#and 2. i need a break too like kids i love you but you gotta let me breathe lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coquitokisses · 7 months ago

Text

Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I’ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #fluff #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #marriage

488 notes · View notes

stellarshifter · 27 days ago

Text

✨ Pst? Y'okay? I saw you have a mental breakdown in the corner (Me too, babe, me too)

Agh...shiftok ruin your vibe? Spreading bullshit? C'mere. I got ya.

✨ BREAKDOWN OF MISINFO

1. "Your script might not all happen, or be in that reality."

Like huh???

Scripting, infallible, or meaningless?

Oh babies... Scripting is infallible. Wanna know why? It's literally a GPS for your awareness to shift to the reality that all of your chaotic (and probably very fun) notes are very real in! Like, c'mon, who would even script if it meant nothing like that???? I wouldn't waste my precious time... I could be looking at vintage shops around town. Like seriously, no.

2. "You need a method to shift"

Bitch please. Do I need to astral project and beat your ass? I'll do it. Don't test me.

Look, methods are fun and all. But that's it! They're fun and can help you become aware! But that's all they are. You don't have to even to work on your subconsious. Know why? That bitch ain't catching a ride with you! You just gotta be aware. Just shift your focus.

3. "You gotta stay hydrated.." bleh bleh I don't even remember the rest.

Bullshit. Sure you should stay healthy and hydrated for you! But that's nothing to do with shifting. This vessel's priorities don't matter in terms of shifting or not!

4. "You can't age up/down that's immoral!"

...I need a minute... I dont wanna commit arson.

Who the fuck thinks they're so intilted to tell others what they can't shift to be?? You need to fucking chill. Aging up or down doesn't matter because you are literally shifting to a reality where you're that age. You will have that mentality unless you script you don't. For fucks sake, stop.

5. "You can't shift to where you're a different ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation, that's disgusting"

Again... who gave you the right? Hm? I'll wait.

Unless you're being a weird fetishist creep. Then you're good, babe. And for all of this, once again. There's infinite realities where you're all different enthcities, genders, and sexual orientations. There's nothing wrong with shifting there either!

6. "Respawning is unethical"

Okay, this started due to people misunderstanding respawning as something it is not! It is not suicide. You people need to chill on TikTok. Swear to god you fear mongers!

Respawning is just cutting ties with this reality. Which lets be honest? In its state? For the love of God, me too, honey. Me too. The only difference between respawning and permashifting is that you'll never remember this reality. There's no harm. Okay?

7. "Permashifting is not okay"

As a permashifter, fuck you. You intilted bitches spewing bullshit because you come from different circumstances.

You have no clue what people are going through, and even if they live perfect lives, you are 1000000% valid permashifting. Go home, babies. You deserve it!

8. "Shifting shouldn't be used for escapism"

Look most of us were day dreamers? Right? Right?

I was a kid with a WILD ASS imagination. I mean wild, and I come from a not so cool environment. I used shifting as escapism when I first started. And y'know what? That's okay! If you are just wanting to leave to get a break! Do it! No one can stop you. There's no shifting police.

Which..gets me to this one.

9. "The shifting police will find you"

Bitch please. Shut up. My brother in christ, what fanfic you reading?

Shifting police do NOT exist (unless you want them to. You do you)

Seriously no one. I mean no one, not even me. Not even the holiest of holiest can stop you. We live in a multiverse that does not run by morals set up by shiftokers. And no if you do something questionable the shifting police will not find you. You're safe. I promise

10. "You can get stuck in your DR!"

If we can shift to our DR we can shift again. Like what? Who let this toddler type? That doesn't even make sense.

Honey, I can assure you, you're not stuck here. You're not stuck there.

11. "You can't script relationships that's against their free will!"

Have you ever heard of infinite realities where every single thing you can ever think of exists? Yeah? Then STOOOOOP

You are shifting to a reality where those relationships exist! Where that relationship is real and mutual. Where they feel so much love for you as you do them. No forcing.

Now, if you're holding them in your basement, tying them to a chair and begging them to love you forcefully like you're in a yandere wattpad fic from 2013? Yeah, you need to rethink some things. But if not! You're good!

Whatever relationships you script are requited

12. "Your DR isn't as real as this one"

Woooo, imma throw hands. Let's go. Someone hold my hoops for me? I'm gonna beat a bitch up.

YOUR DR IS A REALITY!!!!!!

Meaning it is just as real as this one. Just as real, maybe even more real! The people are real. The places are real. The experiences are real!

13. "People shift based on genetics"

Aw yes... my new favorite reason to murder.

Anyone and their mama can shift. You can shift, I can shift, the person you randomly saw on the street can shift, fuck your pet can shift. Anyone can. Okay? We are all one. Pure awareness. That's what we all are.

None of that. We are not shifting based off anything but what we all are.

✨ That's all for today, folks. Take care, and remember, you've got this. Go shift, baby!

#shiftingrealities #shifting script #shifting tips #shifting memes #shifting mindset #shifting advice #shifting methods #shifting stories #shifting consciousness #shifting diary #shifting blog #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation #reality shifting #shifting #shifting community #shiftblr #shifters #reality shifting blog

166 notes · View notes

shushmal · 10 months ago

Text

merman steve pt 2

a continuation of this for @spectrum-spectre, now with some pre-steddie~!

Henderson is skulking around in the cereal aisle when Eddie spots him.

The kid has been a bit of enigma to Eddie since he met him at the beginning of last fall semester. Dustin had a tight group of friends, but often times, he caught the gang of them sans Henderson and the fact seemed to annoy the hell out of them.

"He just goes off on on his own sometimes," Baby Beyers would say.

"He won't tell anyone where or why or with who," Mini Wheeler would snarl.

"And it's definitely not to talk to his girlfriend, because we hear ALL about that," Big Sinclair would sigh, rolling his eyes.

So catching kid creeping around the grocery store minus the rest of his party, after hearing many complains of his mysterious disappearances? Color Eddie intrigued.

"Hendersooon," Eddie sang, wrapping an arm around Dustin's neck to keep him from escaping. "Whatcha doing?"

"Eddie!" he said brightly, grinning at him. "Just buying some snacks. Hey, which cereal do you think a fish can eat?"

Eddie stares at him for a moment, blinking. "Uh..."

Henderson's face scrunches up. "I guess he's not really a fish though, so I'll try whatever." He grabs a box of Honey Combs from the shelf.

"Dude, are you keeping a sea turtle at your house again? You know that's illegal."

"No!" Henderson snaps, flushing. "And I was going to take Dart back after show and tell, I had already promised Steve!"

"Steve?" That was a new name. Eddie hadn't heard Henderson talk about a Steve before, and the guy was kind of a motormouth and a terrible liar. The only time Eddie had seen him actually avoid a topic was when his little disappearing acts were brought up. "Who's Steve?"

Henderson's eyes go comically wide. "No-one! I don't know any Steves!"

Eddie knew at least three Steves, and two were in Henderson's grade. "Uh-huh."

"Anyways," Dustin says, clutching the box of Honey Combs to his chest as he backs down the aisle. "I gotta go man, nice seeing you, bye!"

Bemused, Eddie watches him go. He's planning to give Henderson a five minute head start before he goes to tail him, but apparently, he needn't to have planned a stake out after all. Henderson finds him again, two aisles over, panting and red-faced.

"Actually, can you give me a ride?"

🧜‍♂️

"Eddie," Henderson says, voice even more serious and deadly than the time the party took on Vecna last month during their campaign. "I need you to swear that you will never, ever tell anyone about what I'm going to show you."

Eddie cocks a brow at him. "Is this a drugs thing? Dude, you—"

"No!" Henderson snaps. "This is not a drug thing! This is a very serious life and death thing, and I need you to swear on you life you won't tell anyone about it."

"Dude," Eddie says, a little in awe. He stares out his windshield for a moment where they're still parked just outside of town. He can hear sounds of the ocean just past the ridge, waves crashing on the cliffs. It's a remote little area, opposite of the tourist favored beaches. Eddie, in fact, deals just a few miles down the shoreline from here. "Did you bring me out here to kill me? Are you the world's dorkiest serial killer?"

"Eddie." Eddie turns to look at him. His face is grave, brows furrowed with real worry. "I'm serious."

"Okay... Okay, then."

"You have to swear."

"I swear."

And just like that, Henderson's face breaks into a bright smile. "I knew I could trust you!" he crows, grabbing up his bag from the store and kicking open his door.

Eddie stumbles out of his van after him, listening intently as they pick their way over the rocks.

"He's so cool, Eddie, you're going to love him. He totally saved my life when I was like ten and I got pulled out on a rip tide. Like, I really almost died dude and then he just swims up out of no where and helps me catch my breath. Helps me float there while I'm freaking out too until the life guard finally came out to get me. It was crazy! I come out here all the time to visit him, I think he gets a little lonely. So it's good you're here, I've been trying to think of someone else to introduce him to, but it's hard to figure out who's going to freak out and try to sell him to Sea World, or something."

They crest over the hill to a tiny little cove bitten out of the rocky shore, and carefully begin to make their way back down to the water's edge. Eddie's still not entirely sure Henderson hasn't brought him here to die. Maybe Steve is the serial killer and he uses Henderson as bait.

"Okay, okay," Dustin says, once they reach the water. It's calmer here, the cliffs cutting this spot off from the larger waves. "Are you ready to see the coolest thing EVER?"

"Uh, sure, kid—"

Eddie doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence when he starts yelling.

"STEVE THIS IS EDDIE I BROUGHT HIM TO MEET YOU I PROMISE IT'S SAFE!"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, covering his ears. The lungs on this kid! "What the fuck dude— WHAT THE FUCK!!"

Because when he looks down, there is a face in the water. Eddie falls back on his ass, uncaring of the water soaking his jeans, and screams when the face in the water rises up out the ocean.

It looks pissed.

"Dustin," it says, glaring at Eddie. Eddie screams again, because it—the guy—the mermaid lifts himself fully onto the rocks, and he doesn't have any legs. Because he has a fucking tail.

A fucking fish tail.

"Steve!" Dustin cheers. "You came out."

"You sure?" the goddamn mermaid asks, finally taking his piercing, alien eyes off of Eddie to look at him. "Sure it safe?"

"Absolutely," Dustin says hastily, crouching beside Eddie to put his hands on his shoulders. "Eddie just screams a lot, I promise you, he's totally safe."

"R-Right," Eddie says, because he does not want to be eaten. Maybe Dustin's been dragging unsuspecting victims here to feed his pet goddamn mermaid instead of a serial killer. "Totally safe, that's me."

Steve, the goddamn fucking mermaid, looks him up and down doubtfully, and it's terrifying having those eyes on him, unnaturally yellow surrounded by black. His face is distressingly human, nose and mouth and ears with a mop of dark hair on his head. He has these bright shimmering scales across his cheekbones that dot down his jaw and neck, iridescent and glimmering in the afternoon sun. Eddie can't bring himself to look down further, scared and enraptured all at once.

Steve is terrifying and beautiful to look at.

"Fine," says Steve and pushes himself gracefully back into the water, disappearing into the dark depths.

"What the fuck," Eddie breathes. He looks up at Dustin with wide eyes. "Dude, what the fuck."

Dustin just grins down at him. "Isn't he the coolest?!"

#stranger things #steddie #ficlet fill #that's quickly turning into a fic that's fun #I WANTED YOU TO HAVE MORE HERE'S MORE MWAH #my steddies

435 notes · View notes

xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 6 months ago

Note

Rabid Logan is my new favorite logan

"Butterbean, please?" Wade begged.

"Fuck off," you groan, curling on the sofa and holding a pillow closer to your head. "It's just a migraine. I'm fine-"

"Totally fine, yeah." Wade frowned and mimed strangling you for a second. It had been 2 days. Yesterday you were having trouble with your vision and puking. Today you were hiding from the sun like a fucking vampire. And he had to go. He had work to do.

But in his head all he could see was your tiny 7-year-old self crying from the pain that no one else was taking seriously. But at least- at least Trigger was taking it seriously. Laying curled behind your legs with his head on your hip, he looked up at Wade like he wanted to know what to do.

"Fine," Wade said, "You won't go to the hospital? I'm gonna get you a baby sitter."

"I don't need-" But when you try to sit up and the movement makes your vision blur, you can't protest. All you can do is groan.

"Sure, shut up," Wade said pulling out his phone and taking a deep breath as he went through his contacts.

Vanessa- working Peter- pushover and working Al- just no. No. Love her but no Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And Colossus would just fall through your fucking floor IF he could fit through the door way.

"Damn it," he hissed, dialing the last number he had. The last person he'd willingly hand you over to.

"What?" Logan growled.

"Hey, Peanut," Wade said, kicking a wastebasket closer to you as you lean over the couch to puke again. "Need a favor."

"No."

"Listen," Wade said, "I gotta go. Now. And my sweet angel baby sister has a migraine from hell and refuses to go to the hospital to get checked out. So I need somebody who can babysit and force her to go if the meds don't do what they're supposed to in... oh, 12 hours?"

Over the phone he can hear boots hit the floor and he exhales slowly. "Fine," Logan said.

"Thanks, Peanut. Hands to yourself. I gotta go. Duty calls." He hung up the phone and stroked your hair, moving the pillow just enough to kiss your cheek. "I gotta go, sweetie. Logan will be here pretty quick."

