#Imagine the guy you like having to come to you in your hospital room to explain to you that you like him I would not survive that

[starpros-sunshine]

If Eichi had a crush on Wataru and couldn't be normal about it he'd probably just stare at him longingly in really obvious and slightly embarrassing ways so that it'd be so obvious that even Wataru would know Eichi likes him.....Oh wait no that's actually what happened...

[cutielando]

Okay I have a request. Lando with his long time girlfriend and when Oscar joins the team they warn him to stay away from Lando’s drivers room after a race because him and reader love to ‘celebrate’ no matter the result of the race. And Oscar finds out the hard way. But McLaren are like use to it. 🤭🧡

Please and thank you.

poor oscar | l.n.

my masterlist

In all fairness, Oscar had been well warned about Lando and his girlfriend’s antics post-races. Given that the walls in the motorhome were very thin, as Oscar had stated previously, the team felt like they should let Oscar know what he was in for.

He hadn’t quite taken to heart what he had been told. He had been thinking to himself, how bad can it actually be? And oh boy, it was bad.

You and Lando had made a pact from the beginning of your relationship and when you started coming to all of his races that you would do something to celebrate his every race outcome, no matter how good or bad. You vowed to see every race as something positive and take something from each one.

The McLaren team had become accustomed to your shenanigans, knowing not to go anywhere near Lando’s driver room in the hours after the race. They had come to learn to stay away the hard way, if you know what I mean.

And yet, Oscar chose to ignore them. Why? He didn’t even know.

Maybe it was just pure curiosity, maybe it was ignorance, one could only make suppositions. 

If he had managed not to hear anything that even remotely resembled the warnings he had been given up until that moment, he was in for a treat this time.

You had attended the Miami GP with Lando, catching a break from your studies and having promised him that he wouldn’t have to go to a race alone after failing to attend Japan. And imagine the joy you had felt once Lando had taken the checkered flag in P1. Scratch that, imagine what was going through your mind about the celebrations you were about to have with Lando as soon as he came back to the motorhome ;).

Your boyfriend had been thinking the exact same way, trying to make his way back to the hospitality as soon as he possibly could, but still politely stopping for interviews and photos or autographs.

But once he finally reached his room and saw you waiting for him, dressed only in your underwear, he knew he was in for an enormous treat.

Oscar hadn’t heard Lando get back. He had been so deep into thought and so focused on the music he had been listening to with headphones on that he hadn’t heard the door opening, the squeals that you let out once Lando had practically pounced on you as soon as he locked the door. 

However, he was pulled out of his thoughts when he started hearing bangs, moans and dirty talking through his wall. At first he had thought he was hearing things. There was no way you were actually celebrating that loudly, right?

Wrong.

When he turned off the music and took off his headphones, he realized just how fucking loud you guys were being.

He didn’t even know how to react. What was he even supposed to do? Was he just supposed to leave his room and find somewhere else to hang out until you guys were done? Should he knock on your door and ask you guys to keep it down? No, Lando deserved the win and winding down whatever way he saw fit.

Sighing, he felt himself growing redder once the sounds on the other side of the wall only intensified. He couldn’t just stand around and listen to his teammate probably getting the fuck of his life after his maiden win, so he figured he would just get something to eat and hang out with either Mark or Logan.

The moment a member of the PR team, David, had seen him coming from his room, his cheeks a heavy crimson and refusing to make eye contact with anyone, he realized Oscar had just been the victim of Y/N and Lando.

“You heard them, didn’t you?” David asked him, an amused smile stretching on his face.

Oscar blushed even heavier, if that was even possible. Shyly, he nodded, making David laugh and pat him on the back.

“I didn’t think they were actually that bad” Oscar said, playing with his fingers as his ears could still pick up the noises he had done his best to avoid.

“We tried telling you, you didn’t want to believe us” David chuckled, patting him on the back again as he departed.

When you and Lando finally emerged from his room almost an hour later, the both of you laughed when you noticed how Oscar was avoiding eye contact with the both of you.

Poor Oscar…

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[forhappysake]

"Because I love you."

A/N - Guys I'm really into these sappy pieces recently. Pls feel free to send requests for something else if inspired. Also, I might be doing a pt.3 to Teach Me at some point, I just have to pick where the story is going.

Summary - A showdown with an unsub leaves you in the hospital. Spencer can't help but feel guilty. Could almost losing you push him to confess his love? (spoilers: yes it does)

Warnings - spencer x reader, BAU level violence, some angst on Spencer's part, fluff, and a love confession

You stared down at your hands, battered and bloodied from your futile attempts to fight back. Caught off guard during an interview with a man who was only supposed to be an eye witness,  not the unsub himself, forced you to fight for your life. By the time the neighbors heard the scuffle and called the local police to come to your rescue, you figured you looked like you’d been through seven rounds of an MMA fight. Your head ached, your eye was swollen shut, and you nearly cried in agony with every breath as you were certain you’d broken a rib. 

After a tense standoff with the local police, the unsub was in custody, leaving you on the floor with your many wounds. You managed to stand yourself up and walk out the door to the waiting ambulance, only to collapse into the EMT’s arms. You felt yourself being loaded in the back of the vehicle as they started an IV. As consciousness drifted away from you, you couldn’t help but wonder where your team was. 

***

You awoke in the hospital to the steady sound of your heart monitor beeping and muffled conversation from outside your room. Your bloodied clothes had been traded in for a hospital gown at some point, and your midsection was bound tightly with some sort of bandages, you assumed to keep your rib in place. You managed to open your good eye in an attempt to find the source of those muffled voices. Your eyes landed on Emily and JJ speaking in the corner of the room, voices hushed. 

“He can’t blame himself. None of us saw this coming,” Emily said, her voice stern but laced with concern. 

JJ shook her head. “He feels terrible, Emily. I’ve seen him come in and out of here crying three times in the last two hours. He rarely cries.” 

Who could they be talking about?

Emily looked at the floor in silence, trying to formulate a reply. JJ cleared her voice to speak again. “They’re partners, Emily,” JJ said, “Of course he’s going to blame himself.” 

Spencer. 

Deciding you’d had enough of eavesdropping, you did your best to sit up, only to let out a whimper when a sharp pain pierced your side. JJ and Emily turned to face you, surprised looks on both their faces. 

“Hey, just lay back,” JJ encouraged. She rushed to the bedside, placing a soothing hand on your arm.

“How long have I been asleep?” you asked. 

Emily shook her head, “Only twelve hours, which isn’t very much considering what you’ve been through. I’ll tell the doctors you need another IV and some pain medication.”

As she turned for the door, you shook your head, “Emily, wait.”

Emily turned to face you, coming to stand at the foot of your bed. “What is it?”

“Where’s Spencer?” you asked. Emily looked to JJ, the two of them sharing a knowing glance. You and Spencer had always been close, as partners and friends. 

“He’s been going back and forth between pacing the parking lot and the lobby for hours. I can’t imagine how many steps he’s taken,” Emily joked. “I’ll go get him for you.” With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and JJ to catch up on what you’d missed in the last few hours. 

JJ explained what happened after you’d passed out: how the unsub was in custody, finding another victim in his basement, and the team realizing that they’d sent you out to interview the lunatic on your own. “We just thought he was going to give you some information about the case. We had no reason to think that he was the one who-”

You shook your head, holding up a hand to stop her. “I didn’t think so either. It’s why I agreed to go alone. Nobody’s at fault.” 

JJ nodded, a solemn look on her face. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. We were all so worried once we connected the dots. I was telling Emily - I haven’t seen Spencer so stressed in years.” 

As if on cue, both you and JJ turned to the sound of rushed footsteps coming down the hallway. Spencer’s tall frame was running (no, sprinting) down the hospital corridor. You felt a small smile tug at the corner of your lips as he burst into the room, hair danging in front of his eyes and clearly out of breath. 

He approached your bedside, leaning down so he could be face-to-face with you. You could only see him with one good eye, but you did your best to smile to show him that you were doing alright. You brought a hand to his face, pushing the fallen strands of hair out of his eyes so you could see him more clearly. “Hello to you too,” you joked. 

“Y/N-” Spencer started, the tears quickly gathering in his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve gone with you. I should have known that-” 

“That the guy who called into the tipline was actually the unsub? Spencer, be logical. None of us knew. I was just telling JJ, nobody is at fault.”

A single tear fell down his cheek as he examined your injuries. With each scratch and bruise he found, he felt another crack forming in his heart. He hadn’t protected you. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was your partner. Your best friend. He loved you, that he knew. He’d forced that love to be as platonic as he could make it, trying to avoid ruining your perfect friendship. It was moments like this that made that more difficult than ever, as he tried to reckon with his love and his guilt. 

Your bruised hand was still cradling his face. He could feel the bandages against his stubble, and he cursed himself again. It was only then that the other presence in the room became known to him. JJ stood on the other side of the bed, another knowing smile gently painting her lips. Spencer knew what he had to do. JJ knew what Spencer had to do. He looked at her, his eyes subtly asking her to leave the two of you alone. JJ took the hint with a small nod, leaving the room without another word as you and Spencer continued to examine each other. 

“So, JJ’s filled me in on what I missed,” I said, breaking the silence. “Sounds like a pretty exciting half day,” I joked. 

Spencer shook his head, pulling away from your hand. He didn’t go far, though, intertwining his own with yours as he leaned back from the bed. “I was worried sick,” he said. 

“I can tell, Spence,” you said, trying to prop yourself up with your pillow. “You really shouldn’t have been. You know I always come out of these things relatively unscathed.” He raised an eyebrow at your statement, taking in your swollen and bruised features. “Well… maybe not unscathed. Alive, at least,” you quipped. 

An eerie silence fell over the room. You could feel the tension increase as the gears turned in his head.

“But what if you don’t someday?” he whispered, his voice far away. You looked over at him, his eyes fixed on your heart monitor and the gentle green lines rising and falling accompanied by the signature beep-beep-beeping. 

You squeezed his hand in an attempt to bring him back down to Earth. “I’ll always come back, Spencer. It’s what you and I do. We come back alive for each other.” 

The tears that had pooled in his eyes earlier spilled over his cheeks as he let out a small whimper. He leaned down, gently wrapping his arms around you as he wept. “Hey, it’s okay Spencer,” you tried to calm him. 

“No, it’s not. It-it’s not because,” he trailed off. You could still feel his shoulders shaking as he cried. 

“Why, Spencer?” you asked once more. “Please, you can tell me anything.” 

Suddenly his sobs slowed. He pulled back from your embrace, taking in your features. Bruised and battered as you were, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He felt like his heart was going to explode. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, the words came tumbling out. “Because I love you,” he said simply. 

Your jaw dropped open at his words. While you should’ve seen this coming, nothing could prepare you for the way your heart jumped. If it wasn’t evident from the expression on your face, the heart monitor picked up its beeping, nearly doubling its pace. The sound wasn’t lost on Spencer, who frantically looked at the screen.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, quickly walking to the monitor. “Did I upset you? I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve just felt this way for so long and if I keep pretending like I don’t-”

“Spencer,” you cut him off, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in minutes. “I love you too.” 

The look on his face was priceless, and you wished you could have taken a picture, but you did your best to engrave it on your brain forever. His brown, teary eyes brightened in a moment, a glimmer of hope shining from within. “You do?” he asked. 

You laughed, allowing your head to fall back on the pillow behind you. “Spencer, I volunteer to work with you during nearly every case. We split a room every week. I only wished that you’d said this sooner so we could’ve split the bed, too.”

He stared at you in shock. The tears in his eyes long forgotten as a smile crept on his face.

A soft laugh left his mouth as he leaned down to you once more, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, careful to avoid any injured area. “Well, I promise that next time we can,” he said. “And,” he started once more, “I’m never letting you go anywhere by yourself again.”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers over his own. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 2

summary: When Lando's "playboy" imagine is setting a bad reputation for him. He's turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none (i don't think)

part 1

“Well i’ve got to say, you’ve saved me a lot of work. Are you sure you guys can make this work?” Zak asks, sitting across from you and Lando “Am I really that bad?” Lando asks sitting back

“Yes” you and Zak answer in sync “Yes Zak, we know each other well enough to make it work” you agree

“Great, race weekend starts tomorrow so we want you guys to enter the paddock together and be more affectionate towards each other than normal” Zak flaps his hands around causing both you and Lando to rolls your eyes

“Okay great, are we okay to leave? I’m really hungry…Lando?”

“Yes, they have your favourite in hospitality, I’ve already ordered them for you. They are probably going cold by now” he smiles “Thank you” you kiss his cheek “I love you, enjoy media” you rush out the door

“Are you ever going to-“ Zak begins “No Zak i’m never going to tell my best friend and the girl that has rejected me several times that i am madly in love with her” he sighs getting out the seat and walking out the office

“He will tell her one day” Zak mumbles to himself

——————

It was the Friday of race weekend and still early hours of the morning. You felt like you had thrown everything from your wardrobe to the floor in a short space of time, stressed you flop backwards onto the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Lando laughs, learning against the door frame with his arms crossed “I have nothing to wear” you sigh sitting up

“Well judging by the floor in here I think you have quite a lot to wear, come on since when did you ever care what you wore to the paddock” he asks sitting next to you

“Since we were in a fake relationship, Zak sent me a text this morning telling me to make sure we get something good for and i quote soft launch”

“Well if we’ve to soft launch why don’t you just wear one of my shirts?” he asks taking your hand dragging you up from the bed “I do that all the time” you sigh following him to his bedroom

“Not in public, come on how cute would this be on you” he smiles picking up a shirt from the floor “Okay first, that has a stain on it that i don’t even want to know and second didn’t one of your ex’s wear that in the paddock one time?” you scoff

“Don’t get your thong in a twist it’s ice cream”

“I told you don’t judge my underwear Lando!” you yell hitting him with a pillow “Trust me princess, I’m not judging” he throws his hands in the air, defending himself

“Do you have something for me to wear or not” you ask running your hands through your hair putting the pillow down

“Well I was saving this for a surprise but” he begins, kneeling down to reach under his bed “Here” he hands you a t-shirt

“I thought you said you weren’t making anymore purple merch!” you squeal taking it out the package “There’s only one of them in the world, especially made for you” he smiles as you try it on

“It fits perfectly! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” you smiles as he spins you around “Now go get change and let me drown you in my sent”

“Your sent?”

