#and I'm still not sure how I feel about Ed
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I'm playing it safe and putting my whole dang post under a spoiler warning. Do not proceed if you have not played Slay the Princess.
I'm reblogging this because I love the art, and I love Slay the Princess, although my own playthrough of Slay the Princess ended in me deciding to, well, Slay the Princess. The game was not a love story for me; it was more like a domestic abuse story, and the ending was coming to terms, letting go, and finding freedom and hope. I actually have so much respect for the devs for making the game in a way that allowed me to reach a very different conclusion than the one I believe they intended to be the "best", and while still giving me an absolutely phenomenal experience from start to finish. The game remains extremely satisfying even if you reject the intended meaning and find another. Like, I could still tell "ah, this is for sure not what they want me to do..." but the game let me do it anyway, and the outcome was satisfying and didn't feel like a punishment or a scolding. In my experience, there really aren't very many games that can absorb that kind of disagreement with their own narrative. Usually, games either shove you kicking and screaming into the "good" ending, or they hand you a "bad" ending that is unambiguously awful. Or they express no significant opinions on anything, no real themes, and are only permissive because they are bland and noncommittal. This one, though. This one is afraid of no theme, never hesitates to introduce a strong opinion or idea or moral position. And it yet it also fucking "no, but-" or "yes, and"-ed all my disagreements with it, and then somehow managed to give me an ending that actually fit well with my interpretation of the story. I cannot, CANNOT, get over how fucking incredible that game is. It's like the game is an extremely intelligent and philosophical horror improve partner with the player. I can't ever even talk about it without wanting to go play it again. Yet it's so hard to sell people on, too. 😅 But at least the surprise of discovering what this game is, under its title and marketing and genre expectations, is a joy as well. Anyway, my point, though I wandered far afield of it, is that yours is a really fun crossover idea, but I think I'd prefer it be wildly AU in execution, because the game ending that I think is intended by the devs is one I cannot accept, and the ending I got.... Is way too sad for Danny. >.< Also, I just have trouble imagining Danny committing that much murder and torture, tbh. :P Ultimately, though, this is only a me problem! Write and/or draw whatever ya'll want to, of course. :) Aaaaanyway, you really nailed the Slay the Princess art style, on the dot. Like, I would have known exactly what it was even if you hadn't included the title, or the writing underneath the image, or anything else but Danny chained to the wall. That's really impressive to me. In part because I cannot visual arts, and I don't have a handle on what it is about the Slay the Princess art that makes it so distinct, though I'm now finding it to be an interesting thing to think about. /long rambly post. Your art is great, though. Keep on keeping on, even if you end up slaying Danny or whatever.
”You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin, and in the basement of that cabin is the Ghost king.
You’re here to slay him.”
I like Slay the Princess a lot, and I feel like Danny and Valerie could work in this dynamic. This also gave me an excuse to focus on my line art cause that’s my favorite part, and I hate coloring.
#crossovers#Slay the Princess#ramble#video game rambles#Danny Phantom x Slay the Princess#DP x Slay#DPxSlay#I'm gonna pretend we can make these tags that people actually use :P#fanart
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Ok some more organised 3x02 thoughts under the cut:
- LARRY BEING PUT FORWARD to tell Bertha Gladys ran away? 10/10 no notes also he looked adorable rumpled like that lololol
- Mr. & Mrs. Scott are so dear to my heart it isn't even funny. I love drama and family conflict and love persevering, even when it seems impossible, and the way their family plot evolved throughout the seasons is one of my favourite things about the show actually! They feel so real bc they bicker and argue and make up and MOST OF ALL LOVE THEIR DAUGHTER hi. Incredibly good for my heart to see them like this.
- HELLOooo DOCTOR KIRKLAND 😳
- everyone say "danke schön, Frau Bauer" for telling Miss Armstrong to shut it lol (also of course SHE signs the temperance thing later ksksk)
- BERTHA'S BATTLE OUTFIT HELLO god blue is such a good colour on her and that DRESS. I'm loving her playing the nominal villain in this, while also being the honest one between herself and Mrs Carlton (who might play sweet, but will pull rank at any given moment)
- one of my favourite running themes of the Russell family dynamic is that George and Bertha are imperative, and nearly impossible to face, BUT (and it remains to be seen whether this pays off or not, JF don't do me dirty) it absolutely feels to me like their ultimatums are never quite final. Especially when it comes to their kids, they subconsciously want someone who will stand up straight and won't fold like a house of cards (like they probably had to when they were young). It's so funny to me that all the Russell kids' suitors fold quite easily! Archie, Oscar, Mrs. Blane - none of them make it past the the first serious discussion with the parent (or even there, looking at u Billy lololol). I'm very curious to see who might get there - other than Marian ofc.
- veryyyyyy interested in where the national railroad project is going! How much of it is George's ego and how much of it is him sincerely wanting to be remembered for something other than just being evil Mr Russell in the newspaper caricatures 👀 I wonder if this will lead to him testing the waters with wanting to do more things FOR people, not just profit, and if it'll slowly nudge him to a Carnegie direction.
- all four Russells yelling in the living room 10/10 I love
- THAT goes straight into the top 3 GB kisses in this entire silly show. Holy shit.
- not Borden getting all of Bates' dreams come true off-screen lololol
- Charles Fane you will start coughing in three days 🔪🔪🔪 (the actor truly pulls off the punchable husband demeanor sooooo well, kudos to him)
- AURORA's FACE damn the woman can act
- Agnes accusing mutiny only to then MUTINY Ada's entire speech herself? Incredible, no notes. Also was delighted to see her and Marian on the same side for once - it's truly a fun shift for them AND THE WAY she made Marian laugh?? Delightful. Everyone's faces in that scene were insanely fun hehehe
- could there have been slightly less temperance talk? Sure. Buuut it's still hilarious that THIS is Ada's cooky way to keep her love for the husband alive kdksksks
- god dr Kirkland is so CUTE and look at Peggy being so adorable I'm 😭✨ MY GIRL DESERVES TO BE WOO-ed PROPERLY!!! She's been through so much!!!
- NOT BANNISTER CRACKING and Aurora solving it truly who else does it like them!!
- look George is right and he's being very gentle with Gladys but it's still like. GIRL HE'S NOT GONNA GET THROUGH TO HIM! He doesn't have the backbone for ittt. Would love a missing scene fic where George gets to confront him.
- go on Marian talk sense into him!!
- whenever Marian's courted, we get a new arrangement of her theme, which I find so delightful AND the melody is SO TENTATIVE here!! It's such a lovely touch - when she's with Larry, it's like it wants to play, it wants to soar, but won't quite trust itself to let go. Love the soundtrack reinforcing the characterisation!! I have such a soft spot for that tune.
- clutching my pearls like an old society matron everytime these two are being saucy this season. Between the hand-holding under the table and the carriage kiss here, these two are serving PEAK period courtship and I'm here for it
- is Mrs. Astor leaving an event organised by Aurora in ep2 a show staple?? (yes I'm recalling the s1 bazaar and sighing longingly)
- Larry smoking with his curls all over the place is perhaps his best look so far. Also LOVE JACK's fitting!!! Lovely character work between the two of them - it works especially well since Larry is by all means new money, and it's fun to see him take Jack under his wing!! The parallel from last ep comes to mind again, between George wanting to win over the mine-owners at all costs VS Larry's "by the time I'm done with you, you'll have a house on 61st yourself" to Jack
- Billy Carlton GROW A SPINE CHALLENGE. Gosh I love the drama.
- ok the scene with those two in the pink bedroom deserves its own post, I'm unwell & insane about them
- THE DAY I'M IN YOUR BOARDROOM GIVING YOU MY IDEAS ON THE RAILROADS AND THE STEEL MILLS
- Bertha Russell the WOMAN YOU AREEEEE
- 198392 injured 1 dead yes that's me
- same note as on Marian's theme - when Bertha lies to him, their melody (which by the way, is the show's main theme, which I am sooooooo normal about) goes the sliiiiightest bit off, slipping back into silence as opposed to its usual triumphant tone. I'm insane about them.
- Peggy and her parents are the SOFTEST and my heart is full AND ALSO THE FOLLOWING SCENE WITH AGNES. It took the entire episode for the three of them to sit down, and when they do, it's one of the best scenes of the entire damn show. Nghhhhhfghhhhhhhhhh 😮💨😮💨😮💨😮💨
- love how everyone across the street is so busy about Gladys that they're like sure Marian's part of the family. Yeah no notes, we're delighted you could join us. I love them.
- I feel slightly bad for Gladys but more so I'm OBSESSED WITH THE GLINT IN GEORGE'S EYES DURING THE FINAL SHOT. HE'S GOING TO WAR WO-HOOOOOOOOOO
Ok this ramble was insane if tumblr deletes it I'm outttt
#the gilded age#the gilded age spoilers#george x bertha#should I tag all the characters???#this is mostly general rambling#bertha russell#george russell#marian brook#peggy scott#larry russell#ok that's enough#otp: useless each without the other#.ioana rambles
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#i'm not sure how i feel about ed still#that interview that was circulating popped back into my brain#and i don't want to believe it#because i love ed#however#i am protective of my boys#:(
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thinking about the time my sister told me that she realized she'd rather look like me than Paris Hilton (she was very anti-Paris Hilton) and that's how she got over bulemia.
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─── SMOOTHIES ♡
♡ pairing: dilf!art x reader
♡ summary: art has… some trouble in the bedroom, and to help him out, you slip something in his morning smoothie.
♡ warnings / tags: smut, MDNI! piv, slipping viagra in his smoothie.
♡ author's note: i love the concept of ed art so <3 also yes i made a viagra divider just for this… 😭
ART DONALDSON MASTERLIST ♡ 5K MASTERLIST
sometimes, art had... trouble when it came to the bedroom. but you never blamed him, all too aware of how stressful the life of an athlete could be. during the times he couldn't perform, his head would end up between your thighs until your whole body was trembling.
but it had been four weeks since he'd last gotten hard, and all you wanted was to have him inside of you. sure, you had one of those homemade dildos in the shape of art's cock, and he'd use it on you, but you missed having him inside of you. not a silicone toy. art.
and you could tell that art was feeling self-conscious; he'd never gone that long without managing to get an erection. you'd heard him through the door while he was in the bathroom the other night, quietly talking to himself, beating himself up over it
no woman would want their man to feel bad about themselves, right?
that was what you told yourself as you poured the blue powder you'd just crushed up into the green smoothie you made art every morning. you could see the look of disappointment that fell on his face every time he failed to get hard, each 'i'm sorry…' he said practically making you cry… and it's not like you could ask him to take them, some men were fragile about these things.
you just wanted to help art regain his confidence. there was nothing wrong with that. right? it's not your fault that you didn't remember he had an important meeting that day…
he ended up having to cancel. because by the time you're on your fourth orgasm, art still has you pinned to the bed, still as hard as a rod, your poor pussy already starting to get sore while he continues to fuck into you.
"i... have... no idea... what's going... on..." art groans between each thrust, your bedroom filled with the lewd squelching noise of art's cock thrusting in and out of you, hitting that that sweet spot inside of you each time, "'m so sorry..." he mumbles, your hands twisted up in his blonde hair, tugging on the strands, your brain too fuzzy with pleasure, with stimulation to be able to even comfort him; to offer him those honey-sweet words that came so easy whenver he had difficulty getting hard.
all you could butter out was "so... good..." even as art kept fucking into you with no mercy, basically sliding into you from all the arousal leaking out of you.
but two, grueling, filled up hours later, art was finally soft, collapsing right next to you on the bed, covered in sweat and other fluids; and although you were sure your pussy was going to be sore for a week... you couldn't help but think of the next time you could slip something into his smoothie.
"you know…" art mumbled breathlessly, "my smoothie tasted a bit different this morning…"
you bit down on your lower lip, turning to look at him, both of you covered in sweat, "i might've added in a secret ingredient." you shrugged, making art laugh, bringing his hand to your cheek, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear.
"it didn't taste half bad."
taglist: @inbred-eater @h8aaz, @purpleplumpudding, @cinnamoncunt, @nonietosay, @ariieeesworld, @in-my-feels-probably, @harringtonsbowgirl, @lacelottie
click here to join the taglist! 💙
#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#mike faist#art donaldson fic#art donaldson fanfic#art donaldson smut#art challengers#art donaldson fanfiction#art donaldson fluff#art donaldson challengers#art donaldson x you#art donalson x reader#challengers#challengers fluff#challengers smut#challengers fanfiction#challengers 2024#challengers fic
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Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you
ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)
“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.
You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more.
“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.
Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ‘cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.
You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”
“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”
He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.
“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”
Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”
You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”
“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.
“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”
You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.
You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means.
You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house).
You decide to humor him, anyway.
“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.
Eddie’s grin widens.
“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.
You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.
“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.
You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”
Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.
“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”
Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.
A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer.
Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!”
Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh.
“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.
Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you.
In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.
He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.
The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.
“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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why are you up here?
a story told through cigarettes and suicidal tendencies. you and jack spend the time trying to talk each other down from the roof, until the fourth of july, when neither of you can get up there.
cw: widower!jack, reader has a dead best friend, jack calls reader kid, age gap, kissing, probably not accurate information on how the military works, that's really it but this is probably the most emotional thing i've written in a while lol so beware. uhhh also cigarette smoking, duh. Also. not really proofread so i'm sorry
wc: 4.6k
The first time you meet Abbot on the roof, it’s you who’s on the ledge. It’s the first chilly day of the year. Mid-September, the scorching summer finally seems to come to a halt. Your legs dangle off the building, your back is pressed against the concrete floor. Your stethoscope hangs above your head on the bar that’s supposed to prevent situations like this. The door opens and closes. You close your eyes and listen to his steady gait walk towards you. The sound echoes off the concrete.
“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack, kid.” You don’t answer him, or look at him. Your hand reaches up and lightly bats the medical instrument. You watch it swing back and forth. “Why are you up here?”
“I don’t know, my attending always comes up here, figured I’d see what all the rave is about.”
He scoffs at you, “Right, I usually do it at the end of my shift though. You’re on hour two. And I’ve never once laid down. I mean, really, this is strange.”
“I’m tired.” You state plainly, still not moving, except for the hand that’s batting at the rope.
“Okay, you’ve gotta stand up, it’s scaring me.”
“I don’t know if I care.”
You’ve never been this nonchalant; this detached. That’s how Abbot knows something is wrong. Yes, you lost a patient, but he’s never seen it hit you so hard that you had to come up to the roof about it. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He thinks back, and tries to figure out why it would affect you this badly, but then he realizes, he actually doesn’t know anything about you. Sure, he knows where you went to medical school, and he knows that you’re funny, and you dislike bedside manner. You love stabilizing gunshot victims, your favorite restaurant is a Mexican joint that will give you a free margarita after you’ve had your second. He knows you have a shitty ex that wrote a rap song about you. And he knows you can calm an irrational patient down in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t know anything about your past. Before medical school is a mystery to him.
He says your name in a gentle tone, you finally glance at him. “Listen, we can talk if you want. You know I’ll listen. Or, we can sit up here, in dead silence, but you have to come back from the ledge.”
You oblige, with a huge sigh, and scoot yourself back behind the bar. You still sit, but upright now. You feel like an animal locked in a cage.
“You know you did everything, right?”
“It was the same.” You say, “It was the same as Molly.”
Abbot nods, like he knows. He’s scared you’ll run if he asks for more information, but from your few words he can gather enough.
“I brought Molly to an ED just like this. They did everything they could too. But the wound was too severe. She was too out of it. She wasn’t a good student, hell, neither was I. But she had a fucking future, you know? Like, she deserved to at least try. But that fucking asshole ruined it all.”
He thinks back to that patient. Her dark hair, mangled. The deep cut on the side of her body, abdomen slashed. Abbot thinks about the girl’s blue eyes, how they went back and forth between the back of her head and staring directly at the light.
“Molly was in a car with some guy she was seeing. She liked him, he gave her all the shit for free, but one night, he got really high, and he and Molly were driving around for fun. But he went into a tree, and he died on impact. Molly had a stab wound from the windshield glass. She was scared of getting arrested, so she called me. I had to pull her out of the car, and by the time I got there, she was too out of it to fight about going to the hospital.”
Abbot soaks in your words, prepares himself for what you’re going to say next. He never stops staring at you. He still stands, hands in his pockets. He focuses on the top of your head. He notes how you shake it lightly every time you say Molly’s name. Like even the mere acknowledgment of it brings up images. He knows how it feels, he has a few names like that.
“I parked in the ambulance bay, and ran her inside. I held her hand while she bled out on the table.”