"I'm fine-"

"Totally fine," he agreed. "You just look like you're dying and threw up water for dramatic effect." He tutted and tucked the blanket around you before stopping to pet Trigger and slip out the door.

_________________

Logan slipped into the apartment and regarded the dog, who was watching him. The growls were low warning growls. His mistress was ill, but he wasn't. And he could smell vomit that was mostly bile and water. Old clothes and sweat. He shook his head.

This didn't look or feel like your apartment. Too dark and quiet. No warmth. And seeing you so still and clutching a pillow to your head made him wince. "Hey, kid," he said softly, walking slowly towards you. "You alseep?"

"No," you answer, your voice muffled. "Beer's in the fridge if-"

"Thanks," he answered. "You thirsty? Need food?"

"My head's not really happy with moving."

Logan moved the trash can and knelt next to the sofa, "Cold water on an empty stomach is a bad idea," he said. "Got anything else?"

"Lo, you don't have to do this," you murmur. "I'll be okay. It happens. Just not this long."

"What else have I got to do?" Logan said shrugging. "I'm 200 years old and I know a few things. Pretty sure we can get you through it."

"There's some electrolyte drink mixes in the cupboard above the coffee pot," you answer, breaking off with a groan when your head throbs.

Logan nods and squeezes your shoulder gently, "I'll figure it out, as long as you don't mind me going through your kitchen."

"Help yourself," you answer. "If you find jerky in the fridge don't eat it. It's Trigger's and he holds grudges."

#Wolverine #wolverine x reader #reader insert #minors dni #ask answered #writer!reader

217 notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 1 year ago

Text

star couple | jude bellingham x fem! mclaren f1 driver! reader

summary; the current golden boy of real madrid dating the princess of the paddock has the internet going crazy

fc; jihoon kim

warnings; ? suggestive comment i think maybe cursing i dont rlly know lol

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! i wish real madrid admins and social media managers were as funny and entertaining as f1 🕊️ but alas, they are a serious institution 🕊️🕊️

masterlist !

liked by judebellingham, landonorris, and others !

yourusername: little date night ft almave , tysm lewishamilton 💫🫶

tagged; almave

username: WHAT ??? night

username: she’s dating someone ? 😀😀😀

username: mother is slaying this winter break

username: the outfit EATSSS

username: wdym ur on a date i wasn’t there ?? 🤣🤣

lewishamilton: glad you enjoyed! let me know if you guys need more 😁

yourusername: oh WE LOVED, he definitely did too and is already demanding more!

username: HE?????

username: why is jude bellingham in my gf’s likes….. he needs to focus on getting that pichichi🙄🙄🙄

username: why did jude bellingham like lol

username: guys what if jude and y/n are dating ..

username: LMFAOO😂😂🤣🤣

landonorris: tell him i say hi

yourusername: no u stink ( he says hi back )

mclaren: y/n slaying as always 😎

yourusername: why thank u admin

judebellingham uploaded to his story !

[caption 1; fuck it, hard launch because i love my girl so matcha] [caption 2; 😍😍]

yourusername replied to your story !

yourusername fuck it i wanna hard launch too

yourusername the girlies ( lando ) are gonna go crazyyy

judebellingham screw soft launches i wanna show u off 🕊️🕊️

judebellingham are u on ur way tho

yourusername mina n i are nearrrrrr w fede jr and fede jr jr

judebellingham love those kids

judebellingham how abt a bellingham jr???

yourusername i love u babe but we’re barley adults ourselves …. we’re barley 20😀

judebellingham who says we can’t be going parents 😒😒😒

yourusername our careers !!

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; omw to support my favorite boy🤍] [caption 2; the face of a man who scored a brace today and is todays ucl motm 🤭]

landonorris replied to your story !

landonorris gross

yourusername stfu ur jealous

landonorris don’t u have a game to watch

yourusername don’t u have a race to win 🤓🤓

landonorris YOU DIDNT WIN ALL LAST SEASON EITHER

yourusername red bull and max verstappen dominance 😞 fortunately i do love a team that wins the most championships tho🤭

landonorris can u get me a signed jersey plzzzz

yourusername maybe if u behave liked by landonorris !

judebellingham replied to your story !

judebellingham have you seen twitter yet🤣

yourusername omg no

judebellingham everyone’s shocked 🥸 why are they shocked that i pulled you😞

yourusername: idk babe, maybe bc i’m a cool f1 driver n ur not🤓🤓

judebellingham ok but i play for real madrid ??

yourusername white is such a good color on u btw lando wants a signed jersey

judebellingham on it 🫡🫡

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and others !

yourusername: little madrid photo dump ft the ucl motm😁😁🤍

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: did u see me score for u, my star girl, they were for u☺️☺️😊🌹🌹

yourusername: yes i did see my starboy 🤍🤍

username: starboy n stargirl = star couple 😫

username: he’s fine asf tho icl

username: HE SCORED A BRACE FOR HER😫😫

username: now she gotta win a race for him

username: yeah but max🥸

vinijr: wow and i didn’t make the photo dump?😒

camavinga: it’s like that w them 🙄

rodrygogoes:🙄🙄

yourusername: next time i promise 😞

judebellingham: drama queens, all of you !

aurelientchm: leave him out next photo dump camavinga

username: the players interacting w her is so😭😭

username: the denim lv bag is everything tbh

landonorris: tysm for the signed jersey 😁judebellingham

judebellingham: anything for y/n’s friends 🫡

yourusername: lando is NOT my friend

landonorris: she’s a liar we r bffs😒

mclaren: stargirl and starboy of the paddock and the field !🤩🧡🤍 liked by yourusername and judebellingham !

#football smau #footballer x y/n #football player x reader #footballer x reader #football imagine #football imagines #football scenarios #football one shot #f1 x reader #f1 smau #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smau

1K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it.

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add.

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it.

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic.

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob.

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself.

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions.

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse.

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride.

If only it was that easy to fool himself.

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest.

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it.

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings.

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t.

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation.

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party.

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere.

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here.

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence.

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation.

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him.

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt.

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back.

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

taglist 1/2:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @theactualf0ck @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights @eggo-segual @rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @luceneraium @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @imaginexred @haylaansmi @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @stevesmunson

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

1K notes · View notes

littlejoyss · 8 days ago

Text

𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1

Stray Kids - Non-Idol! Hyunjin x Reader

Twilight Inspired Fic (but major differences such as age)

Word Count (so far): 10k

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: When you move to Forks for college you run into a group of friends who are out of the ordinary.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1 (currently reading), 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, more to come!

“Mom, seriously, I’m already settled. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You sigh for what feels like the hundredth time on this phone call. Your mom is overprotective, even when you’re across the country.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You shift the phone to your other ear, staring out the window at the endless drizzle of Forks, Washington.

You were born here and lived here until you were three. That’s when your dad, Charlie, and mom, Renée, divorced. You have been living with your mother since. Sometimes you would visit Forks in the summer, but haven’t in recent years. But once your mom married Phil, her new husband, you wanted to leave their house. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Phil, but he was a major-league baseball player. So, he traveled a lot and wanted to bring your mom. So, to save trouble you moved in with your dad.

Your mom hums, unconvinced. “But are you happy, sweetheart? You can always come back, you know that. You don’t have to stay there just to make your dad feel better.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “It’s not like that. I wanted to come. For college.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Another thing about your mom, she was stubborn and immature. You stayed with her for the longest time because there was no one else to take of her. Now, Phil can help clean the house and feed her. No more struggling to keep her happy.

You hear the distant sound of Phil talking in the background, something about a flight schedule. Your mom’s sigh filters through the speaker. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if it’s not what you really want.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, softer this time. “It’s not sunny, and I might actually freeze, but Charlie’s trying. I’ll be okay.”

Another pause. Then, “Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced, but she’s relenting. “Just promise me you’ll call if you need anything?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

You end the call and drop your phone onto the bed. Outside, the rain continues its steady rhythm, a dull gray mist shrouding the towering evergreens. The air is damp and heavy, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. You pull your sleeves over your hands, staring out at the familiar yet distant landscape.

This is home now.

The thought is strange. You’ve visited before, but living here is different. The house is quieter than you’re used to, filled with the scent of coffee and old paper from Charlie’s endless police reports. No laughter from your mom’s soap operas playing in the background. No constant conversation. Just the occasional creak of the floorboards and the sound of the rain.

A knock on your door breaks your thoughts.

“Hey, kiddo,” Charlie’s voice is gruff but gentle. “Everything okay?”

You turn to face him, offering a small smile. “Yeah, just Mom being... Mom.”

He nods as if that explains everything. And maybe it does.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he says after a beat. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You hesitate. Cooking isn’t exactly Charlie’s strong suit. “What is it?”

He clears his throat. “Steak and potatoes.”

Your lips twitch. “Is that all you eat?”

He shrugs. “Gotta stick to what I know.”

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The morning air is crisp as you slide into the truck. Charlie had insisted his old truck was reliable, though the way it groaned when you turned the key made you doubt that. You let it idle for a moment, watching the windshield wipers struggle against the fine mist of rain clinging to the glass.

Your first day of college.

It still doesn’t feel real. Moving to Forks was one thing, but starting fresh in a completely new environment? That’s something else entirely. You’ve done your research, of course. But, it was still nerve-racking.

The truck’s heater sputters before kicking in, and you take a deep breath before pulling out of the driveway.

The drive was nice. Tall evergreens lined the road, their branches dripping with rain, mist curling around the trunks like something out of a dream. The roads are slick, but you take your time. Despite the nerves twisting in your stomach, there’s something almost peaceful about the drive.

By the time you reach the college parking lot, the nerves return in full force. You pull into a spot and kill the engine, gripping the wheel for a second longer than necessary.

You can do this.

Grabbing your backpack, you step out into the damp morning air, the scent of wet pavement filling your lungs. Around you, other students hurry toward the buildings, some huddled under umbrellas, others pulling their hoods tight against the drizzle.

There it was. Forks College.

Your thoughts were cut off by a voice behind you, “Yo! You’re the Sherrif’s daughter, right?

Great.

“Yeah-”

The flash of a phone camera straddles you.

Blinking against the sudden burst of light, you take a step back, caught off guard. The guy holding the phone grins, looking way too amused with himself. He’s tall, wearing a faded hoodie and a backward baseball cap, his sneakers splattered with mud.

"Sorry, had to document this. Sheriff Swan's kid, stepping into college like a total badass," he says, tucking his phone into his pocket.

You exhale, already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment. "Right. And you are?"

"Tyler," he says easily. "My dad’s on the force with your dad. Figured I’d say hey before you got totally lost in this place."

You glance toward the looming brick building ahead, students streaming through the doors. It’s not huge, but big enough that getting lost isn’t off the table.

"That obvious?" you mutter, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Tyler smirks. "A little. First-day nerves?"

You shrug, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he jerks his head toward the entrance. "C’mon, I’ll show you where the main hall is. Unless you wanna keep standing in the rain looking like you just saw a ghost."

You hesitate for a second, then fall into step beside him. It’s not like you know anyone else, and as much as you hate being recognized for your dad’s job, at least Tyler doesn’t seem annoying. Yet.

"Any idea where your first class is?" he asks as you weave through the crowd.

You pull out your schedule, glancing at the printout. "Uh… Building C. Room 204."

Tyler lets out a low whistle. "Professor Anders. Tough one. Hope you like essays."

"Perfect," you mumble.

Tyler grins. "You’ll survive. Probably."

You shoot him a look, but he just chuckles, leading the way through the crowded hallway. The air inside is warmer, filled with the scent of coffee, wet jackets, and something vaguely like old books. Students mill about, some laughing in groups, others hunched over their phones or scanning their schedules with the same lost expression you’re probably wearing.

“So, what’s your deal?” Tyler asks, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he guides you toward Building C. “What are you studying?”

“Uh, English,” you say, gripping your backpack strap a little tighter. “Well, technically undecided, but… probably English.”

“Cool, cool. I’m doing journalism. Figured someone’s gotta report all the exciting Forks College news.”

You arch a brow. “Is there exciting Forks College news?”

He smirks. “Not yet. But hey, if you do anything Sheriff’s Kid-worthy, I’ll make sure you get the front page.”

You groan. “Please don’t.”

Tyler just laughs, and for the first time since arriving, you feel your shoulders relax a little.

By the time you reach Building C, the hallways are thinning out as students shuffle into classrooms. Tyler stops outside the door to 204 and jerks a thumb toward it. “Here you go. Welcome to the lions’ den.”

You sigh, shifting your bag. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he says, already taking a few steps backward. “Catch you later, Sheriff’s Kid.”

Before you can tell him to stop calling you that, he disappears down the hallway. You shake your head, then take a deep breath and step into the classroom.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You had time before your next class that day so Tyler invited you to go to a local diner with his friends.

The diner is small, tucked between a hardware store and an old bookstore. The windows are fogged up from the warmth inside, and as you push open the door, the scent of coffee and fried food lures you in.

Tyler leads the way, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the checkered floor. A group is already gathered at a booth near the window, laughter spilling over the hum of conversation.

"Guys, this is-" Tyler pauses, turning to you. "Wait, do you prefer your actual name, or should we stick with Sheriff’s Kid?"

"You know the answer."

He grins before plopping into the booth. "Alright, alright. This is-" he says your name, waving lazily in your direction. "New recruit to Forks College. Be nice."

