.

You had spent the morning helping your daughter get ready, and now you were tired. So he offered to help you fall asleep, and you had taken the chance, letting him play with your hair as you closed your eyes. He made it seem like he was doing you some huge favor, but truth was you were doing him a favor.

Laying on the couch with you was his favorite thing, well laying with you in general. Gone were the days of having to jump all over each other, now you both were getting to the part in life where you just needed to be near each other. You rooted Eddie to this earth and he needed you like a hurricane needed wind.

He would be nothing without you or the kids. Would still be a freak, spiraling into the unknown but you had given him everything he never knew he needed.

Soon enough he found himself dropping the book on the floor, focusing on you, doing his best to memorize all your features the best he could as you slept peacefully.

He understood Ziggys painting now. Lifeline. You were his lifeline.

By the end of the night Motley and Vinny sat side by side on her front porch, laughing loudly as they shared a gallon of icecream they had stolen from the fridge.

Her feet ached so she had taken off her heels and when he walked her to the door (he was very serious about Eddies curfew) but he hadn’t been ready to say goodnight yet so they decided on hanging out on the porch. She was technically home so her curfew was fulfilled.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Fitz tried to dance when the YMCA came on!” She giggles. “Smacked Margaret right in the face.”

“WHACK!” He laughs, imitating the slap.

“That poor girl definitely left with a bruise.”

“And Aaron left with a bruised ego.”

“HE DID!” Motley cackles loudly before covering her mouth when she realizes someone might hear her.

“I should get going.” Vinny mumbles, watching her. “But I…. I have something for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I…. well I found this the other night at DnD night…” He murmurs, digging into his pocket to pull out a chain with a really familiar necklace linked to it.

“Oh my god.” Motley gasps, dropping her spoon. “Vinny-”

“I should have given it to you immediately but then I had this idea to- that was wrong wasn’t it? I should have just given it to you I am so sorry-” She leans forward quickly, kissing him before he could keep rambling.

“That was the sweetest thing you could have ever done.” She whispers before hearing a thump from inside and pulling her attention to the door.

“Goodnight.” He murmurs.

“Goodnight.” She answers back, he kisses her again at the door before making sure she gets in without a problem and then walks to his car.

Eddie is shuffling to the couch, eyes wide when he meets his daughters eyes. “I was not spying. I went to grab a blanket for your mother and I.”

Motley smiles, moving to hug him.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

“So much fun. He was the perfect gentleman.” She whispers. “Goodnight dad.”

“Goodnight metalhead.” She moves to walk away and he calls out once more. “Your mother and I’s first date ended on the kitchen floor of that apartment you guys used to live in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She had to get home to relieve the babysitter and I never wanted to let her go.” He smiles.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She smiles back before moving to go down the stairs.

Time passes, quicker than Eddie would like, and yet as slow as they can be.

He wants so badly to see his kids grow up and yet he just isn’t ready to let them go, he wants to see every second.

Motley and Vinny go to prom together, and Steve and Nancy all get drunk with you and Eddie that night after you say bye to them.

Soon enough he was saying goodbye to his firstborn daughter as her and her nerdy boyfriend drove off to college. He cried, so did you. Steve sobbed.

Ziggy grew into this very hippie lifestyle, most of her clothes looked like they came from Steve Nicks closet and she smelled of incense more than anything. She focused on art, excelling at it truthfully, and as she went through high school Eddie found that he didn’t need to be as worried about boys taking advantage of one of his babies since she seemed absolutely disgusted by them.

She came out to him in her sophomore year, he had been sitting with her in the garage, helping her staple a new canvas that was bigger than his car. She had been panicking all day about something, even Zeppelin had been feeding off her energy and whining.

But then she blurts it out, a quick and simple “I like girls.”

He stops, unplugging the staple gun to turn and look at her, watching her face pinch with anxiety.

“You got a girlfriend?” He asks. She shakes her head no and he nods. “You got a crush on someone?”

