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saintescuderia · 8 months ago

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pancakes (pt. 5)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: sorry this took so long. pls enjoy.

P5 - occasional spotter

Zak Brown wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

At first, this was just a driver issue. It was clear what needed to happen and Zak knew it was rough doing that to Daniel. However, Ricciardo was, admittedly, just plain horrible in the car. Zak had hoped, he really, really had hoped Daniel would turn things around. But that just didn’t happen. Daniel was supposed to come in and take the lead from Lando. But that just didn’t happen.

So when Oscar Piastri seemed onboard with joining McLaren - and face the risks that would come with essentially abandoning Alpine - it seemed like things would be on the up. He was a young driver but that leap of faith had paid off with Lando before. Besides, Oscar had one of the best CVs coming into Formula 1. He also was still young enough that he could be moulded to the likes of any car. Unlike Daniel who preferred front-end focused cars that accommodated his late breaking style - something that just didn’t happen in a rear-end focused car such as the McLaren.

And so, Zak did what he had to do. Out went RIC3 and in came OP81. If only with an odd requirement.

Zak had agreed to the young Oscar’s random request to try and acquire a random Hospitality worker he was friends with as a trainer. Drivers do what drivers do. It wasn’t the oddest thing Zak had ever heard a driver ask for. If anything, that was nothing compared to some things drivers in the past had come up with as a condition to signing. Zak accepted Oscar’s request without much thought.

Boy, was that a big mistake.

Evident by how he was now faced with the stare of one very unhappy Christian Horner in a meeting Domenicali had called ahead of the Saudi Arabia race. Whilst Zak usually left Andrea to these things since he was the team principle and, unlike Mercedes with Toto or Red Bull with Horner, McLaren had a split role between CEO and TP. Zak could pick and choose when he had to face these assholes.

“Stefano requested you specifically boss.” Andrea had informed him.

Zak half-wished for one of the cappucino's from Oscar's friend as he walked in to what was most likely going to be Horner and Wolff snitching on another. Zak forced the fake smile on his face - he knew the others would be smug about how bad the MCL60 was performing. He had half expected Horner to sit there grinning at the apparently karma all the journalists were reporting on since Red Bull were dominating. And Oscar had DNF'ed.

Except when Zak followed Andrea in and actually approached the bookclub circle of team principles, Horner was anything but glib. No, he was fuming.

“Gentlemen, thank you for joining us— Guenther!” Domencali sighed, looking at the door.

“Fucking washed up idiots— ah, sorry teacher!” The German TP ducked his head sheepish as he walked in late to the meeting. Guenther left his assistant and took his seat next to Fred Vasseur, the new Ferrari team principle, who was holding a hand to his mouth, trying to hide the amused smile. Zak rolled his eyes.

“Thank you Guenther.” Domenicali said with a pointed look, then addressed everyone. “Now, there have been some issues brought forth to me and I thought we should be reminded of a few things.”

Christian’s eyes remained on Zak’s. It was unnerving. Zak turned to Andrea who seemed to have caught on the Red Bull boss’s less than enthusiastic stare. Zak’s brows furrowed, clearly confused. Andrea's eyes widened slightly and then he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his shoulders. Zak shook his head and then looked up as if to say, who knows? The communication between the two men who had worked alongside each other was clear; they were both at a loss with Horner's anger.

“Firstly, Hospitality staff are part of the Formula One Group and are not to be affiliated with any one team.”

Horner uncrossed his legs and then crossed them the other way. A vein appeared in his forehead.

Ah.

A wave understanding suddenly washed over Zak. He darted his eyes down as he fought to keep the smile off his face. Was Christian Horner that bored that he went snitching about some Hospitality worker?

You hadn’t even agreed to join McLaren and opted to draft up some agreement between you and Oscar on how you would ‘unofficially’ train him. What was the big deal?

And so Zak voiced that.

“If this is in regard to one of my drivers having a friendship with a Hospitality worker, surely we can move on.” Zak said, his eyes darting over to Horner who looked like his blood was going to boil over.

“No we certainly will not.” Christian jumped in, finally setting off. “It’s in her contract to not join any teams.”

“She hasn’t joined McLaren.” Zak retorted casually but internally wondering about the mention of you having a contract.

Christian immediately bit back. “She’s training your driver, is she not?”

“Oscar occasionally spots her in the gym. They’re mates.” Zak shrugged, downplaying the fact that Oscar just this morning had walked in with a new diet plan for him and Andrea to look over that you may or may not have suggested he try for the next three months.

Given your lack of official qualifications, Zak was surprised by how detailed it was with the macro breakdowns and having recipes tailored the local cuisine based on race calendar. He was half tempted to get Lando on it. He would’ve had it gone against Oscar’s 'contract.'

Which boiled down to just this: anything you do for Oscar is for Oscar and Oscar only.

Not McLaren, not F1 - just Oscar Piastri.

“I’m sorry, but the fuck are we talking about?” Guenther jumped in, thoroughly confused as to what was going on.

“About him poaching one of my trainers.” Christian sneered. Guenther frowned, evidently that answer not being enough to explain what was going enough for him. The German looked at Fred who made a motion with his face and hand. Qui sait? Who knows?

However, some not all TPs were at a loss as a smug Toto Wolff finally caught on and joined the conversation. “But she’s not your trainer anymore.” Toto said, ever so casual. Obviously enjoying seeing Christian Horner angry about something.

“It’s against the contract.” The Red Bull principal said.

“To join any new teams, yes.” Toto countered. Christian's eyes narrowed for a second as he regarded Toto. Everyone's eyes were now on the staring competition between the two fierce rivals.

Save for Domenicali, who took a second to look up at the stars above and consider his life choices. Sitting here amidst the drama, he was just glad his PA reminded him to make sure Netflix wouldn't be here this morning. Dio.

"What?" Toto asked. "You think I wouldn't try to hire the trainer that made Max Verstappen?"

It is with this that Zak Brown finally felt unease settle into his gut. Zak had hear the rumours - everyone had heard those rumours - but he didn't think that the person in all that controversy would actually still remain in the world of Formula 1. Let alone work in Hospitality. How F1 even managed to get that to work sent Zak spinning.

Then again, they had managed to cover up much worse.

"Yes, the contract says no new teams." Toto spoke. "That means she can still join Red Bull or AlphaTauri."

Christian scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that's never going to happen."

"Or Ferrari." Toto added. His smirk grew at how he dropped that bomb and Christian's face dropped along with it.

"Qui - who are we talking about?" Fred asked, chiming now at the mention of his team.

"Yes, I would like to know this also." Guenther said, digging his hands into his pockets.

Domenicali took this as his turn to speak. "A Hospitality worker. She worked at Torso Rosso as a trainer until... an incident with Verstappen occurred. Formula One decided her skillset and knowledge was too valuable to retire her. She agreed to stay on as part of Hospitality."

Zak and Andrea shared a quick look. This was not missed by Horner.

Nor was the look Toto and Fred shared.

"What incident?" Guenther asked, ever so nosy.

"That's confidential." Domenicali's response had Guenther openly rolling his eyes.

"Look, this is the first I’m hearing of it." Zak spoke up, feeling the need to address the revelation about Oscar's fellow Aussie friend. It was clear that there was a lot going on here and with how Horner was staring at him - and the pointed look Toto was giving Fred - Zak was starting to get a sense of how much a mess this was. And it was messes like this he strove to avoid.

"There wasn’t anything about it on her file." Andrea added. Beside him, Aston Martin's Mike Krack had started furiously typing away on his phone.

"Yes," Guenther added, "because it's confidential." He winked and Zak appreciated the German's sarcastic attempt at humour to mellow the seriousness a little bit. Mike Krack chuckled. Domenicali sighed.

"But I can assure everyone there is no McLaren contract." Zak continued, "She’s just friends with Oscar. Aussies and all." He added his own joke that fell on deaf ears.