A girl with dark curly hair resting in a loose ponytail gives you a friendly smile. "Hey, I’m Angela." She gestures to the guy next to her, who’s busy stirring way too much sugar into his coffee. "That’s Eric. And across from him, that’s Jess."

Jess, who has been scrolling through her phone, looks up and gives you a quick once-over before nodding. "Nice to meet you," she says, sounding vaguely distracted.

You slide into the booth next to Tyler, the worn vinyl creaking beneath you.

Angela offers you the basket of fries, and you take one. "So, first day at Forks College," She says, propping her chin on her hand. "Surviving so far?"

You shrug, chewing thoughtfully. "So far, so good. No catastrophes yet."

Eric snorts. "Give it a week."

Tyler elbows him. "Come on, don't scare the newbie."

Jess finally tucks her phone away and sips her drink, eyeing you over the rim. "So, what brought you back to Forks? Thought you lived with your mom.”

"Yeah," you say, swirling your straw through your water. "She got remarried, and her husband travels a lot for work. I figured it’d be easier to move here instead of being left alone all the time."

Angela gives you a knowing smile. "That makes sense. Forks is… different, but it grows on you."

Tyler leans back, stretching his arms across the back of the booth. "And hey, at least you've got us now. We’ll make sure you don’t die of boredom."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Good to know."

The conversation flows easily from there. They fill you in on campus life, which professors are worth their office hours and which ones will drown you in readings. Tyler and Eric get into a heated debate over whether the diner’s fries are better than the ones at a food truck near campus, with Angela and Jess rolling their eyes at the familiar argument.

The bell above the door chimes softly, and an odd hush seems to ripple through the diner. You glance up instinctively, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

Two guys step inside, shaking the rain from their jackets. There’s something almost unreal about them, like they’ve stepped out of a painting rather than from the rain.

The first one has features that are sharp and defined. His hair is dark and tousled in a way that seems both effortless and deliberate. There’s a certain elegance to him, an almost ghostly stillness in the way he surveys the room. His eyes, a strange and shifting shade, flicker across the diner until they meet an open booth, where he walks.

The second one is just as striking but in a completely different way. This one is softer and more inviting. His skin is fair, almost luminous in the diner’s dim lighting.

You aren’t the only one staring. The diner has gone subtly quieter, conversations dipping into murmurs as a few heads turn in their direction. Even Tyler and Eric, mid-argument, pause just long enough to exchange a glance.

"Who are they?" you ask, voice low.

Angela follows your gaze and sighs. "Minho and Changbin. They’re a part of The Strays."

“The Strays?” You ask

"Yeah," Tyler says, leaning in slightly. "These group of friends moved here a couple of years ago. No one really knows much about them. They kind of… keep to themselves. That’s why we call them The Strays. They all live together in a house near campus.”

The bell chimes again, and three more figures step inside You don’t need Tyler to tell you they’re part of The Strays. There’s something distinct about them.

Angela talks again, “And that’s Han, Seungmin, and Jeongin.”

As they settle into their booth, it’s like the diner resumes normal function.

"They always come here?" you ask, unable to stop watching them.

Angela shrugs. "Every now and then. Never with anyone else, though. Just them."

"They don't talk to people much," Tyler adds. "Not rude, exactly, just... distant."

Jess scoffs. "Minho’s rude."

Angela sighs. "You bumped into him once."

"Yeah, and he glared at me."

"That’s just his face," Eric offers, stirring his coffee.

You can’t help but glance at their booth again. Unlike the other customers, who chat and joke around, The Strays are quieter, their conversations low, spoken only amongst themselves.

Lastly, two more boys come rushing in. Their group of friends glares at them as they seem late. The taller one ruffles his already messy dark hair, grinning sheepishly as he slides into the booth. The other slightly shorter one just shrugs unapologetically at the glares they’re getting from their friends.

"Hyunjin and Felix," Angela murmurs before you can ask.

Hyunjin has the kind of presence that demands attention, sharp angles, and effortless grace. Even as he drops into his seat, there’s something undeniably fluid about his movements, like he doesn’t quite belong in the same stiff world as everyone else. His long hair falls in front of his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind, already deep in whatever conversation The Strays are having.

Felix, on the other hand, is different. He’s warm in a way the others aren’t, his freckled face lighting up as he says something that makes the rest of the group relax.

"They look like they belong in a damn movie," Tyler mutters, stuffing a fry into his mouth. "It’s almost annoying how cool they are."

You hum in agreement.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

A couple of days later, it was time for your first class in the morning. The rain had barely let up since you arrived in Forks. You pulled your jacket tighter around you as you stepped into the building.

The room was already half full when you walked in. Students milled around, some chatting, others scrolling through their phones. You scanned the room, looking for an empty seat, only to pause when your eyes landed on him.

Hyunjin.

He was sitting alone at the lab table near the window, fingers idly tapping against the tabletop. His long hair fell slightly over his face as he stared out at the rain-streaked glass window, lost in thought.

Something about him felt wrong. Not in a bad way, but… off. Like he was on edge. His posture was too rigid, his jaw tight. And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes snapped to yours.

The moment your gazes met, something in his expression shifted. You froze in place, gripping your bag strap tightly. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Hyunjin turned away.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’d walked into something you weren’t supposed to.

"Hey," the teacher's voice broke through the tension. "New student?"

You nodded quickly.

"Great. You can sit there," the teacher gestured, right next to Hyunjin.

Of course.

Grounding yourself, you moved toward the empty seat beside Hyunjin. As you slid into the chair, you couldn’t help but notice the way his posture remained unnaturally stiff, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack.

Hyunjin was actively trying not to look at you.

You wanted to break the tension, “Hello?”

Then, finally, he turned his head just slightly, enough for his dark eyes to meet yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. There was no warmth there, just something raw, something unreadable.

“…Hi,” he said at last, but the word was clipped, barely audible.

And then, just as quickly, he turned away again, his jaw tensing like he regretted even speaking.

Okay.

You hesitated, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Had you done something wrong? You were pretty sure you’d never seen him before, so why was he acting like you’d personally offended him just by existing?

The teacher started lecturing, and you forced yourself to focus, but it was impossible to ignore the way Hyunjin sat. He was completely rigid, angled as far away from you as he could without actually moving his chair.

And for the rest of the class, you didn’t say another word.

The second the class was dismissed he stood up and practically ran out of the room.

You barely had time to process before he was gone, disappearing through the doorway like he couldn’t escape fast enough.

"Well, that was weird," you muttered under your breath, gathering your things.

A chair scraped beside you, and when you turned, Angela was there, giving you a sympathetic look.

"Don't take it personally," she said, shouldering her bag. "Hyunjin… he’s always been like that. At least, with people outside of his group."

You frowned. "Did I do something to offend him?"

Angela shook her head. "No. That’s just how The Strays are. Especially him. Though I’ve never seen him have a physical reaction. Normally, he just ignores people.”

You glanced back toward the door as if you’d catch a glimpse of him still lingering in the hallway, but he was long gone.

The whole thing left a strange feeling in your chest, and you had no idea why.

₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You walked into the scheduling office later that day to ask about your schedule when you saw him.

Hyunjin stood at the counter, fingers pressed against the surface like he was barely keeping himself grounded. His head was slightly bowed, his long hair obscuring most of his face.

"I need to change my schedule," he said, voice clipped.

The receptionist, an older woman with glasses perched on the end of her nose, barely looked up from her computer. "Which class?"

"First block," he said immediately.

Your stomach dropped.

The receptionist sighed. "And why do you need to change it?"

Hyunjin hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist on the counter. "It’s… not a good fit."

"Not a good fit?" she repeated, finally glancing up at him. "That’s not exactly a reason, dear. If you’re struggling, I can get you tutoring-"

"No." His voice came out sharp enough to make her pause. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if trying to physically shake something off. "Just… is there another class I can take instead?"

The receptionist clicked around on her computer and then shook her head. "Unfortunately, all the other sections are full. You’ll have to stick with the one you have."

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, only to freeze the second he saw you standing in the doorway.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, it looked like he might actually say something. But instead, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he pushed past you, walking out of the office without looking back.

What the hell was his problem?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The weather was sunny for the first time since you moved to Forks. Jess invited you to go window shopping together and enjoy the warmth. The sun cast a rare golden glow over the small town, making everything feel just a little less gloomy than usual. You were starting to get used to the constant overcast skies, but the warmth on your skin was a welcome change.

Jess looped her arm through yours as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk, peering into store windows. For someone you had met two weeks ago, she was clingy. “See? You were worried you’d hate it here, but now you’re spending a sunny afternoon shopping with me. Progress.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You act like I’ve been locked away in some dark tower.”

Jess gasped dramatically. “You have! The tower of brooding and confusion. Especially when it comes to a certain Stray”

You groaned, nudging her with your elbow. “Can we not?”

“Oh, come on,” she teased, tugging you toward a boutique window. “You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious about why he acted like you were some kind of-” she waved her hand vaguely, “-cursed object in that classroom.”

You sighed, avoiding her gaze as you pretended to be interested in a display of jewelry. “I mean… yeah, it was weird. But it’s not like I can do anything about it. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I’m not going to chase him down for answers.”

Jess huffed. “That’s boring. I would.”

You gave her a look.

She grinned unapologetically, “He is kind of hot.”

“You’ve got it bad, huh?”

“I mean, can you blame me? He’s got that mysterious vibe.”

You rolled your eyes again, though you couldn’t quite shake the thought of Hyunjin. It was impossible not to wonder why he’d reacted the way he did in class, but chasing him down for answers felt... wrong. You barely knew the guy.

“So,” Jess continued, clearly not done with the topic, “what’s your type, then?”

You laughed. “You’re really going to make me answer that?”

She grinned. “I just wanna know if I’m totally off base with my matchmaking attempts. You’ve gotta have some sort of ‘type,’ right?”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it’s less about looks and more about someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m walking on eggshells.”

Jess snorted. “So not Hyunjin, then.”

“Exactly.”

She sighed dramatically, pushing open the door to a nearby shop. “Well, I tried. Come on, let’s actually buy something. There’s gotta be something here that’ll make this trip worth it.”

The shop was a bookstore. Clearly Jess didn’t know this before opening the door. She froze in the doorway, blinking at the rows of bookshelves as they had personally offended her.

“Oh,” she muttered, visibly deflating. “Well, this is not what I expected.”

You bit back a laugh. “What, disappointed they don’t sell designer handbags?”

Jess sighed dramatically, stepping inside anyway. “I mean, yes, but we’re here now, so we might as well look around.”

You smiled, running your fingers over the spines of the books as you wandered further in. The store smelled like paper and ink. It was quiet except for the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional murmur from the cashier at the front desk.

Jess followed you reluctantly, dragging her fingers over a display table of hardcover books. “So, you’re one of those people, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “One of what people?”

She smirked. “The kind that actually enjoys reading.”

You gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know books are great company.”

Jess made a face. “I prefer company that actually talks back.”

Then, a deeper voice spoke behind you too, “Books can talk. Audiobooks.”

You froze mid-turn, the voice hitting you like a memory brought back to life. It was teasing with a familiar lilt that sent you straight back to childhood.

Slowly, you turned the rest of the way, and there he was.

Bang Chan.

He stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, a lazy smirk on his face. He looked older, obviously, his features sharper, his frame broader. But the glint in his eyes was the same.

“Chan?” you breathed, barely believing it.

His smirk widened into a grin. “Took you long enough.”

Jess glanced between you two, brows raised. “Uh, hello? Someone wanna fill me in?”

You let out a breathless laugh, still caught in the disbelief of seeing him here now. “Jess, this is Chan. We grew up together. Our dads are friends.”

Chan’s grin didn’t falter. “More like she followed me around like a lost puppy.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his arm lightly. “You wish.”

Jess watched the exchange with growing interest. “Huh. So this is the childhood bestie. Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about Chan, but life had pulled you in different directions. You had stopped coming to Forks in the summer when you were thirteen. You assumed the distance had settled between you for good. But now, standing here, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Chan didn’t seem bothered by the question. He just shrugged, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

You nodded, still unable to fully believe he was here. “Are you going to college here?

He shook his head, “No. I took a gap year to help out the family.” That explained why you hadn’t run into him sooner.

Jess, sensing the shift in mood, clapped her hands together. “Okay, well, I suddenly feel like the third wheel in a heartfelt reunion, so I’m gonna go pretend to care about books elsewhere.” She shot you a knowing look before wandering off toward the back of the store.

Chan watched her go, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “She’s got good instincts.”

You snorted. “She probably thinks you’re my long-lost soulmate or something.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t start.”

His laughter was warm, familiar. It was strange. It felt like no time had passed at all. But at the same time, everything felt different. He wasn’t the same boy you used to know. He had definitely grown some muscle.

You tilted your head. “So, what exactly are you doing with the family? Besides, you know, ‘helping out.’”

Bang Chan has a BIG family. All of them lived in cabins near La Push. You remember making sand castles with him on the beach.

Chan hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering. “Just… community stuff. Helping my dad, looking out for people.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s vague.”

He grinned. “It’s a vague job.”

You weren’t buying it. There was something he wasn’t saying, but before you could press, he nodded toward the door.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go grab something to eat. We need to catch up.”

“Fine. Jess was getting bored anyway. I’ll go tell her.” you said, sighing dramatically. “But you’re buying.”

