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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 months ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—” he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked.

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

Secret Admirer,

I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

Yours,

Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

Eddie —

I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

Yours, Always,

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #I did my best with the formatting of the letter on his one lol #tumblr is Not helping with it so :shrugs:

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 8 months ago

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He's My Man (Part 1)

Summary: The reader receives an anonymous text from a new client needing an off the books patch job. However he's annoyingly good looking and the last thing you need is some ex-special ops guy hanging around. Unfortunately for you, Russell Shaw isn't the kind of guy to walk away when he knows something's wrong...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury

A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Tracker 1x12. Please enjoy the start of this new series! I'm not sure how long it will go but thanks for coming on this ride with me!

__________

Your ears perked up on Saturday morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table before you. Not your everyday one but your one for work. You swiped it open, pursing your lips when you saw it was from an unknown number.

Need a patch job on a quilt. Doug recommended you as a good seamstress in the area.

Alright, well at least this guy knew one of your clients. Doug wasn’t a regular but you’d seen him once or twice over the years which meant the person on the other end wasn’t a cop most likely.

I can fit you in. More complicated the patch, the more it’ll cost.

Not an issue.

You hummed and stood up, grabbing your coffee mug along the way.

129 Edwards Ave in twenty minutes. Use the red back door.

You took a long sip and went over to the kitchen, tossing the rest down the sink, leaving the mug to be cleaned later.

You just hoped this job wasn’t as bad as the last one.

Eighteen minutes later you heard the back door open and then silence, a moment’s hesitation as your new client entered what looked like a storage area. You flipped a light switch, illuminating the small enter sign over the doorway to the room you were prepping in. A few moments later there were heavy boots against the cement ground as he entered, turning to tile, your head lifting.

A man in his forties, a quite handsome one at that, gave the small operating room a cursory glance before settling on you, determining you were the only one there. Meanwhile your gaze shot to his injured left arm, a gunshot from the looks of it. You only spotted one bloody bullet hole and figured that was the worst of it from the way he cradled his forearm.

“You the seamstress?” he asked quietly, scanning the counter full of medical equipment and metal table in the center of the room.

“Take a seat,” you said, patting the table. You went to a sink and washed up, making sure to keep him in view at all times. He winced and struggled to get the coat off, finally managing and revealing a quick patch job had been done. After drying your hands, you snapped on some gloves, the man’s coat and overshirt now on the table behind him.

“Russell Shaw by the way,” he said.

“Y/N,” you said, carefully taking his forearm in one hand, the top of his muscular bicep in the other. You turned his arm slightly, Russell wincing again. “Looks like a through and through. We’ll do a quick x-ray to make sure there’s no shrapnel and then we’ll get you stitched up and I’ll send you home with some supplies and instructions to care for it. This your only injury?”

“Yeah. Doug said you were good.”

“I am,” you said, offering him a brief smile, he returned. “Do you have any PTSD? Going to come at me if I I need to use a scalpel?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m good with all that.”

You hummed, guiding him to lay back. Three minutes later you were pushing your x-ray machine aside and taking the lead vest away, Russell sitting upright.

“Can I ask a question?”

“You can ask, don’t mean I’ll answer, sweetie,” you said back, hanging up the vest and going to your laptop on the counter.

“How does one get into this line of work?” he asked.

“Asks the man that’s ex-special ops and does private contract gigs, not to mention killed probably three people minimum tonight.” You glanced over to him, Russell tilting his head. “I know who Doug is and what he does. Makes sense you do it too. You have blood under your fingernails and given the splatter patterns on your jeans, you had multiple different angled shots so multiple bodies you hit.”

“...And you don’t report that sort of thing?” he asked cautiously. You determined his x-ray looked good and washed up again, putting on more new gloves. By the time you were standing before him again, he looked nervous.

“On occasion. But only the monsters. You, you don’t strike me as a monster, Russell,” you said, wiping some antiseptic over his entry and exit wounds. He flinched but only slightly at the quick burn. A moment later you were giving him something to numb the area.

“Someone took Doug. Someone bad. They would have come back if I hadn’t done what needed to be done.” You wiped sterile gauze over his wound and then flushed it, Russell watching your graceful movements with interest.

“Like I said, not a monster.” You hummed as you worked, Russell fixated on you carefully cleaning and then pulling the skin back together, tying it up neatly. You wiped away the evidence of his blood and wrapped his bicep in thick gauze, taping it down so he could still get movement without worrying about it coming off.

You chucked your gloves in the trash and nodded back to the door behind you.

“There’s a shower in there and some brushes. Turn it on low, scrub yourself clean, under your nails too. Use the blue soap. When you’re done, throw everything away in the bin, including your bloody clothes. You leave your boots, anything you want to keep out here with me. There’s men’s sweats and some shirts on the shelf. By the time you’re done, your boots and other items will have no trace of wherever you’ve been. Got it?”

“I do like a woman that takes charge.” He smirked, sliding off the table and dropping slowly to kneel to unlace his shoes, still looking up at you. “Full service deal you got going here.”

“Yes it is and here’s a friendly reminder for my new client. You come anywhere near me with your dick out, I’ll make you regret being alive. Understand, sweetie?” you said, patting his cheek. “Off you go.”

“God damn, I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes but smirked when your back was to him. Ten minutes later the room was clean and Russell exited the bathroom with damp, slicked back hair wearing a plain white t-shirt, black hanes sweat pants and white socks. You nodded to where his shoes sat on the end of the counter, Russell taking a seat in the chair nearby as he slipped them on.

After he checked he had his phone, keys and wallet, he raised himself to his feet, pulling out his wallet.

“What do I owe you?”

“A thousand.” To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at that number. But like most of your clients, he didn’t have the cash on him, at least not that much. Russell smirked as he glanced back in the bathroom.

“Smart woman. You keep the evidence as ransom until your clients pay up. You won’t destroy that until after I pay, will you.”

“Not until we get to know each other better do I do that sort of thing without payment. Seeing as you’re new and a friend of Doug’s, I’ll give you to the end of next week to pull it together. I offer payment plan options and other alternative forms of care if shit ever really hit the fan for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, putting down five hundred dollar bills. “I can bring the other half back here later today. Just need to run to an ATM.”

“Text me when you got the rest. I’ll send you a place to meet,” you said, nodding towards the door. He gave you a small salute and shook his head with a smile.

Forty minutes later you were sitting at a table in the cafe three blocks over, happily sipping on your coffee while working your way through a cheese danish. You spotted Russell when he came in. He gave you a quick, adorably awkward wave and ordered himself a drink. A few minutes later he was sitting down across from you, a small cup and what appeared to be a banana muffin in hand.

“You’re a coffee snob aren’t you. This place is pricey,” he teased, his brow furrowing when he had a drink from his styrofoam cup. “Shit. That’s fucking good.”

“Beats whatever motel crap I’m sure you’re used to,” you said, his gaze hardening for a split second. “Sorry. I always tail my first time clients to make sure they aren’t…you know who. You know the Elkwood Lodge on route 8 is cleaner and cheaper than what you’re paying for now.”

“How would you know that?” he asked. You shrugged and simply grinned, taking another bite of danish. He licked his lips, pointing at the yet to be touched danish beside you. “Was that one for me?”

“God no. I fucking love danishes and these are incredible,” you said, finishing off the first and biting into the other.

“You are something else,” he said, smirking when he slid a white envelope across the table. You tucked it into your jacket pocket, Russell picking at his own muffin. “You ain’t going to check it’s all there?”

“You’re a smart man, Russell. I think you know not to screw me over.” He looked you up and down, earning a pointed response. “Keep that gutter mind to yourself.”

“If I’m in the gutter, you’re right there with me,” he said, absently rubbing his injured arm. “And uh, if it gets infected or I think it is, I should reach out?”

“Absolutely. That ain’t a normal injury you’re used to. Don’t play tough guy, tough guy.” He nodded, his body twisting ever so slightly towards a standing position. “Nope. Stay for at least five minutes, then you can go.”

“You really like telling me what to do, don’t you,” he grinned.

“Russell.” Hss grin was wide before he took a long drag of coffee, humming as it went down.

“What if I want to stay more than five minutes?” You paused mid-chew of your danish. “Come on, one conversation won’t kill you.”

“I don’t get involved with clients.”

“Alright. I respect that but this ain’t my end goal. I’m going to have a normal life someday. I make a pretty mean homebrew. Going to get some land, open up a brewery, have some food, make it a little family place everybody can enjoy. So that’s my goal. I sure as hell know working as a seamstress ain’t your end goal either. So again, what’s the harm in one conversation?”

You bit your bottom lip, Russell’s expression changing, ever so slightly.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “What-“

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your fucking face did. You don’t want to be a seamstress, do you? Can you not get out of your line of work?” You glanced out the window, even the wonderful flavors of the pastry doing nothing to help the unease in your gut. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” you snapped. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Sorry. I…I’m just crabby because I didn’t have my morning coffee until just now.”

“Nice try.” You glared at him, his green eyes remarkably gentle. “I don’t leave my friends behind. Now either you tell me what’s going on or I’m going to poke around myself and I guarantee that’s going to be a lot more dangerous and you’ll just have to patch me up even more. What do you say?”

You stared at him and stared at him and stared at him for what felt like forever. Then you took out the envelope and handed it back to him, along with the five hundred in your purse.

“Go buy me two more cheese danishes and a large caramel frappe to go. Then take me to your motel room. This is a long fucking story.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#Russell Shaw x reader #Russell Shaw #Russell Shaw Fanfiction #Tracker Fanfiction #Tracker #Russell Shaw x you #Russell Shaw series

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keeryhours · 26 days ago

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wildflower chapter four

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie shows up drunk.

Warnings:

Drinking, Eddie being a perv, angst, secret baby

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

Shout out to @punkrockmlchael for the help with this one!

—

It was a week later, and Eddie hadn’t seen or heard from you again. Not that he had tried. He knew what Wayne thought, what he thought, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone, or drive to your apartment and demand to talk. He was a coward.

Now, he was drinking again, just like he’d done every day since he’d found out.

“Eddie’s here!”

The band cheered as Eddie walked into The Hideout, clearly after already pre gaming at home. He was already swaying as he approached the bar where Gareth, Jeff, and Doug sat, and they noticed immediately.

“Rough night?” Gareth asked with an eyebrow raised as Eddie sat down next to him, ordering a round of shots.

“You have no fuckin’ idea,” Eddie mumbled, downing a shot the second they were placed in front of him. Gareth reached for one but Eddie waved him off. “These are for me, fucker.”

Gareth backed off, hands up defensively. “Okay, okay. What’s up with you?”

Eddie downed three more shots in succession. Jeff and Doug were staring at him, too - sure, Eddie liked to drink, but not like this. Something was obviously very wrong.

“Talk to us, man,” Jeff added.

Eddie ordered some more shots. He would need them. “I got some…news.”

If the boys weren’t concerned before, they certainly were now. “What, are you dying or something?” Gareth asked, genuinely worried for his friend despite his wording.

Eddie laughed, but there wasn’t much humor behind it. “No.”

“Well what’s up then, man?” Doug asked. “You’re worrying us.”

Eddie downed another two shots. He was on his way to a blackout. “I have a son.”

It went silent. Then, the guys all broke out into nervous laughter. “Good one, man,” Gareth said, his voice uncertain. Eddie didn’t look like he was joking, but he had to be. There was no way he had a kid.

“I’m serious,” Eddie said, his eyes locked on the shots in front of him. “I have a son. He’s almost 2. His name is Asher.” He downed another. “And I’ve never met him. Don’t know shit about him, b’sides what he looks like. I dunno what he likes, or if he’s anything like me. I don’t know shit.”