You take a deep breath and look back at him, wondering if you’re just talking to yourself. Abbot pulls something out of his pocket, a pack of Marlboro blacks. You scoff, and he smiles when he sees a smirk come to your face.
“You smoke old man cigarettes.”
“Sorry, I don’t have your princess ones.”
You take the cigarette and the lighter from him, flicking it a few times before it finally lights. You take a deep inhale, letting the smoke fill your lungs.
“They had stabilized the wound, at least a little bit, but then they started their neuro tests. No eye reaction to cold water. Pupils blown. She was fucking braindead. They said she must’ve hit her head when the car crashed. She didn’t have any family. She was an aged out foster kid. I was her emergency contact. I had to choose. I had to tell them to pull the plug— to stop. I know no one could’ve saved her, or made her not get in that car. But I still hate it.” You take another deep pull of the stick, the wind blows, and the smoke burns your eyes.
You stand now, still smoking. You take another drag before offering it to Abbot. He takes it from your hand, taking his own pull. You note how he holds it, held between pointer and thumb, other fingers floating above it.
He nods his head, “I’ve got a few Molly’s. A few cases that hit too close. I wish I had something I could say.”
You know he’s right. There’s nothing to say.
“It just fucking sucks, man. Like, really bad.” you voice.
Abbot lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, it does.”
There’s no changing her death. There’s no changing that there will be more Molly’s. This you know.
“My first day back to work after my wife died, I got a patient that looked like her, or maybe I was projecting on the first woman with red hair I saw come in.” You glance at him, you didn’t even know he was a widower. You must have started after it happened.
“It took Robby and Dana to talk me down from here. Honestly, I was mostly scared shitless that Dana was gonna kill me for making her walk up twelve flights of stairs.” He shakes his head, and locks eyes with you, offering you the cigarette back. You take it gladly, quickly putting it back between your lips.
“It doesn’t get any easier, but you realize that they don’t want you to join them, wherever they are. Molly wants you here, and I’m sure she knows that you did all you could for her. And you did all you could for that girl in there.”
You nod along to what he’s saying, and stub the cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe.
“You ready to get back to it? I know it won’t go away, but I’ll deal with the girl’s family, okay? Sit this one out. You can take the foot fungus in central fifteen.”
You laugh, a loud one, and Abbot thinks to himself, finally, there’s that noise I’ve been waiting to hear.
“Fuck you, and your foot fungus.”
He ticks his head towards the door, and you head in behind him.
The next time you’re led to the roof, it’s snowing. A cold day in February, the month that drags forever. This time, Jack stands at the ledge, no coat, no gloves. Just standing. You’re thankful he at least wore a long sleeve under his scrub shirt today.
“You need your hands to work in the ED.” you say, plainly.
It was only a few months back that he was talking you down, and since then, you’ve grown closer together. Sure, you two were always friends. But after telling him about Molly, it was like something shifted. You loved to mess around with him when you could. And he seemed to really take a liking to you after your stint. He always dragged you onto cases with him, ignoring the efforts of Shen to be the one to teach you something. It was nice, it felt like having a friend, even if you only saw each other in the hospital.
“Why are you up here?” Jack asks, not turning around.
“I brought you a present. But, you can only have it if you put on these gloves.”
Jack turns half-heartedly, and you wave a pack of cigarettes in front of him, like it’s a toy.
“You call yellow American Spirits a present?”
You scoff, “Fine, I’ll smoke one. Asshole.”
And you do. You take one out of the pack, and light it, taking a deep drag. “I’m sorry that she had red hair.” you say softly.
It’s the only detail you knew about his wife. The only thing he dared to share with you about her.
The woman you spent the last hour coding had bright red hair that laid on the table like a cruel joke. It was all spread out, and it looked brushed, even though she had been in the ED, awaiting an ICU bed for three days. She had liver failure, and it had finally given out. Even when you were operating on her, everyone in the room knew that the only thing that would fix her would be a new liver, but you still tried; she didn’t have a DNR.
Jack reaches a hand back from the ledge, asking for the lit cigarette.
“Gloves,” you say.
“No,” he replies firmly.
“Well,” you sigh, “I tried.” you say, handing him the lit cigarette.
You walk closer to the ledge. Of course, he’s in front of the bar, looking around. You don’t pressure him to talk, just stand with him patiently, like he did for you.
“My wife, Camille, died at home, in bed with me. I woke up one day, and she was just gone. Couldn’t get her up. They said her heart just stopped beating. Sudden cardiac arrest. Her hair was laid out just like that patient’s. I did CPR for twenty minutes straight. They had to pull me off her.”
You swallow and it’s thick. The cold temperature makes your nose run. He offers you the cigarette back.
“No, keep it.” you reach back in your pocket, fetching your own.
“Camille was the best. I met her right before I enlisted. I had done two years of college, and it just wasn’t really for me. I was studying sports medicine, and I hated it. An enlister talked me into it, told me that I could do real medicine on the field, and I liked that idea. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”
You nod, the storyline connecting in your head.
“Camille wrote me letters every week, called me on the phone whenever I could talk. I loved her so much, I proposed in a letter, and we got married after I was done with basic.”
“Damn, surprised you didn’t scare her away.” Jack scoffs and shakes his head at you. It was normal for you two to make offhanded, dry jokes at each other. He knows you mean no harm.
“She stayed with me through it all. Through the war, and the trauma, and the fucking amputation. She took care of me when I didn’t want her to. When I begged her to leave me so she could have a normal life, and not be stuck with some guy who has to wear a prosthetic. But she loved me, and, man, I loved the shit out of her.”
He took a drag of the cigarette, and shook his head at the sirens coming down the street. He finally turns the way you’re standing. You have your one arm crossed, tucked into the warmth of your side. The other hand holds the cigarette steady by your mouth. You can feel the snow melting in your hair, and you know you’ll be a bit damp when you go back in.
He finally locks eyes with you, “And then, when everything seemed normal, I had gotten into a good place here, she worked from home, so I got to spend the days with her. She just died. Just like that. In bed, with her hair sprawled out on the pillow.”
You nod, like you understand the ache of losing a spouse, even though you don’t. Camille was probably like fifteen Molly’s for him, you realize.
“I would ask you to come back from the ledge, but after that, man, I don’t know.”
Jack laughs again, and you smile at him, brightly, thinking maybe your shining smile will convince him to come with you.
“I was told once, though, that they would want me here, doing what I do best.” Jack looks down, a rare break of eye contact from him. “Jack, Camille would want you here. She would want you to stay saving people. She doesn’t want you to meet her again, not yet.”
“Yeah, I know.” He says, still looking at the ground. “Someone told me though, that it still fucking sucks.”
You laugh, and he peers at you through his eyelashes. Finally, he swoops under the bars, coming to where you're standing. The cigarettes are long abandoned on the ground, snow covering them softly.
“Thank you,” Jack says, and you’re a bit taken aback.
Usually, he would end something like this with a joke, but he seems like he actually seems grateful, and that scares you even more. You wonder if today was the day he might’ve done it. And you thank God that you stood in the gas station line to buy a fresh pack yesterday.
“Sure, whenever.” You say, looking up at him, squinting a bit in the snow. “You know, I think Myrna was saying something about needing to use the bathroom, if you want something easy.”
He scoffs at you, and lets out a small chuckle, “There is nothing easy about that woman.”
You lead him back inside, and you have to admit, you’re proud that you can join the club of people who have successfully talked Abbot off the roof.
The next time you both ache to head to the roof, you’re unable to. A scorching hot Fourth of July. No wind, no clouds. The waiting room is filled with people who've been waiting since their 1:00PM barbecues, and the clock has just struck 10:00. Abbot has seen three patients with red hair code. You’ve had three car crashes caused by drugs, and two patients die that looked a little bit like Molly. To say the day was already going bad was an understatement.
You two kept sneaking looks at each other all night. Abbot’s eyes, usually hard and cold, would meet yours with a softness, like he knew what you needed, but also knew he couldn’t provide it. It was way too busy to let you sneak off for a break. This also meant he couldn’t, which led to him being a bit more snappy with the staff.
Jack wasn’t ever mean. Sure, he was firm, and he handed orders out like he was still running a combat zone, but you knew he meant no harm by it. Tonight, though, Jack was a little bit mean. He had snapped at Ellis after the first redhead coded, basically screaming, “Dammit, Ellis! How many times do I have to tell you that I need to assess every patient!”
He also yelled at Shen about his tendency for bathroom breaks, telling him that no grown man should have that small of a bladder, and that he should seriously get it checked out. Basically, Jack was about two hours away from being summoned to HR.
You had stopped caring after the first Molly-look alike died on your table. You had been silent, avoiding eye contact with all the staff, except Jack. you wanted to tell him to stop screaming, because it wasn’t helping anything, and you knew he’d regret it, but you also felt like it wasn’t your place. You wanted to scream too. If you had the seniority to do it, you probably would be snapping at everyone.
You knew that the Fourth was already a really bad day for Jack. he didn’t enjoy his service being paraded around by people who didn’t understand, he didn’t find the day as celebratory as everyone else seemed to. This was the first time he had worked it in a few years. And of course, he was rewarded by his dead wife haunting him all night long.
Finally, you find a moment to sneak away, having maxed out at five patients, all waiting for labs. You sneak into the break room, sitting in a flimsy plastic chair and throwing your hands on top of your head, suddenly aware of how hot it is in the ED. Since the department was kept so cold, it never really got hot, but it was way hotter than usual, maybe even at 70 degrees, you guessed.
You sit there like that, with your eyes closed, ignoring the chatter outside of the room, and it’s a nice feeling. The tears start to prick behind your eyelids, and you know if they start, you won’t stop, so you quickly think of something else, something happy. The first face to come to mind is Jack, which shocks you.
You think about the case he took with you about a week ago. A young boy, with a broken arm, who couldn’t seem to stop spilling sensitive information about his parents’ marriage to the both of you. He had been brought in by his kindergarten teacher, and she seemed equally humiliated.
While Jack set his broken bone, the kid babbled on. “Yeah, so, my mommy said that she doesn’t really like the man like that but my daddy seems to think she really likes him. My mommy and the man even have photos together on my mommy’s phone.” The kid says, all in one breath.
“Well, mommies can have friends.” Jack had said, trying not to get himself in trouble.
“Yeah, but, mommies and their friends don’t usually have S-E-X! At least, that’s what my daddy says. Wait, what is S-E-X?”
Jack jumped up from where he was sitting, “Dr., why don’t you get that propofol going?”
You gave him a quick salute and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, trying your hardest not to giggle at the awkwardness of the situation.
You feel a little bit better after recalling the memory, a small smile finds its way to your face.
The door creaks open and your eyes open at the noise, it’s Jack standing there, with a grim look on his face.
“Sorry, getting back out, I was waiting on labs.”
“S’fine,” He grumbles, coming to sit next to you.
“So, how are–”
“Don’t,”
You nod your head, and slowly get up from the chair you were sitting in. To your surprise, he puts a hand on your arm, and shoots you a look. You sit back down with him, but don’t dare to look over at his face again. You want to break the ice, but you’re not sure if it’s the right time. You want to just let him wallow, you want to wallow too. You want to smoke a million cigarettes on the roof with him, and not say a single word, because you both just know. That’s how you want to spend the rest of the night.
“You shouldn’t yell at people who don’t know why you’re upset.” you say.
“Maybe they shouldn’t do dumb shit then.” he huffs, a hand wiping over his face.
“They’re not being that dumb, they’re being the usual dumb.”
“So, what, I should only yell at you because you know why I’m upset?”
“You shouldn’t yell at anyone. But, sure, if you need to, yeah, I’ll take it.”
“Hell no. You just want to be punished because you’ve had Molly’s tonight.”
It was still terrifying how well he could read you. He knew that you wanted to be blamed; that you wanted to be told you could’ve done something different, even though you knew it wasn’t true.
“I’m not gonna yell at you, kid. I know you’re itching to get up there as much as me. I yell at those two buffoons because I know after today they won’t think anything of it. You’ll think about it if I yell at you.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m not just your boss, like I am to them.”
You swallow hard, because now Jack has said what has gone unsaid for almost a year. That you were more than coworkers. You had never let it run away from you. You never, ever, met outside work. But contained in the walls of PTMC was charged energy that wasn’t appropriate for a boss and his subordinate.
“Jack, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”
He nods slowly, like he knows he just dropped a bomb when he shouldn’t have. You finally look over at him to meet his hazel eyes that have been boring into your head since the moment he sat down. You give him a small, shaky smile, and stand up.
“I have to go check on patients.”
He nods again; says nothing, lets you leave the room. You close the door behind you and shake your head, trying to get the situation to leave you alone.
After midnight, it finally starts to quiet a little bit. Way less traumas, a lot more normal stuff, meaning you were finally able to thin the herd of the waiting room a bit. King and Langdon weren’t on until 5:00 but they snuck in early, around 3:00, which gave you a bit of slack. You try your hardest not to notice that Mel is obviously wearing Langdon’s shirt, but it’s difficult not to. She shoots you a glance, like she knows you know, and you give her a shrug and then a thumbs up. Mel blushes and hurries away, like she doesn’t want to be seen.
Finally, at 3:30, you make your way up to the roof. All twelve flights, you try to save your tears for the heights, but can’t seem to. When you open the door, you know that your eyes are already red. It doesn’t shock you that Jack is already up there, standing over the bar.
He glances back when the door closes, “I would ask why you’re up here, but I guess I already know.”
You join him over the metal railing, standing right next to him. There’s still no breeze outside, and it’s achingly hot for 3AM. “Yeah, real fucked up night, huh?” you laugh— a lot. To the point that your stomach hurts. And so does he, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, for a quick hug.
You pull a pack out from your pocket, Marlboro reds this time.
“Trying something new?”
“I’m trying to compromise.”
He nods and takes one from you, pulling out his black lighter, that’s so dinged up it looks like he’s had it since the war, by the way. You honestly don’t know what he does to get it so dirty. He hands it over to you, and you light yours, deeply inhaling the first pull.
You two stand there like that for a while, smoking in silence. He doesn’t take his arm off of your shoulder. It’s a nice comfort; the physical affection after a shitty day.
“I can’t believe we still have three more hours.”
He hums, “Should be easier now that King and Frank are here.”
“You know they’re sleeping together, right?”
“Oh, yeah, big time. It’s way funnier to let them think they’re being subtle though.”
You laugh, and choke on the smoke that was halfway into your lungs.
“About what I said earlier, if you don’t feel the same, I get it. I know I’m pretty messed up, and a lot older. I understand.”
“No, I do feel the same. I do. And your age doesn’t deter me. I’m pretty messed up too, if you couldn’t tell. It won’t be easy, which is what I’m worried about. I feel like they always say love should be easy. That it just happens. Which I guess it did.”
“Yeah, it did.”
“I just feel like I’m always fighting. I’m always fighting to do the right thing for myself. It’s like survivor’s guilt, I guess. If everyone I couldn’t save doesn’t get to be happy, why should I? Why should I live a good life, and not suffer?”
“Don’t let yourself go there, don’t. Hey–” Jack grabs your face with his hands and turns you towards him. “What’d I tell you, huh? She’d want you to be happy.”
“Are you gonna let yourself be happy? Are you gonna make everyone else’s shifts bad because a woman comes in with red hair?”
“I’m going to let myself be happy for you. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, he thinks I’m ready, he thinks it’d be good. He thinks you’re good for me.”
He lets his hands relax to your shoulders, so he’s holding you gently. “It’s so scary,” you mumble, close to tears again, “It’s so scary to be happy.”
“We have to, though. We have to.” Jack nods his head at you until you start nodding too. Until he thinks you’ve understood him.
His eyes break away from yours to look down at your lips. He runs his thumb over them, and you let him. You feel like your heart has dropped to your stomach. You forget where you are until a firework goes off in the background, startling you both.
“Jesus, who is still doing fireworks?”
“Probably someone who’s gonna come in with an injury in fifteen minutes.”
He hums again, and ducks under the railing, pulling you with him.
“Before they do, I need to do this.”
As the second firework makes a loud pop in the sky, Jack leans in, his lips finally touching yours. The kiss is soft, like he’s still scared. His hand cradles your face, and his thumb brushes soft strokes on your cheekbone. The fireworks continue in the background, popping and sprinkling down. You feel like they’re going off in your chest. You push yourself impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s steady, rock solid, for the first time since Molly died, you feel like you have somewhere to toss the burden, at least for this minute. You throw the ache off the roof, and let yourself be close to someone again.
The all familiar sound of sirens pulls you two apart. You smile up at him, and he smiles back, no teeth, of course, but a small grin. You know he knows how you’re feeling. You know he feels the same. And, God, it feels good to know.