Chan laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #kpop #fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz x you #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #kpop fanfic

61 notes · View notes

lexisecretaccx · 8 months ago

Text

A+ Student Pt.5

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, suggestive, kissing, smut, female!receiving, etc. Not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

“She was talking about professor Sturniolo right?” Lizzy asks me hesitantly, I shrug. “Yeah, I’m not bothered though.” I lie unbelievably. “Pfft,” she laughs slightly, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not bothered? You’re literally gripping your skirt so tightly.” I look down as the fabric is clenched in my fists. I let go and laugh slightly, “I guess I do care a little bit.” I sigh.

Chris’ POV

I type up on my laptop plans for the next lesson with y/n’s class, gotta make it easier because I don’t want y/n to struggle. “Mr Sturniolo?” I look up, a woman in a fitted suit jacket with a pencil skirt is staring down at me with her arms crossed. “Uh yeah?” I reply in a confused tone. “I’m gonna need you to come with me please.” She states.

“Okay.. where are we going?” I ask slowly. “The Principal’s office, an anonymous note has told us something we need to talk to you about.” She keeps her eyes forward as she walks quickly ahead. Oh fuck.. this isn’t about what happened at break? Nobody else was in there nobody could’ve heard us, or seen us..

“Everything alright Mr Sturniolo?” She doesn’t look back. “Oh, yeah.. call me Chris if you want.” I try to soften the tone in the air. “No.. I keep it professional.” We arrive at the Principals door and she opens it.

“Hello Christopher.” The principal smiles softly before dropping it. “Take a seat.. thank you Andrea.” The lady leaves the room. “Why am I in here?” I ask, trying to play dumb. “Do you value your job Mr Sturniolo?” He leans on the desk and peers at me from above his glasses. “Yeah of course, I love my job.” I smile.

“Do you respect the workplace and its rules and guidelines?” He asks again staring into my eyes. “Yes I do.” I nod, he grabs something from his drawer and places it in front of me. A mirror. “You seem to have a little.. a lot of things on your neck, do you not?” I look in the mirror at my neck, which is plastered in hickies.

My face drops, “Oh uh.. I had my girlfriend over last night I didn’t know-” I start to explain.. lying obviously. “It’s okay Mr Sturniolo, I don’t need personal details but make sure to cover it up, this is a first warning so you aren’t in trouble.” He smiles softly.

I sigh softly, “I’m sorry.” I scratch the back of my head, “it’s alright, us men like our women but sometimes we have to hide it.” He chuckles and I awkwardly chuckle back. I get up to leave and the principal gives me a little wave. I quickly rush back to the gym and throw on my jacket, which almost covers all of the marks.

It’ll have to do.

Y/n’s POV

I pack up my stuff and leave the sociology classroom, “I fell asleep.” Lizzy smiles as we walk to the exit. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” I sarcastically joke, she let out a few snores causing people around her to laugh. “Did I snore loudly?” She asks nervously, “meh, it was like semi loud.” I laugh and she groans in embarrassment.

“Right I gotta go, my mom needs me,” Lizzy rolls her eyes, “my aunt and uncle are visiting.” She sighs. “Does that mean?” I start to say but she finishes my sentence. “My annoying little cousin is here too.”

Lizzys cousin Theo is like 10 years old and the most annoying kid ever, he will tell his parents any gossip Lizzy says while she’s on the phone, he will constantly go through her stuff and he told Liz’s mom about my secret boyfriend 2 years ago and then my dad found out.. wasn’t fun.

I start to walk home as I get a text from Matt. “I have 2 hours where Chris and Nick aren’t here, at 5. Come over.” I smile and reply, “okayy.” I put my phone away and start to walk home faster. I hear footsteps running behind me, Mason. “Hey.” He smiles, breathing heavily. “How far did you run?” I laugh slightly.

“Just from the bench down there to.. here.” His cheeks are slightly flushed. “I thought you were an athlete, how are you out of breath from that?” I scoff. “I am an athlete y/n, I just didn’t stretch.” He rolls his eyes. “Why are you walking with me?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh I am meeting my friends this way to walk home.”

“What are you doing in like an hour?” He asks me, breaking the silence. I look up at him with confusion. “Why?” I hesitantly ask. “I dunno if you wanna like get coffee or something.” He shrugs. He’s got nice intentions but no.

“I’m busy sorry.” I sigh, trying to act sympathetic. “Oh.. no worries, it was worth asking.” He smiles. About 10 minutes pass and I’m about to turn down my street, “I thought you were meeting your friends?” I tilt my head, “yeah I am, in the field down there.” He points down the main road and smiles softly. “Oh okay, this is my street so I’ll see ya.” I smile back.

“Bye y/n!” He calls as I walk away. He’s a sweet person but I just can’t find him attractive, hopefully he finds someone else to like. I walk through my front door to see my dad laying on the couch with a Pepsi in his hand watching sports or something. “Hey dad.” I smile, “hey pumpkin, how was your day?”

Pumpkin is the nickname he’s called me for the past 12 years, because when I was 6 around Halloween we went to a pumpkin patch with mom and I was running and fell face first into a pile of pumpkins and it went all over me. I cried but he thought it was funny to call me pumpkin after that. Now I find it a sweet nickname but I hated it when I was a kid.

“It was okay, I’m going out in like an hour.” I tell him, he nods. “No worries, stay safe though.” I walk upstairs to my bedroom and lay on my bed, spreading my limbs out on it. I take a deep breath before going in the shower.

After my shower I dry my hair and get dressed into a basic fit, I want to be comfy bc I know what’s gonna go down. I do some makeup, not too much, and I go downstairs to leave. “Bye dad!” I call as I leave, “see you later y/n!” I hear from the kitchen. I walk to his house, as it’s only 15 minute walk away, although last time I took a cab.

I finally arrive at Matts house and I see the expensive car is gone. I knock the door hoping Chris and Nick are not there. Luckily Matt opens in and smiles when he sees me, “I’m guessing either Nick or Chris drive the Porsche?” I smirk, “yeah Chris spent a stupid amount of money on it, I drive it sometimes too.” He explains as we walk in.

We sit on the couch, “Deja vu.” I laugh softly, “yeah, except this time I won’t freak out.” He chuckles, “prove it.” I taunt him with a smirk, he tilts his head and grins before leaning in and kissing me, this time feels more passionate.

His hand finds place at the back of my head and the other one on my thigh. My hands entangle in his hair as he pushes me back on the couch slightly, deepening the kiss. His tongue explores my mouth and I let out a soft moan as his hand rubs my upper thigh. He breaks the kiss partially to say something.

“Let’s go upstairs, don’t wanna make a mess on my couch.” He breathes out. I nod and go to stand up but he picks me up like a princess and carries me up the stairs, walking into his room which has a comforting vibe to it. Before I can take it all in he throws me down onto the satin sheets.

“Bet Chris didn’t do this did he?” Matt smirks as he slides my shorts off pulling me to the edge of the bed. “No, it was different because he had to stand and hold me the whole ti-” I start speaking but Matts hand covers my mouth. “I don’t need to hear how my brother fucked you okay?” He looks at me before removing my panties quickly.

He kneels at the end of the bed, his hot breath fanning against my inner thigh as he moves my legs onto his shoulders. “Gonna make you feel good, treat you for being such a good girl in class.” He peppers kisses along my thighs closer and closer to my heat as I squirm. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this with him, he’s had a change of heart now that he knows Chris fucked me first. He’s gonna make this a competition between them I know it.

He starts to kitten lick my folds to tease me, I whine pushing towards him for more. He grabs my hip with one hand, pushing it against the bed to stop me moving. Without warning he dips his tongue inside of me before swirling it around my clit. My back arches off the bed as I moan out.

He grabs both my thighs and pulls me closer, his tongue lapping at my heat. “Fuck Matt..” my hands travel down to his hair as I grip it tightly. He continues to swish and swirl his tongue around me, occasionally dipping it into me causing my back to arch and my grip on his hair to tighten.

“Matt.. I can’t.. I’m gonna cum.. please..” I whimper as his pace doesn’t slow. He hums against me, the vibration hitting my clit in the right way which results in me reaching my high and coming undone. He licks up the rest of my arousal before bringing his face up towards me, I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and breathe heavily.

He leans to kiss me, my arousal still on his chin and I turn my head away, “wipe that off ya lips before kissing me.” I chuckle softly, “you don’t wanna taste yourself? Hm?” He continues to try and put his face by mine, teasing and joking around. “Definitely not, it’s gross.” I squirm, “I disagree, I could have my head between your thighs every day.” He smirks, lifting his shirt to wipe the arousal from his mouth.

“Will you kiss me now?” He grabs my cheeks and brings my face to face his. I nod and he pushes his lips to mine his tongue instantly exploring my mouth, I bite his lip softly and he groans. “Fuck I need you.. to feel you.” He whispers lowly. “Please do..” I whine softly, “You’re gonna take it like the good girl you are.. yeah?” He asks, looking me in the eyes with lust.

“Yes.. of course.. definitely.. I will.” I speak rapidly, needing to feel him inside of my walls. He starts to unbuckle his belt, not breaking the eye contact. He begins to pull down his pants but then.. Slam.

Both of us look towards the bedroom door and back at eachother, “that was a car door right?” I whisper and Matt nods, he checks his watch. “It’s 6pm they said they’d be back at 7.. shit.” He re does his pants back up and I sit up, “get your clothes on.” He throws my panties and shorts at me. His entire tone and body language has changed and now it’s more tense.

“Jeez okay..” I put my clothes back on, I feel gross he didn’t clean me up or anything but I can’t go to the bathroom because they’re home. “What do I do?” I whisper, “just shut up a sec okay?” He snaps, “oh.” I sigh and sit back on the bed. “Matt?” I hear Chris call from downstairs, “stay here.” He spoke softly and I nod, “good girl.” He mumbles before leaving the room and closing it behind me.

I grab my phone from his dresser and open it, 4 missed calls from Lizzy? What the fuck? I text Lizzy, “hey everything okay?” She replies almost instantly, “No. But it’s fine now, no thanks to you though.” Fuck. “I’m pretty busy right now Liz I’m sorry.” I would help her right now but I don’t know what’s happening with me and Matt.

She leaves me on opened. Great, I don’t even know what’s happening or what her problem is. Matt comes back in and grabs my arm, quickly leading me downstairs and through the front door, “see you on Monday.” He whispers flicking his hand so I leave shutting the door behind me. So rude, I thought he was actually giving a fuck about me. It’s raining too, I’m gonna get hypothermia.

I turn to walk down the street away from his house and I hear someone call my name, I look up quickly to see.. Chris?? “Y/n? Why are you by my house?” He asks walking closer, my eyes widen in fear. “Uh.. I was.. fuck, I don’t know.” I lie looking down at my feet. “You stalking me?” He chuckles, I laugh lightly and shake my head.

“No, not that.” I sigh, “it’s cold and raining, you wanna come in for a warm drink or something?” He smiles lightly, I can’t go back in there especially if I just got kicked out by Matt. I thought Chris got home with Nick? “I can’t sorry, I’m going home.” I smile softly, “oh okay.” He looks disappointed. “You were in my house weren’t you?” He steps closer so we are inches apart.

“What no! Why would I be-” I go to like but he cuts me off, “you were with Matt. I know because I heard you shuffling around upstairs when he came downstairs to greet us.” He spoke sternly. “If you were inside then how are you out here?” I ask, looking up at him. “I watched you leave from my bedroom window, then I snuck downstairs and got out quickly to see you.” He sighs.

“So you were stalking me?” I chuckle, “you were the one inside of my house,” he laughs softly, “about that, what were you and Matt doing?” He asks me, but I know he knows the answer. I tilt my head at him, “we didn’t fuck.” I cross my arms, “I never said you did.” He smirks, “I’d rather not go into details.” I scoff.

“Mhm, he wouldn’t have been able to fuck you as good as I can.. right?” He leans down slightly and I shrug. “Right?” He asks again more aggressively. I smirk, “sure whatever you want to believe.” I go to turn around to walk away. “Let me drive you home, you’re gonna get wet ma.” The nickname causes me to turn quickly, “I already am.” I smirk, “in what way?” He tilts his head.

“Not the way you’re thinking, that’s inappropriate Mr Sturniolo.” I bite my lip lightly, “I’ll bring my car around, so Matt doesn’t see you.” He nods and rushes around the corner, the tension was so strong but the rain is getting worse I can’t think about anything other than my hands freezing off. The Porsche drives around the corner and pulls up, I open the passenger door and get in.

“Thanks.” I breathe out, he presses the seat heaters on and leans in the seat behind him and pulls out one of his jackets. “Put that on, you should wear it to school on Monday.” He smirks, “it’s a college not a school.” I scoff, “same thing, and I can take the jacket back if you’re gonna be ungrateful.” He looks at me before laughing slightly.

“You know.. I should be mad that you were with my brother but for some reason, I don’t give a shit.” He adds, turning on music, “Maybe it’s because you’ve got a bigger-” I stop myself, “a bigger??” He asks, “Ego.” I huff. “Sure, sure.” He smiles.

He pulls over for a moment “Wait where do you live? I just realised I don’t know where I’m going.” He looks at me, “we don’t need to go to my house right now.” I grin, “what’re you thinking?” He tilts his head, “I think we should go for a drive and chill out.” I smile.

“Does chilling out include you riding me in the backseat or..” he laughs and I do too, “Chris!” I say and pause for a moment. “Maybe.. just keep driving.” I add. He smiles widely and starts to drive again..