Gareth, Jeff, and Doug were silent. They exchanged a confused look. Finally, Gareth spoke up again. “Ed, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I told you.” Eddie slammed down another shot glass, causing the guys to jump. “I have a kid. A son.”

“Are you being serious?” Jeff asked, nursing his own beer. The guys would all need a drink after this conversation.

“Yes,” Eddie said. “I just found out.”

It was silent for a minute. “With who?” Gareth asked. “A groupie? Or…” It dawned on the group at once. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, voice slurring even more heavily, “Oh shit.”

“How…what the fuck?” Gareth said, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. “She didn’t tell you?”

Another shot. “Nope.”

“So she just…talked to you while we were gone, and never mentioned anything?” Doug asked.

Eddie laughed humorlessly again, looking down at the empty shot glass in his hand. “I never called her,” he admitted. “Like a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell, man?” Gareth asked, looking at Eddie incredulously. “You never called her? I thought you loved her.”

Eddie waved a hand. “I don’t need the lecture all over again, Gare.”

Eddie drank himself stupid that night. The guys tried to get him to slow down, but he wasn’t having any of it. By the time the other bandmates were nearing drunk, Eddie was beyond wasted, barely able to sit up on the barstool.

“I gotta go,” he slurred, taking multiple tries to stand up.

“Where you going?” Gareth asked.

Eddie didn’t answer. He stumbled his way out of the bar, into the car waiting for him. He gave the driver the address that hadn’t left his head for a single second.

—

Your mind had been racing with thoughts of Eddie since the argument. You thought about calling him, but you felt that it was his responsibility to step up if that’s what he wanted to do. You weren’t going to chase him, that was for sure.

Asher was spending the night at your mom’s again, giving you the night to yourself. Your mom and Dustin loved their grandma and Uncle Dusty time, and you were grateful for the break, because you felt like you’d been going crazy since Eddie came back into your life.

You were just getting comfortable in bed when there was a knock at the door.

You checked the clock on the bedside table. 12am. Who the fuck would be knocking on your door in the middle of the night?

You grabbed the baseball bat Steve insisted you keep for protection and cautiously neared the front door. You peered through the peephole, seeing nothing but blackness. That was weird.

You kept the top chain bolt hooked in as you unlocked the door and opened it the few inches it allowed you. The figure on the other side, who had apparently been leaning against the door, stumbled forward. “Oh, shit,” he uttered, catching his balance with a giggle.

You narrowed your eyes. “Eddie?”

“Hey, baby,” he slurred, some attempt at a flirtatious smirk on his face. “Can I come in?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re wasted,” you remarked, observing how incredibly drunk he looked. He was sweating, his cheeks flushed red, and he smelled like alcohol. “Fuck. Come in, I guess.”

You unlocked the chain bolt and opened the door wide, letting him stumble inside. He knocked over the picture frames by the front door as he came in, and you cursed under your breath as you sat the bat down and picked them up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked him, watching as he collapsed onto your couch with a little “Oof.”

“‘s he here?” Eddie slurred, looking around the apartment.

“Who? Asher?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“No. He’s at my mom’s.” And good thing, you thought, because this was the last way he needed to meet his father.

“Claudia?”

“…Yeah. Claudia’s still my mom.”

Eddie heaved a heavy sigh. “She always liked me.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, adjusting the frames he had knocked over back the way you had them, “a lot has changed since you disappeared on us.”

“‘m really sorry,” Eddie said, catching you by surprise. “I was so stupid. So fuckin’ stupid.” He looked like he might be starting to cry as he wiped at his face. “I missed you every day.”

You felt yourself start to soften, despite your anger at what he had done. “I missed you, too. That’s why it hurt so bad.”

Eddie shook his head, wild curls bouncing. “So fuckin’ stupid. Big fuckin’ idiot. Dumbest person on the planet.”

You sighed, sitting on the couch next to him. He really reeked like alcohol. “It’s okay, Eds. You’re drunk. We don’t need to talk about it right now.”

He turned to you abruptly, grabbing onto your hands and catching you by surprise. “I love you. Y’know that? I’ve always loved you. I still love you. I’ll always love you.”

Your expression softened to one of pity and hurt. You’d wanted to hear those words for so long, but not while he was wasted on your couch after not hearing a word from him for two years. “Come on, Eddie. You reek. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You helped him off the couch and to the bathroom. You ran a hot shower, helping peel off his gross clothes. You had seen Eddie naked a million times, so you weren’t bothered. But he kept trying to grab at you, and he was half hard as you got him undressed.

“Not tonight, big boy,” you told him as you pushed him into the shower. Eddie grumbled under his breath.

“Come in with me,” he begged, and you weren’t planning to, but you were getting soaked trying to keep him upright and help him wash. You pulled off your pajamas, stepping into the shower as Eddie gave you a wolfish grin.

“No touching,” you reminded him sternly.

He held his hands up. “Yes ma’am. Looking only.”

You rolled your eyes as you put some shampoo in the palm of your hand and began washing his wild hair. Eddie closed his eyes and hummed as you massaged his scalp, relaxing beneath your touch. He stumbled as he nearly fell asleep from the feeling.

“Woah, I’m gonna need you to stay awake for me,” you told him, pushing him under the stream of water to rinse the shampoo out. “I can’t drag you out of here if you pass out on me.”

“‘m not gonna pass out,” he assured you, but you weren’t sure if you fully believed him.

You lathered conditioner into his hair then put some body wash on your loofah. You scrubbed his whole body, washing away the sweat and alcohol. He wiggled his eyebrows at you as you washed him, but you ignored him.

As you washed his body, you noticed a new tattoo you’d never seen before - your name in a swirling script, right on his hip. He certainly hadn’t had that when he left. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you pushed the feelings away.

You pushed him under the water a final time, rinsing him off, before you switched spots with him and washed yourself, too. Might as well.

You turned the shower head off and climbed out, grabbing three towels. You wrapped one around your body and one around your hair and handed the third to Eddie. He shook his head like a dog, sprinkling water all around the bathroom as you glared at him.

Eddie dried himself off, leaning against the shower wall for support. When he was done, you helped him out and back into the living room.

“I think I have some of Steve’s sweatpants around here somewhere…” you mumbled to yourself as you left Eddie on the couch and walked into your bedroom, digging through your dresser drawers. You felt triumphant as you found the grey sweatpants, returning to the living room with them.

You handed them to Eddie, but quickly found he was too drunk to dress himself. You pulled him up, and he held onto your shoulders as you helped him step into the pants one leg at a time, like you would with Asher.

He fell back onto the couch again. You helped him lay down and covered him with the blanket on the back of the couch. “Get some sleep,” you told him. “You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning.”

You turned to walk away, but you were stopped by Eddie grabbing onto your hand. You turned, seeing his sleepy eyes looking up at you.

“Please don’t leave me,” he said, sounding pathetically sad. Despite yourself, you felt bad for him.

“I can’t fit on the couch with you, Eds,” you told him.

“Can I sleep in your bed with you?”

Your mouth opened to tell him no, but the words didn’t come out. You thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

Eddie smiled, and you helped him up and into your bedroom. He fell onto your bed, snuggling into the blankets and pillows. “So comfy,” he muttered, voice muffled into the pillow.

You climbed into bed next to him, even more exhausted now. It was seconds later when you heard soft snores from next to you, and you couldn’t help smiling softly to yourself. It felt so domestic, so familiar, you could almost imagine it was years ago and this was your normal.

But things were different now.

—

Eddie woke the next morning with the worst pounding headache. The sunlight through the window burned his eyes, and he pulled the blankets over his head with a groan.

The first thing he noticed was that the smell of the detergent was unfamiliar. He opened his eyes again, seeing the clean bedroom, the light purple comforter, the framed photos decorating the space. He looked to the side and saw a bottle of water and some Tylenol waiting for him.

He recognized the room immediately. He was at your apartment again. God, what the fuck did I do?

He popped the medicine bottle open and took 3 of them, washing them down with the water. He was shirtless, dressed in some grey sweatpants he didn’t recognize.

He cautiously crawled out of bed, taking the time to make it before he left the room. He found you in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. It smelled delicious, and he saw eggs and pancakes waiting on the counter as you fried the bacon. You turned as you heard his footsteps.

“Good morning,” you greeted, and he couldn’t tell if you were upset with him or not.

“Morning,” he said, tentatively approaching you. “Uh, did we…?”

“No,” you answered simply. You removed the pan from the heat and plated the bacon. “You should eat. I’m sure you feel like shit.”

He definitely did. You made plates for both of you, and he sat at the kitchen table across from you. “What…what happened last night?” He asked, before quickly digging into the breakfast feast you’d prepared.

“Well, you showed up at my door completely wasted,” you said, picking at your own plate. “I gave you a shower because you smelled like a bottle of whiskey. Then you asked to sleep in my bed with me.” You didn’t mention the way he’d tried for more.

Eddie’s cheeks blushed red with embarrassment. “Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Is…”

“No, Asher isn’t here.”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. He would feel even more like the worst dad in the world if he’d met his son for the first time in that state. “Look, I was thinking…”

You looked up at him. “What?”

Eddie took a bite of his eggs, stalling. He realized you’d made them just the way he preferred them, even though you liked your eggs softer. “I’d like to meet him.”

You thought for a moment, pushing your food around your plate. “Yeah. We could do that.”

Eddie was surprised at the amount of relief he felt. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d said no. “Can I ask about him?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah, of course.”

“What’s his favorite color?”

You smiled to yourself. “Blue. Like Thomas.”

Eddie smiled, too. “He likes trains?”

“Loves them.”

“What does he like to watch?”

“Mostly Sesame Street,” you said, “but he’s starting to get into the Ninja Turtles now.”

Eddie laughed. He could picture the little boy dancing to the theme song. “Is he anything like me?”

“God,” you said, huffing a small laugh. “Just like you.”

Eddie felt pride at that answer, for some reason. “Yeah?”

“Hell yes,” you said, shaking your head as you took a bite of bacon. “He’s wild. Loves to climb. He loves music, especially metal. He watches the music videos on MTV and tries to headbang along with them. He’s got the hair for it.”

Eddie laughed hard. “Oh my god. I’ve got to see that.”

It went quiet again as the two of you ate, and Eddie lost himself in his thoughts. He thought about how much he’d missed, how his son didn’t even know who he was. When he spoke up again, his tone was serious. “Does he know he has a dad?”

You paused, thinking of how to answer. “I…don’t think he really understands yet,” you said finally. “I guess he kind of sees Steve as a father figure, since he’s around all the time.”

That made Eddie feel sick to his stomach. The idea of Steve being a dad to his kid made him angry - even though he knew he didn’t really have the right to be. He was the one who left and never called, after all.

“But you know,” you said, sensing the hurt Eddie was feeling, “it’s not too late.”

Eddie nodded. He knew that was true. He had a lot to make up for, but Asher was young enough that he could make up for lost time. And he was determined to.

“When do you think I could meet him?” Eddie asked.

You thought for a moment. “You could come over tomorrow?”

Eddie smiled softly. “I’d like that.” He ate another bite of eggs. “Wayne wants to meet him, too.”

You smiled at the mention of his uncle. “I’ve missed Wayne.”

Eddie snorted. “He’s missed you too, believe me.”

The two of you finished the rest of your breakfast in silence. Eddie washed up after - it was the least he could do, he said, after you had essentially taken care of him last night. When he was done, you met him in the living room with his clothes from last night, freshly washed and dried. He felt guilty and grateful as he took them from you.