“Back to it?”
You sigh, “Three more hours.”
Jack’s hand is steady on your lower back the whole twelve flights down.
#jack abbot x reader#jack abbot fanfic#jack abbot imagine#jack abbot x you#jack abbot#the pitt fanfiction
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I'm so happy you're back and your requests are open!!
Can I request Eddie Munson who tries to get your attention but you’re stuck on someone else? Could be Steve or something. Eventually you notice him and a happy ending?
I love this trope! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️
Notice me
Eddie had his reasons for disliking Steve Harrington. He knew he had petty reasons but reasons were reasons. Eddie knew who Steve truly was before he changed in the eyes of Dustin. Eddie tried to be nice about Steve for the kid but he couldn't help but roll his eyes whenever he talked about him. To him, Steve was the shallow boy he was in high school.
That's what he'd tell Dustin anyway.
Another huge reason was the girl Eddie had been in love with for years had her eyes set on Steve. Steve might have been the king, a rich daddy and good looks but Eddie knew he could never love Y/N the way he could.
Luckily for Eddie, Steve was still caught up on Nancy. Which he had no idea why. If Y/N was standing in front of him, Nancy would never be thought of again. But that's where they were different.
Y/N was friends with Steve but ached for so much more. It pained her to try to get Steve to see her in a new light, but he still had feelings for Nancy. It frustrated Y/N, Nancy was in love with another guy but Steve still wanted her.
She had absolutely no clue that her friend Eddie was desperate to get her attention. And that he had been trying for years.
~~~
Y/N sat on the curb as she frowned. She attended this party in hopes of talking to Steve, but he was searching around for Nancy. Y/N was positive she wasn't here but Steve didn't care. She wore her best dress, spent hours on her hair and makeup and still Steve barely glanced in her direction. She felt crushed as she held back tears.
Eddie walked up to the party, a toolbox in his hand as he prepared to sell. His attitude shifted from the party to Y/N sitting on the front curb.
"Want some company?" He asked. She looked up as someone joined her. She smiled as Eddie looked down at her with a soft look.
"Sure, Eds," she smiled. "I'd love your company."
Eddie smiled at her words, his heart fluttering. He sat next to her, not wasting a second to wrap his arm around her shoulder and bring her into his chest.
In his arms, she tried not to break down. She was embarrassed he already knew she was upset but she tried to soak in Eddie's comfort.
"Here to sell?" She asked, not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room.
"Yeah, unfortunately," he laughed. She enjoyed the vibrations coming from his chest. "I'll gladly take all of their daddy's money though."
She laughed as she cuddled into his chest. "Gonna buy yourself something nice with it? New watch or bracelet?" She joked.
"Nah, I've got you on my arm. I don't need that shit."
She smiled at his words, trying to forget how sad she felt about Steve. "You're the best, Eddie. Thank you for being my friend."
Eddie smiled but his heart cracked. He wasn't sure what to do to make her see him as more than a friend but he wasn't going to give up.
"You don't have to sit out here with me. I know you have work to do," she sighed. She went to pull away but he kept her in place.
"I want to," he reassured her, "Wanna get out of here? We can rent a movie."
Y/N debated on the option, but she was still desperate for Steve. "I appreciate it, Eddie. You go sell, make good money. I'm going to see if I can find Steve."
Eddie tried not to show how sad he was as she kissed his cheek and stood up. He grabbed her hand to stop her and she looked down at him.
"You look beautiful tonight, by the way. In case the jerk face doesn't notice, you should know."
She smiled to the ground as she rubbed his hand as a thank you before letting it go.
He turned his head to watch her disappear into the party. He stood up and kicked a rock near his foot. He shook off his disappointment and the rejection. He grabbed his drugs and headed to the backyard. He hated Steve Harrington.
~~~
Y/N knew she tried too hard to seek Steve's interest but she couldn't stop herself. She just wanted him so bad. He was inches away from her all the time, making her want to connect their lips and never let him go. It was torture to talk to him, breathe in his cologne, and not have him the way she wanted.
She wasn't sure what Nancy had that she didn't. Even with their history, Nancy didn't love Steve the way Y/N did. He was so blinded by Nancy that he couldn't see how perfect Y/N was for him and how happy she could make him.
She sighed as she played with the straw in her drink. She frowned as she watched Steve lean against the wall to talk to Nancy. It was Steve's birthday and they were all huddled at his house to celebrate. She was glad Steve's parents weren't ever around so she could drink everything in Steve's dad's bar.
As usual, Nancy gave him short answers, clearly wanting to be anywhere else. It was painful that everyone could see how pitifully in love he was but Nancy. Y/N felt out of place as the room was filled with people she didn't know. As his friend, it wasn't with it. But if they were together, she'd stand by him in any crowded room because he felt safe. After a few more drinks, she gave up on Steve.
She slightly stumbled out of her seat, walking over to Steve and Nancy.
"Sorry to interrupt, Happy birthday, Steve. I'm going to call for a ride and head home,"
"Oh yeah, thanks for coming," he said quickly, not even looking at her as he jumped right back into Nancy. Y/N felt her face burn in embarrassment. She turned and quickly walked away. The faster she walked the more she realized she needed that ride. She headed for the phone on the wall and dialed the familiar number.
~
She soaked in the night air as she lay in the grass. It was uncomfortable, stabbing her skin but she didn't mind. Her eyes closed as she breathed in. The alcohol swimming around her head. She shouldn't be surprised every time Steve ignores her, but for some reason, she thought it would be different at one point. One day he'll realize Nancy isn't the one for him and come to her. She could wait for that day.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,"
She opened her eyes as she heard Eddie's voice getting closer to her. She smiled when he appeared in front of her, a worried look on his face.
"You little shit! I thought you were passed out and hurt!"
"Come lay down with me," she giggled, the alcohol taking more effect. "Let's look at the stars!"
"Honey, you're drunk. How about we go home?" He asked, holding out his hand.
"Please?" She whispered, Eddie sighed as he saw the begging look in her eyes.
"Fine, but only for a little bit! Sticks and shit get stuck in my hair," he grumbled laying next to her. He looked up at the stars like she asked, his hands on his chest. "I don't know what I'm looking at."
His heart fluttered as she laughed. She tilted her head until she was hitting his shoulder. She pointed up to the sky, her arm between them as he followed it. She began to point out the stars above them, knowing every name.
Eddie wasn't surprised she knew all of them. She amazed him every time he learned something new about her. If she had any flaws he didn't see them. When he dreamed about his future, she was it.
"Which ones can I wish on?" He muttered.
"Shooting stars, but those are hard to find. Why? Do you have a wish?" She asked, she tilted her head up to look at him. He looked breathtaking under the moonlight. His big brown eyes reflected the stars and Y/N felt this new emotion towards him.
He shrugged, still looking above. "I've got one in mind." She couldn't tear her eyes away, she had never noticed how beautiful he was. She felt this desire to kiss him, and it scared her.
"What is it?" She whispered. Eddie turned to look at her, shocked to see her already looking at him.
"I can't tell you because then it won't come true," he teased. She let out a smile, agreeing to his statement.
"I hope it comes true for you," she said.
She didn't know she was the only one who could make his wish come true.
"Let's get you home, sweets," he said as he got to his feet. He held out his hand as she sat up.
"Can I stay with you? I don't want to be alone," she asked, hugging her knees. She looked lost and sad. And Eddie wished he could take all her pain away.
"I've got your favorite shirt cleaned, and Wayne made his famous Mac and cheese for dinner," he smiled as her face lit up. She jumped to her feet and grasped his hand.
~
Y/N enjoyed her warm bowl of Mac and cheese as she sat in Eddie's T-shirt. Her legs tossed on his lap as he flicked through the channels. His free hand rubbed up and down her shin, goosebumps raised under his touch.
She immediately felt better in the presence of Eddie and his trailer. There wasn't a bad day that Eddie couldn't turn around. The alcohol slowly left her system as her tipsy energy decreased.
"Hey," she said softly as she nudged him with her foot. His hand stopped moving and he turned to look at her. "Thank you for coming tonight."
He wanted to say so much. He wanted her to realize she called him when she was sad, not Steve. He wanted her to realize he knew how to make her feel better, and Steve wouldn't know where to start. He just wanted her to finally see he was the one who picked up her broken pieces when Steve didn't pick her. But he couldn't.
"I'll always be there when you need me."
~~~
The weather was warm and Dustin invited everyone out to play a game of baseball. Eddie brought Y/N and Dustin to the field. Steve, Nancy, Robin, and Mike met them there.
"Who are the captains?" Dustin asked as he smacked his hand against his glove.
"I will," Steve said as he stepped forward.
Eddie rolled his eyes, not surprised he wanted to be the frontman. He caught a glance of Y/N staring at Steve as she bit her lip. Eddie wasn't afraid of some competition.
Eddie stepped forward and Y/N was surprised.
"Alright, let's see what you got pretty boy," Eddie smirked as he patted Steve's chest.
Dustin wasn't surprised by the heat between them, but Y/N was new to seeing just how much Eddie couldn't stand Steve. Eddie was never the type to want to run around and sweat. He could care less about this shit and all of a sudden he wanted to run the team and to go against Steve.
Steve looked down at Eddie's hand, shoving it off his chest as he glared at him.
"Pick first," Eddie growled. Steve didn't look away from him as he called Nancy's name.
"Y/N," Eddie called. She happily skipped to his side. She felt excited she was his first pick.
"Mike" Steve called
"Dustin" Eddie called
"Robin" Steve called
The teams were set and the game started. They separated to warm up and then started the game.
"Think they'll tackle each other half way through?" Robin asked as she guarded first base. Y/N laughed behind her as she kept her foot on the base, waiting for Eddie to bat.
"Definitely,"
Y/N watched as Eddie stepped up to bat. She couldn't help but check him out as he smacked the bat against his sneakers. His legs displayed as he wore black shorts and a tight white T-shirt. Even from across the field she could see his dark ink. His hair was tied up, thanks to her.
"Don't be scared to throw it like a man this time, Harrington," he smirked as he sent Steve a wink. This was the first time Y/N had ever seen Eddie do a sport, and she wasn't sure if he should be trash talking.
Steve threw the ball with all the anger in his body, the ball cracked against the bat as Eddie swung. Y/N watched in awe as Eddie hit it out of anyone's reach. Nancy went running after the ball as Eddie started running. Y/N stood on the base shocked.
"BABY! YOU GOTTA RUN!" he screamed as he ran towards her. She snapped out of her thoughts and ran as fast as she could. Eddie was right behind her, encouraging her as she hit the second base. "GO! GO! GO!"
She squealed with excitement as she kept running, Eddie hot on her feet as she smacked the third base.
"HOME RUN! GO! GO!" Dustin screamed from home base as he waited to bat.
Y/N pushed through and landed on the base, Eddie right behind her. She screamed as Eddie picked her up and twirled her in the dirt.
"THAT WAS SO FUN!' she screamed, the adrenaline pumping through her. She looked down at Eddie as he gently dropped her to her feet. "I didn't know you knew how to play!" She said shocked as she smacked his shoulder. "That was fucking impressive."
"I always have tricks up my sleeve," he winked as he walked to grab his bat. Y/N tried to shrug off the blush she felt creeping on from his wink.
The game started to get heated quickly as Steve and Eddie ran laps around each other. Neither were giving up and being fueled by their competitiveness.
Steve was just an out behind winning the whole thing. He couldn't stand the thought of Eddie winning. He didn't have much against the guy, but Eddie hated him so Steve returned the favor.
Y/N ran as fast as she could, trying to make it safely to the base. With her foot an inch away she felt Steve smash against her, ball to her stomach. She cried out in pain as she dropped to her knees, the ball knocking the wind out of her.
Steve didn't notice at first, caught up in the heat of the game. He became alert real quick when Eddie ran over.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!" Eddie screamed as he shoved Steve. Steve threw down the ball and glove, getting back in Eddie's face.
"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. DON'T PUSH ME!" He gave Eddie a hard shove, making him stumble a few steps back.
"You don't play rough with a girl like that," Eddie said with a clenched jaw. He was becoming very protective over her and everyone was getting worried a fight would break out.
"Eddie, I'm okay," Y/N said as she breathed through her words. "It was just an accident." She clenched her stomach and Eddie turned to look at her. "Don't start something."
Eddie scoffed as she blamed him. "Seriously? He fucking hurt you! And I wouldn't be surprised if it was on purpose." Eddie spat as he turned to Steve.
"I'd never hurt her," Steve fought back.
"Like you even give a shit about her," Eddie snarled. "Your head is so far up Nancy's ass you've got no idea how much you've been hurting Y/N."
Y/N gulped as Steve casted a look towards her. "Eddie please just shut up." She begged.
"You know what, fine," Eddie scoffed as he backed up. "It's always going to be Steve anyway." He sent a sad glance towards Y/N and walked away. She stared after him, a twist in her stomach.
Steve walked over to check on her, his hands on her skin. She wanted to soak in the feeling but her eyes followed Eddie. She pushed Steve away and ran to follow Eddie but he was gone when she made it to the parking lot.
~
Y/N normally wasn't nervous to see Eddie, but knowing he was upset with her didn't settle right. After the gang left the field, Steve dropped her off at Eddie's.
Originally she was going to get her car and let Eddie have space. Yet, she welcomed herself into his unlocked trailer and found him in his room.
She knocked on the open door, alerting her presence. He looked over his shoulder from his spot on his bed, letting out a puff of air before he turned back around.
"I'm sorry I made you upset," she said, walking into his room. She sat on his bed, but he didn't turn around. "I hope you know you mean more to me than he does. You're my best friend and you always will be. And it was rude of me to tell you to shut up. I just didn't want Steve to know how I felt."
"I know I mean more to you than Steve as friends. But I want to mean more than him in other ways," Eddie admitted. He kept his back towards her as he spoke his wall.
"What does that mean?" She asked
Eddie sighed as he rolled over. He sat up and looked down at his hands. "You know how you've been trying to get Steve to notice you romantically?"
"Yeah," Y/N sadly sighed.
"I've been trying to do the same thing with you," he confessed. He nervously looked up from his hands to see her reaction.
"You like me?" She asked. He hated the pitiful look in her eyes. She felt guilty for hurting him and never noticing.
"Yeah," Eddie sighed. "For a long time."
Y/N was shocked. She didn't know what to say. She never once thought Eddie liked her as more than a friend. She was as oblivious as Steve was apparently. But she couldn't deny how her attention had shifted to Eddie lately.
"And I know you like Steve and I'm nothing like Steve."
Y/N shifted closer, "Remember that night of Steve's birthday?"
Eddie nodded, eyeing as she continued to move closer.
"I wanted to kiss you," she confessed. "I thought you looked beautiful and I had this huge urge to kiss you. I thought maybe I was drunk. But I woke up thinking the same thing."
"Really?" Eddie gulped. He was getting nervous as she got even closer, his heart racing.
"Really. Then I wanted to do it again at the baseball field. My stomach had butterflies the whole time, and it was not because of him."
"Do you want to do it now?' he asked, flicking his eyes to her lips.
"I do," she shyly smiled. She held her breath as he moved and held her cheek, leaning in.
She felt fireworks erupt in her stomach as their lips touched. She worked her way onto his lap as the kiss deepened, both wanting to be as close as possible.
After that kiss, she never thought of Steve again.
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#ashwhowrites#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader
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My Utah
Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon x Dr!reader
Synopsis: Reader hears Javadi failing at asking out Mateo, and it takes her back to when she tried asking out Frank when she was a first year resident.
Word count: 1.4k+
Warnings: Mentions of the mass causality event/shooting. Mentions of blood. Mentions death once or twice, nothing too graphic, no one major.
A/N: Couldn't remember what hour the Utah comment happened in, so timeline probably doesn't fit the show exactly. AU where he isn't married, nor does he have the drug issues. Again, not really sure how I feel about this one, I'm still pretty rusty when it comes to writing. But 2 fics in 2 days?!?! Who am I?
“I don’t date people in the workplace,” you hear Mateo responding to Javadi’s stuttering. Poor girl, and when you hear her stutter some more, you take it upon yourself to step in and help Victoria.
“Do you mind if I steal Dr. Javadi from you? I have a patient I want her to help with,” you smile at Mateo, acting like you didn’t hear anything they had been saying.
“Yeah, of course,” his eyes flick to Victoria, before nodding to you.
“You seemed like you could use some saving in there,” you laugh lightly once you’re sure Mateo won’t be able to overhear you.
“My parents once took me skiing for Christmas in Utah and from the moment I got off the plane, I just, I could not catch my breath, no matter how hard I tried. The altitude just made me awkward and uncoordinated. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t get my bearings. And I’m a very good skier, but I just spent the whole vacation, just like, on my butt, dizzy, panting. And Mateo’s like a human Utah.”