There was a nod on that one and he smiled. “Well any girl that gets ya will be a lucky son of a gun. And I mean that, because you are a very freaking special Ziggy. Always have been.”

She hugs him tightly, crying into his chest that night.

Zeppelin passes away two months later, and Eddie finds himself with the grief of losing a child. He tells the kids that it was time, time for him to move on and find Wayne. He is completely devastated by it, but he tries to keep a brave face for Ziggy since she just lost her oldest best friend.

He keeps his collar on the fireplace right next to Wayne's ashes and a photo of all of them at the park..

Once the boys hit freshman year their biggest fight starts…. Over another boy. Well more specifically Ozzy makes a friend and Halen gets mad that he never sees his twin anymore.

The fight led to physical blows, and soon enough Eddie had to move Ozzy into Waynes old room just to get them to chill out.

Ziggy graduates, barely (his poor sweet baby), and gets accepted into an art school so he has to say bye to yet another child. He had a gaping hole in his chest.

When everyone comes back for Christmas that year it's a time for shock. Eddie’s two biggest shocks? The hole in his son's face and the ring on his daughter's finger.

Ozzy looked different with his new piercing, a new punk grunge look that Eddie tried to support. He really did. But the piercing looked so infected and gross.

“Did you do that in the bathroom with one of your moms earrings?” He teases, trying not to laugh straight in sons face.

“Yes?” Ozzy answers which makes everyone laugh.

“Next time just let me take you to get it pierced.”

For the boys’ 16th birthday Eddie takes them to get a tattoo. They chose something silly, shocker. Eddie however added 5 bird silhouettes by his bats to symbolize the 5 most important people in his life.

The day Vinny and Motley get married he walks her down the aisle, kissing her head once they reach the end and handing her off to Vinny. They get married with a red piece of yarn, just like you and Eddie had.

They move into an apartment in Hawkins, and have a baby girl soon enough and Eddie is ecstatic to be a grandfather. He is at the hospital the day she is born, and once everyone is allowed into the room they rush to see the new baby while he rushes to see Motley. Kissing her head and wiping the hair out of her face as she cries happily. (I saw a tiktok where it said ‘everyone went to see my baby and my dad immediately went to see his baby and immediately thought of Eddie)

He gets to hold the baby girl first, which makes Steve complain loudly but Vinny decided that Motley pushed her out so she got to decide who in the family held her first.

For the boys’ highschool graduation Ziggy comes home and everyone takes a picture with them in their matching cap and gown.

Ziggy in her fleetwood mac outfit, smiling from ear to ear as she hugs Halen close. Halen had decided on a buzz cut that suited him well, with one ear pierced. He smiled, arms linked with Ozzy who was a spitting image of Eddie. Motley hugged Ozzy tight, and the picture had caught the moment she realized her baby brother had a snake bite piercing, everyone laughing as she cursed out at him.

Baby Stevie sat on Eddie's hip, smiling happily at her grandfather as he cooed at her. It had been a constant running joke on whether Stevie was named after Steve or if Motley had just been following the rock theme.

We all know the answer.

Ozzy went to New York after graduation while Halen ended up getting into a college in michigan.

The very first you and Eddie have in your empty house is spent on the kitchen floor, eating macaroni and cheese straight from the pot as you both cry softly.

It seemed like neither of you could decide whether you wanted to be upset or happy for your kids.

It became a habit with you two, to sit on the floor to eat side by side just as you always used to.

Stevie’s first Munson dinner happened the weekend of her first birthday.

Everyone had come home for it, including all her aunts and uncles, and had chosen to stay in the house just like old times. This time with the addition of Vinny, who seemed so excited to be there in general.

“Alright, you know the rules.” Eddie smiles at everyone, knees pressed to your own and Motleys. “I want to hear everything.”

Stevie giggles in the center of the circle, tearing apart the muffin she had been given before marching over to where her uncle Ozzy was sitting and plopping herself in his lap which makes everyone laugh.