He changed back into his own clothes in your bedroom. When he was done, he examined the photos decorating the room that he hadn’t noticed when he’d been here before. There were plenty of Asher - he featured in most of them, in fact. Photos of you with Claudia and Dustin, with Steve and Robin. He even found the photo from when you and Eddie had gone to prom together among them. He smiled at the memory, looking at your high school selves. You looked happy. Happier than he’d seen you since he’d gotten back.

He wondered if he was the one who’d taken that sparkle out of your eyes.

When he left the bedroom, you were curled on the couch, watching an episode of Freddy’s Nightmares. Eddie approached, watching over your shoulder for a minute.

“I should probably get going,” he said, startling you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t hear you,” you laughed lightly. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow? He wakes up from his nap around 2:30.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Eddie headed to the door, and you followed. “I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, Eds.”

“Bye.”

You closed the door behind him, locking it. You’d be going to pick up Asher soon, but for now you’d sit in the peace and quiet. You leaned your back against the door, thinking that maybe things could be okay.

tag list

@awkward00noodle @american-idiot-jpg @georgeweasleyslostearhq @fandom-princess-forevermore @emxxblog @hopesicle @hellv1ra @whimsiwitchy @avalon-wolf @kellsck @toomuchbucky @sashaphantomhive @losingmygrasponreality @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddiesgirl1944 @ashcal99 @richardsamboramylove55 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @allhailtheslothoverlord @micheledawn1975 @browneyes528 @costellation-hunter @taccobelle

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satelitis · 7 months ago

Text

— BIRDS OF A FEATHER ♱ jason todd x reader

->we should stick together

pairings — jason todd x fem!reader

dal yaps — this is dedicated to @ivyppoison i hope you feel better baby <3

requested? — yes/no

the birds chirped gleefully signaling the new day had started, y/n and jason were asleep comfortably in each others presence entangled with one another as the cheeky sunlight peered through the blinds.

y/n had stirred awake, letting out a soft yawn as she looked over jason being still asleep, his face shoved into a pillow. his cheek smooshed as he slept with his mouth open slightly. quiet snores also being heard from him. y/n smiled as she ran her fingers through the boys hair. eventually, she stopped to pet the puppy lying beside jason, named doug, after the dog from up.

“why’d you stop?” jason groaned, still half asleep.

“doug deserves attention too, jay.” y/n replied, scratching the puppy behind the ear. he rolled over, now wrapping his arms around y/ns waist, placing soft kisses along her neck.

y/n frowned slightly, she had been thinking recently about jason, but the negative side of those thoughts got the better of her,

“jay, am i good enough for you?” she asked him, his head buried in her neck. he lifted up his head to look her in the eyes.

“baby, you’re more than ‘good enough’ you’re perfect for me, more than,” he replied, “why would you think otherwise?” he asked, his face now resembling that of a puppy. why would you ever think so low of yourself? he wondered. you were perfect in his eyes. you lit up his world more than every single light could. you made it so much better and he couldn’t even imagine a world without you in it, by his side.

“well, i’ve just been thinking, im not as pretty as those other girls, i’m quite the opposite actually, and i’m annoying…” she started, jason frowned. “i talk too much, and i just feel like i’m not enough for you,” she said.

“baby, you are way more gorgeous than any girl in gotham or anywhere else,” he started as he brought his hands up to her cheeks, cupping them. “and i love to hear you talk, your voice is like music to my ears and it’s so amazing hearing what you have to say.” he reassured.

y/n smiled as jason continued to reassure her, “now,” he added, “repeat after me.” he demanded. “i am jason todd’s awesome girlfriend and no one is better than me, and i’m so perfect for him.” he said. y/n let out a soft laugh.

“jayyy.” she trailed.

“nuh uh.” he tsked, wagging his finger at her. “say it.” he pouted. y/n sighed.

. “i am jason todd’s awesome girlfriend and no one is better than me, and i’m so perfect for him.” the brightest smile appeared on jason’s face.

“that’s my perfect girl.” he squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

#dilly dallying #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #batfamily #batfam #dc robin #red hood #dcu #dc universe #dc comics #batman #gotham

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cosyvelvetorchid · 7 days ago

Note

Alt meet bucktommy prompt: instead of Buck and Maddie riding in an ambulance after Doug kidnaps her, the weather is too bad so they airlift them out. Tommy is the pilot. He hears Maddie asking after chimney and Tommy is like “howie got stabbed??” Anyway, Tommy ends up staying at the hospital to check on Chimney (another reason why Chim feels comfortable enough to call him for the water drop later on) and while Maddie and Chimney are having their moment, Buck and Tommy have one in the hallway outside his room.

1. Thanks for the prompt. I enjoyed writing this one.

2. Love your username!

3. Enjoy! 🩶

**********

Buck wanted to cry with relief when Maddie was being lifted into the helicopter to fly her to hospital. He didn’t—he kept himself together for her sake. She needed him to be strong right now, even though he himself was in absolute awe of Maddies own strength in surviving what she had. Surviving that son of a bitch Doug. If she hadn’t have killed him, Buck would have.

“We’re almost there, guys.” Pilot Kinard said through the mic.

“You hear that, Maddie? We’re almost there. You're doing great.” Buck squeezed her hand and smiled at her, trying to keep her positive.

“Tired.” She mumbled, her eyelids getting heavy.

“Uh, hey, hey, Maddie, I-I know... I know you're tired, but I-I need you to keep your eyes open for me. You-you know the drill.”

“Uh-huh.” She said trying to force them open as best she could as the medic on board tended to her wounds.

“Yeah, just, uh... just like that.” Buck reassured her. “Hey, you, uh... you think you had a hard day. Athena and I have been running all over the state looking for you. I wasn't dressed for snow.”

“Me, either.” She joked and it sent relief through Buck.

“Athena said she'd, uh.. she'd call Bobby, let everyone know that you're okay. They are gonna be... so relieved. Chimney. Chimney most of all.”

“Chimney's alive?” She questioned, her face breaking into relieved tears.

“Oh, my God. Y.. Maddie, no, yeah, Ch-Chimney's alive. He, uh.. He-he made it through.” He paused. “You both did.”

“Uh, Chimney as in Howard Han?” Tommy asked.

“Y-yeah. You know him?” Asked Buck.

“Yeah I know him. Was at the 118 back when he was a probie.”

“No way.” Buck exclaimed. Small world, he thought.

“You said he’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Docs said through knife missed any vital organs.” Buck told him.

“Thank God for that.”

Maddie was going to be okay. Just like Chim, Doug had missed anything vital when he stabbed her. She’d need quite a few weeks to heal from the physical injuries, and likely many more for the psychological injuries, but she was alive and Buck was grateful for that.

The hospital that she’s been taken to wanted to keep her for a few days for observation which she didn’t want. She wanted to go home and make sure Chimney really was okay.

So after some begging, cajoling and Tommy offering to transport her to the hospital in L.A where Chimney was admitted, the doctors agreed to let her go.

After getting checked in at the second hospital the first thing Maddie did was asked to be taken to chimneys room. Buck followed behind as a nurse wheeled Maddie to his room.

“Are you coming in?” She asked Buck.

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “No. You-you should have some time alone.” She smiled thankfully and was wheeled inside by the nurse who closed the door on her way back out.

Buck leant against the wall opposite the room, watching them through the window. He smiled seeing them happily embrace one another.

“Your sister okay?”

Buck turned to see Tommy walk up. “Uh, yeah. She’s okay. Relived that Chim is okay.” He pointed to the window.

Tommy looked in to see Maddie sitting on the edge of Chim’s bed, leant forward with her head in his shoulder and him stroking her hair.

“That’s sweet.” He responded.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” He asked Buck, noticing his hands were shaking. The shock and adrenaline from the last 48 was beginning to wear off.

“Y-yeah, I’m.. I’m fi-“ his face crumpled and his breath hitched. A whine came from his throat as tears exploded from his eyes.

“Hey, woah! I got you.” Tommy moved quickly and put an arm around him, guiding him a few feet away from the window to Chimneys room and wrapped his arms around Bucks shoulders.

Buck fell into him almost and held on tight to Tommys flight suit as all of the fear and relief he’d held inside poured out of him.

“It’s ok. You’re okay.” Tommy said softly, running a gentle hand up and down his back.

When Buck came to his senses, an embarrassed heat flushed through him and he let go of Tommy.

“I’m-I’m sorry.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to..” he blew out a breath and rapidly blinked his eyes in an attempt to dry them out.

“You have nothing to apologise for, uh..” Tommy realised that he didn’t know the man’s name.

“Buckley. Evan, uh.. Evan Buckley.”

“Evan. Tommy Kinard.” He smiled.

Buck felt- he looked at the man before him. He had piercing blue eyes surrounded by warm wrinkles as he smiled, a light dusting of stubble caressed his jaw, dipping into the prominent cleft of his chin. He was incredible handsome. Beautiful, even.

He’d admired good looking men before, even checked out the ass of a few—which was totally normal—But this was.. different. There was a warm feeling in his belly at those eyes and that smile and that cleft.

And definitely that build. Buck wondered what his physique looked like underneath the flight suit.

Was it weird to think that a crying man was beautiful? Tommy couldn’t decide. Evan was definitely gorgeous—that baby face, the cute birthmark and those lips.. Tommy would go to war if those lips asked him to.

But it was the vulnerability that got him. He’d felt a little disappointed when Evan pulled away. He’d wanted to comfort him longer. Which Tommy wasn’t entirely unaware was strange given that up until seconds ago he didn’t know this man’s name.

“It’s just.. she’s all I have, ya know?” Buck told him.

“Your parents not around?”

“Oh they’re around but they- She pretty much raised me herself. She the strongest person I know. But seeing her like that today..” He blew out a breath in an attempt to keep himself together.

“It must have been scary.” Tommy offered and Buck nodded.

Buck all of a sudden felt exposed. He rubbed his face with hai hands trying to clear away the remaining emption.

“Do.. do you have to go back to work?” Buck asked.

“Actually my shift ended an hour ago.”

“Oh. Why are you still here?” Buck realised how that sounded and rushed to correct himself. “I-I mean, you can go home. If you want.”

“I actually can’t fly back to Harbor. I’ve now maxed out my flying hours for the week so I’m officially grounded.” He explained. “I have to stay here until they send another pilot to fly the helo back.”

“How long will that be?”

“Not sure. Our other pilot is on another call right now so could be 1 hour, could be several.” He said. “Besides, I wanted to check on Howie anyway. Although, I think your sister has that covered.” He chuckled.

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t go in; wanted to give them their moment.”

“Are they dating?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, actually it was their first date that night.”

“Talk about bad luck.”

“Seems my sister is carrying on the Buckley tradition of almost dying on a first date.” Buck joked. Tommy gave him a confused look.

Buck let out a small laugh. “Last year. I, uh.. choked on a piece of bread and my date had to perform an emergency tracheotomy.”

Tommy pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and stared at Buck. “What?!”

Buck laughed again. “Yeah. I should be clear—they were a dispatcher so not a civilian, and did have medical help over the phone. But yeah, I stopped breathing for a minute.” He pulled down the neck of his hoodie to revealing the pale scar on the base of his throat.

Without even thinking about it Tommy reached up and his finger tips grazed the area. Buck felt his body temperature go up with a flush at the touch.

Tommy suddenly realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back, shifting awkwardly in his stance.

“I thought I’d had some bad dates, but I’ve never almost died.” He said trying to push whatever this feeling was he had back down.

“What was your worst?”

“Huh.” Tommy said thinking about it. “Gotta be between the guy that stole my car the morning after, or the guy that dined and dashed but didn’t tell me until the police showed up at my door the next morning.