“Oh, I have my own Utah,” you laugh in understanding. “It could always be worse, he could be engaged. He’s not!” you add the last part quickly when you see her eyes widen in panic.
“Oh, good,” she lets out a sigh of relief.
“But mine was, or at least practically engaged. I found out he had already bought his girlfriend a ring after I made a fool of myself.”
“How did it end up working out?” Victoria asks, finally getting her own emotions in check.
“We’re great coworkers now, but it was one of the most embarrassing days of my life,” you admit, walking up to the nurse’s station.
“Is he here today?” Victoria asks, looking around the ED trying to figure out who’s married.
“He is,” you sigh, avoiding looking in Langdon’s direction. “He’s in South twelve right now.”
Javadi whips around to see who could be the person to knock you off your bearings. “Langdon?” she asks in complete shock, she imagined it would be someone more like you- someone nicer.
“It was like in one of those cheesy romance novels, it was like the whole world disappeared and there was only him. He was a second year resident at the time.”
Just talking about it transports you back to two years ago, getting lost in his baby blue eyes. He seemed to take a special liking to you, he was always having you work alongside him, pulling you away from other residents when he had a more interesting case he wanted you to experience.
Within the first month of you being in the Pitt it was like you and Langdon were attached at the hip. When he could see you slowing down during one of your many twelve hour shifts, he would slip you little snacks like granola bars or cheese crackers. If you had down time you were grabbing coffees or water for the two of you from the break room. The way you were with him caused Perlah and Princess to gossip about the two of you. And it didn’t stop with them, when no one else was around even Dana and Robby would talk about the way the two of you act around each other.
With each passing day your feelings for Frank grew stronger and deeper. You spent pretty much every waking minute thinking about him, anytime you could let your mind drift it would slip back to thoughts of him. It didn't help that you would grab late night dinners to decompress after pretty much every shift, and spending your days texting one another about anything and everything.
Even with all of that time spent together, you had no idea he had a girlfriend- and a serious one at that. If you had known you never would have dreamed of asking him out, of thinking you had even a sliver of a chance with him. One fateful day two months into your rounds, you asked him to go to the Carnegie Science Center with you on your day off. His face immediately changed from the carefree smile that Princess swears he reserves just for you, to a cold hard stare. You can still feel the white hot embarrassment washing over you to this day. You were so embarrassed, and to make matters worse you had just spit the question out at the nurses station right in front of Dana, wanting to- needing to- ask Frank before you lost your nerve. So you got rejected right there in the middle of the ED in front of your charge nurse, the same nurse who told you two weeks later that he had gotten engaged over the weekend.
“At least I waited two months before asking mine out,” you tease Javadi.
“Dr. (Y/L/N),” you and the first year resident beside you freeze at the unmistakable voice. “Can I get your opinion on a patient in North four?”
“Yes,” your voice squeaks a little, once again feeling the embarrassment you felt around him two years ago. “But, I’m bringing Dr. Javadi, she could use the experience.”
“Okay…”he furrows his brows at you, confused by your reaction to him.
Javadi watches Langdon and you, how the two of you move in sync, no trace of the awkwardness she’ll no doubt have with Mateo going forward. She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before, the little looks you two give each other as you work, wordlessly communicating your thoughts to each other. He may have rejected you years ago, but he still clearly cares about you and values your opinion.
The remaining hours of your shifts slip by; Javadi, Langdon, and you being separated and thrown together multiple times throughout. She watches you two, observes the way you take care of each other.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Dana asks Javadi once she returns from her CT scan. “Been wondering when they’ll get together. The whole department’s got a bet going if you want to get in on it.”
“Isn’t he married?” Javadi asks, confused. Afterall, you said he had an engagement ring for his girlfriend.
“No, he couldn’t go through with the wedding,” Dana gestures toward where you and Frank are leaning against the other side of the nurse’s station, giggling over the cups of freshly brewed coffee you just made.
Your moment is cut short by the announcement of the shooting at Pitt Fest, everyone is scrambling trying to set up the ED before the first ambulance arrives. You work through the carnage, compartmentalizing everything you see, so you don’t break down in the middle of the chaos. There’s blood everywhere and you’ve changed your gown at least two times. You’ve lost Frank in the frey, which is to be expected, but hard nonetheless when he’s your lifeline. Slowly but surely everyone works as a well oiled machine and save everyone that you can.
Once it’s all over and your body no longer has to run on autopilot, you're faced with the reality of what just happened. The blood smeared across the floor reminding you of the teenager, with her whole life in front of her, that you couldn’t save. Tears start to collect on your lashline standing in the middle of the emergency department, watching all of the fluids get mopped up so the ED can be opened back up to the public like nothing just happened.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Frank appears out of nowhere, pulling you tightly into his chest. “We just need to hand off our patients to the night crew and then we can go home.”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you grip onto his scrubs.
“I know,” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head without a thought. “You can come over to my place, I’ll make us some dinner, and we can watch a movie. I’ll even let you put on one of those trashy rom coms you love so much.”
“Thank you Frank,” you bury your head into his neck, taking a deep breath and putting your game face back on.
“I love you,” Frank says out of nowhere, still holding onto you.
“I love you,too, my Utah,” you smile at him before heading off to find a resident to hand your cases off to. Frank and you will have to address your confessions when your emotions have calmed and the adrenaline has worn off.
“What?” he asks himself as you walk away. “What’s a Utah?”
#dr frank langdon x reader#dr langdon x reader#dr langdon x you#dr frank langdon x you#frank langdon x reader#frank langdon fanfiction#dr frank langdon imagine#the pitt fanfiction
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Baby, It's Alright - Chapter Two
(Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader)
A little later than I promised but here it is!
Summary: Reader gets a sort of second date with Robby that sort of doesn't go the way she planned. It sort of goes better...
TW: all my content is considered 18+, age gap, car accident but everyone is fine, medical inaccuracies, DIY medicine = kids don't try this at home, sort of slow burn sorry, quiet flirting, male friendship, includes Dr Jack Abbot x nurse wife!OFC, Jack and Sam are INVESTED, Reader is nervous and twitterpated, Robby is falling and he's working through that ok!
This is a part of my "Save Me From Myself" series, if you feel so inclined you can check that out! Love you all for the love!
Read Chapter One here if you missed it!
~~~~~
Sam had invited you out for coffee after your shift and once you had found a table she asked the question you had been expecting for a week. "So, how are you feeling about your sexy, older, ER doc crush now?"
"Do you have to say it that way?" You supposed you should be grateful she'd let you go this long without bringing it up. It had given you time to think.
"Yes," She smiled, "I'm honestly having fun torturing you both. Stop avoiding the question."
You thought for a minute while you picked at your muffin, "Is it weird?" You were aware it was a vague yet somehow loaded question.
Sam still smiled, a little softer, as she reached up to let her bun down, "I don't think I can answer that for you." She paused to take a sip of her coffee and then continued. "What I can tell you is that when I first got to spend some time with Jack, we didn't know anything about each other, but, we sat and ate together and I knew that I could sit at a shitty picnic table and eat shitty pizza with him anywhere in the world and be perfectly happy."
You thought about what she had said, thought about dinner and the chat you had with Robby after.
Across rhe table from you Sam chuckled, "You realize you don't even have to say it right? It's written all over your face."
~~~~~
Robby blinked, snapped out of his thoughts, as his earbuds read out, "Incoming call from: Sam Abbot"
"Good morning Mrs. Abbot."
"Good morning Dr. Robinavitch. You on your way to work?"
"Mhmm, you've got three blocks."
She got right to the point, "If I told you Y/N was interested in seeing you again, what would you say?"
Robby scoffed, "I'd ask what you're bribing her with."
"Robby I swear to God, do you like her or not?"
"I don't know that it's that easy Sam."
"Because you're making it complicated."
"It is what I do best."
"You should have seen her face this morning when I brought you up." When that doesn't get a response out of him she continues, "I knew it! You big chicken, just admit you would like to see her again."
"I don't know Sam."
Something in his tone sobers Sam up a little bit, "Ok, I'm not bullying you,"
"You sure?" He interrupted, only half teasing.
"Shut up. Look, she liked meeting you at the house the other night and I think she really likes you. So, I won't beat you up about it, but will you at least promise me you'll think about it? You might be pleasantly surprised."
Robby was quiet for most of the next block, "Ok, I will think about it. I am thinking about it."
Sam's smile was evident in her voice, "Ok, good. I'm glad. Have a good day at work, okay."
Robby couldn't help but smile with her, "I will, I'll make sure Jack leaves on time."
~~~~
As soon as Robby got inside the the ED Dana met him at the counter, "So, haven't seen you, how'd dinner go with the VA cutie go?"
Robby glared at Jack as he gathered up his stuff. Jack just glared right back.
"Oh please," Dana scoffed, "Don't look at him, he's like trying to get gossip out of a KGB agent."
Robby throws another glance at Jack who just shrugs and slaps him on the back on his way out. When he turns back to Dana he sighs, "Ok, what did Sam tell you?"
"Nothing much, just talked to her quick the other day and she said they had you two over for dinner and that Y/N had a good time."
Suddenly, he was already exhausted and he had only just got to work, "Is there anyway for me avoid this conversation?" The look she gives him says it all. "Dinner was... fine, actually no dinner was good. She is everything Sam said she was and more."
Dana softened, "But?"
He sighs and scratches at his beard as he leans his elbows on the counter, "She's so young."
With an arched brow, "Robby, she's a grown woman, and from what I hear she's a grown woman that likes what she sees."
~~~~~
Robby heard the access door open, but he didn't turn. DIdn't need to.
"At least you're on this side of the rail this time."
Robby scoffed, "Look who's talking."
Jack nodded, "Came to tell you to go home." He stepped up to the rail and leaned his forearms over the top. "What're you doin' up here anyway?"
His colleague didn't answer right away, but Jack waited him out. "Needed some quiet, time to think about some things."
"Would one of those things happen to be a pretty, little nurse over at the VA?"
"That's your shtick brother." Robby gave him a side eye.
Jack shook his head with a chuckle, "Well that wasn't a no." He turned his head and gave Robby a look, "C'mon, tell me what's up. You got," He turned his wrist over, "Five minute before my shift starts."
"You a counselor now?" Robby scoffed.
"Four minutes, 50 seconds."
"Fuck me, you really want to talk about this?"
"Not especially, but we're gonna." He stood up and turned around to lean back against the rail, "And I really only have it in me to say this once, so listen."
Robby grumbled, but did not interrupt.
"I know the age thing is messing with you, but I think you're makin' a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be. You know, Sam fell for a... a 29 year old soldier with a six pack and God complex. Now, she's married to a 46 year old doctor with fucking grey hair, frown lines, PTSD and a shitty schedule. She still loves me, and yeah shut up, God knows why sometimes. But look brother, she's the only thing that keeps me above ground on the really bad days."
After a deep breath Robby shook his head, "Still different. She wouldn't be getting any of the good years, and Jesus I feel old just thinking about it." He laughed at himself.
Jack laughed a little, at Robby as much as at himself, "I mean, you're older than me." He takes the jab because he can't help himself, "But, for what it's worth, sometimes yeah, you're goin' to feel old as fuck, but most the time the age difference thing isn't even a factor." He paused and turned back around, hands gripped the railing as he leaned into it. "Then there's sometimes man where she's goin' make you feel twenty years old again, ten feet tall and fucking bulletproof." He chuckled, "Plus, look at it this way, now you got twenty, thirty years experience to put behind it."
"Oh fuck off." Jack laughed again, "C'mon, times up, otherwise I'm goin' to bill you." He pushed back from the railing.
"Sam, she's your once in a lifetime man." Robby's voice sounded tight. "Doesn't happen every day."
Stopped two steps away Jack turned back, hands in his pockets, and nodded, "You ever think Y/N might be yours?"
~~~~~~
When Sam had texted you last week that Robby was interested in seeing you again your initial reaction had been panic. Dinner at Jack and Sam's had been fun, easy even. Then you stopped and thought about going on a real, actual date, just you and Robby.
For whatever reason, the thought scared you, like maybe you weren't quite ready for that just yet. You wanted to see him again, you knew that for sure, but you couldn't help but feel like that first night had been less of a date and more of a dinner with friends.
Sam had teased you, a little, "Not that we mind, but you are going to have to take the training wheels off at some point."
She had agreed though and that was how you found yourself in Sam's SUV on your way to lunch. Jack driving and Robby up front with him, Sam next to you currently leaned over the center console typing in the restaraunt address into the GPS screen.
"Would you please, sit your ass back down?" Jack chided his wife with a smile. "I know where we're going."
You stifled a laugh as Sam caught your gaze and rolled her eyes as she settled back into her seat and buckled her seat belt. "So bossy."
From where you sat you could see the look they gave each other in the rearview mirror. You also saw the moment, halfway through an intersection, when Jacks eyes jumped the left.
"Mother fuck..." He didn't even get out the rest of the word before the car that had blown through the stoplight slammed into the SUV.
Tires squealed and you could hear the creak and crunch of metal on metal over the ringing in your ears as the airbags deployed.
~~~~~
"Sam, baby you okay?"
"Yeah! I'm fine."
"Y/N, you okay?"
Everything was fuzzy, your ears still rang and this time it was Robby calling back to you, "Y/N, hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm, I'm okay."
As your vision cleared you heard a repeated pop and hiss, pop and hiss. Jack had pulled out his knife and was popping the airbags on the driver side of the SUV. You flinched when your door opened, but a warm hand grabbed your wrist and squeezed.
"Hey," Robby spoke calmly, "Cover your eyes for me." Another pop and hiss and the side curtain airbag between you and him deflated. "There we go. Hey, look at me. Anything hurt?" When you didn't answer right away he ducked his head to catch your eye, "Does anything hurt?" His eyes scanned you head to toe and he gave you a little nod when you told him nothing hurt. "Ok, good watch my finger for me. Perfect." His hands moved to take each of yours, "Squeeze for me. Good. Move your feet?" He gave a smile and a nod, "Ok, you're ok, c'mon. I got you."
"Robby!" Jacks voice carried from the other side of the SUV, "I got three over here. Driver's unresponsive!"
Robby helped you out and away from the Tahoe where it had come to rest in corner of the intersection.
"Sam, grab a kit!"
You watched Robby disappear around the SUV and you could hear Sam behind you. When you turn she had a phone pressed to her ear as she opened the back hatch.
"Intersection of South Highland and Liberty. MVC in the southound lane, three vehicles involved." She drug a backpack out of the back, "We are going to need EMS, yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. Expect multiple injuries. My name is Samantha Abbot. Yes ma'am."
Head still fuzzy you watched as she jogged towards the car that had hit you, the whole front end completely mangled. After a second your instinct kicked in and you followed after her.
Jack didn't even look over his shoulder as Sam came up behind him, "Driver is unresponsive to pain, pupils are pinned. Grab me the narcan."
You took Sam's lead and went to Robby to see what you could do to help. He looked up at you briefly, "Check her in the back. If shes's ok get her over to the sidewalk. Then come back, grab me one of the kits out of the Tahoe on your way. Should be a backpack, probably camo or black."
Grateful for the direction you did as he said and came back with a black backpack moments later. "Got it."
"Ok perfect." He glanced at the bag, "That big front pocket should be some 4x4 gauze, grab me that and then can you hold C-spine for me?"
You crawled in the backseat and supported the passengers head and neck from behind.
"Jack, you got a collar?" Robby called out across the car. "Looks like the passenger went head versus windshield."
Sam came jogging back, "Other car is fine, minor lacs and bag burn, a little spooked. I can hear EMS. What you need?"
"Grab the collar out of the pelican case, give it to Robby." Jack caught the driver by the shoulders as he sat bolt up right with a gasp. "Welcome back. What did you take?" When he got no answer he made a fist and rubbed it over his sternum, "Focus buddy. You were in a car accident, do you remember what happened? Can you tell me what you took?"
The cops get there first and apparently one of them recognized Jack and Robby, "Don't you guys ever take a day off?"
Robby scoffed, "This was supposed to be my day off."
"Just can't help it." Jack laughed as EMTs arrived and made their way over, "Overdose here, came around with three of narcan, this is the driver. Robby has the worst, looks like he's banged up pretty good, no seat belt. Backseat passenger, and passengers in the third car they're all minor lacs, contusions, abrasians."
"What about the Tahoe?" Jack grimmaced, "That's us, we're all good, just clipped the front quarter panel when they ran the light."
A cop looked around, "RP?"
Jack pointed to Sam, "My wife, Samantha, called it in on my phone."