Horner snorted. Not at the joke, but at his own side comment: "Wouldn’t be the first Australian she’s gone for."

So the Daniel Ricciardo rumour was true.

Still, Zak ignored this and addressed Horner head on. "Am I supposed to tell my drivers who they can and can’t be friends with?"

"Ferrari do it all the time." Christian said with a sardonic grin, turning his whole body to look at Fred Vasseur. It was clear that there was also something there - to which Fred was clearly at a loss at. Clearly being the Ferrari TP was still not enough to know all of Ferrari's deep, dark secrets.

"Bah, gentlemen, this is the first I have heard of all this." Fred said with a slightly chuckle, his reaction genuine. It was the first time he heard about any of this.

Christian gave yet another scoff. "How about you ask your driver then?"

"Which one?" Fred asked, still amused as ever with the whole situation. For Fred, he saw nothing serious enough to warrant a full TP meeting as this. Yes, Toto was giving him eyes but Toto was always chasing after the gossip and drama. Fred always preferred to stay out of it. It was how the two men had remained friends for twenty years despite their ruthlesss line of work.

"You have not even told me the name of this Hospitality worker!" Fred's French accent became all the more prominent as he was all smiles.

However, his good humoured air was soon to be stepped on through Horner's answer. "Y/N Tessio."

Upon hearing that name, even Fred Vasseur knew all too well just which one of his drivers he needed to speak to.

Charles' first day at Sauber had him arriving in some flash JDM car and dressed in some cool looking sneakers. In his hands, he had held a Tupperware container of pancakes.

Australia, 2018

In the private section of the Melbourne Grand Prix parking lot, a black Supra was quietly tucked away with a boy and girl sat in the front, staring at each other.

“Mais non."

"Mais oui."

You grinned at Charles and ruffled his hair for good measure. It was his first day with Sauber and you were adamant that everything would go right. You had been up since 5am, making sure everything was ready. You had his schedule written down, re-ironed his shirt - there was a slight crease under the left armpit - and made him breakfast. Then you had shook your best friend awake to make sure he had enough time for a morning run before you passed him some limited edition Nike Forces and drove him to Albert Park for his first ever Grand Prix race weekend as a Formula 1 driver.

You both got out of your car and Charles came around to see you stuff something in his backpack. He immediately recognised its contents.

“Tesora! Pancakes? Encore?” Charles huffed but did nothing as he watched you shove the Tupperware container in his bag. You knew Charles’ schedule better than your own at this point - vaguely in the back of the mind you knew you had to meet Max somewhere - and so you knew he had meetings all day. And you would be damned if he was going to eat that nutritionally deficient piss poor catering Costco sandwich spread Sauber was likely to have on deck. Besides, pancakes was tradition. You had even arranged the strawberries and blueberries to resemble something of a car, you thought.

“Sì. It’s tradition. Vas-y!” You matched Charles’ switch from Italian to English to French. Granted, tesora - Italian for treasure - was just his nickname for you since it was close to your last name. Still, it brought a smile to his face and he shook his head. He accepted his bag and slung it on his shoulders. You both started to make your way to the Paddock entrance.

“Do you have your lanyard?” You asked.

“Oui, Tesora.” Charles said with a tired smile at you mothering.

However, coming up to the check in, Charles tapped his pockets only to feel nothing. He dug through and you sighed. “It should be in the front zipper.” You said. “That’s where you last put it.” Charles nodded and gave the security guard an apologetic look as he tried to swing the backpack around to reach for the zipper. Seeing the struggle that was about to unfold, you immediately went forward and unzipped the bag for him and pulled it out.

“Merci.” He said and squeezed your arm in gratitude before tapping in. You followed suit and once in the Paddock, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“We’re in Formula 1 together!” You said and shook his arm in wide excitement.

“Oui, Tesora. Grace à toi.” Thanks to you. Your smile grew at Charles’ words. You chucked your arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair once more before turning ahead. Charles’ height meant you were reaching up slightly but you still had your arm around him. He looked down and smiled at you, you unaware but in a state of excited bliss. Your dream was finally coming true! However, your arm got tired and Charles snorted as you dropped it with a muttering complaint about driver height.

Noticing his laugh, you frowned. “Oi, no laughing at me.”

“Oi! We are in Australia, non.” He repeated.

“Aye, mate that’s right.” You said, elongating the sounds to emphasise your Australian accent. Charles shook his head and laughed. His English was mild at best and when you did that accent, it was as if you were speaking another language entirely.

The banter continued through the Paddock as you and Charles went on. A comment about vegemite had him darting away from you trying to kick his feet from under him. It was at this point that Daniel Ricciardo arrived.

“Woah! Watch who you’re kicking, Kung Fu Panda.”

You felt your stomach drop with the butterflies that arrived at the sight of your boyfriend. Even after dating all this time, Daniel still made you feel like it was the first date and you wanted to throw up from nerves.

“Hi.” You said, pulling up short.

“Hi, yourself.” He said, coming round to wrap his arm around your shoulder. Given that you both were out in the Paddock, that was probably the most PDA you would share. So it was surprising when you pulled back for Daniel to duck down and press a quick peck to your lips.

“Oh, uh.”

“Charles, hey man.” Daniel acknowledged your best friend who was stood there awkwardly, holding his backpack straps. You looked at Charles and smiled. He really did look like a schoolkid on their first day.

“Hello.” Charles greeted. You chewed on your lower lip. It wasn’t lost on you how Daniel still kept an arm around you as he shook Charles’ hand. It also wasn’t lost on you how Charles’ smile didn’t reach his eyes when he shook Daniel’s hand.

You had hoped that after all this time your best friend and boyfriend would gel a little more. However, for whatever reason, it just didn’t seem the case. When you asked Charles, the answer you got was a dismissive ‘it’s a guy thing’ that you never were able to press further. Daniel was less help as he would just shrug and grin. “I got no problem, babe.”

And yet, whenever you mentioned Charles, there always was a slight falter to Danny’s grin, a tenseness that settled on his shoulders and an overall vibe that Dan just wasn’t a fan of you mentioning your best friend, your admittedly male best friend.

Then again, Max Verstappen had slept on your couch more times than you could count. One time Daniel came to your hotel room to find Max asleep in your bed while you showered. And he had absolutely zero problem with any of that.

And so, staring between the two drivers, you could only hope that whatever guy thing Charles spoke of didn’t come up on track.

“Hey Max was looking for you. Said he needs your advice on something.” Daniel said.

“Okay, let me just see Charles off and I’ll be there.” You smiled pleasantly at your boyfriend.

“Charlie’s a big boy now. He’s a Formula 1 driver.” Daniel said, nodding at your best friend. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Charles said with another of his smiles that he had perfected for the media. You frowned. Then Charles met said frown. “C’est pas grave.” You knew the switch to French was likely in response to the fact that Daniel’s arm was still around you. “I’ll see you later. Message me.”

You really, really didn’t want to leave. This was Charles on his F1 debut.

But he was already set on leaving - since Daniel had no intention to do so.

“Okay.” You said, emphasising the French lilt of the word that Daniel could still understand. It was much of a happy medium as you could manage in the moment. Even with your boyfriend’s arm around you, Charles still came for the both of you to kiss each other’s cheeks.

“Ah, that French goodbye. How come you never say bye to me like that?” Daniel said with a laugh, steering you away as you and Charles went your own ways. His hand dropped down to grab yours and you looked down at it curiously

“Would you like me to say goodbye like that?” You asked.

“I would like kisses.”

“Noted.” You said with a flaming face. Sometimes it still shook you that this man - the Daniel Ricciardo - was your boyfriend. “Hey, by the way, since when did we start with the PDA?”

“Since the beautiful Australian sun is shining down on this Grand Prix season opener where I am feeling lucky.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yeah, in more ways than one.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Your face became hot - and not just because of the weather. “Come on, you can’t say you don’t want all of this.”