So Tommy was into guys. Buck felt.. pleased? Relieved? ..happy? He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling.

“Did you get arrested?”

Tommy shook his head. “Thankfully, no. I knew one of the officers and they knew I wasn’t the type to do that. I still paid the bill though.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, I really love Micelli’s and wanted to be able to go back.” He laughed and Buck followed suit.

His laugh was beautiful. And that dimpled smile when he did it made Tommys mouth go dry.

The laugh died down but they continued to look at one another. Buck couldn’t pull his eyes away. Tommys eyes were just so mesmerising that he could willingly get lost in them.

They broke eye contact when Tommy’s phone rang.

“Go for Kinard.. okay great.. I’ll be there in second… bye.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Seems my ride is here and a replacement pilot.”

A flood of disappointment filled Buck that Tommy was leaving.

“Right. I mean, uh, good. I-I bet you’re looking forward to getting home.” Buck said unable suddenly to keep eye contact.

“I’m definitely looking forward to a shower.” He said with a chuckle. “But it was nice meeting you Evan.” He reached out a hand to shake. Buck took it and held on to it a second longer than was normal. He kind of didn’t want to let go.

“Uh.. you too, Tommy.”

“Tell Howie I’ll call him in a few days to check in.” He said beginning to walk away.

“I-I will.”

Tommy wanted to turn back around and.. well, he didn’t know what. He wanted to stay talking to Evan that was for sure. He was gorgeous and sweet and adorable and.. and probably straight. There was no point in deluding himself, he thought, as he pressed the elevator button.

Before Buck knew what he was doing he was running down the corridor to the elevator.

“Wait!” He called out and Tommy turned around.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Uh.. I-I.. I was wondering if, uh.. if you would like to.. to go to.. dinner. With me. Some.. sometime.” Buck let out a relieving breath.

Tommy looked at him for a moment and tilted his head. It made Buck feel weird—like he was naked and exposed.

“Evan, are you asking me out on a date?” Tommy asked, trying his damndest not to give away the excitement he was feeling.

Buck, however, realised what he had done. He’d just run towards Tommy not really thinking about what he was going to say, and oh..

Oh.

It suddenly hit him. The warmth in his belly, the little pin pricks of nerves he was feeling when talking to Tommy, and the definite swooping in his belly when Tommy was looking at him.. he liked Tommy.

“Yeah, I.. I guess so.” He smiled shyly. “But-but if you don’t, uh.. if you don’t want to that’s-“

Tommy stepped forward, tilted Bucks head up by the chin and kissed him.

Buck thought his bones had disappeared. It took all of his strength to not melt into a puddle on the floor at the feel of Tommys soft and warm lips. He pushed back into the kiss for a second before Tommy pulled away.

“Was that okay?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper and looking at Buck with those eyes. Buck was simply fucking mesmerised and all he could do was nod.

Again, Buck moved before his brain could compute what was happened and he shoved his lips back onto Tommy’s. Tommy responded with unexpected hum and a lash of flames soared up through Buck at the sound.

His arm immediately wrapped around Tommys neck to draw him in as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Tommy didn’t have any brain cells left to resist and wrapped his arms around Bucks waist and opened his mouth to let Bucks tongue in and holy mother of god it was exquisite!

His perfectly plump lips were softer than he could have imagined and moved so wonderfully against his own, with perfect pressure and a delicacy Tommy hadn’t experienced in a kiss before.

A voice echoing out of the hospital tannoy brought Tommy back to his senses and he gently ended the kiss.

“We should probably stop.” He spoke; his voice hoarse and thick with desire. He desperately wanted to kiss Evan again but they weren’t exactly in the best place for that.

He placed a gentle kiss to Buck cheek before stepping back.

Bucks chest was filled with a number of different feelings. Pleasure, excitement, confusion. And a feeling of contentment he hadn’t anticipated. As though a piece of him had slid in to place that he hadn’t realised was missing.

Buck couldn’t take his eyes off Tommys swollen, pinked up lips.

“I really have to go.” Tommy said reluctantly. “Hand me your phone.” Buck unlocked it and passed it over. Tommy put in his phone number before giving it back and pressing the elevator button. The doors immediately opened and he stepped inside, turning to face Buck.

“Text me when and where and I’ll be there.” He said with a smile.

“I-I will.” Buck replied, his own throat struggling to make sound.

“Bye, Evan.” The doors began to use shut.

“Bye.”

Buck was in a total love struck daze as he walked back to Chimneys room.

“Earth to Buck!”

“Huh? What?” His brain finally came back online to see Maddie in her wheelchair in the doorway to Chim’s room.

“I said what’s got you smiling like that?” She asked.

An embarrassed flush tried to take him over by he coughed and pushed it away.

“I’m, uh.. I’m just happy you’re okay. Both of you.” He smiled and followed her back into the room.

**********

#911 abc #911 #911onabc #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 buck #evan buckley #buck x tommy #evan buck buckely #bucktommy fic #bucktommy prompts #bucktommy prompt #tevan #tevan fic #cvo prompts

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ladykailitha · 6 months ago

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Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate Part 2

I am absolutely thrilled with how well the first chapter did. Thank you everyone for your support. If you requested to be on the tag list and aren't that means I ran out of room and so so sorry.

You can follow me or the tag #knight protectorate au, as that is the tag I will be using for the series I do with this verse. I hope that helps!

Here we get Steve to the rescue and Eddie instantly heart-eyes. Poor Jeff.

Part 1

Steve was getting more push back then he thought he would, but at the same time it was from the people he was expecting.

“Admit it,” Carol said, “you know I’m right. The only reason Tammy is involved in any thing music related is because Mummy Dearest is paying for it all. Her singing is horrible.”

Steve tried to hide his smile, but he really couldn’t.

“See?” she shrieked in glee. “I just don’t know why you won’t let me tell her. Someone needs to before she gets into her head she’s going to be famous or some shit.”

“Because it wouldn’t do anything but make her mad,” he reasoned. “Then she’d tell her mom, and her mom would tell your mom and your mom would ground your ass because they are in the same golfing club or some shit.”

Carol blinked at him for a moment or two and then shrugged. “Yeah, all right. You have a point. But I can still mock her behind her back, right?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

“Just keep it between us, yeah?”

She tilted her head to the side and then shrugged. “I guess I could do that.”

He heaved a sigh of relief and was just grateful for the smallest concession she was willing to make.

Everyone knew Carol was still saying shit, but at least she was only saying it to Steve.

“God, Abby,” Nicole whined, “where did you get that dress the trash bin behind Melvand’s?” She laughed as Abby tugged on her the hem of her denim dress. It was wrinkled in that way denim will some times get when it’s put into shapes it wasn’t meant for.

“Fuck off, Nicole,” Steve barked. “You have a dress just like it, it’s just Levi instead of some off brand.”

Nicole’s jaw dropped and whirled on Steve. “Is this the thanks I get for finding that little creep for you?”

Steve raised his eyebrow in disdain. “Helping a guy out doesn’t mean you get to shit on everyone else. She isn’t hurting you. She’s just walking in the hall. And for fuck’s sake, she’s a freshman. We’re all gross at that age. Give it up.”

Nicole’s jaw clicked shut and she turned on her heel, running away. The gathered crowd laughed at her retreating form.

“It’s not funny, assholes,” he huffed. “Laughing at Abby being bullied is the same as laughing at Nicole getting told off for it. It’s still rude.”

The hall went deathly quiet.

Tommy came bounding up to Steve and Carol. “Larry Wiggins just got laid out by Munson trying to hassle him out of some dope.”

Steve grimaced. “Everyone knows that Munson doesn’t sell anything hard on school property. He likes avoiding felony charges.”

Tommy grinned, bouncing on the pads of his toes. “That’s what makes it so hilarious. Munson doesn’t even deal on Tuesdays so he didn’t even have weed to offer him to back off.”

“So Larry takes a swing at Munson and gets flattened for it?” Steve guessed with a heavy sigh.

“Yup!”

Carol giggled as Steve sighed again.

“One of these days a football player is going to knock that guy’s pearly whites out,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oohhh...” Tommy said wincing, pulling his arms up to his chest. “That would be ug-lee!”

Steve hummed his agreement.

Look, despite what Eddie’s teachers thought, he wasn’t stupid. After the incident with Wiggins on the basketball team, he had refused to do deals alone.

But then meathead jocks barely used their brains to drool, like alone think.

Eddie was on his way to his picnic table where Doug had been waiting for him when this football player came out of literal nowhere to slam him against a tree.

Eddie’s head swam as he tried to squeeze away his sudden double vision. “What the fuck, man?”

When he could see the captain of the football team, Bobby Vincent, was grabbing him by the collar and shoving him up against the tree.

Bobby pulled out a nearly empty baggie of weed. “You shorted me, asshole. You call this a gram?”

“It was when I sold it to you,” Eddie insisted, hands coming up to grab Bobby’s hand at his throat. “I don’t short. It’s bad for business.” He certainly didn’t short people who throw him around like a rag doll for crying out loud. He didn’t have a death wish.

“You’re going to give me a replacement for free,” Bobby sneered, “aren’t you, pretty boy?”

Eddie tried to yank on the football player’s hand to get him to release him, but the white knuckle grip refused to budge. “I can’t give you shit, man. My supplier would kill me. I’ve got more to think about then just one customer.”

He could see the punch coming and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He closed his eyes against the pain he knew was coming.

But the pain never came. He peeked out of one eye and was shocked to see Steve Harrington holding meathead’s wrist. They were both stock still. Which Eddie couldn’t figure it out, he had to open his other eye to see the full tableau in front of him.

Steve had a grip on Bobby’s wrist, that was certainly true, but that wasn’t what had the football player by the short and curlies. Oh no. In Steve’s other hand was a small but very deadly pocket knife. A knife that was current pressed to the ribs on the side of the raised arm. Suddenly Eddie was feeling weak in the knees for a very different reason.

“Hey, Bobby,” Steve said cheerfully, “you weren’t going to hit someone because you’re too shit poor to buy your own weed, were you?”

Bobby looked down at the knife in Steve’s hands and then back up at his face. Bobby snarled and moved to wrench his hand out of Steve’s grasp, but the blade dug deeper. He stopped again and looked over at Eddie who was just as shocked he was at the whole thing.

Like where the fuck did Steve get that knife and why was he carrying it in the first place?

“You going to stick up for this trash, Harrington?” Bobby hissed. “Wheeler made you soft.”

Eddie and Steve both look down at the knife in Steve’s hand and then back up at the football player.

“Just because I’ve been putting my foot down more on the bullying lately,” Steve said, pressing the knife a little further causing Bobby to wince, “doesn’t mean that this is new. I’ve always called you assholes out on it, but now I’m doing something about it. So why don’t you run along and tell all your friends that the king has returned.”

Bobby’s eyes went wide and he nodded. Steve released the wrist first and then stepped back. He waved the knife, indicating Bobby should get a move on and he did. He ran like hell.

“Marry me!” Eddie squeaked as his knees buckled in relief.

Steve dropped the knife and surged forward to catch him before he hit the ground. Just then Jeff showed up and stared at them for a moment.

“Uhh...” he muttered. “Did I miss something?” His tongue worried one of the brackets on his braces as both Eddie and Steve turned to him.

Steve turned a bright shade of red when he realized how this might look to someone else. He helped Eddie get his feet under him and then took a step back. He ran his fingers through his hair and side-eyed Eddie.

“Maybe ask a guy on a date first, yeah?” he murmured before taking off, scooping up the knife up on his way out. Leaving behind two very confused metalheads in his wake.

Well, one confused metalhead and one confused and horny metalhead.