"Looks like you need checked out too man." The cop pointed at a gash on Jacks arm from the broken glass, but he just waved it off.
Another set of EMTs ushered you out of the backseat so they could get to the passenger. One of them taking over holding traction and you moved to the side. Out of the way. You couldn't help but think, through the pounding headache, that this was not how this afternoon was supposed to go.
~~~~~
After you had talked to one of the cops, told them the little bit you could, you headed back towards the Tahoe to grab your purse. The cops said the vehicles would all be towed.
When you get back to the SUV you find Sam and Jack at the back, the hatch open and Jack sitting in the back. His left foot is braced on the bumper, his arm rested over his knee while his wife sutured the small gash on his forearm.
"Good, make sure to finish it with a..."
Sam froze and her eyes snapped up to Jacks with a scowl.
"Habit, sorry, just habit." He gave her a smile and his right thumb stroked over her hip where he had his right hand resting while she worked on him.
When an EMT comes back with Robby he took one look at the couple and groaned, "Dude, seriously?"
Jack glanced up at the kid in uniform, "Go get the form."
"SIr, that needs seen by a doctor."
You caught Robby's chuckle from where he sood just behind you.
"I am a doctor," Jack kept his tone flat, "I've seen it. She'll do a better job than wherever you would take me anyway. Go get the form."
Brow furrowed you turn to Robby, "He's really not going to go to the hospital?"
He gave you a little grin, "Have you ever seen and ER doctor actually go to the hospital?" He laughs, "If he can't do it himself, she does it. Nothing new."
Not that you doubt your boss, she's a bad ass nurse, but, "She's not a doctor, what if it was something serious that she's never done before?"
"He talks her through it." He gives you a wink that makes you forget about the accident for a second. "I'm still not convicned she hasn't removed his appendix just to see if she could." He lightened the mood a little bit and then his eyes softened as they settled on your face. "How's your head feel now?"
Robby reached up and brushed a thumb around the edge of the abrasion on your forehead. The burn from the side curtain airbags. Your eyes closed of their own accord at his gentle touch, "Hurts."
His thumb moved low to trace under the apple of your cheek where the skin was also raw and tender, "Adrenaline is starting to wear off."
Jack spoke up, his eyes trained on the knot his wife tied in his suture. "Take her home. We'll have to wait for the wrecker."
Robby gave you a nod and a soft smile, "Let's grab your stuff."
~~~~~
Later, while they're watching the wrecker drag her Tahoe with it's mangled front end onto the flatbed, Jack wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders and gave her a squeeze, "Sorry about your car baby." He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.
Sam sighed deep, and rested her head on his shoulder, "Just glad it wasn't worse." She turned to look him up and down, "Sure you're ok?" Focusing on the tiny laceration on his temple she'd glued, the dressing on his forearm and the way his bad shoulder dipped just a little lower than the other.
"I'm fine." He looked her in the eye and gave her a nod, "Glad it was me not you."
She rolled her eyes, "Don't do that." Sam smiled carefully, and then chuckled a bit. "Here," She held up the dog tags she'd pulled off the rearview mirror, "Want these? Old times sake?"
Jack cracked a smile and took his old dog tags from her, a reminder from a lifetime ago. "I've got a set already." He gave her a wink as he bounced the tags and chain in his palm a couple times, thinking fondly about the old set of hers always hanging in his truck. "Here." He smiled wider as he slipped the chain around her neck, moved her hair out of the way and then tugged on the collar of her shirt so he could drop the tags inside.
Sam's eyes never left his and she smirked, "You think you're cute don't you?"
He pursed his lips with a shrug, "Married me didn't you?"
She let him kiss her on the forehead as she hummed skeptically.
"C'mon," He whispered against her brow and gave her one more kiss, "We'll go get somethin' to eat, guess we'll Uber to the house then we can take the truck to go pick up all our shit."
She ducked out from under his arm and gave him a look, "I'm sorry, we can go get something to eat?"
"Yeah," He gave her a blank look, playing at not understanding why she questioned it, "I'm fucking starving."
"You're hungry? You sent Robby and Y/N home." When he continued to stare she elaborated, "To presumably take it easy, because they were just in a car accident, but we're going to just go to lunch?"
Jack shrugged, "Eh, let Robby take her home, play a little doctor. Do 'em both some good."
Sam's eyes went wide, "Oh my God! You give me shit, but you do want them to get together!" She gave him a calculated shove and shook her head at him.
He kept up the straight face and tugged her back to him, "Not what I said."
~~~~~~
Robby was in your apartment.
You weren't sure what possessed you, where you had found the guts to invite him inside, but the way he had been looking at you made you think that maybe he had wanted you to.
As soon as he was across the threshold of your tiny apartment he pointed to your loveseat, "Go sit down." You did as he said and watched as he washed his hands in your sink and then ran a handful of paper towels under cold water. "Okay if I clean this up a little bit?" He asked as he gently pressed the damp towels to your brow and cheek.
Even though the towels were cool you felt your whole body flush when he touched you. Just barely touches you, as he guides your hand up to hold them in place. "Robby, you don't have to, really."
"Michael, and that's not what I asked." He gave you an easy little grin, trying to pry the cooperation out of you. When you finally give him the nod he had been waiting for that smile gets a fraction bigger. "It's not too bad. Where's your first aid kit? I'll clean it up and put a little dressing on to help it heal faster."
Next thing you knew Michael was sitting on the ottoman in front of you cleaning up and dressing the area where the airbags had irritated your skin. You didn't know what kind of doctor he was on shift, but the way he carefully held you steady with one hand and treated the burns with the other, his touch confident yet gentle, those deep brown eyes focused on the task, you could certainly imagine.
Occasionally though those eyes would flick to yours, and the way he sat with his legs bracketing yours you were close enough to see there was something hiding in those eyes. Just as much as there was something hiding in his careful touch.
You didn't mean to whisper when you spoke up, but you couldn't risk disturbing the moment. "Sorry this afternoon didn't quite turn out the way I had hoped."
He gave you a little smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, "You weren't the one that ODed and ran the red light."
"I know," You watched his hands as he packed up your first aid kit. "But still, I was looking forward to it."
The way he looked at you looked like that might have surprised him. That you had been looking forward to seeing him. The look passed quickly, like he had hidden it away, and then he looked at his watch. "Could still do a late lunch. If you feel up to it."
~~~~~~
Michael had offered to take you out to eat, to make up for the date that you had missed out on, but you had panicked. You didn't like the idea of him leaving your apartment now that you'd seen him move through it. As silly as it sounded, you worried that you wouldn't get him back again if you let him leave now. "Would you be okay if we order something and just ate here?"
For a brief moment he hesitated and appeared to have an array of emotions spin through him before he settled on a nod, "What sounds good?" He had already pulled up the DoorDash app on his phone.
You agree on something and he orders it. The restaraunt is close by so it shouldn't be long. You glance around your tiny, effeciency apartment. Coursework is scattered all over you kitchen table and you suddenly realize your mistake.
Behind you Robby must see you hesitate, "If I had to guess I'd say that table doesn't get used to eat much?"
"Basically never." You admit, embarrassed.
His gaze shifts over the menagarie of books and pens, markers, reports and studies littered with multi-colored sticky notes. He smiles, "Going for your Masters right?"
"Yeah. A decision I regret almost daily." You laughed at your own self-inflicted torture and than catch the look he gives you. A clear invitation to explain yourself. "I was never good at the whole school thing. I'm smart don't get me wrong, but the classes, the lectures, homework, I've always hated it."
"So, why are you doing it?"
"I want to teach, and no the irony is not lost on me."
"Really?"
"That hard to believe?"
"No." He shakes his head, not backpedaling or second guessing his answer just a simple no. "Wouldn't think someone so young would be going that route is all."
This was not a new sentiment. "I love being a nurse, always have, and it's always been what I wanted to do."
"But..." He tilted his head to one side and waited patiently.
You chewed on your lip and thought for a moment, "Take today for example. Sam is an amazing nurse and I've learned so much from her already, but I always get the feeling that she craves the chaos of it. That's why shes where she is. You can watch her work and she thrives in situations like that. Running an ER is exactly where she belongs. Me, I can do the work and yes I do love it, but I've never had that level of desire for it. I don't need it like she does. I've always been more drawn to... cultivating the love for this in others." You pause not meaning to ramble, "I fumbled a little today, until I saw you and Jack and her dive in headfirst and, like right now, I just think that I'm meant more to help others build that foundation, that confidence and competency to go out there and find where they belong in all this. I might not ever be the nurse that can take charge and own the floor when everything is falling apart, but I love the idea that I could help send hundreds or maybe even thousands of nurses into the system that could."
Robby, Michael, just stares at you for a long time.
Your heart suddenly pounds in your ears, "Sorry, I kind of just word vomited all over you." You laugh to try and dispel the awkwardness.
He just shakes his head, "Don't apologize. I think that's incredible." The look he gives you feels like it could stop your heart. Or maybe shock it back into rythym.
A knock at the door ends it there, for now.
"Foods here."
~~~~~
He moves to answer your door like he's done it a dozen times before. Maybe it's just because you haven't moved a muscle from where you were standing when you heard the word 'incredible'. "So, If you don't eat at the table?" He waits patiently for you to answer.
You fidget a little before youdo "This is so embarrassing, but honestly, I usually just eat over the sink, or sometimes i'll sit on the floor and use the ottoman for a table."
The thought hits him without warning, 'I'm too old for this', but then he takes that extra beat to really think about it. He thought about what Jack had said, that sometimes she might make him feel old as fuck, but sometimes...
So, he takes the takeout into your tiny living room and set's it on the oversized footstool.
You give him a little look as he settles down on the floor next to you and leans back against the front of the loveseat. "Do you want me to grab the Icy Hot now or wait until you try to get up?"
Robby laughs, he couldn't help himself, because yes he feels old as fuck, but he likes that you can poke at him, push him, say things that make his cheeks heat up. A part of him can't help but think about what he would do if this was real, if this wasn't just an attempt to salvage a sort of first date that went off the rails. If you were his.
Because if you were his and you'd teased him like that he would want to forget about the takeout and make sure you were both a little sore when you got up off the floor.
~~~~~
After you eat you have to force yourself to tell him you have school work, because you would sit on the floor with him the rest of the night if you could. What Sam had said about shitty pizza and picnic tables flashed through your mind and you smiled.
At the door you ask, "Would you be willing to try lunch again sometime, or dinner? With real furniture."
Michael gives you that crinkly eyed smile and shoves his hands in his pockets, "I'm not opposed to the floor, but I might make you pay for the chiropractor next time."
Your heart was a jackhammer in your chest when he reached up to ghost a finger over the dressing he'd put over the abrasions on your cheek and face.
"Do something for me?" He words are soft, not teasing anymore.
Anything. You have to choke the word down with a nod.
His touch lingers, "Come by tomorrow, so I can see you. Take a look at this." He traced the edge of a bandage, "My shift starts at seven."
~~~~~~
You had never been so nervous to walk into a hospital before in your life as you were when you entered the PTMC Emergency department like Michael had requested. You join the line to wait, but one of the registrars makes eye contact with you and waves you up.
You apologize to everyone that you passed in the line and gave her your name at the window, "I'm supposed to see Dr. Robinavitch." She smiled, "Yes, yes, he told me to keep an eye out for you. All the way to your right, I'll buzz you in."
You nearly run into Jack as you step through the fire doors into the ED. You flinch a little, startled, but you don't think Jack Abbot has been startled by anything in his life.
He does look a little curious though. "Hey, long time no see." He had a long sleeve shirt on under his scrub top, you assumed to cover the bandage and the cut on his arm. The small cut at his temple has a bruise around it now. "What're you doing here? Everything okay?" He ducked his head to look at you, clearly concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine, fine. Just following doctors orders." You pointed to where Michael stood by the main nurses station.
Jacks eyebrows jump as he nods and adjusts his backpack, then he meets Robby's gaze across the way. They exchange a look you can't read and then Jack turned back to you. "Ok then. Take it easy ok? I'll see you around."
You don't see the smirk on his face as he continued to the door, but Robby does.
You also don't see him immediately pull his phone out of his pocket as he pushes through the door with his shoulder, but Robby does.
"Good morning." You try for bright and cheery and not sick to your stomach with nerves.
Michael smiles, skips over the pleasantries, "How are you feeling?" He reached for your temple while his eyes asked if it was ok.
You nodded, "Little headache this morning, nothing bad. How about you?"
"Oh, I'm just fine." He carefully pulls back the tape holding the dressing down and does a quick exam. "This looks ok. Want me to dress it again?"
Selfishly you nodded, "If you don't mind. Since you made me drive all the way down here."
He gave you a look as he guided you back behind the nurses station and into one of the chairs. "Wait right here, I'll be back."
Just as soft and competent as before he cleaned and treated the burns from the airbag, this time only putting a dressing over the one on your forehead.
He had just finished up when a nurse in grey scrubs came around the corner, "We run out of rooms and hallways already?"
Michael chuckled, "Just a quick check up. Dana this is Y/N, Y/N this is Dana."
Dana's smile doubles as she looks from you to him and then back. "Oh my God, yes! It's so good to meet you." She pulled you into a hug you were not expecting, "Sammy's told me all about you."
You try not to flush, but you can see Michael's cheeks go just a little pink so you know at least you're not alone.
~~~~~
You were barely out the door when Robby's phone goes off and he gets a text from Sam.
'Doctors orders huh? Winky face, winky face. What's you next weekend off? I'll see if I can get you two a Saturday night for your next follow up.'
Robby drops his head and groans as he spins his phone around and around in his fingers.
Dana pops up next to him again, "What's that face for?"
He looks her in the eye, "One of these days, I'm going to push Jack off the roof."
~~~~~
By the time you left Robby's department you were all fixed up again, had his number in your phone and felt like your head was about to spin right off. When your phone vibrated, still in your hand, you nearly dropped it.
A text from Michael Robinavitch, 'If you're free Saturday after next, how would you feel about dinner? Real restaraunt, real furniture."
Your heart raced as you checked your email, silently praying Sam had sent out the schedule for next month, and there it was, a free Saturday night. Nearly shaking you texted him back, 'What if I liked sitting on the floor with you?' You bit your lip and waited.
"Compromise for the couch after dinner?'
~~~~
Chapter Three
#the pitt#the pitt hbo#the pitt fanfic#the pitt fanfiction#dr robby#dr robby fanfiction#dr robby x reader#dr robinavitch#Dr Robby x you#Robby x reader#dr. michael robinavitch#dr michael robinavitch x reader#dr jack abbot#dr jack abbot x ofc#shawn hatosy#noah wyle
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(DIE)TS ── AARON HOTCHNER
Pairing ── Plus Size/Chubby Fem!Reader x Aaron Hotchner
Summary ── Hotchner hates nothing more than when you go on unhealthy diets. (Or: You were mocked by a woman and her words stuck to you like glue. You internalized it so much that you began restricting and over-exercising but Aaron comes back and talks to you.)
Rating ── Mature
Content Warnings ── Disordered Eating & behaviors, fatphobia, let me know if I need to say something else.
Word Count ── 3.8k+
Note ── I wrote this in like 2 and a half hours and didn't edit it. I pulled this from some dark corner of my brain that's struggling with wanting to relapse and need this comfort. I suggest anyone struggling with an ED or disordered eating to not read if easily triggered. It goes in detail and should not be consumed by just anyone but I'm sure there's someone out there who needs this just as much as me. AND IF ANYONE IS WONDERING ABOUT HIS KID, just assume he's staying the night at family houses and other peoples and at school thx.
Hotchner hates nothing more than when you go on unhealthy diets.
But you can’t help how it’s drilled in your head. You’ve always been a chunky kid and as you got older, your size never really changed. You were always bigger and people had their things to say about it.
You’ve been called many names in the book, there wasn’t anything you haven’t heard of. They used to make you cry, you wouldn’t go out with your friends, you wouldn’t eat out, you wouldn’t wear sexy or tight clothing. You trained yourself to cover yourself, to not show yourself in front of people - including the basic need of eating.
It felt wrong, forbidden of sorts and although you dropped many of those habits now in your early 30s, it still lingered. You’d occasionally forget meals, pull at your clothes when you thought your stomach was showing and on your worst days, you didn’t dare go out.
But then you met Aaron, the sweetest man you’ve ever met. You were out clubbing with your friends, in a tight green dress with a back cut out. And you never felt prettier, dancing under the lights in the club with your friends. You felt the cold air on your heated skin and it was a thrill as your body mingled with your girlfriends. They grabbed on your hips occasionally, your bodies in sync.