“Not only will you smell good but you’ll also smell like me when you go near fans, media and other drivers. Get rumours going fast”

“The rumours already go fast!” you yell going back through to your room

You find a nice pair of jeans shorts to go with the shirt and get yourself ready for the day, and in best attempt to tidy the mess you made around the room

“Princess! Come on! We really need to go!” Lando shouts from outside the door “You can come in! I’m not naked!”

“Wouldn’t have bothered me if you were” he smirks opening the door “That’s enough, how do I look? Is the outfit okay?”

“You look beautiful” he smiles, walking over to you kissing the top of your head “Thank you” you return the smile leaning into him “Are you ready to be my boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head up to face him

“One day I will be yeah”

“Stop joking around” you laugh hitting his shoulder as you leave the room to go into his “Who said i was joking?” he asks following you

“Spray me” you say handing him his favourite spray “My favourite” he smiles “I know” you squeeze either side of his face

“Okay turn around and keep spinning while i spray you”

You spin around as Lando sprays you, both laughing while you do so “You can stop laughing now” Lando wheezes “If I stop you need to catch me”

“Okay stop!” he laughs wrapping his arms around your waist quickly “Thank you” you gasp trying to catch your breath back, wrapping your arms around his neck “Are you ready to go?”

“Before we do, I want to thank you for doing this, you don’t understand how much this means to me”

“Lan, honey. I do understand. Just promise me one thing” you say playing with the hairs on her neck

“Anything”

“The next girl that is lucky to end up with you, treat her like a princess. You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to have someone like you”

“I promise. I love you so much”

“To pluto and back?”

“Even further than pluto” he smiles kissing your cheek

——————

“Are you ready to make a decision that there’s no going back on?” Lando asks from the car, taking your hand in his“If it’s any decision that helps you I wouldn’t think about going back” you smiles squeezing his hand “Let’s go”

As you leave the car, Lando wraps his arm around your shoulder and you take hold of the hand around you. As you approach the photographers he begins to whisper jokes in your ear.

“I need to go to inside to talk to the engineers and mechanics. Do you want to wait in my drivers room?” he stops as you reach the garage “Yeah i’ll get you in there okay, be good” you say wrapping your arms around him

“For you always, unless you’re into that” he whispers “Lando” you laugh pushing him away “I’ll see you soon” you says kissing the corner of his mouth

As you walk away Lando watches you, saying hello to everyone you walk by in a McLaren shirt.

If this was supposed to be pretend he had to get it out his head that it felt so real.

part 3

[norrizzandpia]

i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |14|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Attempted Murder, Murder, Death, Blood, Gun shots

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You sat emotionless on the hospital bed as the doctor finished stitching up your shoulder. They had done the wound on your side first, the doctor said you got lucky, the knife had just barely missed your ribs. Luckily it only hurt when you breathed or moved. You let out a hiss as the doctor did his last stitch. He smiled at you and told you when to come back to get the stitches out, not that you really heard him, you couldn’t stop replaying what happened in your head, you couldn’t stop seeing Dewey’s face.

You looked down when you felt a squeeze on your hand, then lifted your gaze to see Tara watching you with a worried expression. You wanted to offer her a smile, something to comfort her, to show you were okay, but you couldn’t even manage that. She stood up as best as she could with her crutches and carefully wrapped her arm around you. You just let your head drop to her shoulder, you didn’t even have it in you to break down. The only good thing to come from the attack was that Ghostface didn’t touch Tara, he didn’t get her again, you kept him away long enough, that was the one thing you actually did right. You couldn’t protect Dewey, you couldn’t run to his aid, but you saved Tara, you were just trying to hold onto that, you weren’t a complete failure at least.

Tara leaned back, caressing your face as she stared into your eyes. “What’s going through your head?” she asked softly.

The death of the father you just learned about. That’s all that was going through your mind. The death of the man who gave you chance after chance, the guy who finally smacked sense into you and made you get your shit together.

“Can we just get the fuck out of here?” You asked.

Tara nodded and sat back down in her wheelchair, laying her crutches across her lap. You got behind the wheelchair and began to push her out the door despite her protests that you could rip open your stitches already. When the two of you got to the waiting room you saw Sam talking to Gale and some other woman. When Gale’s eyes landed on you, she pushed past Sam to make her way towards you and Tara.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked as soon as she was close enough. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Just stop,” you said harshly. You didn’t miss the way Gale flinched, you just didn’t care, just like you didn’t care that her eyes were red, she probably just stopped crying not too long ago. “Don’t pretend to care.”

“I do care,” she said softly.

“Well, I don’t, so if you don’t mind, we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“What?” The woman who had been standing with Gale and Sam asked. “You can’t just leave. Look, you’ve been through a lot recently,” she flicked a glance at Gale. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I do know what it’s like to be targeted by this asshole.” That’s when it clicked for you, this wasn’t some random woman, it was Sidney Prescott. “We could really use your help taking him down.”

“Fuck that,” you shook your head. “Sorry, but no. This,” you gestured around the room. “Isn’t about me. So, I’m taking Tara and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Okay,” Sidney nodded. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Sam who seemed conflicted. “You’re welcome to join us,” you directed at her. “Your Tara’s sister after all.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sam said instantly. She texted Richie to pull the car up.

You were sure Sam had the same thought as you, now that Tara got attacked twice there was no way she’d stay in town. Sam might not have been your favorite person, but you weren’t about to keep Tara from her sister, especially if Sam was actually willing to stick around this time.

“Alright let’s get the fuck out of this town,” Richie said as he pulled up. You rolled your eyes as he quickly started apologizing to Gale and Sidney.

You glared at Richie when he tried to take over helping Tara, but he quickly let go of the wheelchair and backed up. “I’ll get the bags?” He said it more like a question as he took Tara’s crutches and backpack to sit in the back seat.

Tara gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the small smile on her face. She might not have been happy with you straining yourself already, but she appreciated it. As gently as you could you wrapped one arm around her and helped her slide into the back seat. You spared Gale and Sidney one last glance as they finished talking to Sam.

You were pressed against the door on the right side in the backseat to give Tara as much room as she needed to stretch out her injured leg. As much as you would have loved to be on the other side of her, with her leaning on you, that was her injured side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed Tara searching her backpack in a panic.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, glancing back from the passenger seat.

“I can’t find my inhaler,” Tara said. Her breathing was already getting shallow at simply the idea of not having her inhaler.

“Can we stop somewhere?” You couldn’t blame Sam, the last thing you wanted to do was turn around. You wanted to get out of town as quick as possible and stop somewhere outside of town if you could.

“I need a prescription,” Tara shook her head.

“There’s a spare at my place,” you offered. You always kept a spare inhaler at your place, you never wanted anything to happen when Tara was staying the night or if she was at your apartment alone while she waited for you to get off work or come back with dinner.

“That’s on the opposite side of town. Wait,” her eyes snapped up. “Amber, I have another spare at Ambers.” You wanted to roll your eyes but even you had to admit Amber's place was more convenient, it was actually on the way out of town.

“No, no way,” Richie said, shaking his head. As much as you didn’t want to stop you knew how much Tara needed her inhaler.

“It’s on the way.”

Richie started to shake his head until his eyes landed on Sam. “Please?” She pleaded. “She needs it.”

“Fuck it, where does Amber live?”

A few minutes after Tara gave Richie the address, he was pulling up outside Amber’s house. You helped Tara out of the car and handed her her crutches, making sure to stand close by as you made your way to the front door, which was wide open. Amber was having a party, typical, of course she’d have a party when a psycho was on the loose.

Tara entered the house instantly after Richie and Sam, you couldn’t help but hesitate at the door. You knew where Amber lived because you had picked up and dropped Tara off multiple times, but you had never been in her house. With Ghostface looming in the darkness you couldn’t help but be on edge as you slowly stepped into the house.

You lingered in the background watching as Tara talked to Amber. You furrowed your brow when Amber started yelling that the party was over, Amber wasn’t usually the type to end a party early, especially one she was throwing. You then watched as Tara followed Amber, as everyone else in the house slowly filed their way out the front door.

You waited in the entryway with Sam, having no desire to wander around Amber’s house. Richie wandered off towards the kitchen, saying he was going to find something to drink. You just leaned back against the door and waited for Tara to come back while watching Sam pace back and forth.

You pulled out your phone when you felt it start to vibrate, you furrowed your brow for a second when you saw it was Gale calling you. You ignored the initial confusion and tapped to decline the call with an eyeroll. Almost as soon as you hung up on Gale Sam pulled out her phone.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“Unknown,” she said, holding up her phone for you to see.

“If it’s Gale hang up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at your request but swiped to answer the call. “How do you know where I am?” Sam asked whoever was on the phone making you furrow your brow.

“Who is it?” you whispered.

Sam’s eyes widened at whatever the person on the phone was saying. Then she took off, yelling up the stairs for Tara. “What’s going on?” you grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

“We’re in Stu Macher’s house,” Sam said. Your eyes went wide as soon as she said the name. Your eyes started darting around the house, you knew Tara lost her inhaler but there was no way all of you ended up at Stu Macher’s old house was a coincidence.

You stuck closely to Sam as she went around the house searching for Richie until the both of you ended up in the living room. “Holy shit,” you said when you saw Mindy bleeding out on the ground.

Sam instantly ran to Mindy’s side, pressing her hands against the wound. “Do something!” she yelled.

You nodded, your fingers stumbling as you grabbed your phone to call for help. You had just brought the phone to your ear when Tara and Amber came into the room. “What did you do?” Amber yelled, running over to Sam and Mindy, making Sam back away from Mindy.

“We found her like that,” Sam defended.

“Oh my god!” Richie said as he came into the room. You narrowed your eyes; you and Sam had gone through the entire bottom floor of the house and didn’t see him anywhere.

“Where were you?” you asked.

“The basement.”

“Alone?” Sam asked.

“Tara and I were together, but all of you are suspects!” Amber said, cutting off whatever Richie was going to say to defend himself.

“I was with Sam,” you said. “You’re the only one unaccounted for,” you looked at Richie.

“You and Sam together isn’t really a solid alibi,” Amber snapped. “Maybe you’re both the killer.”

Everyone continued arguing back and forth until Liv came into the room, hands raised and covered in blood as tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. “Liv,” you said slowly. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“I-I-” Liv sobbed. “I-I found Chad.” You could swear everyone held in their breath as you waited for what Liv was going to say next. “He-he was stabbed.”

“You’re the killer,” Richie said.

“I’m not the killer.”

“You’re the killer,” Amber repeated what Richie said.

“Amber, I’m not the fucking killer!” Liv snapped, tears still falling from her eyes.

“I know,” Amber said emotionlessly.

The next thing you knew Amber pulled out a gun and fired a bullet right between Liv’s eyes. She instantly pointed the gun at Sam, but Tara dropped one of her crutches and grabbed Amber’s hand, making the bullet go into the wall. While Amber was occupied Richie grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged her out of the room.

You ran towards Amber and Tara but as soon as you pulled Amber off Tara, she stabbed you in the gut, giving you a twisted smile. You heard Tara scream your name as you collapsed to the floor. You pushed yourself up and began to scoot back away from Amber, Tara was clinging onto her arm, making her unable to aim the gun still in her hand.

Amber whipped her hand back, knocking Tara into the wall. Amber raised her gun at you but as quickly as you could you crawled to the side of the couch, ducking as a few bullets entered the couch just above your heard. You pressed your hand to your new stab wound as you listened for more shots.

You weren’t sure how long you waited, it felt like seconds, but you were sure it had been longer than that when you realized you didn’t hear gunshots anymore, you didn’t hear anything. You risked peeking your head out to see Amber was gone, as well as Tara. You gripped the back of the couch, trying to use it to help pull yourself to your feet. As soon as you were standing someone appeared in the doorway, aiming a gun right at your head. You raised one blood hand, keeping the other on the wound as you stared down the barrel of a gun held by Sidney Prescott.

“It’s Amber,” you said, your eyes unable to leave the gun still pointed at you.

“I know,” Sidney said. “Stay here.” She gave you one last suspicious look before slowly making her way up the stairs.

You don’t know how long you stood there, leaning against the couch, you closed your eyes, meaning to just focus on your breathing but when you opened them again Amber was standing in front of you. You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Amber held her knife to your throat and shoved you in the direction of the kitchen.

When you stumbled into the kitchen you saw Gale, nursing a wound of her own, and Sidney already there. A couple seconds later Richie came in, shoving Sam to the ground. You grabbed Sam’s arm, quickly helping her to her feet and pulling her back towards the counter.

Richie and Amber looked at each other smiling, before pulling each other into a kiss. Richie kept his gun pointed at Sam while Amber dropped her knife to her side, the second Sidney tried to get around them though Amber broke the kiss and stabbed Sidney in the side.

You should have seen all this coming, you never liked Amber and Richie was suspicious from the moment you met him. You never imagined they would be in it together though, and definitely never could have imagined them dating. You always assumed Amber had a thing for Tara and was jealous of you.

“Why are you doing this?” Sidney asked.

“Because the latest sequel to Stab sucked!” Richie snapped.

You lifted your eyes to look at him, you were hoping you were bleeding out and a consequence was hard of hearing, there was no way these two assholes killed a bunch of people all because they were pissed about a movie.

“Richie and I met online,” Amber said, smiling up at him. “We quickly realized we shared similar ideas.”

“Didn’t take us long to come up with our own movie,” Richie said. “Wasn’t hard to find you in Modesto,” he shrugged, looking at Sam. “But you,” he pointed his knife at you. “You were a surprise.”

“But you can find out anything if you dig deep enough,” Amber said. “It’s a small town, secrets aren’t exactly secret,” she chuckled. “One whisper of someone saying Gale Weathers was in town,” she looked at Gale. “And didn’t take much after that. Going back,” she nodded to herself. “Your old interviews, your old episodes, it was clear something was off.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked. “Kill everyone? Make me your little hero?”

Richie burst out laughing at Sam’s suggestion. “Oh, you’re serious?” he said, clearing his throat. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re the villain, he gave her a devilish smile.