A/n: I haven’t written this in a while but omg I’m excited to continue, I’m pretty busy with school atm but I will try to update asap. Also sorry for edging y’all with this.. why am I kinda team Chris tho 😖 and Matt is kinda an asshole sorry not sorry

@blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1 @jnkvivi

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #chris sturniolo fanfic #smut #matt #Chris

158 notes · View notes

slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi ! I was wondering if you would do Amelia Shepherd x fem reader fic where R is the third twisted sister to Cristina and Mer, Amelia and reader have been in a relationship in secret for a while because they afraid of Mer’s reaction. They finally tell her and she gets protective of R but at the end she is very supportive and protects them against a patient’s hate comment? Xoxo

You’re dating my sister?

Summary: see req above!

Pairings: Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader

fluff, slight angst, homophobia, use of a homophobic slur

Word Count: 1.04k

NOT PROOFREAD

SET WHEN MEREDITH DIDNT LIKE AMELIA MUCH IN THE BEGINNING

Reader pov:

One year. One whole year me and Amelia have been dating for. It’s crazy how fast time feels when you’re in love, I do t know what I’d do without her. The only issue is my best friends, Cristina and Metrdith. Not that I’m afraid of their answer, well. I’m not staid if Cristina’s answer.

Meredith’s husband happens to be my girlfriend brother. It’s a minor detail, and you know, Meredith isn’t the biggest fan of said sister. Me and ames have talked it over and we’re going to tell people soon, but leave Mer till last, what could go wrong right?

Cristina went wrong.

“Hey! Cristina!” I whisper yelled across the nurses station.

“If you have another twisted-sisters-almost-died-or-had-a-traumatic-event drama to tell me save it for after my surgery. Please.” She sighed out.

“No it’s not that I have to tell you something. But you can not, and I mean can not, tell mer.“ I insist

“Dann what did you do screw her sister or something?”

I stay silent at this and her eyes go wide. “Oh. My. God. No you did not.”

I nod my head profusely and respond “We’ve been dating for a year Cristina. Me and Amelia, what am I supposed to tell her?!” I start to panic just thinking about all the different ways this could go wrong.

“Ohh I have no idea! Good luck, you’re gunna need it, oh and tell me when you’re telling her so I can watch.” I rolled my eyes as she walked away from me towards the OR to scrub in.

I walk to my patients room pondering ways to tell mer about me and Amelia, it was going to be a long day.

Amelia pov:

“Derek! Come here!” I call out to him across the neuro floor.

“What do you need I’ve got a surgery with Yang in like, 2 minutes?” He says looking bored before I even start talking.

“Hey you could at least act interest in what I’m about to say, oh and don’t tell mer yet. Please.” His interest was piqued at this so he gave me a look as if to say ‘keep going you’ve got me hooked’ so I continued “Me and y/n have been dating for a year, and we are o my just telling people ad were scared how mer will react because she’s not exactly my biggest fan as of right now and her and y/n/n, and Cristina obviously, are like twisted sisters or whatever.” I took a breather after sayibg all that and my brother just looked like he wanted to laugh in my face.

“Well, good luck!” He smiled and walked off to the OR.

Well shit.

Reader pov:

I walk into my patients room still deep in thought when he speaks up, he’s fairly old, around 70-ish and was in for a broken hip. “You seemed pretty serious with whatever you were talking about back there and now I don’t even get a hello? Something’s gotta be on your mind Doctor.” He gave me a knowing smirk as I open my mouth yet no words come out and let out and exasperated sigh.

“Ah you know, trouble in paradise, well, paradise’s surroundings at least.” I say trying to be as brief as possible.

“Happens to the best of us kid.” He seemed like a genuinely nice guy and to be honest I needed a break so instead of getting a nurse to check his vitals I decided I was going to do them, although it seemed someone else had the same idea.

“Hey y/n/n what are you doing here?” I hear a voice I know all too well say from behind me.

“Hi Ames, just doing Mr Davison’s vitals, are you okay?” I say giving her a smile.

“Funny I was just coming to do the same thing.” she walked beside me and trailed her hand lightly over my lower back which didn’t go unnoticed by Mr Davison.

“Your ‘paradise’ is a she? Ugh just another dyke, exactly what we need!” I stare at him shocked, as does Amelia. His sudden outburst seemed to pull some attention from outside and the one person that I didn’t want to walked in, walked in.

“Is everything okay in here?” Meredith asked.

“No get these people away from me! Horrible people you lgqbt whatever people!” He flailed his arms about like a toddler as he was ranting and raving. Immediately Meredith jumped to our defence.

“Excuse you? Who do you think you’re talking to? I have you know you’ve just made and enemy out of the best neuro, general and ortho (sorry callie) in the state. It’s 2024 in the USA for gods sake, get a grip man!” With this she ushered us out of the room and then into an in call room so she could talk to us.

•

“YOURE WHAT?!” mer practically yelled

“Keep your voice down, yes we’re dating.” Amelia said to mer try help her keep her head on.

“Look Amelia, I love y/n with my whole heart she’s my sister okay? So, if you hurt her, break her heart or do anything to even slightly harm her, I will hurt you twice as much. She’s the best thing that’ll ever happened to you, so don’t screw it up okay?” My heart warmed after hearing just how much mer cared about me and that she would protect me but also slightly concerned she just threatened my girlfriend.

“Yes ma’am.” Amelia murmured clearly slightly intimidated by mer.

“Okay, now that that’s out the way, I’m so happy for you guys!” Me and Ames say thanks and mer’s oager goes off so she has to run so me and amy are left alone in the in-call room.

“I love you Amelia.” I say as I peck her lips and wrap my arms around her neck.

“I love you too y/n/n.” At this she pulled me into a passionate kiss and lowered us both down onto a bed.

When in an unoccupied on-call room…

#wlw #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #lesbian #sapphic #wlw pride #greys anatomy fanfiction #greys anatomy #amelia shepard x reader #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepard #amelia shepherd #meredith grey #cristina yang #derek shepard #derek shepherd

246 notes · View notes

danieyells · 10 months ago

Note

Could I pretty please ask for any Haru stuff you found? 🥺 I've been afflicted with the Haru simp disease and only information/content of him can cure me 🛐

HARU'S CHANGED MY FEELINGS ON HIM not that i disliked him at all before but like. . .you know how he acts like the team mom? His voicelines make this worse. I thought he was more like a meddlesome but chill guy with a lot of energy. The truth is this poor man is a single mother with two unruly kids, a house full of animals, and VIRTUALLY NO HELP BESIDES YOU. No wonder he drinks nearly every fucking night. I get why Jabberwock doesn't have ordinary students but jesus christ please get some helpers in here. My man is overworked.

I ended up putting almost all of them in because. . .he is struggling poor boy. I have officially edited this to contain all of Haru's voicelines! Sorry for the wait!!

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Hey, nice timing! One sec, I've just gotta finish feeding everyone."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"You've got some letters! Better open them before that goat lookalike makes a meal out of them!"

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Folks are going wild over the Anomalous Animal Back To Nature Tour, and this is your chance to experience it at a discount rate! C'mon, help me hand out these fliers!"

"Everyone stuffs up sometimes. Don't let it get to you—just think of it as a funny story you can pull out later and laugh at! Gahaha!"

the only way he knows how to cope with his pain is to laugh at it. . .my therapist told me that was good actually! he's well adjusted! disregard the nightly drinking.

"You sure are fond of {PC}, aren't you, Peekaboo? You did nothing but bite me for the first three days after we met."

tbf you were from another house and it was probably fresh after the clash. . . .

"You reckon I work hard? Nah, this is nothing to write home about. All right, let's head to the next zone!"

"Hey, nice work out there today! Let's knock a few more jobs off the list then take a break, hey?"

oh my god you take breaks? or are you telling the player to take a break while you keep overdoing it. . . .

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Morning! Let's get this show on the road!"

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, {PC}! What a coinkydink! I just finished my rounds."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ren? He's working at that whacky restaurant again. I'll have to go pick him up later."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Towa's off to that hill again? I was gonna ask him to hold down the fort... Guess I'll have to stay put tonight."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Am I tired? Nah, don't worry, if there's two things I have confidence in it's my stamina and my bad luck!"

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"The Sinostra folks are causing a kerfuffle again... I don't need any of that! You should take care not to get dragged into their mess too, you hear?"

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You wanna know how to get the animals to like you? You just gotta show how much you love them, like this— Ow! Don't bite me, Peekaboo!"

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"None of our critters have warmed to Ren at all, even though he spends all day with them... Guess that handsome face only works on humans."

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Phew, time for a bre— Hm? That sounded like the Capybus! I'm gonna go check on her, watch Peekaboo for me!"

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"All right, the kids are all in bed. I'll just ask those two to hold down the fort, then I'll head out for a little walk..."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I went to wake that sleepyhead Ren up this morning, but it was like he couldn't see me even though he was looking straight at me. Reckon his eyesight's bad?"

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Course I eat, don't worry about that! Just earlier I pinched some of Peekaboo's veggies when I was making his lunch and had them with a piece of bread!"

Please eat food. . . .

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"So much to do... Gotta take in the washing and get the shopping done... Argh! There's not enough hours in the day!"

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"This? It's an energy drink. Don't feel like the day's started till I have one. (gulp) (gulp) Pwaaah!"

PLEASE EAT FOOD AND SLEEP. . . . . . . . .

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ah man, there's soap all over the walls again! You're so good at playing with the animals Towa, if you could just learn how to clean up after you'd get full marks..."

Towa i love you but please help your mother boyfriend captain. . . .

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ah! I can't do dogs! How'd you get in here?! Towa!! Come here!! No!! Don't bite me!!"

He is terrified of dogs????? Towa absolutely electrocuted the shit out of that dog. Rip in pieces. That dog truly fucked around and found out. It will never go in the dorm again.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Thanks for helping out again today, you're a real lifesaver. Sorry I can't walk you back..."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"You reckon I look like an acrobat when I'm using my stigma? Gahaha! Maybe I'll practice balancing on a ball then!"

Baby no you are not a clown please what if you break something again--

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"...(gasp) Crap, I fell asleep... Did you put this blanket on me? Cheers... Maybe I'll grab a few more minutes..."

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"I swore I'd take responsibility for protecting all the lives in this park. I can't let anyone die on my watch."

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't know where I'd be without all the critters in this place if I'm honest with you. Well, gotta be my animal magnetism that's keeping them here anyway! Gahaha!"

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hm? There's some critters whose nails were getting dangerously long so I was giving them a clip. Come here, I'll do yours too if you want!"

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Oh, off for a cheeky night out? Gahaha! I know a good place, want me to take you?"

get wasted with him and give him somebody to talk to!! he needs someone besides romeo and rui to listen to him rant sometimes!

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"A soft bed to lie down in and someone to chat with till I drift off... I'm really living the high life here."

He's a simple man. . .it's easy to imagine him holding your hand here while he dozes off. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Really learned the ropes here, haven't you? Once we have a little cash to spare, I'll buy you your own Jabberwock uniform!"

they must be expensive if it takes until Affinity 25 to get you one! He's so conscious about his finances(disregard all of the stuff he buys and never uses--) that being given a purchased gift is surely the highest tier of affection from him haha. But also. . .he treats the anomalous animals and oftentimes even the other ghouls in Jabberwock like they're his kids. This is his way of saying 'you're part of this family too.' Which is very sweet.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Today's shearing day for the fluffy squad! It's actually a pretty hefty task, so I've gotta hop to it if I want to be done before summer..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Bucket, check. Trowel, check. Me and Towa are heading to the mountains to pick some veggies. You wanna come?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"We've been getting a lot of balmy days lately, and the sun's up longer. Can't help but dilly-dally when I'm working..."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I've gotta clean out all the sparrow nests soon or they won't be able to look after their kiddos properly. Looks like there's... 61 nests total..."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"A lot of customers have been saying they wanna stay cool in the summer so I changed up the course. Now we have a special summer-only waterside tour!"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"It's hot so I invited Ren to go fishing, but his face screwed up like a prune and he yelled at me. What's he got against fish?"

Probably the same thing you have against dogs. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Phew... Finally finished harvesting all the feed crops for the day... Everyone's health is dependent on their quality, so now's the time to do it right."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Lotta bugs around this time of year... But they're important for the food chain, so I've gotta take care of them... Argh!! Give it a rest with the buzzing!"

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Hey, nice timing! I'm about to make a fire with the dead leaves I collected so I can bake some potatoes, take a seat!"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I like the Jabberwock uniforms. They're made out of high-performance fabric that keeps you warm when it's cold out and safe when you're handling venomous critters!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The hibernation squad's gonna start eating us out of house and home this month... The food bill's gonna be rough... Eeek!"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"You reckon that's a rabbit on the moon? No way, it's a toad! C'mon, look closer!"

apparently the pareidolic toad in the moon is a Chinese myth! I wonder if they mean to suggest Haru is actually Chinese.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"Rounds are quicker in winter since some of the critters hibernate. Makes things a little easie— Why's the kitchen on fire?!"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Brr... Can't help but get green-eyed looking at the furry critters when it's this cold..."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Nice and toasty... Hm? I'm talking about Peekaboo! He's better than a hot water bottle in this weather!"

Haru putting Peekaboo on your tummy when you're having cramps or just in pain in general is a cute mental image, especially since Peekaboo likes you lol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"It's cold outside so some of the critters have been sneaking into our rooms at night. You heard Ren scream just now, right?"