You could feel eyes on you, and you knew it was you because your friends giggled it in your ear. Their hands left your body, though they still were near like a precaution, you opened your eyes and your breath was caught in your throat. His jet black hair was pulled back, save a few strands in front of his face but god did it work. He was sculpted by a god who took pride in their work, you were sure of it.
You smiled, the plump of your lips covered in the gloss you put on, eyes lined with your favorite black eyeliner and thick mascara. It all made your eyes more piercing when the light shined just right - or so you’ve been told. Then before you knew it, you were in his hands that night. And it felt more than right. His hands never left your body that whole night it felt like. He said your name on his tongue like a prayer, chanting over and over again with a rasp, a moan and a raw need that ignited a fire within you.
You both met that night by chance, his friends finally breaking his hard cover and pressuring him to give in and you, god you were looking for a break and boy did you get one. The best night of your life.
You haven’t left each other's side since that night, he worshipped you and you did the same, in your own ways.
And you knew he found you attractive, he told you that every night. And not just in sexual moments. He’d come behind you, wrap his arms around you, lean over to kiss your neck to your ear as you cooked his favorite meal (considering he cooked yours the night before) and he’d tell you how beautiful you are. To which you’d giggle and thank him. Sometimes giving him sass, “compliments will not give you sneaky bites of dinner before it’s done.”
But something got beneath your hard exterior. He was gone for the week on a case (as he is a lot, but you didn’t mind. You’d rather him out there saving lives like he does best) and you were at home. Your girlfriends asked if you wanted to go out, you pondered it for a bit but it’s been a minute since you’ve all gone out, let alone get a drink together.
So you agreed, dressing up in the green dress you met Aaron in. You decided you’d tease him with pictures, especially considering you wanted to wear your green lace set beneath it. It wasn’t to make him jealous, no one could touch him besides you, but to rile him up a little. You weren’t going to send it while he was in the middle of a case but when he was on his way home, just a little treat to show him what he’s coming home to.
You were all having fun, dancing on the floor like the time before but you got achy sooner than you thought you would, you pardoned yourself with a giggle as your friends hands chased after you but didn’t pull you back, respecting your decision to rest for a minute.
But on your way back, you weren’t watching where you were going and before you knew it, you were completely cold. A drink was spilled from your exposed chest down the silk of your dress.
“Fucking fat bitch,” you heard a girl growl out before you were pushed backwards. You went with the motion, too shocked to fight against it. You didn’t register it all at first until your eyes came to hers, the blue pierced your skull as her face twisted into what could only be described as disgust by the scrunch of her nose and snarl of her lips. “Watch where you’re fucking going. That was like fifty bucks of drinks, you lard.”
And just like that, apologies rushed out your lips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you say as you bend to pick the glass that dropped. You muttered more apologies and you didn’t even notice when your fingers were pricked by the glass, you fumbled as you tried to put it on the tray. “I’ll pay for a new one, I’m sorry-“
The girl scoffed, “I don’t need your money. Just stay out of the way or better yet, lose some fucking weight.” And you backed into yourself. You’ve been clumsy before but you’ve never had a reaction like this. And it didn’t help that you found out you gained a few more pounds while having been with Aaron.
“Yo, watch who the fuck you’re talking to.” One of your friends came up behind you, her eyes squinting at the girl before you and this time, the girl stepped back, scoffing again, muttering a whatever and walking off.
Sasha was your best friend and always has been, but when her comforting hands made their way to your body, you shrugged them off and turned to her with the best smile you had, it was small and you knew she could see past it.
“It’s okay, I think- I think I’ll just go home.” You muttered before taking off, pushing through the crowd until you made it out.
You wanted nothing more than the world to swallow you up. You hadn’t given it much thought to lose weight, not in a while. But she could barely fit the green dress she was wearing and it was perfect a few months ago.
But you didn’t know how to lose weight. You already ate healthy (with a few occasions of not) and you worked out occasionally but maybe you needed to eat less, way less and work out more.
Your walk home was cold and you were non-stop sniffling. You’ve done this to yourself, you said. You should fix it.
Aaron said they made a break in the case and might be home in a few days. Maybe you could surprise him by losing a few pounds. Maybe he’d like you more.
These thoughts snowballed. Every thought you’ve had since you were 7 was rushing back and ten times worse.
Over the course of the next few days, you rejected your friends' invitations to eat out and tried to eat only one meal a day and spend the rest of the time working out and being busy.
You tried to eat just a salad most nights and others you were too tired, so you ordered takeout. Work was an absolute pain, you moved on your feet like a zombie. God you looked like one, there were bags under your eyes. You couldn't sleep well, you stayed up most nights because you just couldn't sleep. You had to take melatonin most nights and you tried not to do it every night considering their health concerns but sleep was becoming something that was a treat. You were rarely getting it.
Aaron called you sometimes, he said that the case is taking longer than expected and that he'd be gone for even longer. You tried not to let it get to you but maybe it was your lack of sleep (and probably proper nutrition) but you were getting more emotional. Your period had already passed so you knew it wasn't that, but you were eating yourself up from the inside out. You were getting messages from your friends, you responded as positively as you could but you could tell they were getting concerned for your health and safety as days went by and you didn't accept any of their brunch plans nor hang outs.
It was unusual of you, it's been 2 weeks since that night and this never ending routine you've been doing was catching up to you. But you needed to continue it. You had to. You don't even understand why anymore, you loved yourself - you thought you did at least and now you weren't so sure. That night destroyed all that you built and you couldn't explain why.
You thought you were pretty before going out, maybe a little upset that you probably wouldn't be able to wear the dress again soon because you gained a few pounds and you didn't want to rip it. It was your favorite dress for multiple reasons and it being the dress that you met Aaron in was definitely the number one reason. It was the dress you were in, shamelessly flaunting yourself and he picked you. Out of everyone there. It was already not his scene, he didn't want to be there and he was dreading the whole night.
Sometimes you think late at night, what is the point of doing this? He loves you, doesn't he? Why would you have to lose weight for that love to be more? But then your other side fights that maybe he wants what every other man in his life has, a skinny girlfriend. It wasn't fair to him. What if he got mocked for dating someone like you just like you received for being yourself?
Being alone consumed you, all you had was yourself (and everything anyone has ever told you in your life).
Aaron said it was extended another week probably due to new findings of a group. You didn't understand, you weren't allowed to consider that it was confidential business and you weren't upset about not knowing. Just that you missed him, more than anything else right now.
Around week three or four, the days began to blur more. You didn't feel like yourself anymore and you were forgetting things more. Your brain was fogging up compared to the first week, you still had pizazz in your movement. But maybe this is what beauty costs?
"Hey baby,"
Your heart ached at his voice, rough and tired through the phone.
"Hey handsome," You gave out, with a light giggle. In bed yourself. You hoped he was too. He had the tendency to stay up and overwork himself when a case was getting to him. "I miss you." you whispered into the phone after a few beats of silence.
You heard his sigh, like the world was weighing on him - and to him, it probably did feel like this. "I miss you most, angel." he muttered into the phone.
"You're not staying up working, are you?" you chided, a softness to your phone. But there was only silence to your question. You shook your head, he couldn't see it but you knew he could feel your disapproval. "Oh you totally are! You need to go to bed." You reprimanded him through the phone.
"But I feel so close, I just need to focus on it."
"No, what you need is sleep." You countered. And you heard his groan. You knew it wasn't of annoyance towards you, just everything that's on him.
"But I'm leading this case and I just, I feel like I need to do more."
"Mhm, you may be the leader boss man of the FBI but listen here, mister, I'm the boss now. You need to get your butt into bed and rest. Anything you're missing won't be found through a tired mind and overworked body. It'll still be there when you wake up and you'll be better than right now to be able to find it. I know you will, but you need to nourish your mind." You spoke softly to him. Maybe a few words of yours was childish but this was the one place and way where he didn't have to act so cold. When you're running the FBI and hunting down criminals, you can't act like the true warm teddy bear you are.
"I know baby, I know." He sighed softly. "Sleep on Skype with me?" He asked and you smiled into the phone. You granted him the request, both of you opening your computers (he now carried one regularly for you) and your smile brightened at him but you knew he couldn't see you, you were in a dark room with no light - and thank god for that but he could hear you and maybe that's what he needed, to hear you in the night.
It definitely helped you, hearing him next to you even though he wasn't truly there. His breathing was all you needed, you recognized it like no other and a big part of you was soothed by it. You slept a little better that night- just a little.
Your days were still rough, you ached in places you never ached before. But when you woke in the morning, you were startled by loud banging on your door. You peeked through the hole and saw the only face those loud knocks could belong to. Sasha.
You purse your lips, knowing if you opened the door, it would be a world of butt whooping and you weren't ready for it. You knew better than to get away with - not ignoring, just not talking to her as much.
But as soon as you undid the locks, the door swung open as you had the handle in your hand and you were met with a face of fury. Her eyes set on you and they narrowed.
"Y/n-"
And before you could finish, you took off as her body lurched forward to get you. But she was always faster, her hands catching you and she pulled you along with her to the couch before she threw you down on it. "Now, I'm giving you five seconds to explain why in the world you're ignoring your most amazing and best friend," she paused for only a second before pointing back at herself, "me before I open a can of whoop-ass on you."
You stared for a second and you couldn't think of anything, mind wiped clean.
"One."
And you squeaked.
"Two."
"Idon'tknowI'vejustbeensadwithoutAaron-" You rushed out before she could say 'three' and that was enough for her, she registered it and she lifted a brow to you.
"That's all it is? You're not lying to me, right?"
"I'm not lying to you." You told her, not confirming the first part but it seemed like she took it as an answer to the first question.
And her solution to this very dire problem was a movie marathon.
A part of you was more than grateful for this break of thinking, just binge watching movies with your best friends was a cleansing you never knew you needed before. It was the best thing to ever have happened to you. You had an excuse for why you didn't sleep last night, having stayed up most of it with her. But she had to leave somewhere around 2 a.m.
And the following day, Aaron messaged you that he was finally coming home. And small parts of your world was crashing because you only lost so much weight with his absence, you didn't know how you'd be able to hide what you've been doing-
Hide?
Yes, you needed to hide it.
But not all plans follow through, you learned.
As soon as he made it home, you were in his arms, he wrapped around you as tight as he could and breathed you in like you were a drug he was addicted to and truthfully, you probably were. You swore you saw him going through withdrawals - or perhaps that was the delusion of it all. Maybe you were the one addicted. It didn't matter in the end, you both were obsessed and in love with each other.
You both pulled back on for him to press his lips against yours, his hands on your hips - keeping you as close as possible. "I never want to be away that long from you, ever again." He mumbled against your lips and to that you let out a soft giggle.
"I'll just have to keep you all to myself, handsome."
He pulled back and you saw it - for the split second it appeared - his confused gaze, eyebrows pinched. His hand went to your face - and his hand was the perfect size, cupping your face like you were a doll and truly, to him, you were. His thumb lightly traced the bags beneath your eyes and you felt your stomach drop.
"Have you been sleeping?"
And you were never much of a liar, not like you could get away with it while dating a behavioral analysis.
"Uhm, not too well." You muttered. You felt bad, his return should be about him, not you. It was stupid. He looked tired, he should be resting.
"What's been keeping you up?" He asked, eyes now on yours and not the bag beneath them. You sucked in a breath and shrugged because you knew speaking would only make you give it away and you were scared of what he'd say or think.
Would he be happy? Would he think that you were finally doing something about your body? Would he say he was proud because he wanted you thin like other girls?
Or would he cradle you? Would he tell you to eat more, that it was stupid to base your worth off of something like that? That you're more than a plate of pasta that you forbid yourself from and ate only a plate of salad?
You hoped for that but it would probably be the former. Aaron was a fit man, he could already pick you up now and maybe he would want a smaller girl.
"Have you been eating well?"
Your heart sunk deeper into your stomach and you shrugged again.
"It's okay-" You began but his firm look on you told you otherwise.
"Baby, be honest with me because I can tell by one look the answer to my question already. I just want you to be honest with me."
A part of you was happy and another - was destroyed? You felt like it was blown up and chopped up and put through a shredder. You couldn't explain why, not really.
"I just- I wanted to lose some weight."
"Why?"
And it made you scoff a little, not an exaggerated one, just a small one. He should know this answer, shouldn't he?
"Come on, Aaron, take one look at me. I'm fat and not just phat, the big F. Capital even. And I just want to look better for you, I know what people think when they see us together and I guess I just realized how much better you deserve- which is just so shitty of me- and I'm just trying to give you that. I could look so much better if I was skinny, you can't tell me I wouldn't." You huffed out, your words were to distance him but your grip on his suit kept him close because even with this tough act, you were falling apart. Tears were in your eyes and you sniffed at him.
"You wouldn't."
"Don't lie to me, Aaron."
"You wouldn't."
You huffed out a laugh, hands letting go of his suit and you moved to turn but his hands stopped you, cradling you by your waist and bringing you closer.
"You wouldn't look "so much better" if you were skinny, you look beautiful to me now. You'll look just as beautiful to me if you gained fifty pounds or lost fifty pounds. Your weight is a number that is out of my mind because I love you, Y/n. And that's not something conditioned by your weight." He began, taking in a breath while his eyes searched yours. Tears that formed before, were finally falling. "You're beautiful to me, Y/n. Your body is beautiful, your personality is beautiful, you are beautiful. If you want to lose weight, that's fine by me but I won't watch you wither away before me. Losing weight shouldn't be about being 'skinny'. It's about loving yourself and changing for health. You're healthy as you are now and if you want to change something to be better, then so be it but it will be in a healthy way. There's nothing about you I want to change, but I'll support any change you want to have. And if you don't want to change, then don't. Because I'm in love with the beautiful woman in front of me. Not an idea of how others may want her to be."
You sniffled by the time he was finished, face completely soaked by tears and you couldn't help a laugh that came from your mouth. "Do you know it's rude to make a girl cry?" And he smiled at that. And you caught your breath a second later, sniffling again. "I love you, I love you- God, I love you, Aaron. I'm sorry for what I said and acted like." You took a long breath. "It's just, something happened when I was out with my friends and it just, it affected me. Those few words she said affected me and I couldn't let it go."
And ever the understanding and loving boyfriend he was, he took the apology and ordered take out (both too tired to cook) and cuddled up to watch a show.
And as the movie began, you peered up at him from your position against his chest and said, in the most quiet voice. "I don't want to lose weight, maybe build muscle a bit but I don't want to be like that, not right now at least." You confided.
And to that he smiled, "Then that's how it'll be. I love you no less." He pressed a kiss against your lips and it truly felt like he didn't love you any less.
Things will get better, you'll get better. And with him by your side, that's more than possible.
please leave thoughts and comments <3 requests are open if you'd like to see more of him or anyone else (esp with plus size reader or buff)
#aaron hotchner#aaron x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hurt/comfort#angst with a happy ending#tw eating issues#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#x plus size reader#plus size reader#aaron hotchner x plus size reader
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Sweet as Nuka Cola


Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader
You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?
Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)
Word Count: 11k
“Action!”
“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”
Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.
You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.
But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.
“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”
“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”
“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.
“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image.
“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent.
You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”
“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.
You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea.
You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.
“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.
You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.
“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.
“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”
You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”
“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”
Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.
He says your name.
“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”
“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”
You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”
“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”
“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”
The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.
“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.
“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”
“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.
“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”
/
The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.
He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.
So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.
He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.
“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.
He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.
Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.
Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.
This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking.
Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.
He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.
There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.
He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.
He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.
“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.
A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick.
It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.
Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.
“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”
He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.
Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.
Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.
He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.
“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.
Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.
Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.
There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”
To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.
Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”
He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.
Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.
He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.
Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.
Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.
A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did.
/
You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.
It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home.
Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.
It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.
You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.
“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.
“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”
“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”
“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”
“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins.
“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.
“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.
“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”
It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.
Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.
“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”
“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”
“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”
“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”
Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.
“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.
It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.
You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.
“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”
Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.
“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”
“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”
“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”
“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”
“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.
It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.
“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”
“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.
“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”
“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”
“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.
Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.
He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.
“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.
/
A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.
No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.
“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”
You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.
“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.
“Was it good?”
“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”
Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.
It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.
You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.
“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”
“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.
Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.
You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.
“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.
“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”
“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”
“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.
“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.
“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”
“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”
You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.
Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?”
“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.
“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.
“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”
Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”
He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”
Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”
“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”
“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.
“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.
Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you.
“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”
“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”
Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?
“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder.
“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”
“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.
“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”
“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”
Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.
“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.
“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.
“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”
That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.
He loved being the hero, really.
He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.
“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.
Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.
“Backlash, really?” You whisper.
“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”
“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together.
“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.
And you absolutely are.
“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does.