Jeff turned to Eddie. “You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” He jutted his thumb at the space in the trees that Steve had vanished into.

So Eddie told him.

“And um... I didn’t get my ass beat so...our King is some flavor of queer?” He meant that as a statement, but it came out as more of a question, because holy fuck that was crazy to think about.

Jeff looked at him for a long moment. “I understand you are currently having a gay panic right now, but um...shouldn’t you be more concerned with the fact that he had that knife on him in the first place? Because seriously, does Steve Harrington seem the type to be carrying around any kind of weapon?”

Eddie blinked a couple of times before he turned to look down the path both jocks had taken with a tinge more fear then he had before.

“That is a fair question, Sir Jeffrey,” he agreed. “But as it has saved this lowly jester’s ass, let’s give our king a pass, shall we?”

Jeff licked his lips slowly and then nodded. Because whatever happened to Steve that frightened him enough to start carrying a knife to school with him, he would much rather not know.

News spread fast. Steve Harrington was not to be trifled with and if you were caught bullying, he would make it his problem.

The faculty noticed, because how could they not. When someone makes it their one man mission to make the school safe for everyone, it wasn’t hard to see the changes wrought.

Only soon it wasn’t just Steve. The group that had included Nicole, Tina, Carol, and Tommy H. who were once the worst of the worst would patrol the halls between classes.

Eddie and his band of Freaks and Nerds were more than a little shocked when they were included in the protection. Because let’s face it, even other marginalized groups tended to push him and his friends around.

Well they tried. A couple of well aimed punches and threats of not selling to them or their friends usually got them to back off. But this was real protection, not just a cat puffing up his fur to look bigger and meaner than he was.

Hawkins High had an honest to Satan knight protectorate. Fuck.

Eddie thought those were only existed in fantasy novels and D&D campaigns. And if there was a gang of knights errant in Eddie’s next campaign with the names, Thom, Stephan, Nicolette, Caroline, and Christina, that was between him and the members of the Hellfire Club and no one else.

He thought he was going to catch shit for that from his friends, but apparently Sir Steve had won over their hearts as well.

However it was only a matter of time before the bullies got creative. Because some people just like to torture they find inferior.

They would hip check their targets into the lockers, always with a “Whoops!” and a sneer. They would knock their shoulders into them with a “Watch it!” and a smirk. They would whack books and lunch trays out their hands with a “Sorry...” and a grin.

Steve’s merry band would always check on the victim, but they really couldn’t say shit, because it could have been an accident. Though really, they weren’t fooling anyone but the teachers.

Eddie could see it coming to a head sooner rather than later and god, he hoped he got to witness it first hand.

Part 3

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @gringa-rae-jepsen @bluelightsinthevoid @mamafaithful @allmyworldsendwithtears @xxbottlecapx

10- @sadisticaltarts @yeahhhh-suga @ohimamarigold @imamixofeverthing @samsoble

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #knight protectorate au #season 1 au

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zepskies · 7 months ago

Text

Every Second Counts - Part 3

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him.

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly.

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile.

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes.

“Focus on the road,” he said.

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out.

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked.

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off.

“But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown.

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here.

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath.

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied.

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this.

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.”

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket.

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw.

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez.

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards.

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory.

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell.

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied.

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed.

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts.

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said.

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said.

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it.

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table.

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain.

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go.

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare.

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement.

“No…”

That voice was all too familiar.

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie.

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair.

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat.

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted.

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.”

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother.

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front.

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned.

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt.

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted.

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too.

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun.

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath.

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.”

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you.

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.”

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly.

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smartass here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised.

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back.

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water.

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing.

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving.

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye.

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder.

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination.

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#Timer Starts Now #Every Second Counts #Part 3 #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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identifying-cars-in-posts · 1 year ago

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A long overdue update:

Hi everyone. Long time no see. I literally have not opened Tumblr since the last time I posted here. Hope everyone is doing ok. Figured I owed y’all an apology and explanation for kinda just vanishing.

First, I did in fact get a car! It’s a 2015 Nissan Versa Note. I don’t particularly like it but a friend gave me a deal on it that I couldn’t turn down. Once my life stabilizes I’m probably going to sell it and buy an old truck, maybe a 70s Ford. I’d love a little sports car or a land yacht but rear wheel drive is a bit impractical for brutal New England winters, and the Jeep really put me in Old American Truck Mode. But yes I have a car now!

Second, unfortunately this is an official notice of hiatus. When I last posted saying I was taking some time off it was because I had just had an incredibly stressful move and did not have the energy to keep this blog up. I figured I’d take some time to get settled in, relax, and then pick this back up after a week or two, but the last month has been really rough - the short version is one of the people I was living with turned out to be a pretty horrendous human being who managed to get everybody living in the house essentially kicked out via sheer drama. Within a month and a half. It’s a long story but tl:dr if you quite literally slander a property manager with heavy unfounded accusations of horrible crimes, they’ll probably bail from the whole situation. And since they’re gone the landlord has to hand ownership of everything over to a company that’s forcing everyone still here to vacate. I’m now fighting to not have to live in aforementioned Nissan Versa through the aforementioned brutal New England winter. On top of that, I’m a retail manager so we’re going into our busiest most stressful season, so that’s been an extra level of exhaustion.

So what does that mean for this blog? Well, as I said, I’m officially going on indefinite hiatus, as are the projects I was working on in relation, including the reference website. I’m really sorry, I’m just way too stressed and dealing with way too much. If I could, I would just hand off administrative power to someone else, but this is a sideblog so I can’t hand off login credentials without also giving access to my main/personal account. It’s my biggest regret of this account, but when I started it I never expected it to blow up the way it did back in September - I had no reason to expect to need it to be its own entirely separate blog. I love what I was doing here and I thought that it might even be a nice distraction from everything going on, but the upkeep required with this blog is just more than I can deal with right now. I hope that things settle down soon and that I can genuinely come back here and enjoy what I was doing, but I just need literally anything to level out in my real life and to not be in 100% survival mode, because at the moment I literally do not have the energy to pour into this.

Anyway. Sorry for the long post, I’m not good at not being overly verbose. I’m really sorry for kind of abandoning this project, and I hope I can get back to it relatively soon, it just might be a while.

In the mean time, I hope those of y’all who I turned onto cars as a potential hobby find some other good outlets! I highly recommend Donut Media’s series “Up to Speed” on YouTube, as well as the channels Regular Car Reviews, Doug DeMuro, Garbage Time, and Aging Wheels. All great YouTube channels that are both informative and very approachable and fun.

Godspeed and much love. Hope to see y’all soon

- Identifying Cars in Posts admin ❤️

#not a car id

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Summer Breeze 10

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

The next morning is a slog. You’re still tired even after sleeping until your head aches. You drag yourself downstairs, the smell of coffee filling your nose. You blink through the crustiness and wipe it away with your knuckles.

Andy’s back is to you. Deja vu strikes you as his naked back greets you and his growls at the coffee machine as it brews. You stop in the doorway, not sure if you should turn back or not. He shifts, angling so he spots you from the corner of his eyes.

He coughs and straightens up, “oh, good morning,” he faces you from across the island, “you--” he stops himself and gives wry smirk, “you don’t drink coffee so I won’t offer. Even if you look like you need it.”

You scoff and shake your head as that simple act makes it pulse, “ugh, just water.”

You look around but he’s quicker. He has a glass in his hand and under the fridge filter before you can get your bearings. You try not to stare at his naked torso. He doesn’t seem to notice himself.

“There are lemons in here. Surprisingly. Not much else,” he pops the door open, “want a slice?”

You accept in a dull drone. He takes one out and sets the glass down. He searches around and finds a cutting board and knife. He cuts it into wedges and pops one in the water, sliding it towards you. You thank him and take a deep gulp.

“You doing okay?” He asks then winces, “besides everything.”

“I feel awful,” you rasp, “I slept too heavy, I think.”

“Yeah, I was tossing and turning,” he says.

You’re silent as slowly the memory seeps into your brain. His voice through the wall, the slap on tile, and his thick grunt. You hide behind the glass, taking another drink before you steady your hand.

“You know, I can check on your dad today if you want to rest--”

“No,” you insist, a bit too quickly, “no, I have to see him.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just... you stress yourself out too much and might do more bad than good, you know.”

“Right, I’m fine,” you say, “really. I’m tired. So what?”

“Just checking in, sweetheart,” he coaxes. “That’s all.”

“I’m...” you take a breath and slowly release it. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried. I don’t know what to do. I’m...”

“What about your mom? She on her way? You called her, right?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m lucky she picked up.”

“Oh,” he nods, “well, yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” you shrug.

“Well, if you need any help, I’m right here,” he offers, “what did insurance say? You get the bill sorted out?”

You try not to show your unease. You’re trying not to think about that call. You nod and try to smile, “yep, got it figured out.”

You turn with the glass of water, “um, I’m going to...” you look down at your PJs and cringe, “change.”

“Oh, aha,” he chuckles, “guess I should do that myself.”

You don’t look back. As helpful as he is, you can’t help but feel yourself sinking into a pit of doom. He can’t do everything. You wouldn’t ask him to.

🌅

Your dad’s quiet as you enter his room. It’s not very unusual. You often sit in comfortable silence with him. The odd part is he doesn’t even have the television on. He just stares blankly across the room.

“Dad?” You speak as you sense Andy behind you, himself hesitant to break the lull.

He grunts and looks at you, a scowl creasing his face. You flinch. He looks mad.

“Everything alright?”

“Would you keep it down,” he sneers.

You reel and look over your shoulder at Andy. He seems equally perplexed. You turn back and smile, “sorry--”

“I said shut the fuck up, Charlene!”

Your mother’s name catches you off-guard.

“Doug,” Andy chides, “that’s your daughter.”

“Get the fuck out!” He barks.

Andy touches your arm and gently steps ahead of you, “what’s going on, buddy?”

“GET OUT!” Your dad pushes over the rolling table next to the bed and it crashes to the floor, sending the jello cup and tray scattering. You gasp as he continues to holler for you to leave.

A nurse startles you as she brushes by, calling your father by his last name, “don’t you act like this.”

You’re too stunned to react. You just stare. What the heck is happening? That’s not your father. That’s some sort of animal. He refuses to listen as he snaps at the nurse in a similar vein.

“I’m so sorry,” she speaks over her shoulder, “sometimes with head injuries, there can be some... emotional side effects.”

“Oh?” You frown.

“Is he okay?” Andy asks.

“It’s early. He’s just woke up and things are a bit muddy,” she can barely be heard as your dad clangs on the bed rails. “Maybe you should step outside.”

“Dad?” You croak around her and his eyes meet yours. He looks at you with such hate that it makes you want to shrink down to nothing. You step back on your heel and spin, fleeing from his wrath and the room.

You hear Andy thank the nurse before you get into the hall. He isn’t far after you and another nurse squeezes by him, closing the door behind her. You face him as your eyes gleam with tears. You don’t know if you can do this. You don’t know if you can look at your father and face the stranger he’s become.

It only took two days and he’s someone else. It’s like you’ve lost him already. You fan yourself as you feel the heat rise up your body and settle behind your eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright--”

“No,” you blubber as the tears finally erupt from you, “no it’s not alright! None of it is alright.”

You cover your face with your hands and shake with sobs. You can’t hold back any more. It’s too much. This is too much. You’re not ready for any of this. You feel Andy wrap you up in his arms and you hear him say your name, but it’s a blur behind the wall of your grief. The world can wait while you fall apart.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #drabble #summer breeze #defending jacob #au

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sunshine-zenith · 5 months ago

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I know it's already been said by multiple people but Dev needs a therapist and maybe some anger management.