Your response was to push him away. Daniel’s laughter only rang out as he went for your waist. He pulled you to him and made loud kissing noises that just made you laugh. You both arrived at the Red Bull garage where Max was talking with Gianpiero Lambiase and Christian Horner.

“Ah, the lovebirds have arrived.” Christian said as GP smirked at you. The race engineer Max had been given was someone you had immediately clicked with. Unlike some (most) of the Red Bull staff, you liked GP because he had a sense of maturity about him that you hoped Mx would learn from. That and GP didn’t get intimidated with Max’s tantrums.

And dealing with Verstappens, it bodes well to not get easily intimidated.

“How was Leclerc’s drop off?” GP said as he came forward to bump fists with you. You had texted him that you were going to be late today.

“It was good.” You nodded, not wanting to give too much away. Even though Charles was another driver on the grid that Red Bull would be looking to beat - and would given an Adrian Newey Red Bull versus a Sauber - you still wanted to protect Charles as much as possible. Even if it meant within your own team.

Daniel chimed in, joking. “Had to go rescue her from the enemy but she’s back home now.”

“Good man.” Christian said, patting him on the shoulder. “Shall we go to your garage and get you set up.” Christian nodded at you and you nodded back. Daniel winked and let his boss lead him to the other side of the garage. You watched them walk, your eyes then landing on Max to the side, quietly sitting by himself as he observed the many engineers working on his car.

“Had a visit from dad recently.” You looked to where GP had a hand over his headphone’s mic and was leaning in to whisper to you. “It’s too hot to be wearing a jacket.”

You had noticed that too. It was a warm day but Max had his thick Red Bull parka on. You met GP’s eyes and realised that you both probably had the same sad and worried looks on both your face. You nodded at GP and he left, going to speak with some mechanics and you walked forward to where a young 21 year old boy sat. Hurt.

“You good, Max?”

He looked up at you and nodded. Then his eyes went back to the car. You sighed once more. “Come on, I think it’s time for a track walk.”

“We have a meeting in an hour.”

“So we better walk fast, then.” You grinned. Max looked up at you. “I’ll message GP. Come on, I want to get a coffee on the way.” You tried again, reaching to flick at his cap. He nodded and then stood up. “We’ll be back!” You called out and walked out into the sun filled Paddock. You grabbed your coffee - Max getting a Red Bull - and arrived at somewhat empty track.

“Most drivers are doing their walk tomorrow morning. It’ll be empty.” Max understood your words and silently handed you his Red Bull to hold so he could slip out of the jacket. You couldn’t see anything on his forearms.

You took the jacket out of his hands and passed him the Red Bull can. “Let me hold this.” You said to him. You would hold the jacket, you would it all for Max. Anything you could do to lighten the load of the young driver who still looked every bit the scared 16 year old you picked up from the petrol station all those years ago.

“He, um. He grabbed my arm really tight. There’s this big bruise. And I know some people are starting to catch on and I don’t want them to see and think I’m still a baby who needs to be disciplined.”

You sipped on your coffee as you listened to Max. He was your driver and your training was more than just physical. You would be there for him in anyway that he needed. You always did. There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him to see him succeed, to see him happy.

Hence why the next time you caught Jos Verstappen laying a hand on Max, you didn’t hold back.

In the present day, Fred Vasseur sat at the pit wall. He kept a watchful eye on the times of one Australian rookie all throughout the race weekend here in Jeddah, one of the hardest tracks on the calendar.

He outperformed his teammate. And the car.

Oscar Piastri finished 9th.

Later that night when walking through the Paddock to go home after all the post-race debrief and meetings, Fred Vasseur would happen on seeing a girl run into Oscar's arms.

You, the one who made those mini pizzas.

You hugged the rookie tight with one hand, holding something in the other. Even from a distance, Fred Vasseur could guess what was in the plate.

Pancakes.

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sunflowersteves · 2 years ago

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singing in the shower || j.m.

pairing || pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary || sweet and soft mornings with joel suddenly turn to something dirty and euphoric when he joins you in the shower.

author's note || im kinda on my pedro pascal kick so please enjoy!! also dedicating this fic to @moonlight-prose because she said that joel miller is a shower sex man and i couldn't get it out of my head so go thank her for this (ily).

warnings || fluff, smut, vaginal sex, praise kink, shower sex, probably ooc joel, not canon, joel is sweet okay, [18+ only]

(1.8k words!)

The sun slowly cracked through the curtains and cascaded onto the floor, signifying the warm glow of the bright morning. You were sound asleep with your eyes sealed shut and your mouth slightly open. Soft snores echoed into the room with each exhale your chest gently heaves.

Joel just stood by the doorframe, eyes glued to your peaceful slumber. You looked so ethereal—so beautiful.

He never wanted to let go of this sight before him. He wanted it locked into his core memory for as long as he could.

His lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. He shifts as quietly as possible in an attempt to not disturb you. He was almost calculating his every move. Damn, he is fucking whipped for you, that’s for sure, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He is astoundingly happy to have his girls.

A smile gently rises onto your lips as you feel Joel crawl back into bed with you. His arm looped across your side and rested his hand just below your chest. You hum as you draw your hand closer to his, squeezing his fingers gently.

“Good mornin’, sweetheart.” Your chest fills with joy at the gruff Texan accent that reaches your ears.

You just hum in response. Your eyes started to flutter open, and you lightly giggled at Joel’s beard tickling your neck. “Good morning, handsome.”

You turn over onto your back, which resulted in leaning into his hardened chest. His hand moves along with you until they are cupping your cheek.

He gives you a gentle kiss on your lips—one that feels full of love and adoration. Your hands reach into his hair and push through your fingers. His lips moved down to press sweet kisses on your cheek and jaw.

“Did you take Sarah to school?”

He lets out a breath that fanned up against your neck—hot and deep. He presses another kiss to your cheek and lets his senses flutter at the taste and smell of you. “Yeah, I just dropped her off.”

You couldn’t help but frown just a little bit. You always loved making her breakfast in the mornings. You loved to watch the back-and-forth banter that Joel and Sarah would give each other at the dining table while you were flipping pancakes.

Sarah swore that your pancakes were the best she had ever tasted. She said that your recipe always beats the box kind.

“Hey.” His thumb reached down to your bottom lip. He affectionately rubs back and forth—feeling the softness of the skin. “She’ll be fine. I gave her a banana in the truck.”

You nodded, eyes locking with his before a big smile stretched across your lips. “One of us has to sleep in on my day off.”

Begrudgingly, you smiled. Only your Joel, huh. “Wake me next time, yeah?”

Your concern for Sarah made his heart palpitate against his chest. Your care and love for his daughter weren’t something he thought he would get in life. Hell, he thought he would be alone with Sarah for the rest of his life.

But damn, he sure is surprised.

He scratched his beard as if he was in thought, “if you think I could wake you up from what looked like the best sleep of your life, then you got one comin’, baby.”

You just roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna get in the shower. Are you coming?”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

The water streamed down your back, letting the scalding temperatures work against your tight muscles. You let out a content sigh as you ducked your head under the showerhead. Your routine showers together were always your favorite.

You both just relaxed in each other’s arms while the entire bathroom steamed up like a sauna. It was one of the most relaxing times that the two of you shared.

Joel reached down to grab one of the shampoo bottles. He squeezed some into his hand before gently pulling you away from the water. He turns you around and lathers the product onto his hand.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan when his hands burrowed into your hair. The pads of his fingers scratch against your scalp, which almost feels euphoric. He smiles—his laugh lines were so prominent that if you had your eyes open, you would have swooned.

He let out a deep chuckle—one that practically ruptured your eardrum with how low it sounded. He then guided you to the shower head, cupping a hand over your eyes so that none of the shampoos trickled down.

You bit your lip, not even daring to tell him that you usually let your shampoo sit for a moment. You would never tell him, though—you don’t want him to stop anything that he is doing.