“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.
He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.
God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.
He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.
“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”
You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes.
“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist.
“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”
/
It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.
You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things.
“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.
You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways.
You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?
So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.
You shudder.
You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.
/
The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.
Oh fuck.
It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.
Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you.
“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”
You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.
“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course.
“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”
“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”
“...”
“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body.
“I said, how is that any different from before?”
“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.
“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”
“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”
“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.
“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.
“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad.
“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”
“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.
“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”
“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.
“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”
“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember).
“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself.
“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”
“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.
Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.
Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.
“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.
He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.
Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”
“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.
“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”
It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.
“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”
“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.
The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.
“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”
You flinch, and he stops.
“Oh, God, my eyes–”
The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses.
You blink, tears rolling down your face.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room.
It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.
“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”
Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”
You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”
How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?
“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”
Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”
You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.
You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.
Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.
/
He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day.
It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders.
But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.
Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.
No wonder he enjoys his casket time.
/
Coop sighs.
Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.
The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.
He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.
It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.
But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.
Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.
He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.
He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.
A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.
Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–
A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.
He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.
No way is he letting easy money pass by him.
He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.
It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.
Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.
And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.
You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”
He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.
Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–
You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.
You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.
Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.
“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.”
Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.
“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.
He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.
But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.
You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.
You’re angry at the state of the world.
“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”
“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.
“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”
Coop is actually drawn to silence.
“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”
You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.
Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.
You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”
It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.
He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.
Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.
You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain.
Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.
“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”
“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”
“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”
You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.
“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”
You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.
“Alright.” You whisper.
“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does.
The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.
/
Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out.
He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.
Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.
Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his.
You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.
He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.
He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.
You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.
There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.
Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.
You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.
“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”
“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.
“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.
“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth.
“Bullshit.”
“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”
“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”
“Nah. I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”
“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular.
Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.
“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.
“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”
You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist.
He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.
It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.
What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?
“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”
You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.
He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.
“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.
“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”
This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.
Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?
He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.
You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.
Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.
He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.
“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.
“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”
“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”
“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”
“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”
It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition.
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I'm struck with a sudden and unprovoked need to explain the romantic dynamics in Blood Moon and Thicker Than. I don't know why, and will not be taking questions at this time.
There are eight romanacable characters in Blood Moon.
Marco
Carrie
Vicky
Ed
Sergi
Shawnie
Roe
Farro
And nine in Thicker Than.
Tracy
Marcel
Erin
Nathan
Iliya
Freya
Ravima
Chris
Minjo
Starting with the werewolves...
Marco's whole shtick is the best friend. He's the goofy, kinda scrappy golden retriever guy who is fun, a little awkward, and prone to running his mouth. That dynamic doesn't change if you romance him. When it comes to the bedroom, he's super versatile. Top? Bottom? Rough? Gentle? Left? Right? No matter your preference, he's game.
Carrie brings the baggage so you don't have to. She needs a lot of love and understanding, especially at first, but if you're kind to her she'll let her guard down and open up. I wanted her dynamic with the MC to be all about that trust and that extends into the romantic and intimate scenes. Carrie's banter with the MC is her way of feeling safe... so yeah, that's in the sexy bits too.
Vicky is my Batman. Strong, stoic, silent... even when perhaps she shouldn't be. She's been through hell and back and her number one mission in life is to make sure no one she loves has to experience what she did. She also knows kungfu, because of course she does. Her romantic scenes are very, very gentle.
Ed is a sassy wee sweetheart. A genuinely good, and really smart guy who has to try so hard not to roll his eyes at the antics of some of the other werewolves. He's never dated anyone before, so the romantic dynamic is a little slower, a little sweeter, and a little softer. Because he's a virgin he'll set some boundaries in the bedroom. After all, he's still figuring it all out.
Sergi is a little late edition to the Blood Moon love interest roster. When I first invented the character, he was originally going to be way more of a background character than he ended up being. There's a bit of an age gap here, as Serge is a little older than the MC, and the relationship develops right at the end of the game. It's a kinda messy dynamic, a lot of trauma, helping each other recover through love, etc.
Shawnie is hot and she knows it. Curvy, sexy, playful, fun. Because the other female love interests lean a little bit bleaker, I wanted Shawnie to be for people who wanted a lighter, bubblier, more fun romance. That doesn't mean she's shallow or simple, but that she takes her fun where there is fun to be taken.
Roe is the alpha of the other pack and has some pretty intense feelings about power and being in charge. Expect some tussling in the bedroom. They've been an alpha for only a little while and have only recently started to realise how lonely it can be at the top. A lot of their romance is them realising they have that wall around themselves and figuring out how to navigate around it.
Farro is the only love interest in Blood Moon who is 'missable'. I.E. Depending on your choices, you may not meet him at all. He looks like a werewolf, even among werewolves, big and muscular with long hair and a beard. He's also a dad, a widower, and super introverted. However, behind closed doors, he's rather intense.
And now for the vampires (and non vampires) of Thicker Than...
Tracy is a bitch with a heart of gold. She's using you to escape the clutches of the cult that she's been trapped in for decades, and isn't quite sure if she can trust you either. But, despite all her sharp edges, she's the most ride-or-die person in the world. She needs some tenderness, but isn't shy about desire or romance.
Marcel does a really good job of acting the part of the scary, shadowy vampire lord, but the truth is, he's rather too easily charmed by plucky fledglings who push back against the system. He's also kinda a freak in the bedroom.
Erin is complicated. She's been fighting against the vampire court for decades and is a figurehead of the revolution... even though, in some ways, she doesn't really believe in it any more. I haven't written her intimate scenes yet, but the vibe I'm reaching for is a little messy, a little angry, just like she is. Also lowkey thinking of adding a threesome in with her and her human girlfriend in Chapter Four. I dunno.
Nathan is the vampire hunter, so if I had to give him a trope, it'd be enemies to lovers. He's kinda a badarse, but also really bad at looking after his own arse. He is, after all, catching feelings for a vampire. Also, he 100% doesn't get enough sunlight. The vibe is I-don't-know-if-I-should-kill-you-or-kiss-you.
Iliya is one big walking cliche, and that's why I love him. I wanted him to be the bodyguard romance, and he is that. He's also kind of a bastard in a I-will-betray-you-but-then-maybe-unbetray-you kinda way. Big, a little cheeky, and very hungry.
Freya is soft and kind and very trusting in almost every way. Unfortunately, that makes her a little (occasionally a lot) gullible. She wants to believe the best in people, even when sometimes it puts her in danger. My intension with her character was to contrast it with her witchy powers. She's a sucker, but she's also one of the most powerful necromancers alive (and is capable of consulting with some of the dead ones). Her romance is, like everything else about her, very soft and cosy. She will only use her powers on you if you're into it.
Ravima is perhaps my most classic vampire romance. They're dark, they're sinister, they're obsessed with art, with knowledge, with anything that will make immortality a little less boring. They also kinda want to eat you, but they also want to fuck you, and that's kinda the whole vibe.
Chris is my first (and last because oh holy hell the coding is hard) gender selectable love interest. They're only available to players who select the divorcee origin at the start of the game. That's because, they're the main character's ex spouse. Perhaps obviously, the romance route is very second chance romance.
Minjo has the weird honour of having the most Romeo and Juliet romance I've ever written. She's team werewolf, and you're a vampire. She's also a total MILF, and only available to characters who are also parents. Bond over being single and raising kids. I wanted to give her a dry sense of humour, and a down to earth sorta charm.
Anyway.
My number one goal with these romances was to make them all unique. I didn't want to copy paste the love scenes and change the names. I wanted them to all feel like different people and for their romance routes to feel different and unique to them. I don't know if I've fully achieved that. There's some that do overlap with each other, but I think I've managed to hit a few different spots on the love interest spectrum.
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you and i | lando norris
face claim: bela juliana ♡
request: here !
pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader
requested: Can I request a social media AU leclerc reader x lando based off of the song ‘You and I’ by Rita Ora Thanks so muchhhhh
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 679,154 others
y/nleclerc oh to be the girl someone writes love stories about
fan I WILL!!!!! give me 10 minutes and garage band i can pull it off!!! ♥️ y/nleclerc
alexandrasaintmleux every love song is about you gorgeous girl x ↳ y/nleclerc when are you gonna stop pretending you like my brother and just date me instead x ↳ charles_leclerc ?? rude.
landonorris d4vd is so good! can't wait for his show in london :)
lewishamilton pipe is right there 😉 ↳ y/nleclerc that is NOT a love song sir lewis hamilton!!!! ↳ charles_leclerc back off grandpa i will put sand in your petrol tank ↳ lewishamilton woah calm down there bud i was joking i promise ↳ y/nleclerc play nice boys ↳ charles_leclerc he started it ↳ y/nleclerc well stop, i dont want ferrari in my dm's telling me y'all are throwing hands on the grid ↳ georgerussell63 if they do, can someone film it? ↳ y/nleclerc ffs
carmenmmundt prettiest girl in the whole wide world 🩷 ↳ y/nleclerc MWAH MWAH MWAH love you carm 💜
francisca.c.gomes getting ed sheeran on the case rn ↳ y/nleclerc i still bawl my eyes out to cold coffee nearly daily ↳ pierregasly really y/n? ed sheeran? ↳ y/nleclerc ok mr listens to crazy frog when he thinks no one can hear
fan lando being the only one y/n airs everytime ☠️ ↳ fan feel bad for him at this point 😭 ↳ fan y/n you want a lover boy, he is RIGHT THERE
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y/nleclerc uploaded 3 pictures to their story
[caption: y/nnies song recs of the day] replies:
charles_leclerc need to find you a boyfriend immediately so you'll stop posting sappy songs on ig ↳ y/nleclerc as long as its not one of your colleagues ↳ charles_leclerc whats wrong with them? :((( ↳ y/nleclerc i hear enough about cars from you i dont need it from them too
landonorris iris is a certified BANGER
heidiberger wanna go get coffee?? i need you to give me new songs for my danny playlist ↳ y/nleclerc y'all are so gross but yesssss ↳ heidiberger i think you misspelt cute 😋
fan y/n can i recommend turning page by sleeping at last? i'm not sure if you have it on your playlist already ❤️ ↳ y/nleclerc team edward FOR LIFE!!!! was one of the songs that got me into my lover girl era ❤️❤️
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 607,285 others
y/nleclerc garden party with my favourite leclerc saint mleux ❤️
charles_leclerc wow i see how it is... ↳ y/nleclerc not my fault your son is cuter than you ↳ oscarpiastri aw i knew you thought i was cute 🥰🥰 ↳ y/nleclerc the cutest piastri-leclerc! come round for tea soon, i miss my nephew x ↳ oscarpiastri will you make that pasta dish again? ↳ y/nleclerc i will just for you! ↳ landonorris osc save some for me please ↳ oscarpiastri get your own y/n this ones mine ↳ landonorris just you wait
fan the adoption is going strong i see ↳ fan i think y/ns the biggest instigator for it 😭
alexandrasaintmleux am i your favourite saint mleux? 🥺 ↳ y/nleclerc always x
landonorris leo!! miss my little man ↳ fan day 2947 of y/n airing lando ↳ fan leave him be, his little crush is cute
arthurleclerc if leo's your favourite leclerc saint mleux, am i your favourite leclerc? ↳ y/nleclerc not even close, that spot is for maman only ↳ leclerc_pascale 🥰🥰
fan where's the dress from?? its so gorgeous!! ↳ y/nleclerc it's from a little boutique in monaco! let me see if i can find some alternatives online 💜 ↳ fan my queen thank you!!!
fan oh to be at a garden party with the leclercs...
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charles_leclerc uploaded to their story
replies:
fan you and alex are so cute ↳ charles_leclerc 😉🤫 ↳ fan what does that mean im scared
fan alex was wearing a floor length dress,, whomstdve is THAT mr leclerc?
arthurleclerc i don't like the way he was looking at her ↳ charles_leclerc don't you dare say anything ↳ arthurleclerc you want.. lando???? to date our sister ↳ charles_leclerc oh he's absolutely smitten, it's cute
y/nleclerc is... is that me and lando? ↳ charles_leclerc you guys looked so cute i couldn't help it ↳ y/nleclerc stalker alert!!! ↳ charles_leclerc deflect all you want, i know you liiiike him ↳ y/nleclerc 🙄🙄
landonorris mate can you send me this please? ↳ charles_leclerc yeah sure 😉
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 679,253 others
y/nleclerc i believe the kids call it serving cunt
alexandrasaintmleux most gorgeous girl in the whole wide world 🩷 ↳ y/nleclerc come give me a kiss xx
charles_leclerc ??!!!?!?!?!???!!!! text me rn!! ↳ y/nleclerc i'm busy ↳ charles_leclerc i have a key to your flat, i'm not afraid to use it ↳ y/nleclerc damn ok so needy
arthurleclerc and who is that. ↳ y/nleclerc why do you wanna know? ↳ arthurleclerc oh god its Him isn't it? ↳ y/nleclerc you say that like its a bad thing 😭 ↳ arthurleclerc it is
fan UMMM??? 3rd pic???? deets please miss y/n ↳ y/nleclerc if all goes well, i'll give you all a full debrief
fan MOTHERRRRRRRRRRR
fan never mind the man DATE ME!!!! ↳ alexandrasaintmleux ^^ ↳ lilymhe ^^ ↳ lilyzneimer ^^ ↳ alexalbon charles stop bringing your sister to races i dont know if i can fight PLEASE ↳ y/nleclerc you would lose with those lanky arms wimp
fan poor lando in the likes... watching the girl he fancies go on a date with someone else ↳ fan how do you know he fancies her? ↳ fan he's constantly in her comments even if she airs him, he gets the goo goo eyes whenever she's near and don't even get me started on hungary 2022 ↳ fan ... please continue ↳ fan ok SO! she was in the paddock before the race and some guy came up to her and was asking her for a photo and then he asked her on a date ??? like dude use critical thinking skills for one second ... lando was across the paddock with daniel and there's a photo of him somewhere staring DAGGERS into this mans soul... charles came over and shooed the man away and lando literally deflated.. i'll see if i can find the photos ↳ fan tag me in them please ↳ fan me too! ↳ fan me three!! ↳ charles_leclerc me four!! ↳ fan CHARLES???