His birthday: (September 20th)

"It's my birthday?! Oops, totally slipped my mind... Thanks for remembering!"

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. The Capybus is all yours today—I've got a custom birthday tour all planned out for you!"

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! How'd I ring it in? I was milking the cow and when I looked up I'd totally missed the first sunrise! Gahaha!"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"You're kidding, I can really have this?! They say a little sugar helps sweeten a tired day! Thanks a million, this'll keep me going a while!"

White Day: (March 14th)

"Ta-da! I bought you some hand cream, for the chocolate you got me last month. Thanks for everything you do here."

hand cream when you do all of that manual labor and probably have to wash your hands a lot is a really practical gift actually, gg haru

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Can you believe this? Ren got up early, and Towa fed everyone for me! ...Tried to make a joke for April Fools but it just made me feel empty inside..."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Check it out! The pumpkin Capybus, in town for three days only! I sacrificed sleep and some of our budget to get her ready!"

If it's painted I really hope that paint is waterproof. . .never know when Towa's gonna make it rain. . . .

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas! This is a reindeer, she lives up in the mountains! And I'm Sagara Claus! Gahaha!"

just don't let romeo see it lolol

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Hey there, miss! Looking gorgeous as ever! ...Wait, I was kidding! Come back!"

(13 affinity and above)

"You seem pretty flat out today... Nothing for it, I'll get a few other things out of the way while I wait for you to get back."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Phew, that's a relief... I was worried one of ours ate you... Glad to see you back."

Once again. . .an absolute sweetheart. And a single mother who is desperately in need of some help around the house. That April Fool's line really got me lolol poor guy. All of his have a lot of energy to them so i feel like i posted more than Haku, who's kind of a more low key guy lol. . . .

#haru sagara #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #danie yells with anons #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells answers #oops it's midnight gotta finish dailies before it's too late

216 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 1 year ago

Text

baby, as if | flashbacks pt. 2

welcome back to the jungle, babes. baby as if: masterlist (read with caution.)

welcome to the second part of the flashbacks. here we see what happened, where the sour parts began. here, we semi-answer the questions for why he's like that. tw: 18+ (21+ preferred), p in v sex, drug use, references to violence, active violence (domestic and non-domestic), references to gun violence, references to violence with a switchblade, references to club going/getting lapdances, established couple arguing, verbal abuse, psychological abuse/gaslighting, screaming matches, etc. dead dove, do not eat. for a more extensive list of trigger warnings please look at the master list.

5 Years Ago

“Oh, fuck that’s it,” Eddie huffs, sweat making the underside of his hair curlier than normal against his neck, “Ride it juss – mmm, shit, just like that.”

“S’good?” you whine out, eyes glassy and begging for a morsel of his praise. You both still had your clothes on, panties pushed to the side under your diner dress, jeans shoved down part way while he leaned back on the driver’s seat of the van – parked hidden away beyond the trees outside the diner parking lot. Your lunch break spent sucking him in between your thighs.

“Mmmfuckyes,” he hisses out, voice gravelly and deep, “Always so good, sweetheart. Fuck, this pussy’s all mine, isn’it?”

“All yours,” you yelp while his palm comes down in a loud crack on the side of your ass, “S’yours.” “That’s right, s’all mine,” he whines, eyes rolling while your hips slap against his pelvis. His hips stutter upwards and still, fingertips sinking into your skin where he grabs you, “Shitshitshitshitshit.” “Ooh yes, cum for me, cum for me,” you gasp, riding him through his orgasm, only slightly lucid from your own moments before. He grins at your encouragement, brows pinching in the ecstasy of his aftershocks before he pulls you in to kiss him while you both come down.

“Fuh-hu-hu-uck, I love you,” he whispers while he catches his breath, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you smile into his neck, pressing yourself flush against his chest to hold him tighter.

His palm grazes your back, a soft hum pouring from his chest before he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “You gotta get a new dress for the diner soon, honey. This one’s a little tight, don’t you think?”

“You callin’ me fat, Ed?” you ask, abruptly leaning back from him.

He laughs, shaking his head, “No sweetheart, not at all. M’just sayin’ it’s showing you off a little more than I’d like it to.”

“How else am I gonna get tips, handsome?” you wink. He lets his eyes roam over your for a moment.

He shrugs with the cock of his head, “When you’re right, you’re right, I guess.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you again, one rough hand comes up to cup your cheek, “If things keep goin’ how they’re goin’ you won’t even need to work at the diner anymore, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” you mumble against his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll be takin’ good care’a you,” he smirks, mouth pressing against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “Keep you at home with a couple babies, far the fuck away from Indiana.”

“Oh, I gotta stay home with the babies?” you giggle, “I can’t be an award winning journalist while you’re home with the kids?”

“I can do that,” he laughs, nuzzling against your skin, “Be a stay at home dad, watch you be great.” You give each other a few more kisses – soft and gentle, “I’ll see you at ten, kay?” “Okay,” you whisper against his lips, crawling off of him over the console and getting in the passenger's seat so he can drive you back into the parking lot. You touch up your make up in the mirror while he watches, lower lip tucking between his teeth. “You’re too pretty,” he scolds, “Who said you could look so pretty like that?” “Shut up,” you laugh, dabbing your chapstick on with your finger. You give him a final peck on the cheek before getting out of the van altogether, “See you later.”

Time ticks on at the diner and it’s a quiet night besides of the corner booths of your regular construction guys. You always take your time with them because they tip the best right after payday and even if you hate to admit it – they’re a little funny. They’re cute, too.

The grease and oil on their clothes smells like Eddie after a shift at the garage, smells like your dad’s coveralls. It’s what you expect men to smell like these days, never scrunching your nose the way some of the women do who walk by. “Who do you think’s winning Smackdown this season?” Bryan asks you in front of the guys. “Bry, you ask me something about WWE every time you’re here and every time I gotta tell you I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about,” you laugh, writing out the check and slipping it onto the table. “We gotta educate ya, girl,” the guys chime in, “Maybe one of these nights we can have the remote and put it on. We’ll tell you all about it.” “Over my boss’s dead body,” you roll your eyes, “No rush on the check fellas, let me know if you need anything else.” They always hang around late but you never mind too much, they don’t ask a lot and they never get too rowdy now matter how many beers they clear. Bryan and his closer work buddies have been coming around here since long before you were working behind the counter. He knows your birthday and you know his, you met his mom a couple of times, his grandparents twice. His daddy left when he was a kid, but his papa basically raised him.

The bell on the door clinks and you can smell the acrid tobacco from the Camel’s Eddie smoked when the air whooshes in with him. He smiles at you, soft pink lips splitting his face when he sees you behind the shiney linoleum. Ten o’clock on the dot. You pour him a cup of coffee when he sits on the stool across from you. “How long you think it’s gonna take to close up tonight?” he asks, tossing a glance over at the group in the corner booths. His brows raise slightly before he brings his attention back to you: the smear of your mascara under your eyes, the slight dampness at your hairline – too pretty. “Should be ready to hit the road around eleven,” you pass him a couple of creamers and a sugar packet which he always ignores. Sandra tries not to get mad when you flirt instead of closing up.

He leans up on the stool, lips pulling in for a smooch. You oblige him every time, never realizing all the reasons he does it. He wants those boys to know you aren't on the market, well taken care of by a man with his budding reputation. Eddie Munson wasn't really someone you wanted to get on the bad side of, at least that's what people were saying in town under their chitters of day to day gossip. His posture stiffens when the guys get up to pay about a half hour later, when they make jokes with you, when they imply they'll see you tomorrow. Eddie's jaw clenches and releases, rolling his shoulders when they file outside to smoke their end of night cigarettes.

"Busy night?" he asks once the bell stops dinging. "A little," you shrug, you walk around the counter to clean up their table; smiling to see they've stacked everything together to make it easier to carry. "Good tips?" he asks. You nod, patting your apron while you disappear in the back, letting Peter know that was the last of the dishes. Eddie catches you when you reappear, closing in on a slow kiss. "Thought about you all day," he smiles, "Your dad was pissed, I dropped a wrench twice under the hood of some new customer's car." "Don't test him," you tease, "He's a hard ass." "I'm his favorite," he winks, "Gonna be his son one day, right? He can't hate me now." You start to count out the register, catching his eye in between the change of bills -- he winks each time, making your heart race. But your smile falls when you see his phone start to buzz on the table.

“Don’t get all pouty, it could just be Gare,” he says when he catches your change in expression. The soft breath out of his nose tells you enough. “M’sorry baby, I gotta go,” he says, one foot already hitting the white and black tile below him, “Big move over by Rick’s and they need extra support.”

He leans over the counter again to give you a kiss, but your frown is evident. "How am I gonna get home, Ed?" you ask softly. "Aw, honey," he pouts, voice stuffy with baby talk, "M'so mean, huh? Why don't you call your dad? He'll come get you. Unless you wanna wait for me. I’ll be back in – I dunno, two hours tops. Come back a few G’s richer than I was before." "I'm not waiting around outside the diner until one in the morning," you sigh, reaching for your phone in your apron, "I'll figure something out." Your frustration is evident.

“C'mon, look'it me," he says softly, smiling when he meets your eye, "I’ll get you somethin’ pretty tomorrow." He leans forward to kiss you again – short little pecks, “Whatever.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Want.” Kiss. “Don’t make this a regular thing,” you warn, crossing your arms and trying not to smile after the kissy assault. He nods, leaning in again to kiss you on the mouth more seriously than before.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he says, gathering his keys and bouncing up off the stool, "Text me when you get home. I love you." “I know, handsome,” you nod.. He blushes at the name, you know it’s his favorite – he never really thought he was handsome before you came around to remind him all the time.

“Hey,” he pouts at you from the door, “Say it back.” "I love you, too," you sing song, leaning on your elbow on the clean counter top. That's how it's been -- always with a promise of something pretty, of something new, of something he wants to see you in, to smell you in, to kiss you in. New shoes, new dress, new mascara, new lip gloss, new, new, new. But you were starting to miss the old Eddie who didn’t have to be on call all the time. Eddie, who'd be excited to see Beau at the shop, who wasn’t too tired from being with Rick and the boys, from making deals all night – from pushing bricks in different states.

When 11 hits you make your way out of the diner, your dad didn't answer your call -- both your parents and Beau fast asleep by now. You light a cigarette, seeing the headlights of a car turn on in the dark parking lot headed your way. "Hey, where's your man?" Bryan says from the driver's side, another friend in the passenger. "Had somethin' to do," you shrug, flicking your ash into the bush behind you. "I can give you a ride, if you want."

You weren't in any position to say no to a ride.

A few weeks pass and Eddie hasn't been able to drive you home from the diner at all these days. Date nights coming in a little farther and few in between. Even Beau had been asking where he'd been lately. But tonight it was just the two of you, back pack filled for a night over at his place. Movies snuggled up on his couch, two different kinds of pizza and the cinnasticks you liked so much -- extra iceing. You could barely stop smiling during your mid-shift, giggling at every text message, every smiley he sent your way.

You jump at the harsh sound of the horn outside, expecting him to come in and give your mom a hug like he usually does. He's idling outside of your family's house, knee bouncing and fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Hair tied up, bangs curly and over flowing on his forehead, damp with sweat.

“Is that Ed, honey?” she calls from the kitchen, organizing pins back in her trusty tackle box of hair fixins that she keeps in the cabinets closer to her hair cutting chair.

“Yeah!” you yell back, shoving some essentials in your purse before running toward the door, “Um, I’ll probably see you tomorrow!”

“Okay, tell him I said hi!” she offera while you head outside. He flashes his high beams at you, honking the horn again while you squint under the harsh bright lights. Your keys jingle in your hand while your sneakers sink into the mud from the summer rain, hurrying to open the door.

“Hi handsome,” you smile, but he doesn’t look happy to see you, “You okay?”

“Babe, what’re you wearing?” he asks while he looks you over, “We’re goin’ to the club.”

You look him over, blackest black slim fit slacks, shoes shined, leather jacket newly conditioned while all the hardware glinted back at you in the light above him. You look down at your sweatshirt and jean shorts, your dirty sneakers, “Oh, um, I can go change.”

He sighs, big and heavy, leaning his head back on the headrest, “We don’t have time, I gotta meet Rick beforehand.”

“You didn’t – you didn’t tell me. I thought we were just going to yours tonight,” you say, hoisting yourself into the passengers seat, “So don’t act all – I don’t know – fuckin’ exasperated with me for not dressin’ up.”

He takes a deep breath through his mouth and out through his nose, eyes closing and fingers tightening on the wheel while you click your seatbelt into place, “M’not exasperated with you. But now I gotta leave you at Rick’s ‘cause I’m not gonna be late for this play just cause you don’t read your texts.”

Your furrow your brows at him, his tone feels clipped, sharpened – he was tense like a stretched elastic, waiting to snap, “You didn’t text me.”

“Yes I did,” he huffs, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street, “Why don’t you check?”

You do, even going as far to open your text conversation, his last message from the last hour in his shift: see u in two hours, qt :)

“It’s just from when you texted me from work,” you say, turning the screen toward him, “See?”

He scans it, knee bouncing, fingers drumming, he swipes his hand under his bangs to push away the sweat, “You have bad service or something? Did you delete it?”

“No, babe, I think you just didn’t press send,” you laugh lightly, “Unless you got some other bitches you were supposed to meet tonight.”