“Think about it!” Amber screamed; her eyes wide with excitement like you had never seen before. “What better movie is there? The secret daughter of the original mastermind,” she pointed her knife at Sam.

“And the secret daughter of two of the original survivors,” Richie continued, his smile matching Amber’s.

“Lied to her entire life,” Richie said, taunting Sam. “Until she discovered the truth,” he gestured with his hand at Sam, a glimmer in his eye. “And decided to exact her revenge.”

“Thrown away like trash, abandoned, never to be thought of again,” Amber continued, looking you directly in the eye. “Then learns the truth,” she smiled, pointing her knife at you. “And decides to get revenge.”

“It’s a revenge story!” Amber squealed. She actually did a little jump, as if she were giddy about the idea of you and Sam teaming up to kill a bunch of people. “Agh! It’s so good!”

“You’re insane,” Gale said.

“No!” Amber whipped around, raising her knife as if she were going to stab Gale again. “We’re fans! We just want to save the movie that inspired us.”

“You’re crazy,” Gale shook her head.

“And you’re a bad mother.” The next thing you knew a knife was shoved in your side. You lifted your head, opening your mouth only to cough up blood. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Amber whispered, twisting the knife that was still in you. “After we rid ourselves of you and Sam,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Tara will be all mine.”

Despite your current situation you laughed, you couldn’t help it, Amber said the funniest thing in the world after all. “You really are crazy,” you rasped out, coughing up a bit more blood in the process. “Tara will never love you.” You made sure to stare Amber directly in the eye as the words left your mouth, the consequences be damned.

Amber let out what you could only describe as a snarl before pulling the knife out only to shove it back in again, and again, and again. You started gurgling on the blood in your mouth, you weren’t sure when you lost count of how many times Amber stabbed you. When she finally stepped away you just collapsed to the floor.

You were only partially aware of the others trying to come to your aid, only to be met with a knife or a gun to their head. You tried to pull yourself to your feet but as soon as you got up on wobbly legs a sharp pain ripped through your knee, sending your straight back to the floor. Your hand went to your knee, instantly being met with the wet stickiness of blood. You rolled over, holding your knee, your eyes pinched shut, you didn’t even have it in you to scream.

When you opened your eyes, you were instantly met with a gun in your face. Amber let out a scoff and walked away. You weren’t sure what happened after that, you decided maybe just bleeding out on the floor was the best-case scenario. You saw blurry figures going back and forth, you were in and out of consciousness, every time you blinked it took you longer to open your eyes again, you could barely hear the muffled sounds of what you assumed was the others fighting.

Everything was silent, you could barely keep your eyes open, you just wanted to close them and rest. You felt a weight hit your chest, forcing you to open your eyes again. You could just barely make out the blurry image of Tara, it almost looked like she was crying, you weren’t sure why, she was safe, she was alive, there was nothing to be sad about. You saw her lips moving but couldn’t hear the words she was saying. Tara’s face was the last thing you saw before everything finally went black.

Taglist: @r-3-becca

[frudoo]

The 141!slasher au has me cackling. Reader lowkey being like "well, if the dick is good"

Imagining reader being taken in to be questioned by the cops for something unrelated to the boys killing. Maybe she witnessed a crime, or maybe someone else got assaulted by the guy who grabbed her. Would the guys be suspicious? Do they have a "get picked up by the cops" protocol, or do they believe there's no chance of ever getting caught? (Does reader already have a "don't talk to the fucking cops without a lawyer [ACAB!]" mindset that helped Johnny be confident in telling her the truth?)

Does reader ever help with kills? Ngl kind of seeing reader work at a children's hospital or as a social worker and taking note of ppl she knows are abusive and being like hey...Simon...<3...did u need ideas of who to kill next...

Anyway thank you for letting me share my thoughts:)

We love a reader who has her priorities straight ;)

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse/trauma.

Deep breaths. It has nothing to do with you or your boys.

     The blinds are shut and there’s a weird buzzing noise coming from somewhere inside the room. Across from you sits a social worker and a detective, and your leg bounces anxiously. 

     It’s mandatory. You’re helping a child and his mom out of a bad situation.

     You’d suspected something was wrong the first time Oliver was brought to your class with a couple of bruises on his leg. You had immediately written your observations down on his sheet and reported it to your bosses, but they brushed it off. Little boys are clumsy, after all, especially when they’ve just recently learned to start walking. The next couple of weeks, the toddler showed up unscathed and happy. 

     This morning, however, his mother dropped him off with a black eye and scratches all over his torso. You could see cuts of her own beneath the makeup she’d been crying off. You’d paged your bosses to come to your classroom immediately, and this time, they took it seriously. You weren’t thrilled that the police had to be involved, but you understood that it was necessary in saving this sweet family. You answered all of their questions honestly—neither saying too little nor too much.

     “Thank you for your time, ma’am. You’re dismissed,” the detective gives you a solemn smile and rises from her seat, opening the door to allow you out. 

     You clutch your purse tightly as you walk through the precinct, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. You’re no stranger to facilities like these. Much of your childhood was spent sitting beside your father at his desk, acting like a good little girl, coloring on blank sheets of paper and pretending that daddy wasn’t such a monster. At work, he was a hero who citizens and coworkers alike depended on to keep them safe and happy. At home, he was a tyrant, taking every opportunity he could to use you and your mother as a punching bag.

     As a child, you’re taught to depend on all the people who are meant to care for you—family members, the police—those whose first priority should be to protect. You should have been able to trust your father. You should have been able to run to him whenever you scraped your knee or got bullied at school, but instead, he was often the one causing you harm. Your mother got sick of the abuse and left when you were five but didn’t bother taking you with her, so he was all you had. He intimidated you into silence, but even if you had reported him, who would have believed the troubled young daughter of such a dependable officer? You learned too quickly, too young, that it would always be their word over yours.

     When you first became a daycare teacher, you didn’t expect to see yourself in so many of the children you either cared for or saw in passing. It broke your heart every time you saw a toddler with a limp or an older child who still wet themselves at naptime, because you knew what they were feeling. You knew the despair they felt in every step they took, the fear they felt every time someone came to pick them up and take them right back to their broken home. The very day you started is the same day you decided you had to stay there, to be some kind of light in the darkness too many of these children should have been too young to ever know.

     You have an unspecified amount of time off—your bosses decided that there was too much of a risk that Oliver’s dad might show up and try to start shit with you for reporting him. There’s still a lot of investigating that the police and child services have to do, and as of right now, the scumbag’s whereabouts are unknown. It’s nerve-wracking to leave your babies even despite knowing they’re in good hands. You’ll have to make sure and call in every day to check on them. 

     It’s about an hour drive back to the farm, and you spend every minute dreading the reunion with your lovers. None of them know about the situation, and you’re not exactly thrilled to catch them up to speed. Still, you owe it to them to be honest. God forbid they find out about it somewhere else and start believing some warped version of the truth. Just the mere idea of them distrusting you makes a sour feeling rise in your gut. 

     Kyle is working in the garden when you arrive, a wide smile on his face as he waves to greet you. The grin you send his way isn’t quite so excited, and immediately he knows something is up. If he was a bloodhound, you’d be sure he could smell the unrest in the air. The slam of your car door alerts the other three men of your presence, and they all line up by the front door curiously. Your heart is racing as you walk inside, motioning for them all to join you in the living room.

     You sit in the recliner with your hands folded in your lap, nervously eyeing each of your husbands. The fear that they might hate you because of what happened gnaws at the front of your brain, chewing until it aches. You’re not even sure if you could blame them—after all, they had a good thing going before they met you. One wrong move and the cog in the machine gets tossed aside like trash. 

     “Speak, lovie,” Simon grunts impatiently, syrupy brown eyes scanning over your face, watching, analyzing.

     “There was an incident at the daycare today,” you begin. “Child services had to get involved, and I was called to the police station to explain my side of things.”

     You’re shaking like a leaf, unable to look at any of them. The tension in the room is so thick that John could probably cut through it with his machete. Not one of them has so much as blinked, each waiting on another to say or do something first. You do.

     “It had nothing to do with any of you, I swear. I’m off work for a few days while the whole thing gets settled. I can’t say much about the case, just that… there was an abusive father involved. They haven’t found him yet, and they’re exercising the idea that I might be a target for reporting him.”

     “Fuck,” Kyle mutters exasperatedly, rubbing his hands over his face as Johnny wraps an arm around his shoulder.

     You finally gather the courage to lift your head, and to your surprise, there is no fury or hatred in any of their expressions. At least, not directed at you. They look more like they’re waiting for an order, leaning forward in their seats like attack dogs ready to pounce. Suddenly it’s clear to you—they may have been an item before you entered the picture, but once you joined them, you became their commander, one that they’ll remain loyal to until the day they die. 

     “I have a proposition,” you whisper, looking directly at John.

     “Give us a name, sweetheart.”

[fanartist666]

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 3

Pairing: Grid X Reader, Lance X Reader

Summary: lewis get a new song inspired by one of the book they read that week, a little lance relationship focused as well

a/n: even as an avid reader, i struggle so much choosing books for this 🥲, sorry if this one sucks

requests open 🫶✨ masterlist

—————————

“Alright boys, get ready to swoon!” You pull out copies of your chosen book, The Dead Romantics. After reading classics and adventure, and thrillers, you chose chick-lit. It had been recommended on other book club chatboards, so you deemed it safe for the guys.

“Same time, same place next week,” Daniel grabs a book and walks out. The rest file out of the motor home, books in hand. You follow Fernando to Aston Martin.

“Lance, your girlfriend is here for you,” Fernando calls for him before you can. “Good choice, I enjoyed this one the last time I read it,” Fernando says before walking to his room, leaving you stunned.

“Hello, mon cœur,” Lance kisses you before grabbing your hand and taking you to his room.

“What is the book this week,” He asks once you cuddle up on the couch. Since he found out about the club, he’s been reading the books with you.

“The Dead Romantics, first one to finish gets to choose the next date,” you hand him his copy before starting your own. Lance’s assistant brings in coffees and breakfast for you both while you read.

“When we get married, would you change your last name, combine ours, let me take yours, or leave our names as is,” Lance asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Hmm, I like the sound of Y/n Stroll, but maybe I’ll still race under my name,” you decide, paying attention to the books, thinking about the predetermined discussion questions.

“Fuck,” Lance groans after his phone went off, quickly bookmarking his page.

“What’s wrong baby?” you ask, bookmarking yours as well.

“I have a meeting with Dad in a few minutes,”

“Oh, want me to come along? I love your dad,” you run your fingers through his fluffy hair.

“It’s okay, it’ll take a while. You are more than welcome to stay here or go and get ready for the drivers parade. Either way, I will see you after,” he kisses you before gathering a couple things and heading out. You finish another chapter and head to your motorhome, dressing yourself in team gear and redoing your hair. Lance waits for you outside your team garage.

By next week, you both have finished the book and have been raving about it to people, you even sent a copy to George. You won the challenge, although you were sure Lance let you win.

“Have fun at your meeting, you are literally bouncing in excitement,” Lance laughs, kissing the side of your head and leaving you in front of Haas’ hospitality. You quickly find the club, who are equally happy with your pick.

“That was the best romance book I’ve read in a while,” Daniel starts off.

“It was my second time reading it. Much better than the first time,” Fernando agrees.

“And the plot twist!” Nico gasps, all of you nodding along.

“I wrote a song about it,” Lewis says nonchalantly, causing you all to pause.

“Lew… what?” You can’t imagine how one would write a song about it. The book was good, but it wasn’t Shakespeare.

“Yeah, the broken hearts, the forbidden nature of their love, separated by the paranormal, the spiciness of the ending. It inspired me, almost like all those songs for Fifty Shades of Grey,” Lewis explains.

“I don’t know how that would work, but I am sure that you made it work,” Kevin says as Lewis pulls out his phone.

You heard some of his music before, and you knew he could sing and his writing was pretty good. Unfortunately, this was not the case. The singing was great, but the lyrics were a little too… sappy for his style. It wasn’t even sensual, he was just singing about falling in love with someone you shouldn’t.

“That was great, Lewis,” Daniel encourages Lewis,

“If racing doesn’t work out, maybe you will have a career in music,” Valtteri offers, maybe you were the only one who wasn’t a fan.

“He already does, he was featured on a song,” Fernando rushes to pull it up on his phone. You swear he is the proud father of everyone in the room.

“Oh! We should do karaoke!” you gasp, excited at the thought.

“I like the way you think,” Daniel grins at you. It is usually never a good thing when you both get excited about an idea, it tends to end up with alcohol and regret, but never fails to be fun.

“My liver can take that right now, I would participate,” Checo says, leading the group in agreeing.

You and the other drivers rent out a bar the next night and make sure karaoke is set up, Lando DJs in the meantime.

“I’m going to sing my song!” Lewis tells you over your jolly rancher shots.

“Slay!” you cheers the shots, tap the glass to the bar, and take the shot. “I think I’m gonna sing Post Malone,” you reply, and Lewis drags you to sign up. Lance appears beside you, slipping an arm around your waist as he looks at the paper.

“Babe, what song is ‘Why Don’t You Love Me’, I have never seen it on an album,” Lance asks and you tell him its origin. “Oh, that’s funny, I’ll film it,” he writes both of your names down for Total Eclipse of the Heart.

A few shots later and Lewis kicks it off with his song, it is actually a lot better drunk. You follow him up with the meme song, getting everyone laughing, before Lance joins you. The two of you surprisingly sounded very good when you rewatched the video the next day, then posted it to your Instagram story.

“Never. Again.” Kevin groans the next morning as Valtteri walks in, excited to talk with the group.

“That was fun! When are we doing that again?”

[atinyslittleworld]

Seonghwa meeting his newborn baby

newdad!seonghwa x newmom!reader

Genre: pure fluff

Warnings: none

Seonghwa sat in the waiting room of the hospital, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. Every second felt like an eternity as he awaited the news that would change his life forever. He glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time, then looked up as a nurse approached him with a warm smile.

“Mr. Park? Your wife and baby are ready to see you,” she said gently.

Seonghwa stood up so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. He followed the nurse down the brightly lit corridor, his mind racing. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, he felt both exhilarated and terrified.