He watched the water wash away all of the shampoos. A smile still plays on his lips at the sight of you relaxing with each and every touch. Everything he did was gentle and soft—nothing like the hard exterior that Joel Miller usually liked to play.

He slowly drags you out of the stream of the water. He rests his hand on your cheek and swipes his thumb in affection—elation—all the things he holds so dear to him.

His lips connected to yous. It was gentle and soft as his beard scratched against your cheeks. The sting that he would give to your skin each and every time his lips hit yours was by far your favorite.

Although, the kiss that was supposed to be sweet and kind quickly turned into something with a little more heat. His hands gripped your hips, pulling them closer toward his own torso.

Your entire body felt flustered from his touch, fingertips on your flustered skin, and his plump lips devouring your own.

He pulled away—just to stare at you. He needed to stare at your pretty face before reaching his hand down and fucking you with his fingers.

And wow, you looked so sweet to him. Your mouth hung open—chest heaving up and down with impatience, and your eyes were filled with so much lust. You looked so incredibly adorable, especially when your hands went to desperately paw at his chest.

You wanted more.

“You’ll get what you want, darlin’. Don’t you worry.”

You could feel your walls clench around nothing from the pet name. Joel always called you something sweet—gave you a cute little nickname. But when he let his low voice click against his tongue, that is when you were absolutely done for.

“Joel.” You say, breathless.

He drags his index finger against the hood of your clit and swirls the sensitive area. Your hips jolt into him, making Joel’s smile curled into a smirk. “That’s it, baby, so pretty for me.”

You moan into him as he presses rough kisses against your neck—nipping and biting the thinned skin. You sounded so sweet—so pretty and hot. God, you sound so hot. He could feel his cock jump as your groans got louder.

Your mouth parts as he starts to rub deeper and faster. Your body had already anticipated Joel fucking the living shit out of you per shower sex ritual, but this?

Oh, you never wanted it to end.

“Please, Joel—w-want your cock.”

He lets out a breath. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Please, I need you.” You sounded so needy.

He chuckled, “Gonna give you what you want, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.”

You wanted to beg. You wanted to mewl out his name like it was the only thing you knew. However, you couldn’t get another word in because Joel was spinning you around and pushing you against the shower wall.

The tile felt cold against your chest. Your arms were propped up to hold the wall. His hands squeezed your sides and pressed a teasing kiss to your shoulder blade. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

You knew it wasn’t really a question. He knew it wasn’t really a question. The two of you both knew that your slick was dripping down to your thighs from the mere thought of Joel Miller. His scruffy beard, his brown eyes, his loose shirts, his never kept hair—it was enough to send you fucking wild.

He lines his cock up to the seam of your folds before ramming into you completely. You scream out his name, hands trying to tighten around the wall to keep up. He stills just for a moment—feeling the stretch of your spongy walls.

“Fuck.” He groans. Your pussy was like heaven. He could’ve sworn his life on it. “So fuckin’ tight.”

His accent swept you off your feet as it pounded into your ears. He started to thrust into you—groaning and almost whining from the flutter of your walls. He slid in and out of you so easily, almost causing his cock to jump once more.

He whispered your name into the air, and you repeated his back to him. His hands clenched even harder on your hips, but you don’t care. You couldn’t care. Not when he’s pounding into you so hard and fast that you practically see stars.

The thud–thud–thud of his hips meeting your own echoed across the tiled walls, pleasure slowly rising to its peak. Your moans and screams bounced against the walls, too, and barely audible sentences were fleshed into the air.

“Joel, I-I–”

His hand wraps around your torso to pull you close to his chest. “Gonna cum? Yeah, that’s right, cum on my cock. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

He fucks into you at a different angle, causing a scream to release from your lips. You’re singing his name, over and over, as his cock never stutters into you. He’s quick. He’s rough. He’s antagonizing with each thrust into your pussy.

“Joel—Joel, oh my god, Joel!”

Your core squeezes and spasms against his cock—his own hips sputtering into you from the grip. The scalding sensation spurs you into dumb sentences and shaky moans. “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He let out a string of curses before he choked on his own words. His cock milks into you, spurting thick ropes of his cum right into you. Your eyes almost roll in the back of his head from being so full.

You both stood there, breathless. Your chests were heaving up and down and your smiles were dopy and satisfied. He presses a few kisses onto your shoulder and the junction of your neck—making him hum in contentment.

“We should probably clean up.”

You shift positions, sweetly preening to one another in the process. You let out a squeal, though, when your legs go under the water.

“Joel! It’s cold!”

He peeks his head over to you and laughs.

“C’mon, you can take a cold shower, can’t ya?”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Joel Miller.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel x reader #joel x you #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #smut #the last of us smut #pedro pascal characters

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princessamericachavez · 2 years ago

Text

911 6x14 Spec

By the time Eddie gets home he’s welcomed by the distinct smell of Bobby’s shepherd pie recipe, which he knows for a fact Buck’s been perfecting during their shifts. It smells homey and comforting and absolutely wonderful.

He follows the smell to the kitchen, where Buck’s washing the dishes. He’s wearing a soft navy hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and has a white drying towel slung over his shoulder. He looks at ease and comfortable and suddenly Eddie feels terribly overdressed.

“Hey,” he calls as he walks in, taking off the red jacket his tia had insisted on for tonight.

Buck turns around, eyebrows high with surprise.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah, it was... faster than I expected,” Eddie huffs a laugh, hanging the jacket on the back of a chair before sitting on it.

“I know you said you were letting her down easy,” Buck says, turning around with his back against the counter, “but I thought you’d at least make it through dinner.”

“There was no dinner. She took me to a nightclub.”

“For a first date?” Buck laughs. “With you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It can’t be that weird for Eddie to go out dancing every once in a while. He’s thirty four, not eighty.

“Nothing, nothing! Just not what I would- never mind. Still, that’s good, right? It’s an easier place to just tell her you’re not interested.”

“You’d think,” Eddie huffs. “But she beat me to it.”

“Wait- She turned you down?” Buck’s voice is colored by something between shock and indignation, like the sole idea of not wanting to date him is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“Yeah, she said she wasn’t ready for a serious relationship but her tia keeps setting her up, too. So we just decided on some fake date story and called it quits after a margarita.”

Buck seems pensive at that, for a moment, before he turns his ever curious eyes towards him.

“Well, you said you didn’t want something serious either. Kinda sounds like the perfect match, actually, if you guys just wanted to have some fun,” he says, trying to be light, but Eddie knows him well enough to notice some caution behind his words, some trace of suspicion.

“First of all, I never said I don’t want something serious, okay? I do,” and for some reason it seems important to him that Buck understands that bit of information. “I just... I’m not sure if I’m ready for it. Not yet, anyway.”

Ana María’s remark about not wanting her own heart broken echoes in the back of his head.

“And second of all...?” Buck asks, eyeing him intensely.

“Second of all, even if I didn’t want something serious, dating around and just going out... I don’t know if it’s for me. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, but being a single dad makes it complicated. I’m not letting anyone into Chris’s life unless I know I want them to stick around forever.”

Something curious happens to Buck’s face then. The expression that flashes through his eyes is a mix of confusion and delight and surprise that eventually overflows into tearfulness. It lasts a millisecond before Buck duck’s his head, trying to hide a smile, and turns around with his focus back on the dirty dishes...

Eddie knows his best friend’s heart like he knows his own and doesn’t need any mind-reading powers to know exactly what just happened. Some day, Eddie swears, he’ll get Buck to stop looking so surprised by the fact that Eddie wants him in his life.

“Speaking of Chris,” Buck says, with his back turned to Eddie, “he’s supposed to be in bed already, but I’m pretty sure he’s been sneaking the Percy Jackson book under the covers when he thinks I’m not looking.”

Eddie laughs at that, shaking his head.

“I was planning on checking on him in a bit, to make sure he was sleeping,” Buck adds, like he’s trying to show Eddie he can be a responsible adult even if he has to play the mildly bad cop.

“I’ll do it and kiss him goodnight,” he says, standing up.