His head had never whipped so fast around, “Why would you say somethin’ like that, hm?” he snaps, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ed, babe,” you say softly, “You serious? I was joking. It was just a slip up, I’ll hang at Rick’s.”

“Well it’s not funny,” he says, leg bouncing so fast it shakes the van at the red light you’re stopped at, “I don’t like that shit.”

Your heart sinks, watching the whites of his knuckles flex and relax on the wheel. Your suspicions might be right about why he was acting like this tonight, “You gonna kiss me hello, or no, Munson?”

His shoulders slump, turning to you to lean in for a kiss, but you catch his eyes in the streetlights – pupils blown to block out his pretty brown irises. Your brows pinch and you reach out to hold his chin in your hand.

“Wait – are you -- are you fucking tweaking right now?” you ask, the anger present on your face.

“Stop it,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and dragging his face out of your grip to look back on the road, “I had a little blow, m’not tweaking.”

“So you’re gonna do this play all revved up? Thought you weren’t ever gonna touch your own stash,” you snap. Eddie wasn’t innocent and you weren’t either, but he was always – always adamant on not touching what he sells.

“I’ve been awake for two days,” he boredly explains, raising his voice to drown out your disappointment, “I needed a boost.”

He grabs your hand from your lap, pulling your knuckles up to his mouth to kiss them, “Don’t be mad, please?”

“I’m not mad you just…you don’t have the right personality to be playing around with that shit,” You huff, savoring the feeling of his soft lips on your fingers.

“M’not playing around with it, it was just for a boost,” he pleads in a whine. You stay glaring at the windshield while his thumb caresses your hand.

“Baby…” he says sweetly, casting his hook, “Don’t be mad, baby girl. I’m sorry.”

Line. Sinker. You try not to grin but can’t help it, warmth pools through your body when he talks to you like that. He presses a kiss to your fingertips this time.

“Do you love me?” he asks. “Unfortunately,” you groan sarcastically.

“I love you more,” he says, keeping your hand with his on his lap, “Love you the most.”

You get to Rick's, hand in hand with your boyfriend while he guides you inside. To anyone else it would look like a party but the group was too small, it's what Eddie would call a gathering. He says his hellos and you say yours before Ed finds the man of the hour in the corner with Steve Harrington -- budding favorite dealer amongst Indiana's elite. "Harrington," Eddie nods, his arm skating around your waist. They nod at eachother mid conversation, you both wave. You try not to listen to whatever they're talking about, not wanting to get caught up in the stress. The smoke in the air burns your eyes against the neon pink light fixtures burning on the wall. You wonder where Rick ordered these one's from -- or stole them. Something. "Alright baby, I'm gonna head out with the guys but I'll be around later, alright? I'll come get you," he promises, pressing kisses on your cheek that offer you whispers of his cologne. It's not too long before a joint is perched between your lips, hearing the revs of cars and Steve's motorcycle outside, all headed to he same place. But Eddie didn't show up -- popped up two days later with a cross tattoo on one of his knuckles -- fresh. His eyes were dark, under eyes darker -- tense and overwhelmed -- but much richer than he was two days before. Not showing up became regular. Countless texts and calls of: ‘Sorry baby, things are running late.’ ‘Sorry baby, have to run some plays for Rick.’

‘Sorry baby, gotta go to Michigan with some of the guys.’

'Sorry baby, I'm just so tired.'

Bryan drove you home every shift for two months, ever since Eddie stopped coming by. Started spending his nights at clubs and bars to deal, ignoring your calls and texts for days on end.

You let Bryan start kissing you goodbye.

Four and a Half Years Ago

Eddie got another cross tattoo a month after his first, hunkering down and laying low for a while, especially now that his daddy was out of jail. No one liked Mack Munson the way they liked his son, not the same criminal he was. Mack did crime for sport, how far can you go? How many people can you hurt? How many envelopes can you push until you've pushed too many? He's normally out for a few months before he's back in again, but that's easy when you've got no where to go.

Eddie was different -- making a name for himself in all the right ways. Oh, a kid at the park's bike got stolen? Eddie got him a new one. Wayne's car broke down? He covered the cost to fix it. Mrs. Costner couldn't pay her heating bill? Don't worry, Eddie will be there with the cash before you can say 'hypothermia.' Even the cops were starting to let him slide if he could spare a few pills, a few ounces, a few dollars. It felt good to be bad if he could get some good out of it. Not that he was telling you anything, this was through the grapevine. Checking your phone to some of your friends with pictures of him at the club. 'This your man?'

Maybe.

He'd come see you sometimes at the diner, fresh and clean, nails shined and silver shinier. Eddie would look at you with those love sick eyes, watching you work in the overhead light. Your smile, your laugh, the way you hold one hand on your hip while you pour coffee. His phone would buzz and then he'd leave, sometimes without saying goodbye.

Your boyfriend, the ghost. Sex felt different when he offered it, he seemed distracted. You could've sworn you saw a girl's name pop up on the screen when he had a call come in but he'd flip it over before you were sure. Forehead to forehead, panting while he held your face in place to look at him. I love you, I love you, I love you. It was hollow, the dark blackness of his oversized pupils daring you to not say it back. You always did. How could you not?

Bryan was different -- he was long car rides and shared doughnuts. He always let you play your favotite songs on the radio. You weren't walking on egg shells, he liked when you bantered with his friends. There wasn't an underlying dread beneath every interaction the way it had become with Ed.

And Bryan's pupils always stayed the same size.

You aren't expecting to see Eddie's van outside the diner when you finish up your mid-day shift. The fall weather turned the sun down hours ago, but the night was still young and abuzz with life. You'd planned on going out since you had the weekened off, but it seemed like Eddie had different ideas for you.

He shoved the diner door open, looking disheveled and out touch, reeking of cigarettes he chainsmoked before he got in. "You done for the night?" he asks while you come around the corner of the counter with your jacket on. "Yeah, um -- why're you here? You didn't text me," you ask quietly, following him out into the crisp air. You wave your goodbyes through the newly repaired window to a dissapointed Sandra -- even if Eddie paid for the fix, she still didn't like that boy.

"We're goin' for a ride," he mumbles, "Gotta talk to you about somethin'."

You heart sinks and then hammers when you get in the passengers seat of the van. Fear floods through your veins, even overpowering your disappointment when you see a lipgloss in his cup holder that you know doesn't belong to you.

You take the moment that he's distracted from a phonecall with Gareth to text Bryan that you won't need a ride, shoving the phone in your pocket where he can't see. Eddie takes you to the lake where you both used to sit in talk in the summers when you were first getting to know each other. This visit didn't feel friendly in the same way, this time you knew he wasn't going to awkwardly reach for your hand or fumble over his wors like he used to.

“So you fucked some other guy?” he asks, flicking his cigarette into the lake, “You cheated on me?”

“I – Eddie -- we've barely been seeing each other. You've been dodging for months,” you explain, “I thought we were done.”

“Did I say that? Did I break up with you?” he snaps, “Cause I’m pretty sure your dad still thinks I’m your boyfriend. Pretty sure all the guys still think I’m your boyfriend. And now I look fuckin’ stupid ‘cause you’re goin’ around with some asshole.”

You shook your head no, feeling his anger radiate off of him, so quick to find it these days, “M’not goin’ around with someone. We aren’t like, together or anything. He took me on a few dates, he drives me home, we kissed, we–”

“You fucked him,” he spits, “And I know you did cause you can’t fuckin’ look me in the eyes. You at least owe me that much.”

You reluctantly make eye contact with him, your reflection shining back in his wet angry gaze. You take a deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth shakily, “Yeah, I fucked him. At least he’s fucking around for me to fuck.”

“Oh, s’that what this is?” he scoffs, “Not getting enough attention? God for-fuckin’-bid huh? God forbid I got shit to take care of so I can help out my uncle and get ‘im set up in an apartment. God forbid I start movin’ up the ranks so I can start making some more cash. And-and-and god fuckin’ forbid I take some different shifts at the garage so I can sleep in a little after being up all night tryna not get busted by Hopper and his fuckin’ pig brigade. So sorry I wasn’t comin’ home to you with flowers every night, I had to take care of some other shit. I mean Jesus Christ do you ever think about anyone but yourself?”

Your eyes meet the earth again, watching the way your calves flexed and unflexed, the crease and re-crease of your sneakers.

“You’ve been at the club, Ed,” you murmur quietly, “So you’re not so innocent either.”

“At the club?!” he balks, “You mean sellin’ drugs at the club?”

Your eyes burn with tears because he’s not hearing you, “You’re n-not just selling at the club. The girls’ve been showing me p-pictures. You’ve been hooking up there long before I started seeing Bryan.”

He lights another cigarette, letting the smoke billow out into your face, “So his name’s Bryan, huh? Okay.”

He takes a step toward you, sticks and wet grass crunching under his boots, “And what’s so great about Bryan, baby?”

You swallow thickly, suddenly aware of his looming presence, how big he can make himself seem when he’s angry. He takes another crunching step towards you, only a foot between the ends of your sneakers and the tips of his Docs. You feel the smoke of his next drag kiss your face again, hear his arms cross over his t-shirt.

“You forget how to talk, princess?” he bites. You shake your head no, matching his posture by crossing your arms over your chest. The straps of your tank top bite at your shoulders uner your jacket when you do, your bra straps pulling along with them.

“He cares,” you say quietly, “He’s not…he’s not giving me up to go, I don’t know, have strippers dance on him so he can make a buck at a bar.”

“He cares? Is that what you call it?” Eddie laughs bitterly, “So it wasn’t me caring about you when you’d call me every night from your dorm? Not me helpin’ watch your little brother when you needed to take an extra shift or two? Helping your mom with her errands? It’s not me caring when we’d drive out to the dunes cause you wanted to put your toes in the sand – you know how much money I lost that day?”

Your eyes pool with tears when you remember that day, he’d tossed his phone in the trunk. Nothin’s as important as bein’ with my girl, baby.

“Buying you a new TV for Beau so he can play video games in his room and not bother your dad? Fuck, takin’ your dad out to lunch so we can talk about the future I want with you? But I don’t fuckin’ care? Askin’ him your ring size but I don’t fuckin’ care?!” his voice raises with every sentence.

You wince when he shouts, not expecting the anger to be so explosive. His pupils are blown, but that was starting to become more expected than before. He shakes his head, "You know what, babe? You're right. I don't fuckin' care. I don't fuckin' need you." Eddie tosses his cigarette to his feet, stomping it out. "Plenty of other pussy to keep me occupied, right?" he asks, head tilting when he looks at you, "Since that's who I am, huh? Didn't bother to ask me if I was fuckin' around did you?"

"S'not like you'd tell me the truth," you argue back quietly, voice meek while you hold back your tears. "Pffft," he scoffs, "Better watch that attitude on you, girl. You're gonna run that mouth to the wrong person one day. Not every guy is like me."

He crunches back toward the van, lingering his eyes on you while he stands at the open door on the drivers side. His face is pale in the light of the moon, eyes aching for you to say something. Almost yearning before he hardens again. "Bryan can pick you up, right?"

Four-ish/Three-ish Years Ago

Bry asked you to be his girlfriend two weeks after your fight with Eddie. Pulled out all the stops with that union money; good dinners, nights out on the town, all the boys knew how to do was drink beer and party. You finally started to understand WWE in a way you weren't sure you were supposed to, but it was as fun as it was ridiculous. Boys nights became boys nights plus you, the crowd favorite. Pulled in for soft kisses on football Sundays and baseball games, borrowed jackets if it got chilly. Eddie never let you wear his jacket. After a month you were sure that you'd made the right decision. The soft way he looked at you, his sandy hair, the callouses on his hands from a hard day of work. He was a good boy, good enough that Sandra made sure to give them discounts every time him and his friends came in. You only thought about Eddie when you'd run into him or that crew in town, cigarette between his full lips and a snarl to match.

Eddie didn't like to be made a fool of the way you'd made a fool of him. After another month, you barely thought about him anymore -- you had other things to worry about.

Bliss has its costs.

The first time Bryan hit you it was a blip in time, followed by a water fall of apologies. Before you noticed how much beer he was backing when he was out with the guys, why he started off so nice. You never saw him after he got too drunk -- angry and ruddy in the face. Stumbling into his apartment where you'd be there waiting for him. He stopped liking it when you'd joke around with his friends. He stopped liking it when you'd come to boys nights. He stopped letting you listen to your favorite songs in the car.

But when he was good, he was so, so good.

When he was bad, he was horrid.

Eventually, your parents noticed that you stopped coming around. You never showed up at the shop, stopped bringing Beau to and from camp and school. Your mama never saw you, you hardly came home. Your daddy would text you in the morning and ask if you’d be in the diner that night to get a glimpse of you. Bryan would snatch your phone at every incessant call.

“Why do your folks wanna talk to you all the time?” he’d ask, “Did you tell ‘em you wanna leave?”

You got so many bouquets over the next five months you could open a flower shop or a funeral service. Either way, they were more often than not. The 'sorry's' never stopped coming and the bruising started to match. You went through concealer like the diner went through cooking grease -- opting to start wearing readers to work to detract from the caked up product on your cheeks, by your lips, on your throat. But no matter how bad it got your heart would soar at his smile, at his gentle touch, at the softness of his kiss. You knew now why it was so hard for all those other women to leave.