When they reached the delivery room, the nurse opened the door and ushered him inside. Seonghwa’s eyes immediately found his wife, who lay in the hospital bed, looking tired but radiant. In her arms was a tiny, swaddled bundle.

“Hey,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “Come see our son.”

Seonghwa’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest as he approached the bed. His wife gently passed the baby to him, and he cradled the small bundle in his arms, overwhelmed by a wave of emotions. His son was so tiny, with a tuft of dark hair and delicate features. Seonghwa couldn’t believe this perfect little being was a part of him.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

The baby stirred slightly, making a small, contented noise. Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears as he looked down at his son. “You’re here!” he murmured.

His wife reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “He looks just like you,” she said with a tired but happy smile.

Seonghwa glanced at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you for giving me this gift.”

As the hours passed, Seonghwa remained by his wife’s side, holding their son and marveling at the miracle of new life. He counted each tiny finger and toe, memorized every little detail of the baby’s face, and listened to the soft, rhythmic breathing. He felt a profound sense of connection and purpose, knowing that his life had changed forever in the most beautiful way.

Later, the other members of ATEEZ arrived to meet Seonghwa’s son.

“Hyung, he’s so cute!” Yunho exclaimed, peering at the baby with wide eyes.

“Look at those little fingers,” San said, gently touching the baby’s hand. “He’s perfect.”

Seonghwa beamed with pride, his heart swelling as he watched his friends interact with his son. “Thank you, guys. It means a lot to have you all here.”

The room was filled with laughter and congratulations as the members took turns holding the baby, marveling at the tiny life. Seonghwa felt a deep sense of gratitude and happiness, knowing that his son would grow up surrounded by so much love and support.

As the evening wore on and the room grew quieter, Seonghwa sat by his wife’s side, their son sleeping peacefully in his crib. He felt a profound sense of contentment and joy, knowing that this was the start of a new chapter in their lives.

His wife reached out and squeezed his hand. “We’re in this together,” she said softly. “We’re a family now.”

Seonghwa looked at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Yes, we are,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

Seonghwa knew that no matter what the future held, his family would always be his greatest treasure. The journey of fatherhood was full of surprises, but with his wife and son by his side, he felt ready to embrace it all. And with every passing day, he fell more in love with the incredible life they were building together.

[lvrdrafts]

Unspoken Apologies

Summary: You are in the hospital and you confess to Bucky the pain you felt during the relationship, but Bucky doesn't deny his true feelings toward you

A/N: I GOT 100 FOLLOWERS OMG TY GUYS SO MUCH!!

Part 1 Part 2

Y/N lay in a sterile hospital room, her body weakened by the torture she had gone through. The doctors had delivered the devastating news that the torture you went through had caused severe damage internally. They had said she wouldn't make it. It was a bleak reality that Y/N was struggling to accept, but there was one person who refused to give up hope - Bucky Barnes.

Bucky paced back and forth outside the room, his heart heavy with worry. He had never seen Y/N so fragile, so vulnerable. The thought of losing her was unbearable. He blamed himself for not being there sooner, for not being there when she needed him the most.

A soft knock on the door interrupted Bucky's restless pacing. Y/N's weak voice called out, "Come in, Bucky."

He entered cautiously, his eyes brimming with concern. Seeing her lying in the hospital bed, her breathing slower and her body more pale, tore at his soul. Bucky had always admired Y/N's strength and resilience, and now it seemed to be slipping away.

Y/N managed a weak smile. "It's so funny, isn't it?" she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and amusement. "All of this started because I overheard you in the bar, calling me clingy. I tried avoiding you and I wanted you to say 'Hey I miss your clinginess' " you pause holding back tears "but you never did".

Bucky's heart sank as he remembered that conversation. It had been a misunderstanding. He was just stressed and found you as an excuse for his problems. He wanted to apologize, to tell Y/N how wrong he had been, but his words caught in his throat.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. But before he could say anything else, she continued.

"I've always felt like I burdened you, like I was too much for you to handle, and this situation proved my point" Y/N confessed, tears welling up in her eyes. "I guess I just wanted to hear it from you. Am I really a burden to you, Bucky?"

Bucky's silence spoke volumes, and Y/N's heart shattered into a million pieces. The truth was revealed without words, and it was more painful than she could have ever imagined.

Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. Bucky rushed to her side, taking her hand in his, but it was too late. The doctors rushed in, their urgent voices fading into the background as Y/N slipped away.

Bucky knelt beside the lifeless body of the person he loved, overwhelmed with grief and regret. He had allowed his fear and pride to cloud his judgment, to push Y/N away when all she needed was his reassurance.

In that heartbreaking moment, Bucky made a promise to himself. He would carry the weight of his mistakes and regrets for the rest of his life. He would never forget the sound of Y/N's voice, filled with hurt and longing, nor the look of desperation in her eyes as she questioned her own worth.

As Bucky emerged from Y/N's hospital room, his face etched with anguish, he found himself face-to-face with Sam Wilson, who had been anxiously waiting outside.

Sam's eyes widened at the sight of Bucky's devastated expression. "Bucky, what happened?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Bucky's voice trembled as he tried to find the right words. "It's... it's my fault, Sam," he finally managed to say, his voice filled with regret. "Y/N... she overheard a conversation we had, and I never got the chance to make things right, to tell her how sorry I was. And now... now she's gone."

Sam's expression softened as he realized the weight of Bucky's remorse. "What did she hear, Bucky?" he pressed gently, knowing that the answer would reveal the depth of the pain caused.

Bucky's voice cracked as he spoke. "She heard me call her clingy, Sam," he admitted, his voice filled with self-condemnation. "I was stressed, and I took it out on her. I pushed her away when all she needed was my support. I didn't realize how much those words would haunt her, how they would make her doubt her worth. And now... she's paid the price."

Sam's gaze turned cold, his disappointment evident. "She died thinking I hated her," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "She was the only person with me after-"Bucky pauses realizing he's all alone again, as if fate wanted him to be alone. "after Steve left me. She was like an angel who was there and and now she is gone because I was a fucking idiot" Bucky says kicking a trash can to the other side of the hallway.

Bucky's shoulders slumped, his eyes welling up with tears. "I failed her, and now she's gone. I've lost her..."

@marygoddessofmischief @specialsnowflake-gabbi @openup-yourmind @madi-is-kinda-lame @maddieislost @666yourmomdotcom @kentokaze @floralwslokicjand10 @vicmc624 @theroyalmanatee @kandis-mom @elite4cekalyma @sargentbarxes @milanaasblog

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Ghosts

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, inspired by Dead Boy Detectives if you couldn't tell.

Steve should have seen it coming, really. Despite dating, driving the gang around, and being silly with Robin, he'd known for a long time he wouldn't live long enough to amount to anything. Everyone had plans, had a future. But Steve? He'd be lucky if he could give his imminent death a meaning.

Turns out, he couldn't. Or at least, not in the way he wanted.

It didn't matter if it was the guilt he'd been feeling ever since Eddie died and Max ended up brain dead, poor judgment, or simply wanting for the wait to already be over. Whatever the reason, he pulled "an Eddie" in August 1986. He didn't even ask, he just ran out as a distraction while the rest of his friends were trying to evacuate Max from the overran hospital. He got a few swings in, they got a few chomps. Then more than a few. In the end, he way lying on the ground, bleeding out, but his efforts didn't seem to matter. As soon as he took his last breath, the monsters just turned around and went back to Max's room. Steve didn't even have enough time to pray he'd bought them enough time.

"Oh shit. Stupid. So stupid."

Steve froze, or at least got startled. Which was something, you know, for a dead guy. If this was the voice of an angel welcoming him to the afterlife, it sure sounded like-

"Did I look this dumb when I died? I hope not. Why the fuck would you do that, Harrington, huh? Thought they no longer needed you? Can you imagine what it's going to do to Dustin when he finds out?"

Munson.

Steve opened his eyes and sat up. Nothing hurt. Weird.

What was even weirder? He came face to face with Edward Munson, recently deceased.

Eddie shrieked and fell back on his ass. He'd probably been crouching over Steve, but now he was splayed on the hospital floor, gaping at Steve as if he'd seen a-

Oh. Okay.

Steve turned around and grimaced. He was sitting in his own mangled corpse, which he wasn't too thrilled about. He sprung to his feet and, after giving his bloodied face one last look - they didn't get the hair, phew! - turned to Munson. "Fancy meeting you here. Are you, like, my afterlife welcoming comittee?"

Eddie made a vain effort to close his mouth. "Uh, no. Not really. I mean, there probably is someone coming to get you, but if you don't mind, I won't stick around for that. I don't think Death likes me very much, after I bolted on her."

Steve blinked in confusion. "Death…is a woman?"

"Oh yep. Very nice. Didn't even chase me when I freaked out and ran. Um. But you might want to wait for her. I will stick around for a bit longer." Even in death, Eddie hadn't changed. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his face, and Steve wondered if he could chew on it, now that he was a ghost.

"But why? What is there to do?" Steve paused, thinking. "Wait. Is there something we can actually do? To help?"

That made Eddie laugh, although it was weak and incredulous. "Uh. Harrington. You've just died in like, a pretty painful and sadly heroic way, and your first thought is that you haven't done enough?"

"Doesn't feel like I have. Look," he said, offering Eddie a hand to pull him up, "if Death is coming, I'd rather not be here. Can we go and check on the others?" He wiggled his fingers at Eddie when he didn't respond.

The wiggle must have jolted Eddie's brain awake because he took Steve's hand. It was weird - he could feel the pressure where Eddie's hand met his, but there was no warmth, no texture. Possibly no pain, he thought. Useful.

"Right," Eddie cleared his throat. "Let's go. Just a bit of a warning - I think Will can see us. At least he looked very suspicious when I tried to sneak into your house when you all were staying there, and when I told him to just pretend he didn't notice anything, he nodded. So, uh. I guess he's special or something?"

They would learn quite a few things in their new existence. First of all, Will wasn't special. He just fit the criteria of "nearly died in the Upside Down or the newly merged realities", not just by being in danger, but being so close to death he almost didn't make it. Turns out, Hopper could see them too after his near death experience under the mall, and Hopper couldn't just be shushed.

Half-corporeal hugs were exchanged. Tears were shed, especially by Dustin and Robin. But they were all still together, for now. The danger was near and their grief had to wait.

By not quite so safe experimentation, Steve and Eddie found out that only two things could hurt them - other ghosts and iron. Luckily enough, none of the Upside Down creatures qualified as either. And so the party gained an invisible and indestructible vanguard - Eddie and Steve, both wielding their weapons of choice (Steve was overjoyed that he could just pick up his nail bat, and maybe that was a bit of a giveaway, seeing the bat floating towards the party with no body to hold it). They scouted ahead and reported back, either to Will and Hopper, or just by angrily scribbling in a notebook provided by Nancy. They couldn't sleep, so they would watch over the party in the night, allowing them the so much needed rest.

The months dragged on. Eleven kept her promise and saved Max, and when the pale redhead saw Eddie and Steve even with her damaged eyesight, no one was surprised. And as Upside Down crept further into their world, there were more injuries, more near death experiences, more tearful reunions. After being bitten by a demodog and almost bleeding out, Robin flung herself at Steve the second she could move and babbled about him being the absolute biggest idiot there ever was. He didn't dispute it, but hugged her tighter.

They were making progress. Still not enough to fix things, but they were getting there. And Steve's brain started another countdown to his and Eddie's potential second demise.

"Do you think we'll still be around, when the portal is closed?" he asked Eddie during one of their night vigils. "What if it's just the Upside Down that's keeping us here?"

Eddie, scribbling in a notebook, shrugged. "I don't know, and for the first time in my life - well, death - I don't have enough information to panic about that." He chewed on the pencil, meeting Steve's eyes with caution. "Might be nice though," he said slowly, "to stay. Do some more good, make sure everyone's safe. If you're in."

Steve laughed. "Wait. Are you, Eddie Munson, the mortal enemy of jocks, asking me to join you? Even when we're not neck deep in shit?"

"Mortal enemy…I mean, I lost the mortal part, and it felt so mundane to just keep the enemy. So yes, one position if Eddie Munson's afterlife has just opened up. Will Steven Harrington join me in it?"

Steve thought about it, and maybe he should have thought longer. Maybe he should have considered that eternity is a pretty long time, but his infrequent visits to the church taught him that heaven would mean being with his loved ones. He'd still be around if the party needed him. He'd see Robin off to college. And then, when everyone left…it would be just him and Eddie.

Him and Eddie. What a thought.

He winked at Eddie who, for a ghost, looked like he was sweating bullets. "Take me to the movies first, Munson, and I'm all yours." And then, even if he know neither of them would feel it, he covered Eddie's hand with his. He might have been imagining the gentle spark of warmth, but he decided it was real. He knew it was real.

Eddie smiled at him and interlaced his fingers with Steve's. "I can work with that, big boy."

And for the first time in so many years, the countdown in Steve's head stopped.

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give? 

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down. 

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face. 

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand. 

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face. 

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be. 

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood. 

“Is he why-” 

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!” 

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-” 

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly. 

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-” 

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing. 

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!” 

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?” 

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances. 

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. 

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently. 

“He's through here.” 

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life. 

“What… is that?” 

“That is Eddie.” 

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it. 

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??” 

“Listen, I know it's insane-” 

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes. 

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-” 

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings. 

“Eddie.” 

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle. 

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.” 

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you. 

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!” 

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy. 

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm. 

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?” 

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes. 

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?” 

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now. 

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?” 

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens. 

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?” 

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again. 

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.” 

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands. 

“That was- how did you do that?” 

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle. 

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.” 

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm. 

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?” 

One slow blink. 

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.” 

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body. 

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?” 

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches. 

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.” 

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed. 

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.” 

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion. 

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off. 

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room. 

“I think he passed out.” 

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.” 

“What do you mean you suppose?” 

“Steve!” 

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.” 

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint. 

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.” 

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts. 

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-” 

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to. 

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.” 

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.” 

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?” 

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.” 

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.” 

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.” 

“I got it.” 

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket. 

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?” 

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.” 

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly. 

********************

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness. 

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved. 

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep. 

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip. 

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it. 

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package. 