Ziggy tells them about her classes at the art school, and all the paintings she had been selling. She talks about a new girlfriend and jokes about the time she got trapped in her bathroom for an entire day until her girlfriend came home from work. She talks about struggling with being so far away from the family all the time.

Halen talks about his classes, complaining very loudly about his grades before moving on to complain about his dorm mate that never stopped jacking off which makes Eddie laugh. He talks about wanting to drop out, and what he would do after. Eddie is quick to let him know they had his back no matter what, even if he wanted to sell all his stuff and go traveling around the world.

Ozzy goes on a rant about the girl that lives across the hall. He rants about how he hates her hair and her choice in music, and how his roommate is constantly checking her out. He says she is the most annoying person on the planet and Eddie risks a knowing look with you. Smiles on both your faces as he continues to rant. By the time he is done he looks around the group as everyone holds in their laughter. “What?”

“You’re just…. So oblivious.” Vinny mumbles which makes Ozzy flip him off.

“Says you!” Ozzy snaps. “You chased after my sister for years you whiny little-”

“Cuss in front of my granddaughter and I will end your life.” Eddie mumbles quickly which makes Ozzy roll his eyes while smiling.

Motley just tells stories about things that have happened with Stevie, which everyone loves.

Eddie catches them up on his therapy sessions, and you catch the kids up on your health. The family close together once more.

Eddie Munson was home, and he would have it no other way.

-And with that we say goodbye to the Munson family. I do have more Eddie works coming out. Let me know if you would like to be tagged and I truly hope you all liked the story. -

Taglist:: (lmk if you want to be removed)

@dontcrydaddy @valentine-ger @mariamayhemrsmunson @hippiefairy02 @alyisdead @thehuntresswolf @username199945 @peaches-roses-sins @bl1ssfulbaby @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @avenjames-anderson @nodont1 @bethanyzed @caseyqdilla @zooboomanfu @hazydespair @costellation-hunter @vanessav03 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @kidd3ath @katzarantos @peaches-roses-sins @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @ilovetaquitosmmmm @emilyshortcake @jjsbongwater @morgthemagpie

#eddie #munson #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanart #stranger things fan #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic

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julieverne · 6 months ago

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Jane was late, and the hour was already very late. Maura was a little nervous about being at a bar alone, but even as she fidgeted another woman approached her, taking in her outfit with the kind of admiration it truly deserved.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" she asked coquettishly, and Maura chuckled.

"I could ask the same of you," Maura demurred. The other woman's outfit was stylish, classic and fashionable. She was tall and gorgeous, a soft smile and strong cheekbones. The dress for her perfectly; it was a Verger which Maura had regretfully decided not to purchase since she wasn't the right height to do it justice. It looked perfect on her. Maura looked her over with approval.

"Doctor Paula Rubenstein," the other woman introduced herself. Maura took the offered hand, realising she'd been looking too long, but Paula merely looked amused.

"Doctor Maura Isles," she countered, seeing the other woman's eyebrows raise.

"I thought you looked familiar."

"Have we met before?" Maura asked, worrying that she'd accidentally snubbed someone she'd already met.

"Trust me, I'd have remembered." Her voice was low and husky, but not as deep as Jane's. The hand that remained in hers was warm and friendly, and there was a pleasant thumb running over her knuckles. "No, I mean from the news. There was that serial killer." She shuddered. "You must be very brave to do that kind of work."

"She doesn't need to be brave, she has me," Jane snarled from somewhere over Maura's shoulders. Maura leaned back a little and felt the reassuring press of Jane's chest against her back, Jane's hand finding her waist and pulling Maura back into the safety of Jane's arms.

"Ah, Detective Rizzoli. Who could forget." Paula released Maura's hand and offered her own to Jane, who eyed it like she'd been offered a fish left in the sun for days.

"We've met?" Jane eyed the other woman warily, and Maura was confused by Jane's hostility to someone she didn't even know. Jane's gaze was focused on Paula's face, and the warmth of Jane against Maura's back almost made her forget to care how rude Jane was being.