Ding ding ding Dear Anon, and it gets truer every time someone says it

Listen. This kid kinda sucks, he’s hard to be around, but it’s because he’s a kid in a crappy situation with crappy luck and zero life skills to manage it. Like the sleepover episode — of course people went to Hazel’s sleepover over his, he tried to steamroll over her sleepover in the first place and he’s already well known for being a jerk. BUT when no one actually shows up to his sleepover, he doesn’t have the capability to think “oh, this is a consequence of my actions, I need to adjust my behavior going forward” because no one’s ever taught him to think that way. Instead, let’s be real, this is just going to become a painful core memory that’ll only keep hurting decades later if he doesn’t get help to compartmentalize it

He’s been raised to believe care is conditional and transactional — him hoarding the pudding until someone does him a favor, him giving out merchandise on his dad’s behalf to make his dad happy, him assuming that one argument would completely shatter his friendship with Hazel, etc

He needs someone to help him work through his trauma, someone to help him learn how to manage his emotions in a healthy manner so he doesn’t blow up or automatically assume the worst when faced with negative situations, someone to set boundaries with him and teach him how to set and understand his own boundaries. Shoot, he needs someone to just love him and care for him unconditionally and for him to know this

Otherwise, he’s just going to be another Dale.

I remember being a kid and seeing the episode where Dale is introduced and reunited with his dad, and I remember for the longest time expecting Dale to also show up when Doug did, only to be disappointed when he didn’t. Dale from the original series needed someone to help him through his trauma, and clearly, Doug never did that. Instead, it seems he just neglected Dale from there and left Dale to stew, to turn his trauma into unhealthy coping mechanisms, needing exploit like he was exploited and needing more and more money at the cost of everything else. I know kid me would be devastated if they saw this and I know adult me will be devastated if Dev ends up following in his father’s bootsteps instead of being helped out of this cycle

Dev’s needs only highlight how unfair the godparent system can be for both him and fairies. He’s a spoiled rich kid, he doesn’t need wish fulfillment, he needs guidance, and the thing is, Peri is trying to give guidance. He’s trying to set boundaries and give advice, but he’s also too inexperienced at this (and being steamrolled by his own parents) to do it properly. Dev should’ve been matched with a godparent who has experience with angry and hurt children instead of being given to the vulnerable new guy who hasn’t been trained for this

And I’m pretty sure Peri and Dev being separated at this point will only serve as a bounce off point for more trauma for both of them — we still don’t know how the whole Timmy thing affected Peri, but we do know he values being a godparent, and losing his first godkid (especially one as hurt and fragile as Dev) would be crushing. And when Dev got Peri, it was basically the universe telling him “this is an adult that is here just for you, who will not be pulled away by technology or greed and who will not intentionally hurt you. He cares about your happiness above all else. A third of his official title is ‘Parent’ and he is yours” — simply replacing Peri would only diminish this statement, and losing this entirely, even if his memory is wiped after, would probably only scar him

Get 👏 Dev 👏 A 👏 Support 👏 Team 👏 ASAP

#basically someone call Angela and have her refer him to a child psychologist and also get him out of that mansion like yesterday #fop #fairly oddparents #fop a new wish #dev dimmadome #spoilers #ask #anon #broke 100

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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 4 days ago

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Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next part of Something To Sink Your Teeth Into

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Why didn’t you tell me? You can’t expect me to believe she forbade you to speak immediately. From the very first?

Sally tried very, very hard to keep her voice calm, even. Tried not to let judgement creep into her tone, tried not to let a hint of the panic that was clawing up her own throat, choking her breath, show in her words or her manner. Sebastian was a weeping mess in front of her, nearly plucking his own feathers out in his despair.

I’m sorry! he wailed, his wings fluttering and flapping as he struggled to rein in his wild emotions. I swear to you, I never thought it would go this far. He wasn’t…he wasn’t like this at first. She thought she could handle it, she thought they could work through it, that he loved her enough to change. And then…and then when it got worse she was afraid of what it would mean for the coven, for her parents. For Evan. You know his family could make life even more difficult for Evan; we couldn’t…we didn’t want to risk it. I begged her, Sally! Please believe me, I begged her to ask for help. She bound me to keep silent the first time he left a mark. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

Sebastian dissolved once again into great, hiccoughing sobs, and Sally was struck anew by just how damned young he was. One of the youngest familiars in the coven. Maddie Buckley was his first witch. His first experience with the sacred duty to guide and protect the practitioners of the magic they served that all familiars took up when they took physical form in the human world. His first experience, and he had to contend with…this.

She had never liked Doug Kendall. She knew his type—too in love with power and prestige and his own image for the meat beneath the veneer to be anything good. She’d counseled her witch’s sister to look elsewhere for a match as best she could, but Maddie had been too eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of her parents’ house and her parents had been too eager to curry favor with the Kendall coven. Maddie Buckley, sadly, was not the first young witch to be offered up on the altar of coven politics and she would not be the last. Sally had not expected her marriage to be happy.

But she had not expected it to be violent, either.

She’d been arrogant, she saw now. So certain in her ability to take the weight and measure of any witch after so long on this plane of existence. Stupid. Stupid.

Anger burned through her, her magic crackling and snapping beneath her skin. Fury like she hadn’t known in centuries pulsed in her heart, so intense she barely knew what to do with it. She could almost hear her mentors from centuries past whispering in her ear. Who does anger serve Sally? What does anger help Sally? Channel it, Sally. Make it productive.

The problem was the obvious target for her anger was already dead…and so she was left to keep it from splashing all over every other available target.

She was angry with Sebastian. A familiar’s first duty was to protect their witch. There was no getting around the fact that he’d judged the situation between Maddie Buckley and her husband poorly; let Maddie’s desires outweigh what he had to have known was the best course of action and had failed in his duty.

She was angry with herself for not seeing signs that she absolutely should have recognized if she was so damned smart and observant. For not stepping in to help the woman she’d watched grow up, the woman her witch adored above all others in his life, even herself. For not realizing the desperate, foolish plan her witch had come up with to protect his sister until it was too late.

Heaven help her, she was angry at Evan. Why hadn’t he called to her when he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to just drive to his sister’s house and bring her back to their parents’ home? Why hadn’t he called? He knew she would have come. He knew there was nothing she would not risk, nothing she would not give up to protect him. Maddie had had no choice but to defend herself, and she would have stood proudly by her witch to testify to that fact. He had to know that. She was one of the few beings in the state that had the clout to even begin to mount a defense for Maddie, though it mightn’t have been enough. The laws around using your magic to take another witch’s life were strict and all but merciless, for good reason, but…

No.

No, she knew exactly why Evan hadn’t called for her.

She could have done more for his sister than just about everyone else in their coven, but there was still a very large chance that Maddie would be executed. Evan…Evan was still technically a child, by human and coven law. There were those on the Pennsylvania high coven that would push for his execution, as close to the age of majority as he was, but Sally was confident that they would be outnumbered by those who favored banishment.

Banishment.

Evan was facing banishment.

Her witch, her little love grown so tall and broad now, but forever small in her eyes. The boy she’d practically raised—alongside his sister—since he was ten years old. And that was the best case scenario. She was confident that the high coven would not vote to execute a seventeen-year-old boy…but she had been confident that Doug Kendall was only a political animal. Not a monster. She could not truly guarantee that Maddie would not have faced the death penalty, particularly with a coven and family as politically powerful as the Kendalls on the warpath, seeking revenge for their son’s death.

Foolish. Sebastian had been so foolish not to tell anyone the first time Doug Kendall lashed out at his wife in anger. Maddie had not recorded any evidence of the abuse she suffered with the human authorities, using her own magic and training to treat the worst of her wounds and hiding the rest until they faded from view. She had never come to her coven for protection, had never lodged any complaint that her marriage—an alliance between the Buckley and Kendall covens first and foremost, with certain rights and protections guaranteed to her because of it—was causing her harm. There was no paper trail, no evidence, nothing they could use to claim Maddie was justified in killing her husband. Intellectually, Sally understood. Oh she understood how well shame and fear and despair could work to silence even the strongest person. But Evan was in danger now. She cared for Maddie, but Evan was hers.

#bucktommy #911 abc #911 tv show #evan buckley #tommy kinard #evan buck buckley #mywriting #buck x tommy #shameless self promotion #tevan #kinley

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anonymousewrites · 19 days ago

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Apple of My Eye Chapter Twelve

Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Chapter Twelve: Some Day My Prince will Come

Summary: More VKs are being brought over from the Isle, but none are the one (Y/N) misses.

A few months later…

“I’m so excited,” said Evie, smiling widely. “We’re picking up the kids today. They’re going to love it here.”

Evie, Mal, Jay, and Carlos had all picked from the list of kids a child to come to Auradon to begin the Second Chance program again. Evie had chosen Dizzy, the granddaughter of Lady Tremaine, daughter of Drizella. Carlos had chosen Squeaky, the son of Smee. Jay had chosen Squirmy, Squeaky’s twin brother. Finally, Mal chose Celia, Dr. Facilier’s daughter.

The four had made the announcement son the Isle the previous week, given the kids time to say goodbye and pack their bags, and were returning today.

“They’ll have you four to look up to,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “They won’t feel alone.”

“You helped setting everything up,” said Evie. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“I’m here to help,” said (Y/N).

“You do a lot of helping,” said Evie. Her gaze softened. “Are you doing well?”

“What do you mean?” said (Y/N), smiling.

“I mean your heart,” said Evie. “I see you looking Mal and Ben, Jane and Carlos, me and Doug, even Jay and Lonnie.”

(Y/N) looked at Evie. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“You miss Harry,” said Evie knowingly.

“I knew him for a handful of hours,” said (Y/N). “I shouldn’t—I don’t—” They groaned.

“It took only one meeting for Mal and Ben to notice one another. Doug and I liked each other quickly. Carlos had a crush on Jane after meeting her properly at the Coronation dance,” said Evie. “When you meet some people, you just know.”

“You mean when you find True Love,” said (Y/N).

Evie coughed and blushed. “We haven’t used that word yet.”

“Uhuh,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

“And we’re talking about you,” said Evie. She took (Y/N)’s hands. “I promise, things will work out. Harry—you guys will meet again. Eventually, he’ll…improve and get a second chance.”

(Y/N) sighed. They knew Harry had been fun—and attractive, and witty, and surprisingly debonair and charming—but he still had a lot of villainy. And they had no idea how to tell if he truly liked them at all.

“Evie, I don’t know if he—”

Evie put a finger to (Y/N)’s lips. “You felt the spark you’ve been waiting for.” She smiled and squeezed (Y/N)’s hand. “Trust your heart. Things will work out somehow. I know it in my heart.”

“Tell me that when your heart gets brave enough to tell Doug you love him,” said (Y/N).

Evie blushed. “Listen, that’s—What if he doesn’t love me, too?”

“And you say I’m being ridiculous,” laughed (Y/N). They pushed Evie towards the door. “Now go and bring Dizzy back.” They smiled. “If there’s going to be any future, it has to be with the Isle kids getting their chances.”

“Right, right,” said Evie. “I’ll see you later.” She had to finish getting ready.

“I’ll see you later,” said (Y/N). “We need to be ready for the surprise~”

Evie winked. “Right. Mal is going to love it.”

“They are in love,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Like you.”

“I’m leaving now,” sang Evie, pretending not to hear (Y/N).

They watched her leave and smiled. (Y/N) looked into the mirror. They smoothed out their yellow skirt and blue, off-shoulder blouse. They were ready for the engagement.