As he walks to the door, he can hear Buck getting back to work on the dishes. It makes him pause. It doesn’t seem fair that his friend, on top of helping him look after Chris, has to clean everything up.

“You can leave that, Buck. I’ll take care of it tomorrow morning.”

Buck half turns to look at him with a confused frown.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna just leave you with this mess. You know Bobby taught me better than that,” he smirks. “Besides, I’m nearly done. I don’t mind.”

The easy earnest in his voice makes something inside Eddie’s chest melt with fondness.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. You know I’m happy to be here,” Buck waves it off. “Go kiss, Chris.”

Eddie makes sure to make noise as he approaches his son’s bedroom and he pretends not to hear the rustling of bedsheets before he opens the door. Christopher is still too young to realize how obvious his not-sleeping-breathing is, but Eddie pretends to buy it as he kisses his forehead and brushes his curls out of his forehead. He puts the book away on the bookshelf, for good measure, and leaves the door slightly open before he walks back out.

By the time he makes it back to the kitchen, the place is nearly spotless and there’s a plate of warm shepherd’s pie on the kitchen table. He stares at it, then at Buck, who shrugs with a sheepish smile that is way too cute for a man his size.

“You said you didn’t get to eat dinner. Figured you must be hungry.”

The thoughtfulness of the gesture makes Eddie’s insides melt once more. His chest feels like it might burst with whatever feeling is expanding inside it.

“Starving, actually,” he admits, sitting down.

Buck opens the fridge and hands him a beer.

“Wanna join me?” Eddie asks, pointing to the chair in front of him.

“I already ate,” Buck laughs, “two servings, actually. But I’ll have a beer with you.”

Eddie watches as Buck pulls a second beer from the fridge and sits across from him, waiting until they are both seated to start eating (his mom drilled manners into him, after all).

...and that’s how the night ends in a much sweeter note than he expected. He eats Buck’s homemade food, they drink together, one, two, three beers and maybe get a little tipsy while they talk about life, work and everything in between. Eddie laughs more than he did the whole night out and insists Buck crash his couch because it’s too late to get an Uber home (it isn’t that late, actually, but it’s ridiculous that Buck’d need to go home all alone at this point when Eddie has a perfectly good and comfortable couch).

While Eddie helps Buck prepare his makeshift bed, his friend catches him off guard:

“So, do you think you’ll ever be ready? I- I mean... to start dating again. For something real.”

Buck pins him with a pair of tired blue eyes, hopeful like they’d been after the lightning strike, and a little sad too.

“Yeah... yeah, I think I’m getting there. I think... I think it depends on the person, most of all.”

“Right,” Buck nods, thoughtfully.

“In the meantime, I gotta figure out what to do with tia Pepa. She’s not gonna relent so easily.”

“Just tell her you’re already seeing someone,” Buck shrugs, flopping down on the couch with a sigh. He closes his eyes and melts down on the soft cushions with a small smile across his lips. “You can tell her you’re dating me or something, if it’ll get her off your back.”

Eddie should laugh and brush it off, because Buck is jut kidding, but the idea makes a little too much sense to discard it just yet.

“I might take you up on that.”

Buck’s eyes open and stare at him with pure shock that startles a laugh out of him.

“As a last resort.”

“Ouch. I’m that bad an option, uh?” Buck winces.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Not bad, but if I tell her that then she’s never gonna let it go and I don’t think you want her grilling you forever on how our relationship is going.”

“You’re assuming she’d believe you.”

“Right, she’d never buy it,” Eddie huffs, smiling down at his best friend. “I don’t think I’m your type.”

Buck squints up at him, a little too serious. “What do you think my type is, Diaz?”

Girls. Redheads. Emotionally unavailable women who’ll hurt you and leave you and that I’ll quietly hate forever for it. Definitely not single dads still trying to figure out their messy lives. Not that Eddie cares.

“Whatever it is, I don’t think I’m pretty enough to qualify,” Eddie similes, giving Buck’s bent knee a pat. “Sleep well, man.”

He’s tired, and tipsy, and a little confused, so he’s pretty sure he imagines it when he turns off the lights and hears Buck whisper in the dark living room, “You’re definitely pretty enough.”

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 fox #911 fic #911 spec

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faebaex · 2 years ago

Note

Malleus and Yuu on a late night walk, Malleus asks to take them into the forest and they go with him, He takes them to a clearing where he (When I say He I mean him his father and two brothers because he had no idea what he was doin HJAAJFA) Set up a pretty place for him to give them something special for valentines and probably ask them out. Ty!

Clumsy in Love

author note: sorry for the wait! i forgot how much i love writing for Malleus, you can't tell me you don't think hanging out with this guy wouldn't be incredibly amusing, he's just so goofy and clueless. also Diasomnia family shenanigans ofc, with a teeny lil bonus at the end (⌒ω⌒) enjoy!

characters: Malleus Draconia x GN!Reader

“I don’t approve of this…” Sebek grumbled as he glared out at the picnic that he, Lilia and Silver had laid out, candles flickering and cushions ruffling softly in the breeze. The only reason he had lent his assistance was because his Master deserved only the best! … And because Lilia had requested his aid, and he’d never refuse an order from Master Lilia! Sebek assisted and distracted Lilia with setting out the picnic whilst Silver handled all food preparation, to ensure that the food in the picnic basket was actually edible. Sebek felt a thump against his thigh, and he looked down only to see a pair of binoculars… That had slipped from Silver’s fingers… Who had dozed off…

“SILVER!! AWAKEN THIS INSTANT!!” Sebek thundered, only to be shushed by Lilia as Silver slowly regained consciousness, muttering an apology as he took hold of the binoculars once again. “Keep it down, Sebek. They’ll be here soon, and we don’t want them to spot us.” Lilia scolded as he fussed over the finishing touches of the picnic, “perhaps the picnic would have been lovelier if I had time to make a pie… I just thought of a new recipe for a healthy pie the other night, perhaps I have time to—”

“They’re coming!” Silver hissed, and all three of them ducked down behind the bushes, peeking out to see if their picnic would be a success…

You smiled up at Malleus as you walked beside him, telling him about your day as he listened patiently. Nightly jaunts with Malleus had become somewhat of a common occurrence, becoming a good way for you to destress before bed but also to see your ever elusive friend, who you never seemed to spot around campus. Malleus was always happy to listen to you chat away, even if you were complaining about classwork or telling crazy stories about what you and your friends had been getting up to recently. You weren’t sure when your feelings from him switched from intrigue and friendship to something more affectionate, but you often found yourself gazing affectionately at his back when he led the way on your evening walks and feeling your cheeks heat up when he listened to your stories so intently. You had decided to keep your feelings bottled, convinced that there was no way that Malleus would return your feelings, as eccentric and aloof that he was. He probably saw you as nothing more than a friend that he met on his late-night walks, nothing more. And you were fine with pining, happy to just settle with the precious time you had together on your walks.

Malleus had pulled ahead slightly as he led the way through the forest, and you followed as usual. You pulled your eyes off of Malleus’ back to look around at your surroundings, beginning to notice how the foliage looked different from the route the two of you usually took on your walk, the trees slowly begin to thin out and the foliage becoming sparser the further you walked.

“Is this different from our usual path?” You asked Malleus, quickening your steps so you could walk beside him so the two of you could converse easier. “So it is.” Malleus responded as he continued onwards, not seeming at all perturbed by your words. His vague response made you think this was deliberate, and your suspicions were confirmed when he spoke up again, “I wanted to take you somewhere different today, somewhere more special. I hope you will like it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, and you peeked up at his face in an attempt to gauge his expression, but Malleus was as aloof as ever. A thousand scenarios ran through your head as your blood sang in anticipation, but you quickly quashed these feelings, refusing to get ahead of yourself. It wasn’t like that, you two were just friends, you told yourself sternly as you smiled up at Malleus. “Oh, how exciting! I’m looking forward to it!” You chirped to him, being rewarded by his kind smile as he looked down at you but didn’t comment further, and you continued on as Malleus led the way.