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view. 

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out. 

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything. 

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen. 

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?” 

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up. 

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-” 

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.” 

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently. 

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?” 

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.” 

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else. 

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.” 

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down. 

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.” 

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye. 

“Eddie, how you feeling?” 

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm. 

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?” 

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft. 

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours. 

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly. 

“You want some water?” 

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face. 

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink. 

“Good. Let me get you some water.” 

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass. 

“Hey Munson, still alive then?” 

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it. 

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.” 

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it. 

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?” 

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist. 

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges. 

“...Thank.” 

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word. 

“Eddie, you can talk?” 

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw. 

“...harrrd.” 

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?” 

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm. 

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?” 

He blinks once. 

“OK, does it hurt a lot?” 

Two slow blinks.  

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them. 

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.” 

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.” 

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress. 

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently. 

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.” 

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes. 

“Yes, tail. Look.” 

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing. 

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall. 

“Woah, easy there, big guy.” 

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway. 

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.” 

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you. 

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.” 

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded. 

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.” 

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath. 

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.” 

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him. 

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?” 

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word. 

“Hurrrt.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?” 

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes. 

“Eddie, I can't help if-” 

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself. 

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur. 

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks. 

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?” 

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?” 

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws. 

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right? 

“D-do you want me to help?” 

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you. 

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch. 

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again. 

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding. 

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” 

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses. 

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.” 

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes. 

What in the absolute fuck was that? 

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear. 

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open. 

“You OK? Can I help?” 

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” 

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough. 

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.” 

He snaps his head towards you, whining. 

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.” 

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name. 

********************

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that. 

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him. 

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed. 

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone. 

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open. 

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.” 

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm. 

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.” 

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?” 

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.” 

A crash next door makes you all jump. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.” 

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.” 

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft. 

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes. 

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go. 

“Eddie what the hell happened?” 

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides. 

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.” 

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else. 

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!” 

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!” 

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them. 

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!” 

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens. 

“AARRROOOOOOO!” 

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound. 

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls. 

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.” 

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy. 

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-” 

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained. 

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.” 

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running. 

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?” 

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet. 

“-Orry.” 

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret. 

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door. 

“But we- what if he-” 

“Steve!” 

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.” 

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder. 

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!” 

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so. 

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.” 

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet. 

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something…  is there a toolbox or…” 

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file. 

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.” 

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady. 

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad. 

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.” 

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“I brought some beers, you want one?” 

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation. 

“See? That's great! You just need practice.” 

“Prrractice.” 

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.” 

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you. 

“What is it?” 

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form. 

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“F-rreak.” 

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern. 

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out. 

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.” 

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed. 

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him. 

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?” 

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket. 

Eddie appears in the doorway. 

“No.” 

“Huh?” 

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom. 

“You, herrre.” 

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up. 

“Wait!” 

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence. 

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-” 

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently. 

“Herrre?” 

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.” 

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air. 

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee. 

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.” 

********************

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday. 

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth. 

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan. 

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?” 

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you. 

“-orrning. Bet-terr.” 

“Are you making breakfast?” 

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit. 

“Prractice.” 

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie. 

“You need any help?” 

He shakes his head and gestures to the table. 

“Sit. Eat.” 

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it. 

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.” 

“You'rre -elcome.” 

“And you're speaking so well!” 

“Prrractice.” 

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate. 

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more. 

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit. 

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain. 

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes. 

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out. 

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?” 

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words. 

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.” 

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle. 

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!” 

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?” 

Eddie flashes his teeth. 

“Bet-terr.” 

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?” 

“Sure did. Eddie made it.” 

“Really?” 

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.” 

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.” 

“I… can hel-p.” 

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens. 

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-” 

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once. 

“Ah. Right.” 

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?” 

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.” 

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you. 

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.” 

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.” 

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens. 

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.” 

Eddie growls in his throat. 

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!” 

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway. 

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm. 

“You good?” 

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you. 

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.” 

“Liarrr.” 

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond. 

“You want me. You… want… this.” 

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth. 

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?” 

“Can scent.” 

“What?” 

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts. 

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!” 

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine. 

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation. 

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.” 

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-” 

“Want to.” 

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink. 

Are you really gonna do this? 

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose. 

“Could you… please?” 

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands. 

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver. 

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you. 

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach. 

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over. 

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder. 

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face. 

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks. 

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.” 

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you. 

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did. 

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck. 

“Wan’ kiss you.” 

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast. 

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words. 

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into. 

********************

“Eddie, come try this!” 

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake. 

“Eddie?” 

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open. 

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?” 

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you. 

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?” 

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him. 

“Oh, it was in a drawer.” 

“Hot.” 

You giggle, cheeks flushing. 

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?” 

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed. 

“Trrrying. Not good enough.” 

“Yet.” 

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you. 

“Yet. What you calling forrr?” 

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin. 

“Well, I was asking you to try this.” 

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh. 

“Don't… do…” 

“What, don't do this?” 

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout. 

“What you gonna do about it, huh?” 

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown. 

“One… two… thrrree…” 

“Oh, it's like that is it?” 

“...fourrr… five…” 

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past. 

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall. 

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists. 

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest. 

He makes a face, scrunching his snout. 

“That bad?” 

“I know… what rrrather eat.” 

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face. 

“You like this.” 

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over. 

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose. 

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip. 

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open. 

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!” 

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow. 

“Steve, I don't think-” 

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps. 

“What- what's going on!” 

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child. 

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-” 

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch. 

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-” 

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.” 

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-” 

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it. 

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!” 

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas. 

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first. 

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie. 

“I'm sorry about him.” 

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch. 

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.” 

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile. 

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?” 

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks. 

“Eddie?” 

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders. 

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.” 

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.” 

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath. 

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else. 

“Seems I won.” 

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind. 

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.” 

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting. 

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?” 

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek. 

“Don't count… Caught you.” 

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?” 

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips. 

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass. 

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged. 

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.” 

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?” 

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back. 

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.” 

“Ah, I see. So what do you-” 

“One. Two… thrrree…” 

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed. 

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room. 

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space. 

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head. 

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench. 

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…” 

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?” 

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below. 

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically. 

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl. 

“I can smell yourrr cunt.” 

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.  

“Eddie, Eddie please.” 

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple. 

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex. 

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning. 

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!” 

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger. 

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting. 

“Eddie, too much, please-” 

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside. 

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.” 

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.” 

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base. 

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.” 

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling. 

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be. 

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans. 

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort. 

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other. 

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear. 

“Mine.”

Part 2

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eleven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Angst.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: This one takes a bit of a turn guys, but I promise I know what I'm doing. :) Maybe? Probably?

********************************************

Previously:

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you answer, it's not Butcher.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

*********************************************

Present Day

“Thank you so much for coming!” Rosemary says dragging you through the front door of her two-bedroom apartment. “The sitter cancelled and I’ve got 5 minutes to make it to the hospital.”

Her dark brown hair frizzes out of a messy bun at the back of her head waving as she emphasizes her point with rapid hand gestures. The dusting of freckles across her cheeks catches in the light from the open windows at the back of her apartment as she traverses through the minefield of toys and children's books sprawled over the bright blue couches, the pastel rug, and the coffee table in the spacious living room.

As heartbroken as you were, you never regretted the night you and Ben spent together, because that meant you wouldn't have had Rosemary and you didn't want to imagine a world without her in it. She was the only good that came from that night. A surprise, but a welcome one. The years that followed losing Ben should have been empty, filled with an endless wandering of the world from someone who couldn’t age and couldn’t die, but they weren’t. Ben might have broken your heart, but he gave you the greatest gift. Rosemary filled the hole in your life and you wouldn’t change a thing. Even if it always ended up like this.

Well, besides the whole Ben possibly being alive this whole time and being tortured in a foreign country.

Rosemary was another reason why you had gotten out of being a supe. You didn't want that life for her and you were afraid that Vought would take her away. She was a second generation supe from two of the first and two of the most powerful supes. So for the early years of her life you lived on the coast of Maine in a small town, making sure that Rosemary had as normal a life as she could, despite having superpowers. At first you thought that she was like Ben, she was strong, faster than the average person, and had enhanced senses, but then you realized that her powers were more like yours except Rosemary did not have to die to obtain the powers of another supe. Rosemary could replicate any ability from a supe that she touched for one day, something you both realized when she was two and started to move things telekinetically around the house after she grabbed on to your arm and wouldn't let go. Which may have been fun for her, but not for you. Chasing around a two year old that could suddenly levitate sharp objects and throw them anywhere she wished was far from your idea of a good time.

When you moved back to NYC 10 years ago, the last time you saw Legend, you decided to introduce Rosemary as your cousin whenever anyone asked, including Stan Edgar, who showed up to one of your art shows as soon as you reappeared in the city, prepared to find out if you were Indigo.

You examine your daughter’s flustered expression, the wrinkled black scrubs, and the frantic beat of her heart that thuds loudly in your ears. Rosemary looked more like Ben than you. They had the same eyes, the same dark brown hair that turned into liquid honey in the sunlight, but you were the same height and had the same nose, your father's nose to be exact. And although Rosemary should be 39, she looked barely older than 27.

But despite her resemblance to Ben, it didn’t pain you to see her. You liked to think that she was a reminder of the boy you used to know, the one that you held on to for so many years when things got hard and all you saw was Soldier Boy and not the boy you loved.

She was the only person who knew everything about you and everything about Ben. She was the only family you had left, well, except for-

“Aunty y/n!” A small pink blur leaps towards your face from the end of the couch, to latch onto your upper body like a monkey climbing a tree.

You catch your four year old granddaughter, Lou, with a smile, twirling her around in the air.  Despite your relation, you made sure that Lou referred to you as aunt, as afraid as you were for exposing Rosemary to Vought, fear that they would take Lou away too haunted you at night. Rosemary also did not call you mom, except after Lou went to bed and only when she was upset.

You both figured that it was easier this way, at least until Lou was old enough to understand why you did things the way you did them.

Thankfully, Lou still hadn't presented any powers, which made you and Rosemary happy. It made finding a babysitter easier when you didn’t have to worry about a four year old picking up a couch and throwing it through a window.

Being with your family always made you feel better, despite everything that happened with yours, you always remembered what your father ingrained in you as a child- that the only real wealth in life was family.

Of course he also was the son of the man who owned more than half of the real-estate in Philadelphia and who personally invested with Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller, so he had room to make generalized statements like that.

When you first got the injection and refused to marry Howard it strained the relationship you had with your parents, well, mostly your mother. She hadn't taken it well, thought you were throwing your life away on Ben. Meanwhile your father and you continued to send letters back and forth until the day he died, despite your mother's want for him to cut ties with you. He was always supportive of what you were doing, wanted to know how Ben was, how you were, and would meet you for dinner occasionally in New York whenever he could. Ben would make an appearance every once in a while, but your mother never came, and it was always like a giant purple spotted elephant was sitting at the table beside you.

You wondered how much grief she gave your father whenever he went to see you. You had tried several times to send your mother letters, telling her of all the good you were doing, but she would send them back unopened. When your father died, you showed up to the funeral and she refused to let you sit on the pews reserved for family. Ben had come with you, and you practically had to drag him away when he started to yell back at her because he knew that despite you being all grown up, he knew that you weren’t strong enough to stand up to her.

"Hey Lou." You smile at your granddaughter. She too had Ben's brown hair, but her eyes were like yours that shone with excitement and happiness.

When Rosemary’s husband died just after Lou was born, you stepped in whenever you could to help her, that meant occasionally babysitting so Rosemary could go to work her overnight nursing shifts downtown in the emergency room.

"I missed you!" Lou hugs you around the neck. She's wearing a floral long sleeve shirt and a pair of pink overalls. Pink was her favorite color and you tried not to be reminded of the dresses your mother forced you to wear when you were younger.

"You saw me three days ago." You brush back the tangled mass of curls from her smiling face.

"Too long." Lou replies.

Rosemary breezes back into the room, toting a large bag over her shoulder. "Okay. I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologize again!" You wave a hand. "Just go. We'll be okay."

"What are you going to do?" She roots through the bag, looking for some unseen object.

"Oh the usual. Watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I've heard great things about the remake-" You wanted to test if she was listening.

"Y/n!"

She passed.

"I'm kidding Rosie." You put your free hand on her shoulder, noticing the wear in her eyes and the dark circles that frame them. You try to remember if things were as hard for you when you were her age. Given that you had already been injected with Compound V and were living as a superhero you figured that they were.

Maybe when everything calms down we can all go for a long vacation somewhere.

"Okay." She sighs. Her eyes search your face for a second, brows pinching together. "Are you okay?"

You always thought her ability to read you was almost supernatural, but Rosemary wasn’t psychic.

"Um. It's been a rough few days." You shrug, adjusting your grip on Lou.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She looks worried.

"Yes. There are a few things we need to talk about. But when you get home. Go on. I can take care of the little gremlin for a few hours."

You didn't like it when she worried about you. Rosie had enough on her shoulders, she didn’t need the 90 plus years of baggage you dragged around everywhere. But what had happened over the past few days deserved a conversation. You were going to go to Russia to find out what happened to Ben and you weren't sure when you would come back or if you could. Going to Russia might mean exposing your identity, which meant you might have to cut and run. You also weren’t sure how much damage had been done after what happened with Countess. When you killed her, you had expected Vought or the police to show up at your door, but you thought that you covered your tracks pretty well. There wasn't a piece of her trailer left and no evidence to convict you, well, aside from the burned jacket in your apartment that you needed to get rid of. You were still hoping that you could salvage it, but it was doubtful.

Your thoughts drift to Rosemary and Lou. The thought of leaving them behind destroyed you, but if it meant keeping them safe from Vought, you knew that you'd have to do it. But you also wondered if you could leave them behind. They were all you had left.

"Okay. I love you." Rosie half-hugs you with her free hand.

"Love you too. Be careful."

"I love you mommy!" Lou crows as Rosemary kisses her on the head and walks out the front door.

"Alright, what do you want to do?" You ask Lou putting her down.