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y/nleclerc uploaded to their story
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y/nleclerc flowers from lover (?) boy :)
fan oh she's down Bad ♥️ y/nleclerc
fan guys dont call me delusional but i think she's dating a driver ↳ fan charles would burn the world down before he would let that happen ↳ fan i gotta say... they have a point, remember when they did that tiktok where they asked drivers who they would introduce their sisters to on the grid and charles said lando immediately ↳ fan and then they did the f2 gang and arthur threatened to kamikaze anyone who tried to go near y/n? ↳ fan going off the comments i'm putting 2 and 2 together and getting 4 ↳ y/nleclerc ironic ↳ fan Y/N??????
fan pls show us lover boy its been 84 years i am begging you ↳ y/nleclerc it's been like 3 months silly but soon :)
charles_leclerc i know i should feel sick seeing you so happy but it's nice to see you be treated how you deserve ↳ y/nleclerc charlie 🥺 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux he's giggling and kicking his feet rn ↳ charles_leclerc wow ↳ fan ik he's picked out a suit for the imaginary wedding ↳ charles_leclerc i reject that statement ↳ alexandrasaintmleux it's bookmarked on his laptop
landonorris pretty flowers! ↳ y/nleclerc thank you :)
fan ???!!!!! SHE REPLIED TO LANDO???? ↳ fan i know he's squealing rn ↳ fan adding it to my "y/nlando dating REAL" spreadsheet ↳ fan omg share the link ↳ charles_leclerc yeah share the link ↳ fan this feels like confirmation but we all know charles lives for the drama
leclerc_pascale don't forget to bring him to the garden party tonight! ↳ fan another one? ↳ y/nleclerc we do them quite often in summer!! it's an excuse to drink champagne at 3 in the afternoon ↳ fan ur so real for that
carmenmmundt lover boy 😔 that should be me ↳ y/nleclerc i've got two hands for a reason babygirl x
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y/nleclerc uploaded 3 pictures to their story
[caption 3: lover boy (no ? this time)] replies:
landonorris lover girl ❤️ ↳ y/nleclerc lover boy ❤️
charles_leclerc photo creds? ↳ y/nleclerc nope!
alexandrasaintmleux its not too late to run away with me x ↳ y/nleclerc meet me at the port at midnight, we can steal charles' boat xx ↳ alexandrasaintmleux y/n it's charles i will bomb the port. ↳ y/nleclerc oh you're Crazy crazy ↳ alexandrasaintmleux only for her ↳ y/nleclerc gross... put my gf back on the phone
fan the sign 🥹 we need to know all the deets ↳ y/nleclerc all i will say is he gave me a mixtape :))))) ↳ fan A MIXTAPE??? LIKE A PHYSICAL MIXTAPE??? oh we stan
fan WHO !!! IS !!! LOVER BOY !!! ↳ y/nleclerc all will be revealed soon ;)
arthurleclerc maybe he has rights ↳ y/nleclerc shush you love him ↳ arthurleclerc thats before he started fancying 🤢 you 🤢
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 789,502 others
y/nleclerc he may not be able to write me love songs, but his voice is my favourite melody ❤️
fan we've officially lost her boys 💔💔
carmenmmundt just looked at george and sighed ↳ georgerussell63 ?? why am i catching strays?? ↳ lilymhe me with alex ↳ alexalbon what he say fuck me for?
fan lover girl x lover boy era <333333 ♥️ y/nleclerc
fan guys that's lando's necklace i'm like 99.9% sure ↳ fan you're onto something there lemme look at pap pics from the last race!
fan guys the flowers are orange... papaya even...
landonorris the guy sure likes his bouquets ↳ y/nleclerc yeah he's a real romantic 😋 ↳ fan WHERE'S THE FAN WITH THE SPREADSHEET ↳ fan I'M HERE !!!!! typing as fast as my fingers can handle!!!!
alexandrasaintmleux just so you know charles is crying at the caption ↳ y/nleclerc big softie x ↳ charles_leclerc i just have a lot of feelings :(((((
arthurleclerc i will allow him to live another day ↳ y/nleclerc i'm sure he's shivering his timbers rn ↳ arthurleclerc >:((((
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👤 landonorris liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 903,185 others
y/nleclerc lover boy x
fan miss rabbit has fainted
fan spreadsheet fan we just got a HUGE update ↳ fan i'm gonna break my laptop in 2 with my bare hands
charles_leclerc :))))) my scheme worked ↳ y/nleclerc i still hate when you do that shit ↳ alexandrasaintmleux same 🙄
landonorris lover girl x ♥️ y/nleclerc
landonorris so gorgeous, i love the way you look tonight xx ↳ y/nleclerc you said the same thing the night we danced together 🥺 ↳ landonorris i meant it then and i mean it now x
mclaren scuderiaferrari we stole your girl xx ↳ scuderiaferrari you and your ugly colours can get BACK 🤺🤺🤺 ↳ fan the girls are fighting!! ↳ mclaren UGLY COLOURS??? oh its on
carlossainz55 now he'll stop blowing up my phone about you ↳ landonorris nah now i can just annoy you about how cute my GIRLFRIEND is ↳ oscarpiastri you've been dying to say that, haven't you? ↳ landonorris mate i thought i was going to die
fan sorry can we circle back around to charles saying his scheme worked??? ↳ fan yeah charles_leclerc spill. ↳ charles_leclerc a magician never reveals his tricks ↳ y/nleclerc he forced me and lando to talk at the garden party and then pretended to get a phone call from ferrari so he could play eternal flame over the speakers ↳ charles_leclerc y/n :(((( ↳ y/nleclerc you used my love song weakness against me, you don't get to have secrets
alexandrasaintmleux can't believe he stole my girl :( ↳ y/nleclerc you know my heart is always yours x ↳ landonorris WOMP WOMP i didn't pine for years to share
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a/n: thank you for requesting!! i think i've listened to the song about 400 times writing this! needed a lil break from the gote series and this was the perfect thing to get me out of my slump <3
taglist: @golden-hoax
#lando norris smau#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic
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We Are Not The Kissing Space Twins
Fic by lunaraindrop
Now with an actual title!
The clock on his dashboard said 7:32 pm.
Steve didn’t know how to feel. He was just...numb. He left his house as if in a daze. The lasagna his mom tried to say was homemade, but he knew was secretly from Enzo's sat funny in his stomach.
His mom.
Legally, she was still his mother. Has been since the day after he was born.
His dad, too.
Legally, Steve was a Harrington.
He drove the Beemer aimlessly, until he came to a familiar trailer.
He knocked on the rickety door, silently kicking himself for not calling ahead to make sure he didn't disturb Wayne's sleep.
It was too late for that, though. Eddie opened the door. "Stevie! I thought you had that thing with your parents! I wasn't expecting..." The exuberant words of his friend trailed off and melted into a concerned silence. The man open the door widely and wedged his way through the doorway to put his arm around Steve's shoulders. He guided him to the couch, and sat both of them down in a clump.
"Steve, what happened?"
And Steve, so unsure how to feel about this situation, burst out an awkward laugh, even as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
"I'm apparently adopted? My biological mother is my mom's dead sister."
Eddie's eyes grew nearly to the size of dinner plates. "What?"
Steve turned to him, wild eyes and bitchy. "Yes! See? They acted like it was no big deal! 'Oh, Steven. It's time you knew that your father couldn't have children. We decided to adopt you when my sister died in that car accident. Please pass the peas.' Like, what the fuck do I do with that?!"
Eddie nodded to himself. "She died, and then they adopted you?"
The tears welled in his eyes. "She died while she was still pregnant! I was a premie. Since I was a boy, dad-Richard decided this was a 'prime opportunity' to have the Harrington name live on', or some shit."
Eddie held his friend close, then offered to get him a beer. They silently sipped from the bottles. Eddie could tell something else was weighing on Steve's mind, and knew he needed to give the guy a few moments to find the right words.
He wasn't disappointed.
"You know, Eds. That isn't even the worst of it?"
Not disappointed, but certainly surprised. "It gets worse that your parents never told you that you were adopted, and your birth mother is actually your deceased aunt?"
Steve nodded before taking a large pull. "Uh, yeah. Apparently, I'm also a twin."
Eddie nearly dropped his bottle. "A-a twin? A twin! There's two of you out there?"
That actually earned him a rueful smile. "I have a twin *sister*, dumbass."
Eddie nodded in what he pretended to in a sage way. "Yes, that makes sense. The world could not survive the charm and hair of two Steve's. That's like having two suns. We would not survive!"
Tension lifting for just a second, Steve playfully shoved his secret crush, blushing just a little.
"Ha ha. But speaking of the charm...what if I'm like Luke Skywalker?"
Eddie furrowed his brows. "How'd you mean?"
Steve flexed his hand in his lap, staring at the other boy with fear. "I've dated a lot of girls, Eddie. What if...what if I've kissed my sister?!"
Eddie reared back. "Oh! Eww! Steve, why?!"
Steve flailed. "It's a valid concern!"
Grasping at straws to wipe *that* thought from the boy he love's face, he blurted out, "Maybe your secret twin is a lesbian?"
Part 2
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i think you should try again
written for @steddiebingo prompt: scoops | 2k words | T |
It's the first day of summer vacation and Eddie should be overjoyed. Free. The cage that is school has been opened and he should be a bird in flight, stretching his wings and soaring weightless through the world, unladen with places to be or homework to do. But he isn’t—overjoyed or free or flying or any of it. The cage is open but he still feels just as trapped and heavy as ever, dragging himself sullenly around the trailer until even his uncle feels the need to say something about it.
Wayne, never usually one to give unsolicited advice and who generally tends to stay out of Eddie’s business, finally looks over at him and tells him, “You gotta quit mopin’ around, Ed. This sulking ain’t doin’ anyone any good, especially not yourself. I reckon you’d feel better if you got outside, go do somethin’.”
Well, Eddie reckons that’d probably make him feel worse actually, but he gets the part that his uncle’s not saying too, and he doesn’t want his sour mood to bring Wayne down as well. So he gets himself dressed and drags himself sullenly around town instead.
It’s the new Starcourt Mall’s grand opening today and it’s packed to the brim with high school kids enjoying their break and graduated seniors celebrating their freedom. And it does make Eddie feel worse. He takes it out on a particularly loud, whooping jock in the food court, shoulder-checking him hard and receiving an elbow to the ribs and a “Watch it, freak!” in return. Stupid fucking town. Eddie pulls a devil face, and watching the jock and his friends recoil from him lifts his spirits only marginally.
What does lift his spirits is wandering to get ice cream and happening across the one and only freshly graduated senior in this place who isn’t free or celebrating. Steve Harrington stands behind the counter of a Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor in a totally dorky sailor uniform complete with a hat, a sight that makes Eddie fight a smile for the first time all day.
Eddie approaches the counter with a grin, looking Steve up and down. “You know, I was feeling like shit today, but I think this just cheered me up.”
Steve huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, I look ridiculous.”
“Nah, it’s kind of cute, actually,” Eddie says, because it is, and because he’s curious how Steve will react.
Steve blinks, expression split between a flattered smile and skeptically raised eyebrow. “Thanks? Um.” He shakes his head as if shaking off Eddie’s comment, putting his customer service smile back on gesturing towards the selection of ice cream. “So, what can I get for you today?”
Eddie shrugs. “What do you recommend to cure a shitty mood?”
“Well, something chocolate usually works,” Steve answers, “but it depends on what's got you down.”
“I didn't graduate,” Eddie says, which should be common knowledge by now. “Again. So I’m not really feeling the summer excitement like everyone else.”
“Ah, right.” Steve nods with a slightly awkward, sympathetic smile. “Definitely chocolate then,” he decides, grabbing a scooper and flipping it in his hand as he slides over to the tubs of ice cream. “How do you feel about Rocky Road?”
Eddie smiles a little. “It's my favorite.”
Steve gets to scooping, quiet for a minute and then he says, “I didn't get into college.”
“Oh.”
“Not a single one. Not even community college. That's why I'm here. So, you know—I get it.”
“Yeah.” Eddie appreciates the attempt at solidarity, he really does, but, “At least you graduated.”
“Yeah…” Steve sheepishly breaks eye contact as he sprays whipped cream onto the ice cream he's scooped. “Are you gonna try again?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have until the end of the month to decide,” Eddie says, and that seems to be the end of the conversation.
Steve hands him a sundae with three scoops but only charges him for one, a kindness Eddie isn't quite sure how to respond to, so he doesn't—just pays and finds a booth to sit and eat at.
He picks somewhere where he can keep Steve in his eyeline, still amused by those sailor shorts and intrigued by the odd little conversation they just had. Steve Harrington is nothing like Eddie expected, nothing like he seemed to be in high school, and the more Eddie watches him, the clearer that becomes.
Steve’s off his game, keeps trying and failing to flirt with girls who come up to the counter. Whatever smooth charm he was once purported to have in those King Steve days of yore is nowhere in sight now and instead he seems to wear an ill-fitting mask of false confidence, blustering to some poor girl about postponing college in favor of getting real life work experience as if it was his own wise choice to scoop ice cream in a sailor outfit, but his eyes betray a look just as trapped and heavy as Eddie’s been feeling lately. Maybe there is solidarity to be found here after all.
The girl leaves with her ice cream and Steve looks up to catch Eddie watching him, a startling, unintentional moment of direct eye contact. Steve gives a tiny smile and a small shrug—in embarrassment maybe, or just simple acknowledgement—but Eddie doesn’t see it long enough to interpret it, already looking away and snapping his attention back to the slowly melting sundae in front of him. He eats his ice cream and doesn’t look over again, allowing Steve the dignity of striking out with the next girl unwitnessed. It’s cruel to visibly revel in another’s failure, and while there are many people Eddie would love to be cruel to today, Steve isn’t one of them.
So Eddie watches everyone else instead. As the natural curative powers of chocolate ice cream and marshmallows work their magic on his bad mood, he alleviates his bitterness further and entertains himself by imagining great, fantastical harm befalling anyone he sees whom he finds irritating. Snickering mean girls are cursed by wizards; obnoxious jocks are eaten by dragons; celebrating seniors are torn apart by hoards of goblins.
“I think you should try again.”
Eddie blinks out of his daydream of a particularly vicious dragon to see Steve pulling up a chair, those stupid shorts riding up his thighs obscenely as he sits. Not that Eddie’s looking—he’s not (he is). He blinks again, pulls his gaze back to Steve’s face. “What?”
“High school, graduating,” Steve says, “I think you should try again.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Eddie says with a scoff of a laugh, trying to sound light because he’s really not sure why Steve cares. “Going back for a third senior year is a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Not as pathetic as giving up,” Steve tells him. “And you never struck me as the type.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you took that much notice of me, Harrington.”
“Kinda hard not to when you were stomping on top of cafeteria tables every other day, Munson,” Steve points out, like duh.
“Touché,” Eddie mutters.
“You’ve got grit, man, is what I’m trying to say,” Steve continues. “You know—you’re bold, you’re tough, you don’t back down. You parade on top of lunch tables and rail against the stereotypes put on you, and that doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d let anyone, not even himself, tell him he can’t. So what’s one more senior year? What’s one more try to finally graduate and stick it to everyone who never thought you could? If anyone can do it this time, it’s you.”
He says all this in what Eddie can only assume to be his best ‘team captain’ voice, an expert tone of firm encouragement and optimistic passion that Eddie can vividly imagine Steve (tiny basketball shorts included) having used in locker room speeches to rally the spirits and self-confidence of his teammates before they took to the field—or court, or whatever. The Hawkins High basketball team never won much in Steve’s time, but Eddie bets they had great morale.
“Right, yeah,” he says, attempting to remain guardedly nonchalant even as his chest glows warm with Steve’s unexpected praise. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
Steve nods, smiles. “Of course.” And that could’ve been the end of it, but Steve stays seated, taps his fingers against the table, and surprises Eddie again by saying, “And, hey, um, you run that Dungeons and Dragons club at school, right? Hell-something?”
“Hellfire, yeah,” Eddie confirms, adding Steve Harrington knows what D&D is? to the ever-growing list of things that have bewildered and intrigued him about Steve today. “Why?”
“There’s a couple of kids I kind of babysit, they’re gonna be freshmen next year and they’re really into that nerd stuff—like, total geeks,” Steve says. Easy targets, he means. He shrugs. “So, you know, if you did decide to stick around another year, it’d be nice for them to have someone to look out for ‘em.”
“Ah,” Eddie says. Now this all makes a little more sense. He points his spoon at Steve. “There it is, the ulterior motive.” Steve doesn’t care about him; he hasn’t been trying to talk him into a third senior year for Eddie’s sake, but for the sake of a bunch of nerdy kids he knows. Which, actually, is still kind of sweet.
Steve rolls his eyes. “Put that accusing spoon down, Munson, there’s no ulterior motive. I meant what I said before, too. I want you to try again for you, because you really are tough and I really do think you can do it. But also because there are some kids who might need you. Both of those things can be true.”
Eddie puts his accusing spoon down and uses it to take another bite of his soupy ice cream instead. “I guess.”
“And, who knows, maybe I want it for me too,” Steve adds flippantly, and Eddie can’t tell if he’s being serious or if this is just a cheeky hypothetical to further his point. “You know, I drive those kids around a lot, I’ll probably be picking them up from those Hellfire meetings. Maybe I want to see more of you. Maybe all three of those things can be true.”
Hypothetical or not, Eddie can’t hold back his oddly endeared smile anymore. “Alright,” he concedes, “you’ve made your point.”
Steve grins back. “I’ve gotta get back to work,” he says, finally standing up. He drops a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder as he passes by, a brief, lingering squeeze. “Just think about it.”
Eddie glances at his shoulder as if half expecting the touch to have sunk into his skin and left some sort of imprint. It hadn’t, of course. He scrapes up the last of his sundae and quickly stands before Steve can get too far. “Hey, Steve?”
Steve pauses and turns around.
“I think you should try again too.”
“What, with college and stuff? Yeah, I know, I’ll probably reapply next year.”
“Well, yeah, good, that too,” Eddie says, “but I meant— I saw you strike out with that girl earlier; I think you should try again. You’ve got a lot going for you, really, and I, uh, I think a lot more people would see that if you didn’t put up some weird facade of over-the-top confidence. So- yeah, I think you should try again, but be honest, be yourself, you know, without all that bluster.”
Steve smiles, a slow, bemused sort of smile that borders on a smirk, as his head tilts and his eyes glance Eddie over. “I just did,” he says, and then he’s turning away again. “I’ll see you around, Eddie.”
It takes a couple seconds of buffering time for Eddie to process exactly what Steve meant by that, and by then Steve’s already gone, back to work and busy. “Yeah, you will,” Eddie mutters in delayed, unnecessary response, grinning to himself as he throws away his empty sundae cup and walks out of there in far better spirits than he’d entered with.
He still doesn’t know yet if he’ll be going back to Hawkins High for another try at senior year, but he does know that he’ll definitely be coming back here, to Scoops Ahoy, for another try at Steve Harrington.
#steddiebingo2025#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#ficlet#mine
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