Eventually, the trees thinned out fully and you stepped out into a clearing dotted with wildflowers, with a beautiful view of the night sky. You were so absorbed with the beauty of the night sky, shining stars that winked at you from their perches, that you missed what lay waiting for you until you heard Malleus hum thoughtfully and turned to look over in interest. You gasped at what you saw – a lovely picnic had been set out; an idyllic wooden basket set atop a checked picnic blanket, several cushions lining each side of the blanket with blankets folded neatly beside them. Candles were spread around the clearing, adding a gentle ambience to the clearing and as if on cue, hundreds of little fireflies began to float into the clearing, bobbing and weaving around you and Malleus as you stared at the scene in surprise.

“Malleus, this is… This is amazing…” You managed to say, almost at a loss for words as you took in the charming scene before you, taking a few steps further into the clearing. “Indeed.” Malleus agreed, looking just as surprised as you did. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the scene before him with intrigue. Suddenly, he began to laugh, smooth baritone ringing out through the clearing as he too took several steps closer to the picnic. “Perhaps this eve truly is fortuitous if such a site has manifested here tonight.” Malleus declared, a smile etched on his face as he turned to you, holding his hand out for you, “Come, Y/N. Sit with me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up despite yourself and after a moment of mental blankness, you quickly took Malleus’ hand and allowed him to lead you to the picnic, taking your seat on one side of the blanket as Malleus ensured that you were seated comfortable before taking his own spot on the opposite side to you. You felt your heart racing as you looked everywhere but at Malleus, knowing that your cheeks had flushed with colour and your demeanour becoming much shyer. You tried to take a deep breath and free your head of these thoughts, thoughts that maybe Malleus felt the same way about you, that he’d set this entire scene up specifically to confess to you, to—

“Y/N.”

You jumped, not realising how deeply you had fell into your thoughts as you finally plucked up the courage to look at Malleus, only to see him holding out a glass filled with reddish-purple liquid. “Grape juice, a refreshing evening beverage.” Malleus commented as he handed the glass to you, the brushing of your fingers speeding up your heartbeat again despite all your efforts to calm it down. “Thanks…” You responded with a shy smile, your eyes wandering to watch the fireflies that floated around the clearing.

You were so intent on keeping your eyes averted from Malleus that you completely missed how he gazed at you, admiring your beauty and how the light from the candles and fireflies surrounded you in an ethereal glow. In his eyes, your beauty was otherworldly, and he was captivated, the urge to treasure you and stow you away as the most precious part of his hoard growing with every cherished walk that he took with you. He knew that that couldn’t happen, that you were not an item to be claimed, but oh how his draconic instincts called to him, urging him to claim you before anyone else swept you off your feet. The box in his pocket felt heavy all of a sudden against his thigh, the weight of this proposal hanging over him as he slipped his hand into his pocket and hide the box in his palm, steeling himself to confess his overflowing devotion to you.

“Y/N, I have something to ask you, if you would do me the pleasure of lending me your ear…”

BONUS:

“He’s doing it, he’s doing it!”

“Hush father, if you keep bouncing like that, you’re going to get us caught!”

“How dare you tell Master Lilia to hush, Silver!”

“Ssssssh Sebek!”

“Inside voices, Sebek.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x y/n #malleus x reader #malleus x y/n #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x y/n

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moonchildreads · 3 months ago

Text

small town

Chapter 26 - The Heart of Rock & Roll

IN THIS CHAPTER: Odd meetings, sudden realizations, and Dottie goes metal [14.1k]

WARNINGS: toxic friendships (not related to the Corroded Coffin boys, they are the best), technically underaged drinking, angst w/comfort, one (1) queer panic moment, author talking shit about Anthrax (the band, not the disease)

A/N: next chapter will start getting more into the mysteries of hawkins so enjoy our final beach episode type of chapter <3 also please let me know if you wanna added to the taglist! HUGE shoutout to my beloved @gutterratt who helped me put together the setlist - i love you always, and i wish i was drinking chocolate milk with you while talking shit about college.

masterlist - prev - next | main playlist - chapter playlist

They say the heart of rock and roll is still beating And from what I’ve seen I believe ‘em

Friday, June 27th - 1986

“Hey rockstar, come on in!”

Eddie Munson was pretty sure he was never going to be a rockstar. He had discussed this recently with his best friends after an intense practice session and all four of them agreed that this had been fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t something they could realistically pursue long term. Jeff was getting ready to leave for college in West Virginia, Gareth was trading in his plaid sleeveless vest for a suit and jazz music sheets, and Donny was much more interested in perfecting his family tiramisù recipe than to keep shredding his fingers by learning new bass arrangements on a monthly basis. Eddie had had a long time to think about his priorities and hopes for the future, but the proud look on Wayne’s face upon seeing his nephew’s first weekly paycheck stuck to the fridge by an old magnet was enough to cement his decision.

No, Eddie Munson was never going to be a rockstar, but that didn’t mean Corroded Coffin had to hang up their towels just yet. They were still squarely in the middle of Summer when the long awaited muggy and rainy Friday that was poised to be their biggest show to date, if not perhaps the biggest show they’d ever play, finally arrived. All in all, the members of Hawkins’ most misunderstood and badass band felt like they’d gotten their cake and were about to eat it too.

“Nice outfit,” James said, a heavy hand coming to pat Eddie’s back while he closed the door behind him. “Was expecting leather pants to be honest, but this looks great.”

“It’s too hot for leather, sir,” Eddie laughed as he hoisted his bursting backpack up his shoulder. “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” the older man craned his head towards the stairs. “Honey? Eddie’s here!”

“I know!” came Dottie’s faint voice from the upper floor. “Tell him to come up, I’m not finished yet!”

“She’s already done her makeup three times,” James confided in the younger man. “Maybe you can convince her to stop messing with it.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said, saluting him before climbing up the stairs towards his girlfriend’s bedroom two steps at a time.

Eddie slowly pushed the door open to find Dottie at her desk, still wearing her cotton pajamas with a cute duck print and curlers in her hair while she put the finishing touches on the sickest makeup look he had ever seen on her. As if entranced, he leaned on the door frame while he watched her expertly apply a thick coat of mascara to her eyelashes; she smiled at him through her round vanity mirror and he swore he could feel himself melt against the wood.

“Hey darling,” he said, voice all soft and gooey.

“Hey superstar,” she replied with a flirty tone. “Are you gonna come in so I can give you a kiss before I do my lipstick or nah?”

“If I ever say no to that, shoot me because I’ve been possessed,” he kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to wrap his arms around her middle. “You look gorgeous.”

“This isn’t my final look, I’m not even dressed yet.”

“Dunno, baby, the duckies are pretty metal,” he joked while placing little pecks on her lips. She laughed and swatted at his chest lightly, making the backpack that was perched on his shoulder slide down his arm towards the floor. “Here - I brought you a bunch of shirts, thought you’d like to have options.”

“Thank you! I’ll try them on when I’m done with my makeup.”

“Can I watch while you play dress up?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, perv, my Dad’s downstairs!” Dottie laughed with no malice. “But… you can let me do your makeup now and then you’re free to go get a snack while I take all this stuff out of my hair.”

“Aw, are you gonna make me look pretty, babe?” he batted his eyelashes dramatically.

“No,” she said with a wicked grin. “I’m gonna make you look metal.”

Eddie was dying of anticipation as he sat at the Burke’s kitchen island, distracting himself by eating cheese crackers and talking to James. Dottie was being awfully secretive about her chosen look for the night, and he’d tried to look around her room in search of clues while she was painting his nails with her favorite black lacquer but quickly gave up when she grabbed her eyeliner pencil from her desk. Standing between his legs with her left hand gently placed on the side of his face to keep him still as she worked, he decided to let her do her thing in silence - he’d had too many run-ins with the thick pencil himself and did not want to risk an accident by pulling her focus away from her task.