(Y/N) stepped outside into the sun. Mal and Ben were going to get engaged—Mal was obviously going to say yes. Doug and Evie would soon admit they loved each other and say the words. Jane and Carlos wouldn’t be far behind, and the sparks were growing between Lonnie and Jay, even if Lonnie was abroad currently.

(Y/N) was the one not in love. And as much as they were happy for their friends, they were feeling it. After feeling a spark in their heart, the feeling of losing it loomed over them. They wanted to find it and hold it close again. (Y/N) wanted true love.

(Y/N) “Someday, my love with come.”

(Y/N) ran their fingers over the flowers around them and hummed.

(Y/N) “Someday, we’ll meet again.”

They smiled and held a red rose between their fingers.

(Y/N) “And away to our home, we’ll go, To be happy forever, I know.”

(Y/N) spun, and the wind blew flower petals around them.

(Y/N) “Someday, when spring is here, We’ll find our love anew.”

(Y/N) stopped in front of a statue of a knight, and they laughed and shook their head. They preferred a different type of swordsman. They smiled to themself and sat down on a bench, leaning back and looking up at the warm sunshine.

(Y/N) “And the birds will sing, And wedding bells will ring.”

Their hand touched their heart as it beat faster. They smiled to themself.

(Y/N) “Someday, when my dreams come true.”

One day.

They headed outside where a crowd of people were waiting to say bye the VKs and greet the new arrivals. (Y/N) smiled. The program had real support after the success of Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos. This was the start of a new era of VKs coming over and second-chances.

Mal and Ben were the last to come out. Mal had on a purple dress with dragon-like scales, and she smiled and waved. She was still proud of who she was and could confidently be that in public. (Y/N) was glad.

Mal stepped up onto the dais with Ben and waved at the crowd.

“Bibbipty-boppity, one, two, one, two,” Fairy Godmother tested the microphone. “Can everybody hear me?”

Everyone called out, “Yes.”

“Ben,” said Fairy Godmother, handing the microphone to Ben.

(Y/N) and Evie glanced at each other. They were ecstatic for what was about to come.

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother,” said Ben. “What’s up, Auradon?” Everyone cheered. “Thank you, thank you so much for coming out to welcome our new arrivals. They’ll be here soon. It worked out pretty well for the first four.” Ben smiled and took Mal’s hand. “Mal, this is the exact spot we first met not so long ago. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. But did I mention, I’m in love with you?”

Doug began to strum his guitar, and Mal laughed.

(Ben) “I met this girl who rocked my world, Like it’s never been rocked.”

His voice was soft, loving, and Mal smiled at him affectionately. Around her, her friends began to hum to the beat with Ben.

(Ben) “And now I’m living just for her, And I won’t ever stop, I never thought that I could happen to a guy like me, But now look at what you’ve done, You’ve got me down on my knee.”

Ben knelt. Mal gasped. He pulled out a ring.

“Mal, it’s you and me,” said Ben. “It’s you and me forever. Will you marry me? Will you be my queen?”

“No!”

(Y/N) heard a familiar, annoying voice exclaim her disgust.

“Yes!” said Mal, gazing at Ben. He smiled, slipped the ring on her finger, and kissed her passionately.

“Yes, yeah!” cheered Carlos, and the VKs and (Y/N) cheered. Applause went up from everyone. Their King and Lady of the Court were finally engaged.

Ben and Mal ran off the stage. Jay and Carlos clapped Ben on the back, and Mal hugged Evie and (Y/N).

“What, did you know?!” she exclaimed.

“Everything,” said Evie.

“You’re going to be an amazing queen,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Okay,” said Evie. “So I’ve only done about a thousand sketches of your wedding dress.”

“Belle’s already planned an engagement party next week,” said (Y/N). “Evie and I called planning your bachelorette.”

Mal laughed. “It’s a really good thing I said yes.”

Belle and Adam hugged their future daughter-in-law. They were so happy to bring her into the family, she was already like a daughter to them.

“All bow to her royal majesty,” said Jay teasingly.

“Oh, yes, her purpleness,” said Carlos, grinning.

Everyone bowed dramatically, and Mal laughed.

“Silence, you annoying peasants,” she said.

“As you wish, my liege,” said (Y/N).

“Your crankiness,” said Carlos.

“Your dragon-ness,” said Jay.

Mal rolled her eyes and walked by them. Abruptly, Audrey grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.

“Congratulations,” said Audrey. “You won him fair and square.”

Mal just smiled, letting Audrey get her frustration out of her system.

“Oh, wait, no, you didn’t,” said Audrey. “You spelled Ben to destroy all of Auradon.”

Mal’s eyes widened, and Audrey pouted cruelly.

“Touching story for the grandkids,” said Audrey.

“Ben chose to forgive Mal,” said (Y/N), stepping up and smiling at Mal. “Because he already liked her. And Mal has more than proved she’s chosen good.”

Audrey rolled her eyes and turned away.

“You alright?” said (Y/N) to Mal.

“Yeah,” said Mal, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” said (Y/N).

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” said Ben, clapping.

The purple limo had pulled up, and they all got in, waving until the doors closed.

(Y/N) helped Squeaky and Squirmy put their bags in the trunk and watched them say goodbye to Smee with a smile. Evie and Dizzy were already catching up and chatting as if they’d see each other only yesterday. Celia was more closed off, but she reminded (Y/N) of Mal, so they weren’t worried.

Watching everyone say their goodbyes, (Y/N) smiled. Smee clearly loved his kids, and even Lady Tremaine let Dizzy hug her and had a softer look in her eyes when Dizzy said she would miss her.

They got into the limo, and people cheered and waved. Things were going to get better, and there were so many Isle kids who were looking for a second chance.

We have a chance to change things, thought (Y/N). People could change.

The limo began to drive towards the bridge.

“So, as soon as we get to Auradon, you have to try ice cream,” said Evie to Dizzy.

“And go swimming?” said Dizzy excitedly.

“I can take you to the Enchanted Lake,” said Evie, smiling.

Dizzy squealed.

“Oh, and, Dizzy, this is (Y/N),” said Evie, gesturing to them. “My best friend, like Mal.”

“Wow,” said Dizzy. “Real-life royalty.” Her eyes almost sparkled. “I love your outfit.”

(Y/N) laughed and smiled. “I love your accessories. They were so pretty for Cotillion.”

Dizzy smiled. “I still can’t believe I get to live in a real castle with you, Evie.”

“It’s just a starter castle,” said Evie.

Squeaky and Squirmy were being fed chocolate and sweets by Carlos while Jay drove. Celia had her tarot cards out and was doing readings.

“You’re going to be a wise and brave king,” said Celia to Ben, who smiled.

“He already is,” said Mal.

“See? The cards never lie,” said Celia. She held out her hand, Ben got the hint, and he handed her some money. “Who’s next?”

“Do (Y/N),” said Mal, grinning.

Celia looked at them. “Hmm. I think the cards will like them.”

“Fan them,” said (Y/N), facing her.

Celia shuffled the cards and fanned them. “Pick a card.”

(Y/N) pulled it out and handed it to Celia, who put it on her palm and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes and looked at (Y/N).

“You have love in your future, something strong,” said Celia. She flipped the card around to show a picture of a crown, a sword, and a heart.

Evie wiggled her eyebrows at (Y/N), who decided to ignore her and hand Celia some money for her troubles.

The limo arrived at the barrier, which opened to let it pass. They drove onto the bridge, and the barrier closed behind them. Evie looked behind them with a smile. Her smile fell, and her eyes widened.

“It’s Hades,” said Evie.

Everyone turned around instantly. Hades was a notorious villain, and his mere name sent shivers down everyone’s backs. His hand, carrying a blue stone, was pushed through the barrier. He was pulling it open slowly, yelling all the while.

“Stop the car!” said Ben. “He’s trying to escape.”

The older VKs, Ben, and (Y/N) stepped out of the limo. They urged the younger VKs to stay in the car. Hades glared as he stuck his head out. It lit on fire as soon as it touched a world of magic.

“I’m a god! I don’t belong here!” he shouted.

Ben, Jay, and Carlos ran towards him, and he held up the jewel. It fired three blasts of energy, and all three boys hit the ground as their strength was zapped. (Y/N) gasped, Evie’s eyes widened, and Mal glared. Hades laughed at the sight.

Mal’s eyes glowed, and she transformed into her dragon form. She screeched and growled threateningly at Hades. She needed to frighten him back into the barrier so it could close.

Hades held up the stone, and a beam of light hit Mal. The energy hit her continuously, and her flying faltered.

“Come on, Mal!” shouted her friends, trying to encourage her.

Mal managed to roar through her clear weakness, and the intensity made Hades stumble back. The barrier closed, his hair went out, and the beam of light disappeared.

Mal flew to the ground, transformed back, and stumbled into (Y/N) and Evie’s arms. The boys were getting up slowly, groaning with shaky legs. Mal held her stomach tightly, panting from the effort she had exerted.

“Are you okay?” said Evie.

“No.” Mal shook her head. “He was draining all of my magic with the ember, and I felt all my power slipping away.”

“You’re safe,” said Evie. “He’s back where he belongs.”

“Yeah, for now,” said Mal.

(Y/N) looked at Hades as he glared at them all in frustration. Despite all the second chances they could give, it seemed some of the villains wanted to continue being villains.

(Y/N) could only hope enough chose good to make a change in the world.

Taglist:

@neenieweenie

@hampterfae

@american-idiot-jpg

@lunalixya

@roo024

@unholycheesesnack

@paastaboi

@lbee13

@rory-cakes

@theeghosted

@newttheglue250

@bridkesby

@yappydoo

@echoheartza

@pain-in-the-ashe

@sugarrush-blush

#apple of my eye #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #child of snow white #evie descendants #carlos descendants #disney descendants #descendants #descendants 3 #mal descendants #jay descendants #descendants x reader #harry hook #descendants harry #harry hook x reader

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oncasette · 2 years ago

Text

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗠 𝗧𝗢 𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗗 (𝗔 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗠𝗘, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗡 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝗔𝗡)

phil wenneck x fem!reader

summary: 3k.

“C’mon, baby. You gonna make me beg for it? I’ll beg for it,” he sighs as he keens further into you. The tip of his nose grazes your clit through the cotton as he drags his lips across your thighs. You drag your hand through his sandy locks, pushing your fingers through the waves of hair and moving the few strands that had fallen away from his forehead.

or the one where phil’s late. again. and he’s got some major groveling to do. dedicated to my inspiration & motivation @gretagerwigsmuse

warnings: smut, piv, oral (f! reciving), fingering, a lil bit of spit kink if you squint, porn with like an eensy teensy bit of plot

masterlist | taglist

He was late. Is late. Still.

You should’ve expected it, honestly. When has he ever been on time for a goddamn thing in his life? Correction. Your life. Phil was always on time for his friends. For Doug—maybe not his wedding—and Stu.

But for you?

No, you should’ve expected this.

The clock on the oven blinked as you stared at it, the food you’d cooked already cold despite never leaving the frying pan. Despite the fact that Phil said he’d be home by five and you’d started cooking at six.

You give it about thirty more seconds of staring at the front door from your spot at the dining room table before you’re forcing yourself up from the rigid chair to slug off to the bedroom. Despite struggling with the zipper, you tug the dress down your body and let it pool around your ankles as you look at yourself in the mirror. Phil had always loved that dress. It’d been the cause of your being late to an event more than a few times, Phil’s self control being so lackluster you’d barely gotten a single foot out of the door before he was dragging you back into your bedroom.

Your fingers trace the underwire of your bra. You’d worn this for him, too. The set he’d bought you for Valentine’s last year. Cherry red lace that just barely covered you, matching panties that left nothing to the imagination, and stockings that hooked to the rest of the ensemble with a garter.