"PAINT!" She raises her hands over her head like a triumphant gladiator.

"I like where your head's at kid." You smile down at her. "Go get your kit, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

******************************************

When Rosemary gets home twelve hours later, Lou is asleep, but you sit up on the couch with your sketchbook.

Painting with Lou had been enough of a distraction from everything that happened the past few days and the memories of the past that kept rising at the back of your mind, but when she went to bed they started to rush back. The sketchbook had started as a way of escaping the thoughts of what you did to Countess and what she said about you and Ben, but the only thing that you could draw was him. His strong jaw, arching brow, bright green eyes, and mischievous smirk haunted you from the page in front of you.

You hadn't drawn him in over thirty years, hadn't seen him in forty, but you still remembered everything about him, his voice, his laugh, his smile… You had to actively shut off your brain to stop from thinking about him, but none of the usual tricks were working. All you could think about was what if he was alive out there and if the Russians had been torturing him all these years. He was alone.

Did he think that no one cared about him? That no one wanted him?

Yes you hated what he did to you, and as much as you wished that you didn't care, you did. And as much as he hurt you, the Ben you knew would have never left you to rot, he would have come for you and you knew that was what you needed to do for him. The problem now would be telling Rosemary.

Your daughter knew about him. You’d never held anything back when she asked you about her father, including the reason why you two "broke up." In hindsight it was probably not the greatest decision you'd made to tell her exactly what happened, but it was nice to have someone to confide in. And the two of you didn't keep secrets from one another.

"Hey." She whispers with a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the couch beside you. Rosemary drags here eyes around the apartment. "Did you clean?"

"Yeah. It was a bit messy." You smile, shutting the sketchpad so she can't see the page. "Plus I figured it would be nice to be able to sit on the couch without getting probed by one of Lou’s toys."

"Yeah. Don't think I need another little mermaid toy 'exploring' the secrets of the cave, if you know what I mean."

You laugh at her. "How was the shift?"

"Bleh."

"That good?"

"Mhmm." She leans her head against your bicep.

"You know I've been thinking," You put your arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we should all just get away for a few days. We haven't been to the coast in a while. And Lou loves the beach-"

"Don't you have that big show coming up next month?"

"Yeah, but I’ve been feeling a little bit uninspired. I'm thinking about postponing.”

She sits up to look at you, suspicious. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong-"

Everything is wrong and I have no idea how to tell you what I need to.

“You have never once postponed a show before.” She raises an eyebrow. "And you’re the worst liar.”

"I’m not lying I am feeling a little bit uninspired.”

"Mom."

"Fine." But you still have no idea how to start the conversation.

How do I tell her that it’s possible her father has been alive this whole time and that he’s currently being held against his will in a Russian Lab? Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve this?

"Is this about Crimson Countess?" Rosemary asks, nudging her shoulder into yours.

"What?" Your head snaps up.

"Her death was on the news. I figured that hearing her name again would make you feel a little-" She moves her head back and forth trying to decide on the word. "Weird."

"It's partly that." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm going out of town for a few days-"

Oh and I killed Crimson Countess.

"Where?"

"I can't tell you?" Your face scrunches up as you say it.

"What?"

You sigh and rise from the couch, pacing in front of it. How do I explain this? How do I tell her?

"Why can't you tell me where you’re going? Is this another retreat for your art again? Like when you went camping?“ She almost sounds hopeful, as if that will make any of this okay.

Nothing is okay.

"A few days ago some men showed up at my apartment looking for me."

"Really? Why?"

"They wanted to know about Ben."

Rosie frowns at the mention of her father’s name. “Why? He's dead. And it's been what? 40 years?" She pulls one of the multicolored pillows into her lap, smoothing her finger over the stripes. The shift in her mood is obvious.

"I don't know. They introduced themselves as government agents and I told them the usual lie about Indigo being my mother and that she was dead. And told them a limited amount of information-"

"I still don't see why you have to leave for a few days?" She interrupts.

You press your lips into a tight line.

This is not going to end well.

Rosemary frowns. “What did you do?”

How can she read me so well? I'm her mother, I should be the one doing the reading!

"Alright, I'm going to say something and you can't freak out." Your hands are clasped in front of your chest tightly, trying to think of a way to tell her that you killed Countess.

"What?"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"I killed her." You say it slowly, gauging her reaction.

"Who?"

"Crimson Countess. I lost control and I killed her."

"What?" Rosie rises from the couch so quickly you think she's flying. "You killed Crimson Countess?"

"Shhh. You're going to wake Lou. And what happened to the promise-" You look down the darkened hallway where your granddaughter is asleep in her room.

Because that's just what the situation needs, for Lou to find out I'm a murderer.

"Fuck the promise! Why were you even with her?" Rosemary asks you, her eyes are still wide.

"That's why it's complicated-"

"Uncomplicate it now." She puts her hands on her hips looking ridiculously like your mother.

"I went there because I started to think about how Ben died, and I realized that I never heard it from her. I heard it from Legend and from Stan Edgar and I wanted to-“

"So you killed her?"

"She said a lot of things that upset me, but she also told me that-" The words catch in the back of your throat. "That Ben might not be dead."

"He's what?" She shouts.

"Rosemary I'm serious you have to stop shouting. Your neighbors are going to call the cops and that's the last thing I want right now."

"Well obviously because you murdered someone and covered it up!"

"Please get off the high horse. She wasn’t a good person.” You snap before you can stop yourself.

Guess the guilt is gone. Honestly, what guilt?

"Fine." She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. "Go on."

"The Russian army took him. Which means that there's a possibility he's still alive and I need to know." You didn't expect her to understand why you needed to go. You just hoped that she would let you.

"Are you kidding? This guy did terrible things to you and to other people! He said horrible things to you and you're going to go help him? I say just leave him to rot!” Her green eyes flash around the room, familiar in a way that makes your heart ache.

Her harsh words hurt. Rosemary only knew what you’d told her about her father and although you tried to tell her about the way Ben was when he was younger as she got older Rosemary wanted to know why you and Ben had a fight. And you didn't like lying to her. Now you consider that maybe you should have.

Because what if he was alive? Would she want to meet him? Would he care enough to want to meet her or Lou? I mean I can cut him out of my life, but if Rosemary wants to know him I shouldn't stand in her way...

You and Ben weren't exactly careful that night, but you weren't sure if he just never cared about that kind of thing before. You weren't sure if he actually wanted kids, the one time you'd asked him and he'd said it "maybe" sounded nice to have some kids. You didn't know if that was a good standard to hold him to or not, given that he was drunk when he said it.

Then again, Ben was always drunk.

"I know that you can't understand this, but even though I hate him, I can't leave him. If the roles were reversed, if it was me, Ben wouldn't leave me. Even with everything he said.” Your chest tightens. "And it hurts me to think that he's been there since 1984 with those people doing God knows what to him."

Rosie sighs. "Mom, I know that you love him, but maybe it's better this way. He’s out of you life. You’re doing better than you were. You said it yourself you felt trapped when you were a supe-“

"He might not even be there. I just need to know what happened. And that means I have to leave for a little bit and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back.”

"Wait what do you mean? You'd come back. You'd go over there, find out and then come back right?" She looks confused.

You press your lips together. "There's a possibility that if I do this, it will expose me, and I’ve already evaded Vought once. I’m not sure I can do it again.”

"So, what? You're gonna go over there and throw away everything for a guy that shit all over your heart and threw you away? Really? You're going to throw Lou and me away for him?" She's gesturing wildly with her hands now, eyes flashing around the room and again you're reminded of Ben.

"I'm not throwing you away-"

 It breaks your heart that she'd think that you'd do that, that you were willing to sacrifice them so easily.

Am I doing that?

"You're throwing away the life that you've built for yourself. You told me that you were more happy now that you'd been in the past. And now as soon as you hear about him you go right back? Just like how he made you leave your family-"

"He didn’t make me leave my family, it was my choice! I’m not throwing away the life that I have made and I'm not throwing away you or Lou. If you or Lou were taken, you better believe that I would fight for you, I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourselves for any amount of time. You are my family. And yes Ben is an asshole and I've hated him for the past forty years, but I can't leave him."

"I can't believe you're doing this." She pinches the bridge of her nose frustrated.

"I believed after all these years that the reason why Ben died was because I wasn't there. And Countess confirmed it."

"But he's not dead!"

"Maybe. But they made us fight so that I wouldn't be there. They wanted us to fight because they knew they wouldn't be able to stop me if they turned on him-" You try to reason with her, but you know she won’t listen.

She's just so damn stubborn. Just like someone else I know.

"That doesn't matter! That doesn't make what he did or said any less okay." Rosie snaps, before her gaze softens. “It doesn’t change anything. They may have caused you guys to fight, but Ben said those things to you. They didn’t make him say that or do that. He chose to. And I can’t believe that you’re going to forgive him-“

"I don't have to forgive him and I don’t want to. It’s not about forgiveness. I can't leave him. He might be able to turn his back on me, but I can’t stand back and ignore him if he needs help. Believe me I wish I could. I wish that after everything that happened I could walk away, but I can't.  And I know you don't understand that but-" You try to take a step towards her, but she steps back.

"That's not what I don't understand. What I don't understand is you playing with the possibility of losing this for him." She gestures around the apartment. "Do we really mean that little to you that you drop everything for someone that used you and treated you like you meant nothing?"

"You both mean everything to me. Trust me when I say that, but the fact that those two men showed up at my apartment and everything that happened with Countess means that I'm already involved. They already made this about me. I don't know why they needed to know about him, and I want to know why.”

“I can’t believe this.” She stalks past you into the kitchen to get down a bottle of tequila from the top shelf above the stainless steel refrigerator where she locks it away from Lou.

“Rosemary you’re so young-“

“Don’t make this about age. You’re older than me and you should know better.” She angrily pours a shot of tequila before knocking it back.

You try not think that the answer to all of your problems might lie in the bottom of that bottle. Sobriety definitely wasn’t getting any easier, not after you killed Countess or the revelation that Ben was possibly still alive. And especially not now in this fight.

“When you finally told me about him, it was the first time I’d ever seen you break.” Rosemary isn’t looking at you, she's looking down at the floor. “You’ve always been this strong independent figure in my life. You never needed anyone’s help to raise me. You’re so strong and formidable,  but then you told me what he did to you and I’ve never seen you look so small.”

The memories of what happened between you and Ben surge up again, but you beat them away with a stick. The last thing you wanted right now was to relive that in the middle of this fight.

She looks up, locking eyes with yours. “I don’t know why you would do this to yourself again, put yourself through that-”

“Because I still love him.” You mutter. As soon as you say it, you know it’s true. Ben did terrible things, said horrible things, but deep down you still loved the boy you grew up with. And maybe that was the problem, you imagined the boy you grew up being tortured and left to rot, and the thought broke you. “And I don’t know how to stop. Even after everything he did, we spent so many years together and the memory of them doesn't just vanish. I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I could have helped him and I didn’t.”

Rosemary stands there halfway in the kitchen and the living room, the bottle hanging from her right hand. This time she drinks right from the bottle before answering. “If you really need to do this, then I'm going with you."

"No."

"Why not? I'm as powerful as you-"

"It's not about being powerful, I don't want this life for you, I've never wanted this life for you. I've worked so hard to keep you out of it-"

"But-"

"No. This is why I introduce you as my cousin, why you were homeschooled, why Lou is homeschooled, why Lou doesn't call me grandma, why you don't call me mom around other people. If Vought finds out about you or Lou, it won't matter. None of this will matter.”

"You don't know that." She says it softly.

"I do." You take her hand. "Rosemary, you are one of the strongest supes I've ever met and you're second generation. And Lou, we don't even know what her powers are, but I can guarantee that as soon as Vought finds out they will come for you both. There's a reason why I never told them what my real power was. I kept you both far from this and I don't want them to know."

"I don't want you to do this alone. What happens if you get taken over there?"

"What if you come with me and we both get taken? What about Lou then? What would happen to her? I don't want her to grow up without a family. Please. Just let me do this. It’ll probably take 2-3 days tops.”

Rosemary doesn’t look happy. “I don’t care how long it’s going to take. The only thing I care about is losing you.”

“They’re not going to take me-“

“Not just then.” She sighs. “I mean after. If you do have to cut and run-.” Rosemary shifts her eyes towards the hallway where Lou is asleep in her room before bringing them back to you. “I don’t care how complicated it is, we will go with you.”

“I won’t ask you to do that-“

“It’s what family does. It’s a sacrifice that I’m willing to make. I can always get another job, Lou can be homeschooled anywhere, and I don’t want Lou to live in a world where you’re not here. She needs her grandmother.”

Her words make tears prick in your eyes as you watch her determined stance. Rosemary and Lou were the only family you had left, the only two people that you cared about in the whole world. And maybe she was right, maybe you were throwing it all away for Ben. You hated yourself for wanting to help him, but you knew if the roles were reversed Ben would have come for you.

Well, the old Ben would have come to get me, maybe not Soldier Boy.

"You got another glass?" You ask with a sigh, looking at the bottle in her hand.

"You sure?" Rosemary raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna need it to get through the next few days. There's no way I can do any of this shit sober." You mutter following her into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, you're both sitting at her kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey and a fresh bottle of tequila between you. The haze of alcohol is making you feel infinitely better given the past few days you've had.

The whiskey burns pleasantly as you take a drink from the bright green sippy cup in your hand. Rosemary hadn’t washed dishes so this was the best she had. You knew you probably looked ridiculous.

Rosemary eyes you. "I can't believe you're drinking."

"I really needed this." You snort. "Given the past few days I've had-"

"I also can't believe you killed her."

"She wasn't a good person." You frown remembering what Countess said to you. "Plus I never liked her even before everything that happened. I know that's not a god enough reason to kill someone, but I can't change that now." You run your fingers through your hair to push it back from your face, trying to lose yourself in the buzz, but Ben keeps flashing through your mind.

Damn it, he's invaded by subconscious again.

Another few minutes pass as Rosemary sits there taking a sip from the bottle in front of her. “Do you really miss him that much?”

You pause considering the question. “Yes and no. I miss the person he used to be, before all of this. I think that’s the problem. I’m holding on to the person I grew up with. That’s all I keep thinking. That boy I knew being tortured in that lab.”