For a brief moment, Eddie got to enjoy the feeling of his hands on her hips, keeping her close as she swiped the pigment on his waterline, but it was over all too soon for his taste. Once Dottie deemed his makeup perfect, she swiftly pushed him out of the room and locked the door behind him before he couldn’t even think of protesting about it. Defeated, Eddie went downstairs to commiserate with his girlfriend’s father (who was still unaware of the change in the teens’ relationship status) and James kept him busy with genuine interest and a few well placed questions about their plans for the upcoming show.

The young Munson boy was in the middle of listing the songs they’d chosen for the first half of their set when James lifted his eyes from his chopping board and looked at something over Eddie’s shoulder with a very surprised expression on his face. Confused, Eddie turned around and was suddenly met with his usually soft and adorable girlfriend looking like she’d come straight out of one of the magazines he kept hidden underneath his bed.

In the doorway between the kitchen and the living room stood an extremely nervous Dorothy Burke sporting dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick, her wilder than normal curls looking both frizzy and bouncy while she fidgeted as she waited for their opinions. She sparkled with bold silver jewelry that had been borrowed from her friends - a few of Gareth’s smallest rings, Jeff’s studded belt, and Donny’s chain bracelets -, and she was grateful to them for being so willing to help her put together a suitable look for the occasion. Two pieces from her own wardrobe were the only things she felt fully confident about wearing; the black suspender skirt and boots she’d worn for her birthday paired with new fishnets made her feel less strange in her own skin.

It was, however, what she was wearing on the upper part of her body that made Eddie feel like all the air inside his lungs had suddenly rushed out of his body. When he shoved a bunch of his t-shirts into his bag earlier, he hadn’t noticed that particular garment had sneaked into the mix, mainly because it had been a couple of years since he had last worn it. It was a simple top really, a white cotton baseball tee with black short sleeves just like Hellfire’s shirt, but with his band’s logo printed in black at the front instead. The stylized letters spelling out Corroded Coffin now sat perfectly snug against Dottie’s chest, who was looking more and more apprehensive as silence stretched in the kitchen.

“Woah, honey, you look…,” James began, startled.

“Unreal,” Eddie completed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Shit,” Dottie shook her head. “I knew it, I knew was too much, I- I’ll go change really quick-”

“NO! No, no, are you crazy? This is- wow,” Eddie said, a huge grin spreading on his face. “You look amazing, like a- you look like you’re a Princess of Metal or something. Are you sure you’re not getting on stage with us?”

“I think I’ll leave that to the pros,” she said with a shy smile as her hands fiddled with the bottom of her skirt. “But are you sure this is okay? I have other options-”

“Honey, you look great,” James said, putting down his knife and walking around the counter so he could comfort her with a hug. “It’s just, y’know, different from your usual so we were surprised. But you look very pretty, I promise. You don’t like it?”

“No, I do, it’s just… I don’t know, it feels like I’m a poser,” she looked down at herself.

“You’re not a poser,” Eddie scoffed. “You know the setlist front to back and you were the one who got us this gig. You’re literally our biggest fan.”

“I thought I was your manager,” Dottie joked. “Also don’t let Lee hear you say that, he’ll get upset and he loves you guys.”

“I can fight him for you, you deserve the top spot,” he said, making her snort. “He’s like 70 and is missing a leg, what’s he gonna do?”

“He’s a war vet! Have some respect for the man!” she gasped.

“I bet you could push him over if you wanted.”

“Eddie!”

“Alright, kids, no fighting veterans in this house, okay?” James said while taking off his apron. “I’ll go get the camera before you two head off - behave while I’m gone, please.”

Once he was back and with a new roll film in place, James motioned for them to pose for his impromptu photoshoot. Eddie was quick to hop back onto his stool, bringing Dottie closer to him with his arms around her waist. With him sitting down and her standing between his legs, their heights finally somewhat matched for once and the eldest Burke snapped photo after photo of the dolled up teens - first with big smiles, another one with their tongues out, a third one with the devil horns up, and the last one slightly out of focus as Eddie planted a big wet noisy kiss on Dottie’s cheek making her squeal as she tried to leap out of his embrace. James’ only comment was to offer copies for Wayne, and Dottie instantly knew by his lack of teasing that there was a potentially very embarrassing conversation in her near future.

“We good to go?” Eddie asked. “Gotta head to Gareth’s first to load the drums.”

“Yeah, I’ll go get your backpack and we can leave. Meet me outside?” she replied, disappearing into the living room.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” James said, guiding Eddie towards the front door. It didn’t come as a surprise to the younger man when he lowered his voice for a man to man talk. “You kids drive safe, okay? Call me if you need anything, don’t bother your Uncle while he’s at work.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, uncharacteristically serious. “Donny’s gonna take over for me if I’m too tired to drive back, we have it under control.”

“Okay, good. I trust you, Ed. You go have fun, yeah? Have a great show.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll be safe, I promise.”

None of them were exactly unaware of the deeper meaning of their conversation, especially since it hadn’t been the first one of its kind they’d ever had. Eddie felt equal parts grateful that James trusted him so much and ashamed that he was actively lying to his face every single time he saw him. He was so used to Wayne knowing that sometimes he forgot no one else did, and while he was on the same page as Dottie and they both agreed that they didn’t want to make things awkward with their friends just yet, he hoped they could tell James sooner rather than later. He’d hate to disappoint the one person who had so warmly opened the doors of his house to him before he even knew who he was and without an ounce of judgment.

Dottie finally joined them at the door and after a few quick goodbyes and loving hugs, the pair got into the van and drove off towards the first stop of their most anticipated adventure of the summer. Take that, Hawkins, Eddie thought. Corroded Coffin was officially a touring band, and he was confident nothing in the world could derail the night ahead of them.

Indianapolis was not too far away from Hawkins, located only around 42 miles to the Southwest of the much smaller town. Corroded Coffin (plus Dottie, who was by then considered as much part of the band as the rest of them) had piled into Eddie’s van with their instruments and amps as they excitedly made their way towards their biggest gig ever. After a short argument that Eddie quickly silenced, Dottie secured her place as his co-pilot due to her knack for map reading, leaving the other three boys to sit in the back with Jeff acting as the official DJ for the ride.

Entering the city felt like a dream come true. As Gareth drummed on the window with his sticks, perfectly in tune to the songs coming out of the van’s speakers, Donny leaned forward to follow Dottie’s map over her shoulder, nervously watching as their destination grew closer and closer to her moving finger. It felt momentous as they saw the bar’s neon sign calling to them like a beacon, all five sets of eyes wide with anticipation as Eddie pulled into the parking lot behind the building. They sat in silence for a few seconds once he cut the engine and the radio was turned off, everyone’s heads reared towards the direction of the bar with elation and perhaps also a little bit of apprehension.

The Hideout was safe, a known place with familiar faces that cheered for them and supported their dreams even if no one else in their godforsaken town did. Here there would be no Dave with cold beers waiting behind the bar, no B.B. and Rudy telling stories, no Shonda’s cheek pinching once they were done, no Lee asking for a Judas Priest song before they packed their gear back into the van. Turning in his seat to look at his fellow band members, Eddie’s mouth split into a contagious grin in an effort to muster some collective courage.

“Well, boys. We made it,” he said, cringing at the sound of his own uncertain voice tone.

“So, what now?” Donny asked. “Do we start unpacking or…”

“Um, I think…,” Dottie said, chewing on her lower lip. “I think I’ll go in and see if Jessie is around? I talked to her last week and she said she would be here. She’ll tell us what to do.”

“I’ll go with you,” Gareth offered, quickly jumping out of his seat.

“Okay, we’ll, uh, we’ll get ready to start unloading then,” Eddie said, motioning for everyone to get out of the van.

“God, I need a fuckin’ smoke,” Donny muttered nervously as Dottie linked arms with Gareth and headed towards the sidewalk.