You started hearing stories about Eddie -- more erratic than he was before but somehow more beloved around his part of town. A violent type of Robinhood that you didn't want to cross. Gareth came by the diner one night when you had finally gone in, sitting across from you with a smile while you caught up on a slow Tuesday. Told you all about it, about him, about what was new with the guys. It felt nice, like old times -- a fondness in your chest blooming when you watched him leave.

Two days later, your phone buzzed in the darkness of Bryan's apartment -- RESTRICTED popping up on the screen. You didn't have to guess who it was; Gareth wasn't coming in for a late dinner. He was doing rounds. He was keeping tabs on you.

Bryan had passed out on the couch hours ago, the deep steadiness of his snoring echoing through the living room. You reach for your phone, tip-toeing to the back porch while you consider denying the call -- but you know he'll just keep calling. He hates being left in the dark.

You answer shakily, “Hello?”

“Where are you?” you hear him ask in a low voice, menacing, “Sandra told me what’s goin’ on. Where are you? Now.”

“Nothing’s goin’ on, Ed,” you say quietly.

“If nothings goin’ on then why’re you whisperin’, hm? You keepin’ quiet for what?” he challenges, “Are you at his house?”

“I’m not telling you where I am.” “You think I won’t find you? I got eyes all over this place,” his laughs, “You don’t think if I tell Sandra I’m comin’ to save your ass she won’t give me your schedule?”

“There’s a reason she doesn’t give it out to you,” you hiss, “It’s literally illegal. Can you stop your fuckin’ hero shit? You think you’re any better?”

“Hero shit?” he growls, “Your mama keeps calling me crying on the phone asking if I’d seen or heard from you at all. Your daddy hasn’t slept in days thinking maybe this asshole finally snapped your fuckin’ neck. You keep skippin’ out on shifts at the diner and you wanna shit on me for tryna help? Fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” you say through gritted teeth, “Stop. Calling.”

“And yeah, sweetheart, I do think I’m better,” his voice raises, blaring through the receiver, “When’d you ever hear that I’m beating on the bitches I take home? Who am I beating on? Don’t make shit up just ‘cause you wanna be stubborn.”

"Fuck off," you hiss. "Why did Gareth tell me you got bruisin' everywhere, hm? Why did Sandra stop me the other night at Melvald's to tell me to call you? I know she doesn't like me, so it must be serious -- right?" he challenges.

"I have it under control," you growl. "Yeah?" his voice lilts, argumentative and ready to go, "Well fu--" "Who're you talkin' to?"

Bryan takes your phone before you can answer.

When you show up to your shift the next day Sandra can barely recognize you, tears welling up in her eyes when you come in the door.

You do your best not to meet her gaze, simply nodding when she asks 'Was it him?'

You woke up late, knowing you couldn't miss another day or the owner would fire you -- already on probation for all the work you've missed. Didn't have a chance to shower let alone do your makeup, not that you could bare to touch some of it.

The morning is slow, she let's you sit in the back and cry it out to Paul while he flips burgers and flap jacks on the grill. You prep, chopping up whatever he could have you chop, anything to keep you back with him unless Bryan thought it was a good time to show up with his buddies.

He passes you a lemonade and two Advil at noon, winking in the way grandfather's do when they know you've had a bad day.

"Here ya go, sugar," he smiles. You smile back, igorning the sting of the tear in your lip reopening at the gesture.

"Thanks, Paul."

The bell dings during another slow period and you smell Camels before you catch a familiar whiff of Creed Aventus.

"She's in the back," you hear Sandra mutter through the server window.

“Oh, girl, what did he do to you?” You know that smoky voice anywhere, it pours like ice down your back. “You can’t be here,” you shake your head, stepping away while he steps closer to you.

“Hey, look,” he starts with his hands up, soft and gentle, “Look, look. Sandra called me, I’m just coming to pick you up.”

“I have to be here,” you assure, “I can't leave early, he's gonna know.” “That’s fine,” Eddie shrugs, “I’ll tell him you’re comin’ with me.”

You shake your head no, “It’s fine Ed, I can handle this. Please just go home.”

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” he shakes his head in response, gruffer this time, “This isn’t for me. Your folks, they – they miss you. Beau misses you. Asks me if I’ve seen you every time he’s at the shop. I can’t be lyin’ to Beau like that. Don’t you miss him? Don’t you miss your folks?”

Your lower lip wobbles when you think about Beau, all the basketball games you missed for his youth league. The voicemails of him begging you to come.

"C'mon, Sandra said it's okay if you dip out early," he says, ecouraging you with caution -- like you're a feral cat about to run away, "Come with me, I'll take you back to his so we can get your stuff." "Eddie please," you beg, "Please don't get involved -- he'll get the cops on your back I --" "I'm not worried about cops," he chuckles, a knowing smirk flickering on his lips, "Get your jacket, come get in the van." "I can't..." you urge again, throat tight with a threatening cry. You turn around, back to your chopping, drowning out the blood pumping in your ears with the beat of the knife.

"You can, c'mon." You ignore him, feeling his eyes on you, narrowing down to burn holes in the back of your skull. He doesn't have the same patience he used to. You hear his soft sigh, the cross and uncross of his leather jacket, the tinkling of his chains and hardware.

"Baby..."

The dam breaks as his smooth honey voice; it had been so long since someone had called you that. Said it like that, so low and pretty, like he means it. You let out a choked sob when you feel his palm slide over your back and around your shoulder.

"Oh, baby, baby, come here," he whispers, pulling you into him while you fall apart. Tears streaming over the bruises on your cheek bone, the tear in your lip, over your jaw.

"Let's go get your stuff, okay?" he asks, rubbing your back against the polyester of your work dress -- you got a new one in a size too big when Bryan said he didn't like how your old one fit, "Come on, let's go get in my car."

"Prince of the trailer park," Bryan grits toward Ed when he knocks on the door, "To what do I owe this white trash surprise?" "Comin' to get her stuff," he respons nonchalantly, "You gonna let me in or what?"

"Her stuff?" Bryan asks, sick smirk sliding over his face, bleary eyes peering into the van parked by the sidewalk. "What's she tellin' you?" he asks, arms crossed over his white tee, freckled arms flashing against the fabric.

"Nothin'," Ed shakes his head, "Just comin' to get her stuff." Bryan takes a step forward and that's all it takes to get Ed ready to go, arm out to keep his distance, to keep himself between your boyfriend and the van.

“I’m not playin’ around today, man,” Eddie warns, “Let me go grab her stuff and this doesn’t have to be a problem.”

“Problem? You’re ninety pounds soakin’ wet,” Bryan laughs, his couple inches on Eddie helping to bore over him, “What’s she telling you?”

“She hasn’t had to tell me anything,” Ed repeats, “S’all over her face. You’re all over her fuckin’ face man, now let me in the door before I do something you don’t like.”

Bryan lunges, but he’s not quick enough, the soft click of a gun cocking puts him back at attention. “My uncle did two tours, Bry, you think I don’t know my way around a trigger?” Eddie smirks. You watch from the van, horrified, heart racing when you see the black metal gleam in broad daylight. Ignoring Eddie’s demands to stay in the car you throw open the door and run to the sidewalk.

“What the fuck, Ed?” you rasp out, voice heavy with your earlier cry, “Put that shit away.”

Bryan catches your eye, looking at you with a fuming rage, “This is all you, huh?”

“No, it’s not – I didn’t say anything,” you plead up at him, “I promise.”

“Listen pal,” Eddie continues, another step forward while his heavy boot finds its way over the door frame, “We can make this real easy if you let me.”

They bark at each other like rabid dogs when the doors close behind the three of you, a barrage of insults from Bryan’s liquor soaked mouth. You grit your teeth, jaw tight while you decide what’s worth it to keep and what’s not. Your eyes glaze over with tears and the whirl of the place around you.

When did Eddie start carrying a gun?

When you’ve fit as much as you can in your duffle you make your way towards the door; hearing Eddie’s low growl of the threat when Bryan makes it way over to you.

“If you think for one second you’re gonna see or hear from her again then I promise you, you are sorely mistaken,” he mutters, the scrape of metal on metal rings in your ears when his rings slide over the short barrel.

“If I remember correctly, you’re not around too to find out are you?” Bryan bites back.

Eddie chuckles smugly, a tight pulled smile across his face with his dimples deep on his cheeks, “I got eyes on every corner, chief. Don’t test me.”

“We’ll see about that, huh Munson?” Bryan nods, eyes settling on Eddie’s knuckles – another fresh cross tattoo blazoned across pale skin.

“We won’t see about shit,” Eddie nods back, “I always keep my promises.”

He takes you to his place -- his uncle in a nice little apartment in the city now so the trailer's his. It looks the part, new repairs and updates the other people in the park couldn't believe when he started making them. You fret and worry the whole way there, not looking at him once for the ride, not even a thank you.

"He won't come to mine," Eddie soothes in the car, "I got a friend outside your folks place, too."

"Mhm," you nod, watching the town woosh by while he presses on the gas, two turns and it's just trees lining the street.

"You're okay," he says when he pulls in, hopping out to open your door from the otherside, "C'mere."

You follow him in, collapsing on his bed the moment you make it into his room. His sheets are fresh, they smell like him on his side, pillow laced with a few strands of his wavy hair.

"You know you're the only one I ever let in my bed," he says softly, kicking his boots off in line with his other shoes. "Hmm," you hum, too despondent to reply.

"Scooch," he mumbles, warm palm pushing gently at your arm. You make room for him, hearing his jacket slide off and his belt get undone. If it was a year and some change ago the sound would've sent your reeling with need, now it just sounds hollow.

He slides in next to you, encouraging you to flip over so he can see you. You haven't looked in those soft brown eyes in a while, it almost hurts. His brows furrow and then soften, yearning the way they did before he left you by the lake.

"You hurtin'?" he asks, hand reaching up to run over your hair, "Can I get you something?"

"I took some Advil at work," you answer, the ache at a dull thud in your face. Exhaustion starts to overtake you while you sink into his mattress, the first time you've felt safe in months.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, thumb sliding feather light over the bruise on your cheek bone.

"Didn't want you to be right," you croak out. "Sounds like you," you smiles back. He comes in closer, arm snaking around you like he used to.

"I missed you," he whispers, "All the time."

Your eyes water, "Don't...don't do that."

"Baby, I'm being honest," he urges, "Couldn't stop thinking about you."

"You don't mean that," you sniffle, your heart sinking while he pours out more confessions.

"Of course I mean it," he says, looking at you with desperation behind his gaze. He leans in slow, warm lips brushing yours, careful not to press to hard on the swollen corner of yours. You relent, letting him kiss you, letting his hands roam over your waist and push you in from between your shoulder blades.

"Didn't you miss me?" he asks. The pit in your stomach knows that you didn't -- you didn't miss him breaking off dates, you didn't miss the ignored calls, you didn't miss him fucking off for who knows how long. You didn't miss finding lipgloss in his car, hair strands that weren't yours.

But you missed this. The way it feels to be told that you're the only one allowed in his bed. The only one he sends someone to keep tabs on. The only one he misses.

You nod, your body moving this time to get close to him.

"I'd never hurt you like that," he mumbles against your lips, "Not my baby. Not my girl."

He holds your eyes in his when he puts you gently on your back, gingerly pulling off your diner dress. He presses kisses down your neck, across your chest.

"Let me make you feel special," he says down at you, light shining behind his head like a halo, "Let me show you how special you are."

He still knows your body like he wrote the schematics for it, pulling soft needy moans out of you like a never ending string of chords he's always known how to play. You almost forget the thumping pain in your head, peppered in gentle kisses at every wince. 'I love you' weighing heavy on his tongue when he keeps eye contact, but never passing his lips. Never passing yours. Maybe neither of you have to say it.

You both settle afterwards, two rounds have pushed you past the point of exhaustion -- fast sleep in his arms after a bottle of water and two more Advil out of the palm of his hand.

You wake up in darkness, a sea of dark blue and black with a soft green glow of his side table clock. A little past midnight.

Your head pounds, dehydrated from all the crying. You search for your phone in the blankets -- noticing the bed next to you is empty while doing so. You peer over the mattress, no light coming in from under the door.

"Ed?" you call out, but no one responds. You sigh, finally finding your phone somwhere under your hip. Your inner thighs ache from having his hips slam into them hours before, hips in their full extension while he pushed into you deeper and deeper.

274 missed calls. All from Bryan.

Your blood runs cold, looking out the window to see Eddie's van missing. A car you don't recognize sits a trailer away, humming with muffled music, a shadowed figure inside behind a cloud of smoke. A gentle moment of ease flits through you -- at least someone was looking out.

i just woke up, where are you? who's the guy outside?

You wait for a bit, going through your socials to make sure Bryan is blocked on everything. You delete all the messages, not bothering to read them so your fear doesn't spike again.

Your phone buzzes.

i'm out.

You swallow, hoping he's not making good on any promises -- not after that show earlier this afternoon. But you don't have to wonder past the next scroll on Instagram.

Grainy with a filter is a photo posted 45 minutes ago from a friend of a friend, a bottle girl at the club that all the boys love the most. With two girls on each thigh there sits Eddie in a VIP back room, laughing at someone in the background -- whiskey neat in one hand, cigarette in the other. The caption makes your heart hammer --

'our king on his throne. ♡'

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dark!eddie munson #dark eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #modern!eddie munson #modern eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction

510 notes · View notes