"Briefly. You arrested one of my patients."

"One of your patients killed a bunch of people," Jane countered, and Maura was confused as well as dismayed. She'd been getting along so well with another woman, which was rare for her. Why was Jane acting like this?

"Perhaps I'll see you later," Paula said, directing that only to Maura, returning the rudeness Jane had offered. The event started and Jane sighed near Maura's ear.

Maura wanted to ask what was wrong, but the fundraiser had started so she just leaned against Jane, enjoying the solid warmth of her.

---

Jane ducked out to the washroom after the speeches were over and Paula came over, full of compliments and approving eyes over Maura's outfit. Maura had chosen to wear the Yalas she'd had for a while because Jane liked Maura in that shade of green, and she'd worn kitten heels in the same shade with a purse to match.

"Would you like to come home with me?" Paula asked with a smirk when Jane came back, and Maura smiled pleasantly at her.

"Oh! No, thank you. I have a perfectly good home of my own."

Having understood completely, Maura beamed at Paula until she finally walked away, looking eminently confused

"Maura, she was flirting with you," Jane groaned.

"Oh really? Oh. She wanted to take me home with her for sex? Sex with me? Of course. Do you think she's gone far?"

"She's gone too far," Jane snarled. When Maura peered at the doorway Jane growled and held her. "Besides, you're coming home with me."

"For sex?" Maura asked hopefully, enjoying the frustrated little whine Jane gave her.

"No, for - ugh, Maura. For... you know. A beer. Walk the dog. Dinner, since they're only handing out candy corn."

"It's for a good cause," Maura said with a straight face. "Okay, take me home with you, even though I have a perfectly good home of my own."

She saw Jane roll her eyes, but she also saw Jane blush, and she chuckled lowly to herself.

(Five times Maura didn't notice women flirting with her, and one time she did - stay tuned)

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #maura isles #rizzles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic

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jeanboyjean · 1 year ago

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and i - ft. jean kirstein

summary: jean (successfully) tries to make you feel better after a recent breakup

content: friends to lovers, fluff, good vibes, jean brainrot to the max, modern au, college au

a/n: for @honeybleed 90s/00s rnb event!! <3 jean fluff hehehe bc i can't get him out of my brain and he is THE comfort character. inspired by and i - ciara. i love this song big time ♡ laughed so hard watching the music video when she brought out the horse lmaooo 🤔 for my fellow jean girlies!!!

1.2k words

"ugh, i hate him," you grumble, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

jean glances at you, concern etched on his face. "what now?" he asks, taking a seat beside you.

crossing your arms, you slump into the cushions. "he just posted a picture of him with that girl. what a fucking asshole."

jean clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "why are you still on his profile? you need to forget about him."

with a frustrated sigh, you shut off your phone. it’s been a few weeks since you ended things with your ex, a decision long overdue. the relationship had lost what little spark had been there in the first place, dragging on for as long as the two of you would let it. the final straw had been when you had found the sexts he had sent to a girl in one of his classes. it stings and it sucks but more than anything, your pride is wounded. the sadistic part of you can’t resist the urge to keep tabs on him and wallow in resentment.

"i have forgotten about him," you say defiantly. "he's just unfortunately like the gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe."

jean lets out a low chuckle. his hands fall to his thighs as he pushes up off the couch. "okay, you know what. let's go for a drive."

curiosity flickers in your eyes as you look up at him, wondering where this is going.

"come on, let's go," he urges, reaching forward to grab your hand. you let him pull you to your feet.

"alright, fine. but you're shouting me coffee," you tell him with a roll of your eyes, a small smile winning over.