“It’s why you stayed on Payback for so long?”

“Yeah.” You take another drag of whiskey frowning at the sippy cup. “Sometimes I’d get glimpses, shapes really and it would make me forget who he was as Soldier Boy and then when I woke up the next day, Soldier Boy was back and Ben was gone.”

There were always quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when you forgot who he became and all you saw was the boy you used to know. When the cameras weren't rolling, the team was gone, and Ben was crashing at your apartment, for some unknown reason. He would do that, continue to show up at your apartment like he had when you were kids. It never made sense to you, especially because he only slept in your room growing up to escape his father. You couldn't think of a reason why he slept at your apartment when you were adults.

Probably just didn't want to be alone.

“That’s why you slept with him?”

“Yes. That night all I saw was the old Ben. And then I woke up with Soldier Boy.” You bite the inside of your cheek as the memory of the morning that followed washes over your mind. You never understood why he ran to Countess, never understood how he could push you away after all the years you spent together. Why he lied and said that he didn't care, because he had to. After everything you’d been through Ben had to care. You remember what Countess said to you and your shoulders sink under the weight.

Or maybe he was just a better liar than I thought.

“Do you regret sleeping with him?”

You look up at your daughter. She really does look like Ben. She was strong, determined, stubborn, and the way she held herself was so confident. And even though she would have been one of the strongest supes she chose to be a nurse, chose to devote her life to helping people instead of the shock and awe of the superhero world. You were so proud of her. You wondered if Ben would be too.

“No.”

“Why? You say that you loved who he was and then he-"

“Because he gave me you. I wouldn’t change a thing. You and Lou are the only thing that matter to me. I know you hate it when I say this, but you’re so young, you have no idea what it’s like to live as long as I have without changing. And whenever it was just me and Soldier Boy I was so alone until Ben came back. I don’t think I would have lasted these years without you Rosemary, think I would have given in to Vought or maybe gone to the government-“

“Are you serious?” Her eyebrows pull together as a worried frown graces her lips. She knew what you were saying.

“Yeah. But I am happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. The problem now is dealing with everything over there.”

“How about I come with you and wait in a hotel-" Rosemary tries again.

“No. It has to be me. I have to go.”

She sighs. “I just hate the idea that you’re not going to come back.”

“I’m going to come back." You smile. "If you can remember I'm a supe too-"

“If they’ve been able to hold him all these years, that means they could take you too.”

“Don’t know if I should be scared or impressed.” You snort into the cup.

“It not funny.”

“Fine, if I’m not back in a week, then I give you permission to come. But I don’t think you’ll need to.”

"You're old and decrepit. Probably will need my help-"

"Low blow."

She smiles faintly.

You roll the glass in your hand for a moment, watching the amber liquid swirl against the green sides. "If he is alive, would you want to meet him?"

Rosemary takes a long pull of tequila, but doesn't answer for a long time. "When I was a kid, sometimes I'd imagine that he was still alive-"

"What?" You looked at her genuinely shocked. You hadn't realized that she ever thought about Ben.

"That he would walk up our long driveway at our house in Maine and we'd be a family. That was before you told me about that night." She runs one of her fingers down the label of the bottle frowning. "I don't know. After what he did to you, I don't know.  Plus I’m almost forty years old, don’t really think I need a father now.”

This time you reach for the bottle of Whiskey, not bothering with the empty sippy cup. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you what he did. Should have let you fantasize about him, see the good-"

"I'm glad you did." She squeezes your hand. “And you didn't just show me the bad, you told me about the good times too."

"Maybe too much bad."

"I don't hate him. I'm mad at him for what he did to you, but I don't hate him."

"So it's a maybe?"

"I guess. I say that now, but I think my reaction if I do ever meet him will probably be the complete opposite. I’m also not sure if he should be around Lou.”

“Ben wouldn’t hurt her.” You press your lips together. "I don't think he would."

“Maybe not intentionally.”

"He's not a bad guy, well-" You take a sip from the bottle, remembering the fight. “He’s just complicated. I guess.”

And I'm still making excuses for him. 

“Sounds like you’re going to forgive him.” Rosemary is frowning at you.

For someone who wants to maybe meet him, she’s acting like she still doesn’t want me to forgive him.

“Trust me, our story is over, finally. I’m just going to bust him out of wherever the hell he is and then I’ll never have to see him ever again.” You remember what you yelled at one another the night of the premiere and it strengthens your resolve. You didn't want to forgive him, you just wanted to get him the hell out of Russia and maybe slap him around a bit and then go home and finally move on with your life. Because you were slowly realizing you never did, you just packed it all away deep down and pretended to move on. "This isn't about forgiveness, it's so I can live with myself."

"I just don't think you should forgive him so easily."

"I don't want to and I'm not going to. He doesn't deserve that." You mutter that last part into the bottle, because it was true. Ben didn't deserve your forgiveness, hell, he didn't deserve you risking your life to find him, but you had to.  His death left such a big hole in your life and you beat yourself up about it for years, you not being there for him when he needed you the most. But now, going to Russia, getting him back, meant that you could finally move on, that you could close the hole and finally be at peace.

Rosemary leans back in her chair with a sigh. “Promise me,  you're going to come back."

"I promise. Not even Homelander can stop me." You smile at her. “Now I just got to figure out where Ben is.”

Easy. Yeah right.

***************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

[tofics]

Nothing Like Some Neighborly Love

Part 1 - Series Masterlist

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Goodbye New York, hello Austin! - After a split from your ex, you're in dire need of a fresh scenery. Texas seems to provide just that. Your grandmother, fresh out of a hip surgery and in need of assistance, is happy to have you move in with her as a solution for both of your predicaments. Ever the hands-on person that she is, she also seems to want to rectify your fresh singleness, and she knows just the guy...

Word Count: ~4500 words

Warnings: mentions of a manipulating ex, mentions of cheating, mentions of a surgery, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is an unspecified amount (~10-15 years) older than her)

Your arrival in Austin, Texas is anything but spectacular. Besides your bags being some of the first to appear at baggage claim absolutely nothing out-of-the-ordinary happens - it's about as normal as a Monday-morning flight can be.

Not for you, though. Today marks the first day of your new life.

No big deal.

Except it's a huge deal. With every inch that you put between yourself and your old life in New York, you feel your shoulders relaxing a bit more and the tight-knit knot in your chest loosening.

Finally, at long last, you're free.

Free of the asshole that, up until a couple of months ago, was your boyfriend, your roommate, your co-worker.

Your lying, manipulating source of self-doubt, tears and misery.

Good fucking riddance.

"Oh honey, c'mere you!" Your grandmother pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug. For a lady who had hip surgery just two days ago, she seems to be at the top of her game.

"Gammy," you smile and return her embrace, even if not as forcefully. Strong arms or not, she did just come out of the hospital. Better to be a little more careful.

"Come in, come in! Let's get you out of that heat." Your grandma shuffles out of the door and down the hallway with the help of her rollator. You step into the house after her, dragging your two suitcases behind you.

Everything looks just like you remember. The beige carpet that flows from the hallway into the open living room and up the stairs, the brown tiles of the kitchen area, the light flowery wallpaper on the walls - as far as you can tell, not a single thing has changed. It even smells the same, like fresh laundry and soap and a faint hint of your grandmother's perfume.

You can't imagine a more comforting scenery after everything you've been through.

"How was your flight, honey? And do you want anythin' to drink?"

If it wasn't for the rollator, it'd be hard to tell that your grandmother just had a major surgery. She's already bustling about in the kitchen when you enter the open living and dining area, moving at the same speed you've always known her to. Watching your grandmother at work is like watching a busy bee, always doing something, fingers always moving. It goes without saying that your grandmother is not a woman known for sitting still or taking a break.

You already know her answer, but you have to ask anyway. "Gammy, shouldn't you be resting?"

"Restin', restin'. I hear that damn word one more time, I'm gon' have a fit!" She drops two ice cubes of frozen iced tea into each cup, then adds a lemon slice. "Doctor's said I'm s'posed to be movin'." The ice cubes clink and crackle when she pours fresh iced tea on top. "You told me to follow them orders!" Your grandma shakes the big spoon your way accusingly and you can't help but grin at the image.

"That's true, I did. I also said I'd move here to help you, grandma."

"Honey, if I can't pour no more damned iced tea, I want you to put me in my grave. Until then, I'll pour my own drinks. Now get on over here n' take those glasses over to the couch, will ya?"

You do as you're told and sit down next to your grandmother on the couch, making sure to use coasters for your drinks. Glass rings on the furniture did not go over well in this house.

"See? I can ask for help just fine." Your grandmother winks at you and then clinks her glass against yours. "Cheers, baby. Now tell me, how was your flight?"

"It was fine. Boring, uneventful. Just how I like my flights to be." A sip of your glass floods your mouth with the taste of your childhood summers, sweet and lemony and filled with your grandmother's love to the brim. There's no other iced tea quite like it.

"Good, good. And how are you doin', baby? Hm?" Her hand squeezes your thigh as her eyes roam over your face. You know the look: it's the look of scrutiny, the same one she uses any time she wants to get the truth out of someone. You've seen it being given to your mother, your father, your grandfather, even neighbors. You yourself have been at the receiving end of it a few times in your life. The result is always the same - the truth. Your grandmother is not a woman that's lied to.

"Honestly? I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders." You sigh, both for effect and because it's true. Setting foot onto Texas soil was already liberating, but sitting in your grandmother's living room has you relaxing more and more by the minute. "I'm just so glad to be here. This couldn't have come at a better moment. Not saying I'm happy you had to get hip surgery, you know, but I'm just glad it all worked out with you needing help and me needing a new place to figure out where to go from here."

You squeeze your grandma's hand on your thigh and she puts hers right on top, squeezing you back. "Oh, hush. Y'know you're welcome here anytime, and I'd much rather have you here t' help me out than some stranger comin' into my house every single day."

Despite your circumstances, you can't deny how lucky the timing of it all has been. Your relationship had been crumbling for months and it seemed like no matter what you did, all your efforts were in vein and largely not reciprocated. To make matters worse, your job was suffering under the pressure of your dissolving relationship as well. You and your boyfriend worked at the same elementary school, you being a teacher and him being the principal, and while sharing a workplace and commute had been something out of a dream come true for the first two years together, it quickly posed a problem when your first problems emerged.

The final nail in the coffin came in the form of him being the nail and the coffin being his secretary. It was so cliché that you didn't know whether to laugh or cry when you first found out. In the end, you did neither, just packed your things and left. That part was easy, with a circle of friends who offered up their couches and open ears immediately. The work part? Not so much. By now you'd say that working under your ex while another woman was actually under him was the worst part of your final months in New York.

You needed to get out. You were already out of your joined flat, the job was the next thing to go. Then your grandmother mentioned she'd need to get surgery on her hip and just hated the idea of having a stranger coming to her house every single day to help her with her day-to-day errands.

The plan basically wrote itself.

Your grandma was delighted by the idea of you moving you here. A temporary arrangement until she's all healed up and you have figured out where to go from here. It's basically a two-birds-with-one-stone situation.

After you've finished your iced tea, your grandmother insists on showing you around the house. "Gammy, come on, you really should sit down, at least a little," you try to convince her, but she's not having any of it. "I know it looks like it hasn't changed much, but I've had some things done since you were here last. Now you'll wanna know where everything is if you wanna help, right?"

You don't even bother contradicting her and she pulls herself up by the handles of her rollator with a triumphant look.

The first room you tackle is right by the entrance, opposite of the guest bathroom. It used to be your grandfather's office, but you're surprised to find it all turned around, now with a bed in the middle of it and an assortment of bedroom furniture to go with it.

"This is my new haven, at least for now." Grammy shuffles into the room and carefully plops her behind down on the raised bed. "Got help from a neighbor a street over. Nice young fella, handsome too." She shoots you a meaningful glance that you decide to ignore. "Him and his brother got some of the stuff from upstairs down here. I got this bed on loan just until I can get back into my old chambers upstairs. Doc said the stairs shouldn't be an issue, but I just wanted to make sure." A few approving pats on the mattress.

"I'm impressed, Grammy. I'd have thought you'd force yourself up the stairs every single night, no matter what. I'm glad you're cutting yourself some slack somewhere." You know your grandma appreciates your candor, but you also know how hard this situation is on her mentally. She has always been an active woman and being physically impaired can't be easy for her. You press a soft kiss to her forehead to emphasize your praise.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbles but then still squeezes your arm. "C'mon now. I wanna show you the upstairs."

The changes upstairs are less drastic, but still noticeable.

For one thing, the master bedroom is full of your grandfather's old files, various stacks piled around the room. It's a temporary set-up that you mean to sort through in your upcoming weeks here, a thank you for letting you stay and your way of chipping in, as your grandmother refuses to accept any kind of rent or payment in general for your stay.

Your own bedroom has also received a slight makeover. Previously a guest room that served as storage for when no guests were in town, the room used to be somewhat cramped, yet still cozy. You've always slept in this room and never minded the wild assortment of furniture and various gadgets, but your grandmother went all out in preparation for your visit and had all of the "junk" removed and stored in the garage downstairs. Now, on top of new furniture, the walls sport a fresh paintjob and the closet is completely empty, waiting to be filled with your own clothes and belongings.

"Grandma, you shouldn't have!," you exclaim but can't hide the excitement in your eyes as you take in your new four walls. The twin bed got exchanged for a queen, which, now that everything is stored downstairs, comfortably fits against the back wall under the window. Despite your solo-self, it comes with a nightstand on each side, matching the color of the dresser to the right and the desk tucked into the corner next to the door. Ever the prepared host, your grandma has already put a small bouquet on one of the nightstands and fresh sheets on the bed.

You spin around and bury your grandmother in a tight hug, suddenly overwhelmed by the love that clearly went into the preparation of your arrival. "You're the best," you whisper against her neck as a couple of tears spill from your eyes.

There's no place you'd rather be.