You peel it off with the grimace, replacing it with white, cotton panties and a bra you’d owned for years. Since college, you think. Since before you’d met Phil.

It was all just so frustrating. He’d promised he’d be home on time this time. Crossed his heart, hoped to die, pinky sweared on it.

Your face burns as you rifle through your shared closet. Even while pissed off at him, you can’t help the way you gravitate toward his end of the closet. Unable to resist the urge to feel close to him, to smell him wrapped around you. What an asshole. You grab one of his button downs, sighing as you yank it off the hanger. It takes you a minute, grappling with the few buttons done at the top, before you toss it onto the bed behind you.

You stand in front of it for a while. Staring. Contemplating. It isn’t until you hear the key in the door that you make the decision to actually put it on.

He calls your name from the front door as you slide your arms through the sleeves. You button enough of the top couple buttons to keep yourself decent. You wanna make him suffer, even if only a little bit.

“Honey?” you hear him drop his bag on the table beside the door, hear him kick his shoes off. Hear him groan and grumble out a handful of various expletives.

He calls your name experimentally as he moves toward the bedroom. He’s leaned against the frame when you open the door, both hands holding up his weight from where he’s placed them at the head of the frame. The heady scent of his cologne has your brain going fuzzy at the sight of him.

“You’re late, Wenneck,” you say. His breath catches in his throat. Wenneck. Not stud or baby or even just Phil. Wenneck.

You gesture for him to move, sliding past him in the small space he offers. He follows after like a kicked puppy.

“I can explain,” he starts.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” you say as you move to grab the food sitting out on the counter. You’d left it on the stove with the hopes it’d stay warm longer. It's been cold for a while now, though.

Pressing the tab on the trash can with your foot, you scoop the full contents of the frying pan into the garbage bag. Phil stands behind you, hands on his hips as he attempts to wrestle for some semblance of ground.

You turn to face him. “Well. Explain.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I didn’t mean to. You should’ve been here,” you say as you drop the pan in the sink.

“I know, sweetheart. I just- I got tied up at work,” he says. “You know how Kathy gets on Fridays and-”

“Kathy’s in love with you,” you say, nearly snorting. You spin on your heels to face him, using the kitchen counter behind you to support your weight as you lean against it.

“Kathy is not…” he sighs. “That’s not the point. Look-”

He steps closer to you. His hands come out instinctively, reaching for your hips. The look you give him has him dropping them to his sides, barely a foot between the two of you.

“I shouldn’t have been late, I know that, baby. But, I’m here now,” he says. You lean forward, pushing yourself off the counter until you’re close enough to feel his breath fanning across your mouth. The scent of the gum he always chews when he gets stressed hits your nose. Spearmint. Hooking your fingers into his belt loop, you pull his body into yours.

“Make it up to me,” you exhale. He nods, jaw slack as he leans in to kiss you only for your head to turn at the last second and his mouth to smack against your cheek.

“What-“

You click your tongue. “That’s something you gotta earn, Mr. Wenneck.”

Phil’s eyes roll into the back of his head, face dropping to press his forehead into yours.

“Baby,” he exhales. He kisses your cheekbone.

His teeth graze your skin as he trails his mouth lower. Your brain goes a bit fuzzy when he kisses the seam of your jaw.

You feel his hands grip your hips, palms splayed as he uses his index finger to tap twice. A signal for you to help him lift you onto the counter. As soon as he’s got you up, he’s moving to kneel between your thighs. It’s a view you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. The warmth in his gaze as he looks up at you with those cataclysmically blue eyes, the curl of his hair behind his ears.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on, you know that?”

One of his hands finds its way up your thigh, under the hem of your shirt, and up your torso until his fingers are toying with the padding in your bra.

His name drips down your tongue like a prayer.

Already, he’s wearing you down. Bit by bit. Letter by letter. Slowly but surely.

“It won’t happen again,” he exhales, sliding his hands up your thighs until they’re resting just below the hemline of your underwear. He’s so warm, always running so hot that you feel like you’re gonna start sweating at any moment under his touch.

“You said that last time, hot shot,” you say.

“You made me feel really stupid, you know. Felt like shit just sitting here just staring at the door… oh,” you gasp as he begins to suck a purple mark onto your thigh. “Just waiting for my boyfriend to stroll through it whenever he pleases.”

“I know. I know,” he groans as he presses a kiss to your clothed cunt. “Let me make it up to you, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“You can do better than that, pretty boy,” you say.

He moves up your body enough to bite the elastic seam of your panties, snapping it against your skin in a way that has you jumping against him. The palm of his hand plants itself against your knee, spreading your legs apart more to give him the space to press his body further into you.

“I had on that dress you like,” you hum as you place your hands on the table behind you to lean your weight back on them. You feel him groan against you, eyes falling shut. “That lingerie you like, too.”

You want to make him suffer, just a little. As a treat.

“You’re killing me, here, honey,” he winces.

“‘S the point,” you gasp as he hooks his fingers into your panties. His tongue is flat as he licks a stripe up your clothed cunt. Slowly, dragging the muscle and dampening the fabric before he pulls back enough to pull the obstruction down your legs at a devastating pace. It catches on your knee for a second, forcing him to tug harder until he’s got the flimsy garment totally off, balling it up to tuck into the back pocket of his pants.

The first thing you feel is cold air being blown against your slick, sending your hips jumping forward into his touch.

“So sensitive for me already,” he hums as he kisses and nips at the plush skin of your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper just as you feel the tip of his nose prod your clit. He licks a broad stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, gathering the wetness that had already begun to pool there.

“God, so wet, too,” he groans against you, sending shockwaves through your nerve endings.

“Get to it, Wenneck,” you say, though it comes out shakier than you’d intended.

“Already back to Wenneck, hm?” he asks, using the tip of his tongue to prod at your entrance.

“Gotta… Gotta… oh,” you gasp. Every thought in your head stalls as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard until you’re keening your hips further into his touch. He brings a hand up swipe through your arousal. It oozes out of you until his fingers are shiny.

“I think she forgives me, don’t you, pretty girl?” he asks as he presses small kisses to the bundle of nerves.

Nodding, you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip. You’re not sure you trust yourself to say much of anything to the man right now. He curls his fingers until just his middle finger is pressing against your dripping hole, just barely pushing in. His mouth slows to a languid pace as he continues to drag his tongue against you.

Pulling back just enough to spit on your clit, he uses the mixture of your slick and his drool to push his finger fully into you.

“More,” you mumble, craving the stretch of more than just a single digit.

“You want more?” he chuckles against you. “I’ll give you more, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pushes his ring finger in with the middle, curling them both as they graze against the spongy spot deep inside you.

“Oh, god, Phil!” you whine.

“That’s right. Say my name,” he gloats.

“Phil,” you exhale. The third finger he adds has you seeing stars.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. I know you can,” he says. “Know you want to.”

He sucks on your clit again, sending you spiraling into your orgasm faster than you have a chance to latch on to your boyfriend. His tongue stills, knowing how sensitive you get as you cum, and his fingers slow as he helps you ride out your climax.

As soon as the waves of your orgasm have finished washing over you, he’s standing, cradling your head in his hands as he slants his lips over yours. His tongue rolls against yours as he licks into your mouth. His hands drop to grip the backs of your knees, pulling you forward until your body is flush with his own. Until you can feel the throb of his cock through his pants against your center.

“You gonna let me fuck you, baby?” he mumbles against your lips. “Show you just how sorry I am?”

“Please,” you whine, again. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted him more, rolling your hips into his as he slowly undoes the buttons of your shirt. Your hands find his belt, struggling to get it open with the haze still hanging over your senses. His hands cover yours as he slowly moves them away just enough to un-notch the belt. But he allows you to take over from there.

“We’ve got all night,” he says when he hears your breathing waiver. He brings a hand up to smooth along your spine, palm splayed wide across the expanse of your back.

“Don’t care. Need you,” you mumble as your ankles hook around the backs of his thighs.

“I thought I was supposed to be apologizing to you, sweetheart,” he exhales.

“You’re forgiven,” you say. “You’re so forgiven. Now fuck me, hot shot.”

“Yes ma’am,” he groans as he presses his body as close to yours as possible. His hand finds your hip, tapping twice as a signal for you to hook your ankles around his waist, before he’s sliding both hands up under your ass to pick you up from the counter top. He keeps his mouth glued to any open skin he can find contact with as he carries you the short distance from your kitchen to your bedroom, teeth nipping at the seam of your jaw before he’s dropping you on the mattress.

Leaning up on your elbows, you watch as he tugs his pants and boxers down his legs in one go, the difficult part having already been done. Undoing his shirt takes a little longer, seconds maybe, as he rushes through the buttons of his shirt so fast you’re worried he’s gonna pop a couple of them. You undo the three buttons still done on your own shirt, slipping it off your shoulders to leave yourself bare to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says once he drops the button-down onto the small pile of clothes he’d created in front of your bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he moves to frame your body between your spread thighs.

“Right back at you, handsome,” you say as he leans down to kiss you only for you to press a hand to his chest and stop him just centimeters away from your lips. “Though, you could work on your punctuality.”

He starts to fight back, mouth opening with the beginning of a retort before you cut him off.

“I know, I know,” you peck his lips once. “Just teasing.”

“Vixen,” he snickers before he’s bridging the gap to kiss you fully. His cock throbs against you, reminding you of the need pulsing through you. You reach down to wrap your hand around his length. Phil hisses through clenched teeth.

You tug on his cock slowly, barely dragging your hand up the length of him in a way that has him shuddering against you.

“Need you,” you mumble. “In me.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” he hums as you line him up.

The initial push in has both of you groaning, your cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate the intrusion.

“Jesus,” he grunts. “So fucking tight.”

He pushes in slowly, inching forward until he’s bottomed out and you feel so full you think you can feel him in your throat. The first pull out is agonizingly slow. He’s nearly pulled out of you completely, leaving just the head of his cock notched within your walls.

“Fuck me, Phil. Please,” you groan as you dig the heels of your feet into his ass in an effort to get him to move.

“Well, I thought you would want something a little-”

“Goddamnit, Phil,” you say as you push your heels into him further, driving his cock an inch or so deeper at a pace that elicits a whimper from you.

He builds up to a bruising pace after that. His fingers dig into your waist to keep himself steady as he punches that spot inside of you with the tip of his cock again. You bring your own hand down to circle your clit, needing just that little bit of friction to bring you back to the edge, only for Phil to smack your hand away and replace your thumb with his own.

“Get outta here with that,” he mumbles as he drags his lips along yours. “Playing with yourself while I fuck you.”

The pressure sends your brain into a thick muck of fog.

Gasping out his name, you drop your head back onto the pillow with your eyes rolled back into your skull.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me again?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes yes yes.”

“Soak my cock, baby. Want to feel this pretty pussy clamped around me,” he mumbles as his hips stutter with the signal of his own orgasm.

Your walls flutter around him as you cum, his name on your lips and the taste of him on your tongue. Your chest heaves as his thrusts still. His cum coats you in thick, warm spurts.

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I was going to be home on time. I set an alarm on my phone and everything and then-” “I know,” you say as you push his hair back from his forehead. He pulls out of you with a deep exhale, skin damp with sticky sweat. Collapsing back onto the mattress, he tugs you into his chest.

“I want to make it up to you.” “You did,” you say as he ghosts his fingers across the length of your arm.

“I want to make it up to you with more than just my dick,” he laughs. A laugh that has you laughing with him in moments.

“You can make breakfast,” you offer.

“Sure,” he hums, pecking the side of your head. “Hope you like microwave bacon.”

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