"always," he winks in return with a mischievous lift to his lips.

the music blares as you drive, jean tapping his fingers along to the beat. you hum along, watching the scenery pass by with your window down, letting the cool air blow away your tension. the recent events start to fade away and your mind wanders back to your first break up a couple years ago during your first year of university. jean had been there then too, holding you as you had cried and simmered, until you were ready to put yourself back together.

he had refused to let you mope around, forcing you to go out with him to movies and parties and bars. he had been the one to listen to your problems as you poured your heart out, making his shoulders your personal dumping ground. jean had been there for you through it all.

you deserve someone who loves all of you. the words he had said to you back then, ring clear in your mind.

there has always been an underlying tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent that flows beneath the surface of your friendship. from the moment you first saw him, standing across the room at a party in first year, his presence has captured your attention drawing you to him like a magnet. you had become fast friends, sharing everything together from your classes, to your interests, to your deepest darkest secrets.

part of you wonders if he’s ever felt the same way. sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you had found the courage to tell him your feelings, but now you’re in too deep, the confines of your friendship too strong. all this time, you’re pining after him while trying to fill the void with other people, only to be crushed over and over. dreams of making a move dance in your mind, but the fear of jeopardising your friendship holds you back. you’re happy this way, if only because it means you can have him in your life. you’ve sealed these thoughts away in your heart and thrown away the key.

jean's hand lifts from the steering wheel to turn down the music. "what are you thinking about?" he asks.

you cross your arms to hug yourself. "why is it so hard to find someone? am I just destined to be forever alone?"

he flicks your knee teasingly. "maybe you're looking in the wrong places." he turns his head briefly to meet your eyes. “plus, how can you be forever alone when you have me."

you roll your eyes and poke his shoulder before turning away. “yeah, and where should I be looking then?”

he pulls into the car park in front of your favourite coffee shop, shutting off the car and turning to you. he stills for a moment and takes a deep breath, letting it sit for a moment before releasing. a hand pulls through his hair, coming to rest on the back of his neck. "why not me?" he asks, turning to face you.

your eyes narrow at his words. "don't play around, jean."

"nah, I'm serious," he says. there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice but his gaze is unwavering. "you know I would do anything for you."

you freeze, chest tightening, feeling the air being sucked out of the car. you hear his words but they don't register, refusing to sink in. the sincerity in his words hang in the air, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. in the quiet, jean's confession lingers like a promise. you want to believe him, to let go of the fear that consumes you but you can't help but hold back.

you shake your head, uncertain of the implications. you’ve both said things like this to each other before, never ones to hold back on sentiment, but something about them today carry a weight you can’t ignore.

"but aren't we friends? i don't want to ruin what we have."

he reaches for your hand across the centre console, his fingers intertwining with yours. his thumb brushes against your skin, sending tingles up your arm. “i would never let anything ruin what we have,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours, gaze tender but firm. “i've wanted to say this for a long time."

with his free hand, he cups your cheek and leans in, brushing your hair aside. "i could have everything in the world, but I would sacrifice it all for you. stop wasting your time with these losers.”

your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat. slowly, you allow yourself to acknowledge the feelings that have lingered beneath the surface. "jean..." you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips.

"please. let me show you."

his lips meet yours, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. the world disappears, leaving only the two of you. it feels like a dream as he pulls you in, your chest flush against his. your fingers comb through his hair, your heart thumping in your chest.

everything about him overwhelms you. his scent, the way his hair feels between your fingers. and the softness of his lips, gentle and warm against your own.

his hands slide from where they’re tangled in your own hair down to hold your arms, squeezing lightly. he pulls back, his eyes searching yours. the moment hangs in the air, the intensity heavy between you.

"are you okay with this?" he asks, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

you nod. a smile stretches across your cheeks as you look up at jean, whose expression mirrors yours.

it’s more than okay. it’s everything.

you let yourself fall into the moment, unlocking the key to your heart, letting yourself want him. hope flickers in you, anticipation for what this could mean. you finally reach for the love that has always wanted to reveal itself. and this time, it feels real.

#jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #attack on titan #jean kirschtien #jean x reader #✎ . chloe wrote smth #aot #aot x reader

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idesofrevolution · 1 year ago

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Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

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