Your spend your first few days in Austin getting reacquainted with the city. As a child, you'd come here for every single summer break, so you know your way around the neighborhood well enough, but a lot has changed since you strolled around the streets in your dungarees and pigtails. Mostly it's just different shops or a new building here and there, but the neighbors have changed too. You're sad to find out that one of your favorite neighbors, an old man named George who grew the sweetest strawberries in his front yard, passed away just a couple of weeks ago. Another couple two houses down, whose daughter you used to play with on your childhood visits, has moved away to the north. The list of changes is long, but besides old George's death, there's nothing too drastic.

Just as expected (and hoped for), you have no time to dwell on your recent split. With the way the relationship went for the past years, you kind of checked out of it mentally a long time ago, but finding out about the affair still kicked you in the guts. Luckily, you're too busy to get lose yourself in a thought spiral about it, all thanks to your grandmother who is keeping you fresh on your toes.

Being the busy woman that she is, she has a whole list of errands for the week, consisting of groceries, check-ups and social calls. You keep thinking that if it wasn't for her rollator and her slower, slight wobbly walk, you'd hardly know the woman was operated on just days ago, and you're not alone. The same sentiment is expressed to you wherever the two of you go, your grandmother being a well-known and respected woman in her neighborhood.

On Saturday, just five days after your arrival, you take her to the local church. Despite not being big on faith, she has been a member of the volunteer group of the church for decades, and a cherished one at that. The moment you push her wheelchair through the door, other volunteers rush over and swarm your grandmother with questions about her well-being. Grammy makes a point of saying there's no need for the fuss, but you can tell that she's touched by the community's care for her.

The meeting discusses the idea of a block party that's been floating around for some time now, but was never realized.

"Lottie, do you even think you could handle it, being in recovery and all?," an elderly man asks directed at your grandmother. The look she shoots him in response drains some color in his face, and some other members at the table laugh. "I'm insulted you'd even ask, Frank," your grandmother replies with a hint of sourness in her voice, but then her smile grows wide and there's a mischievous spark in her eyes that puts you on high alert. You know that look. Your grandmother is up to something.

"Much as I hate to admit it though, you might be right. I'm not at the top of my game, no denying that. However, that's where my lovely granddaughter comes into play!" All eyes swivel around to you, including your grandmother's, the mischievous sparkle present as ever.

Uh oh.

"As many of you already know, my granddaughter has temporarily moved in with me to help me out during my recovery, gracious soul that she is." Gracious soul? Grammy is laying it on thick. You cock your head slightly to the side with raised eyebrows, all while maintaining a smile on your face. What are you doing? Your grandmother reads the silent question in your facial features but offers no explanation, her smile just turns more sweetly. "As a teacher, she has her fair share of experience with organizing events. Ain't that so, sweetheart?"

"I mean, I've organized two talent shows, but that was in collab-," you begin, still unsure of where this is going, but Grammy cuts you off.

"See? She's perfect. I'm sure she can fill my shoes just fine, and I'll still be there behind the scenes anyway."

Before you can utter another word, you are crowned as head of the block party planning committee. As soon as the decision is made, the group gets down to business and starts mapping out a rough draft. Besides the obvious cake buffet, whipped up and provided by members of the volunteer committee, the only other safe participant is the church's kids group, who, according to pastor William, plan to host a lemonade stand. By the end of the meeting, you have an extensive list of possible collaborators to hit up. As head of the committee, it falls in your jurisdiction to get local business on board.

"Alright, that looks like a solid list. I trust Lottie's granddaughter will do a fine job of getting lots of business on board." Pastor William smiles warmly at you and you can't help but feel like he's already forgotten your name again. Then again, he's got a big flock. Can't blame him if he doesn't remember every single sheep by name.

"And we've got Anne, Derrick and Kirsten for decorating, as well as our kids group. That just leaves the question of construction. Who's gonna supply us with stalls or booths? Any ideas, folks?"

"I'm sure Joel Miller would be happy to chip in. Him n' his brother got that construction business, remember? Sweet boys. Helped me set up my lil' hospital ward situation I got back at home," your grandma chirps up, and suddenly, you understand the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

What an elaborate and canny way to set you up. Wow.

You bite on your lip to hide the grin that threatens to spill across your face, keeping your laughter inside until after the meeting. Once you bring it up in the car back home, Grammy plays the innocent act. "I got no idea what you're talkin' about, honey. Just suggested a guy I know that does good work and has a good heart."

"Right, because especially the good heart is extremely relevant when it comes to building things," you chuckle.

"Sure it is, if it's volunteer work. And I'm tellin' you. That Joel, he's got a heart of gold."

You can sense the way your grandmother's eyes are boring into the side of your skull, but you keep your gaze focused on the road ahead of you.

Heart of gold or not, you're nowhere near ready to be dating again.

"Yeah, come on in, Lottie said you'd swing by."

It's late in the evening and his porch light hums above the two of you, casting a golden light on your silhouettes and long shadows on the ground. The fly screen creaks as Joel Miller holds it open for you. You shimmy past him with a small smile, tugging your folder of papers to your chest so they don't rub against him.

Joel's house smells like wood chips, old leather and something distinctly 'homey' that you can't quite put a finger on, but makes you feel very at ease. The scent engulfs you as you step into the house, briefly interrupted by smell of him, a mix of soap and aftershave and just the tiniest tinge of sweat.

It's an intoxicating combination.

So much so that for the briefest moment, you have the instinct to lean a step back and sniff him, but you catch yourself before you embarrass yourself.

"Kitchen's down there. Got a table and everything for your paper collection." Joel motions down the hallway with a quick and friendly wink at you. You follow his direction wordlessly and sit at the aforementioned table, feeling the tips of your ears growing slightly red.

Your grandma wasn't kidding when she said he's handsome.

You'd chalked it up to her trying to set you up, talking him up the same way elderly ladies tend to talk about men that are younger than them. 'Handsome' and 'smart-looking' are standards in that vocabulary box. You couldn't have known that this time, the description would be right on point.

"Want one?" Joel's got his head in the fridge, holding out a cold beer to you over his shoulder.

"Sure, thanks." Usually you're not so tight-lipped. In fact, you've probably talked more in the past few days than you do in a normal school week, and that's saying something. Going around town and chatting up local businesses about participating in your block party had your mouth going at a hundred miles per hour, figuratively speaking. Between speaking to people in person and confirming spots via your cell-phone, it has been a couple of very word-filled days.

And yet, now that you're with another potential 'client' you have to recruit for your endeavor, your speech well seems to have dried up.

It could have something to do with the fact that visually, Joel Miller is exactly your type. Besides his physique - tan biceps visibly stretching under a tight t-shirt that might be a size too small for him - he's got warm, brown eyes with laugh crinkles around them and a head full of salt-and-pepper hair that pairs beautifully with his scruffy-looking beard. By the looks of it, he has ten, maybe fifteen years on you.

Not really an issue for you.

Your ex, cursed be his name, was a chunk older than you too. It was just the type of man you drifted towards, the kind that's a bit ahead of you in time. In your experience, it pays off maturity wise in a way that men your age just can't compete in, even if your last boyfriend wasn't the best example.

Older men just have a grip on you you can't explain, nor deny.

"So." Joel sets the two bottles of beer down on the table, then slides onto the chair across from you. "What can I do for ya? Lottie said somethin' 'bout you guys needin' somethin' built?"

He screws the caps off of both bottles, then slides one over to you. "Cheers." Your bottles clink together and you take a few chugs, grateful for the liquid running down your dry throat. Whether that's from all your talking or a physical reaction to Joel, you don't know, and you're not sure you want to find out.

"Yeah, that's right," you finally say when you put your beer down half empty. Joel glances at your bottle with one raised eyebrow and half a grin on his lips, but doesn't say anything and instead motions for you to go on. "It's for the church's block party. The volunteer group, which my grandmother is a part of, is putting it together. It's supposed to be this come-together opportunity, get-to-know-your-neighbors kind of thing. I've been going around the past couple of days, seeing who wants to join and maybe offer a booth or a stall."

"Looks like you were quite successful with that." He nods at the wild stack of papers in front of you, post-its sticking out left and right and scribbles all over. You laugh and shuffle through the papers.

"It looks more than it is, but yeah, lots of people want to join, thankfully. Now that's where you come in." You pull out a numbered list and slide it over to him.

"This is everyone that wants to join. Problem is, we don't have enough booths for everyone."

Joel skims over the list, then whistles. "Phew. That's a bunch. How many of them you got stalls for?"

You pause long enough for Joel to look up from the list and notice you biting on your lip. "Umh. None of them?" Your grin is awkward and apologetic at the same time. Joel stares at you for a second, a dumbfounded expression on his face, then breaks out into a bellowing laughter. It's warm and deep and infectious and has the corners of your lips rising into a genuine grin.

"Oh, you're somethin'," he says breathlessly when he recovers from his laughing fit. "I can definitely see the relation to Lottie."

You shrug apologetically again and bite down on your bottom lip, the grin still lingering on your face. "What can I say? Persuasion runs strongly in this family."

"That so?" Joel leans back in his chair and puts his arms behind his head. Before you can help it, your gaze flickers across his across his arms, from his prominent biceps all the way down to where his torso meet his jeans. You look away quickly, but get the feeling Joel caught your stare by his smug grin. "I ain't said yes yet."

He does say yes. You come home giddy, excited by your success of rounding up participants for the block party and flustered from your hour at Joel's house.

It didn't take him long to officially agree, though you had no doubt that he would.

You also have no doubt that Joel Miller has been flirting with you.

There is even less doubt that you liked it.

You surprised yourself. By the time you wrapped your first meeting up, you asked for his number so you could reach him in case of changes or the like. Though the block party really was the main reason you required his number, you couldn't deny finding a little bit of joy in the idea of having his number in your phone. He had smiled all smugly too when you'd asked, his brows wiggling suggestively for just a second before he reached for the pen in your hand and scribbled his number down on one of your papers. "There you go, darlin'," he'd said, and you had to fight the urge very hard to bite your bottom lip at the mention of the endearing term.

It only occurs to you now that your grandma probably already has his number and you asking for his number could have come across as you flirting.

Oh.

"Honey, that you?," your grandma hollers out of the living room when you enter her home.

"Yeah Gammy, it's me," you call back and set your papers down on the side table near the front door.

"How'd it go?"

You tell her about your meeting with Joel in the most nonchalant way possible while you help her chop up veggies for dinner. She listens intently and is delighted that Joel has agreed to build the booths, but doesn't seem surprised by it either. Once you're finished with your summary, she gives you that inquisitorial look again.

"So?"

"So what, Gammy?"

"Don't fool me, honey. What'd you think?"

You keep your eyes focused on the carrot your peeling, determined not to meet her gaze. You just know she'd read everything in your eyes.

"Yeah, he's a nice man," you say, but she just tsks at you and swats your arm with her cooking spoon.

"You know damn well that's not what I asked."

"What do you want to hear then?"

The lack of reply makes you look up. Grammy is staring at you with an anything-but-pleased look on her face.

"What!," you exclaim defensively. Her response comes paired with another whack of her spoon. "He's a good man! You should give him a chance."

"Oh my god, Gammy. He has a kid." You groan, but pictures of Joel's biceps dance across the back of your mind.

"So? You're thirty-two, old enough to be a mom. 'Sides, I ain't tellin' you to marry the man, I'm just sayin' go out, have some fun."

"Oh well, in that case. If I'm not supposed to marry him."

You giggle and jump away when the spoon launches for you a third time, only narrowly missing you by a few inches.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Find more entries for the hot dilf summer challenge by @hellishjoel here!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

When uncle Wayne had walked into the room the first time, Billy had said, who the fuck is this guy?

Now, strangely, Wayne seems to be the person Billy likes the most. The visits are never long, he still has a job to go to, and the outside world seems to be picking up the pieces quicker than Eddie could have imagined.

“They had that kids funeral the other day. Shame, too young for something like that.”

“Yeah, yeah it is a shame.”

Jason Carver was a massive prick.

Didn’t deserve to die though. Probably. Maybe.

Billy snorts. Ask him how the Pacers are doing.

He’s going to get suspicious if I keep asking him this shit.

Wayne’s reading a newspaper, oblivious to the internal conflict happening three feet away in Eddie’s hospital bed.

Come on man, he’s literally the only person you know who speaks any sense. Please. For me.

“So, uh, watch any good, uhm, sports games, recently?”

Smooth.

Shut up, I cant just go right in. It has be like, making small talk, or whatever.

Wayne raises an eyebrow over the top of his paper, “maybe, a few.”

“Right. So. How are the Pacers doing? They, uhm, score any touchdowns recently?”

Oh my god. Oh my god you just cannot be trusted with a single thing. You-

“Eddie.”

- absolutely useless bag of -

“The pacers are a basketball team.”

“Right, right, sure I knew that. So how are they doing?”

Billy finally shuts up so he can listen too.

“I’m going to tell you, but only because I know exactly what’s happening here.”

“You do?”

He does?

Wayne nods, “I’ve got eyes Eddie. That Harrington boy, don’t think I don’t see how he looks at you-”

Oh my god.

“-and how you go all moon eyed over him. But listen now, it’s okay that you have different interests, you don’t have to try and change just to impress some boy-”

What is happening-

“-if he likes you, he’ll like you for you, understand?”

“I...yeah.”

“You’re a good kid Eddie. And you’ll be good enough as you are for the right person. Just promise me you’ll be careful, alright?”

Just say yes. This is...just say yes.

“Yes, uncle Wayne.”

Wayne stands up, folding his his news paper, “I got a shift in a few hours, but I’ll swing by in a couple of days, okay? Hopefully you’ll be out soon. I don’t know what the hell happened and I don’t think I want to know, but you’re going to like the new trailer, your rooms twice as big as the old one – Steve’s been in and out setting shit up for you.”

“Uh hu, and since when has he been Steve.”

“Since he watched the Pacers game with me, anyway, I’ll see you.”

What the fuck! Steve gets to watch the – never mind, get the paper! Get the paper Eddie! At least get the fucking-

“Hey, Uncle Wayne? You finished with the paper? I want the. The uhm. I want to do the cross word?”

Wayne frowns at him, but comes back to leave the rolled up paper for him.

Right, now open to the sports page and stare at it.

I don’t even-

I really don’t care. I’m reading about fucking elves and dragons, you can do this.

Eddie sighs, because, to be fair, Billy is right.

Part Five