Moore House was a quaint corner pub a few blocks away from the main IUPUI buildings in Downtown Indianapolis, and even though rain had been announced for later on in the night, the outside tables were beginning to fill up with tired and stressed college aged kids trying to let loose for the weekend. The new semester wasn’t scheduled to start for a few more weeks, but that didn’t mean activities at Indiana and Purdue had been reduced completely to zero; there were summer lessons to be taken for extra credits, early graduations to be celebrated, part-time and student jobs to be worked, and sport camps and clinics to be attended, and Moore House always made sure to offer a safe, fun, cheap destination for visitors and locals alike.

Gareth stared around the pub in wonder, absorbing the atmosphere while Dottie stood on her tiptoes searching for someone. There was a long bar counter in the middle of the room with wooden stools and a cash register at each end, a sizable number of booths and tables with people milling about and enjoying cold beers and various pub foods, and a low stage at the back on the right side of the building. The curly haired boy gazed at the flags and banners that decorated the room: cream and crimson for Indiana University, old gold and black for Purdue, and Hoosier pride everywhere you looked.

“Are we sure this isn’t a sports bar?” Gareth asked, eyes stuck to a table with a group of guys who looked like they would have been best friends with the Hawkins Tigers.

“It’s just a college bar, their campus is like 10 blocks away,” Dottie said, balancing on her toes. “Also there’s like a million bars around here, they need to attract people somehow and school pride always sells. Oh, there she is!”

Jessie the Night Shift Manager was standing right outside the kitchen door talking to another employee, her bold makeup and crimped hair instantly making Gareth’s eyes widen. Dottie grabbed his hand and led him straight to her, a warm smile spreading on Jessie’s lips as soon as she recognized the younger girl approaching her.

“Goddamn, teach! That’s a hell of a look,” Jessie said, pulling Dottie into a one armed hug. She was holding a clipboard on her other hand, a clearly borrowed bright pink scrunchie she hadn’t had the time to use yet secured around her left wrist.

“Wanted to look the part for the show,” Dottie shrugged. “This is Gareth, he’s Corroded Coffin’s drummer.”

“H-hi, how’s it going?” he said, a little bit dazed upon seeing Jessie’s snake tattoo wrapping around her upper arm.

“Hey, nice to meet you, dude!” she replied, putting her hand forward to shake his before she turned back to Dottie. “I know I told you last week over the phone, but congrats on your graduation!”

“You too! Any news about the job thing?”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from the lab but fingers crossed! If I have to spend another summer managing this kitchen, I think I’ll off myself,” Jessie joked. “Where’s the rest of the band?”

“Oh, they’re in the parking lot! Should we start unloading the van now?”

“Hell yeah! We’ve got a great crowd tonight, should be fun. A lot of people touring campus this week,” she said while leading them towards an employee-only backdoor. “You guys can come from the parking lot straight through here, I know your equipment is probably heavy.”

“For sure, thanks-” Dottie was saying before Gareth cut her off.

“Not a problem, I can carry heavy loads,” he grinned.

“Good for you, kid,” Jessie said, an amused smile gracing her lips. “Well, just let me know if you need anything. Come find me when you’re done, teach, I’ll get you set up at a table!”

“Seriously?” Dottie raised an eyebrow at Gareth as soon as they were alone again. “You can carry heavy loads?”

“Don’t,” he groaned. “I panicked. You didn’t say she was hot.”

“Who’s hot?” Donny asked, leaning against Eddie’s van with a cigarette between his lips.

“Jessie, the manager. She’s too old for you anyways,” Dottie said at large before going to help Eddie and Jeff at the back of the van.

“Says who?” Gareth argued.

“She called you kid,” she replied, not even looking at him.

“Shit, man,” Donny laughed. “It’s lost.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Between all five of them, the members of Corroded Coffin plus Dottie made quick work carrying the heavy equipment inside, their constant back and forth through the backdoor making the bar’s patrons notice the commotion. A live show was always something to look forward to for the college aged students who frequented Moore House, particularly if they had a bottle of beer in their hands. College was a moment where people got to figure themselves out, and there was no greater feeling than discovering a piece of yourself you didn’t know was there before through the rush of a good (and free) show.

Eddie and Gareth began putting the drum kit back together while Jeff and Donny went back to the van to get the last few bits and bobs they’d need for the show; Dottie, on her last task before being dismissed as their roadie for the night, headed towards the bar to grab a few water bottles for her friends as she knew they’d be asking for a drink two songs into their setlist. Corroded Coffin might not have known what it was like to shed blood and tears on a stage, but they certainly could sweat for an entire crowd if necessary.

Because of the jitters currently racing through her body, Dottie did not notice there were two people staring straight at her from the other side of the bar, directly opposite from where she was waiting for Jessie to come back from the kitchen. A boy and a girl about her age were inching closer and closer to her, muttering amongst themselves curiously and trying not to startle her.

“It’s her, I know it is,” the girl said when she was within hearing distance.

“No, it’s not, just look at her,” the boy was saying, and Dottie would have turned towards them if not for the fact that Jessie had finally appeared, a pile of cold water bottles balanced on her forearms.

“Ooookay, here you go,” she said, tilting the pyramid into Dottie’s waiting hands. “If you need more, ask Pearl or Frankie, I’ve caught them up to speed now.”

“Thanks, I will!”

“Oh, also I set up two tables for you guys over there,” Jessie leaned over the countertop to point to two square tables pushed together near the stage. “Just, y’know, tell them not to aim the amps directly to that side or your ears will start bleeding two minutes in.”

“I think I’m immune to it by now, but thank you for worrying about my hearing,” Dottie laughed.

“Holy shit, it is her!”

Nothing could have prepared Dottie for the whiplash of turning around and discovering the gossiping couple were none other than Benji and Tracey, two of her old friends from when she lived back in New York. She was suddenly grateful she had her arms busy, because her first instinct had been to reach out for a hug before her brain caught up to her limbs and she remembered why she didn’t consider these people her friends anymore.

“Dorothy?!” Benji asked, confusion all over his face as his eyes raked over her image.

“H-hey guys, what are you doing here? I- I mean, how are you doing?” Dottie managed to get out, trying to school her expression into what she hoped was a pleasant face.

“I got into Purdue! We’re touring the campus,” Tracey said, proudly. “Oh my god, are you going to Purdue too? Or Indy? Do you live around here?”

“No, no, I’m… I’m here with some friends, we live in a different town. We’re just here for the show.”

“Well, you look like you’re ready for it!” Benji said with a dumbfounded tone. “What happened to your hair? It was so long before, we almost didn’t recognize you!”

I cut it myself with a pair of kiddie scissors at a gas station halfway through Pennsylvania, was what Dottie thought, but she wasn’t about to tell them that, lest they knew how brokenhearted she’d been when she’d left everything she’d ever known behind to move to Hawkins. There was an old wound opening itself in the middle of her chest, and she’d fight tooth and nail before they ever saw her bleed again.

“Just needed a change! You know how it is - new year, new me,” she laughed and the fakeness of the sound went unnoticed by the pair but not to her. “So, you’re both going to Purdue then?”

“Oh, no, just Trace,” Benji waved his hand as he spoke. “I got into UTA. Gonna do Civil Engineering actually, so you can thank your Dad for that one.”

“No way!” Dottie smiled, and this time it felt less fake. “That’s awesome, congrats. And you’re still doing Psych?”

“Yup!” Tracey beamed at the fact she remembered. “I’m so excited! I’m gonna move in with Howie so we’re looking to rent an apartment somewhere around here.”

“Oh, wow, you and Howie? Didn’t see that one coming.”

“No, ew, not like that,” she shuddered. “He’s going to Indy U. We’re just gonna live together, you know, try not to kill each other. Fun stuff.”

“Is- is Howie here too then?” Dottie asked, dread settling at the base of her stomach.

“Yeah, Jeanette and him are trying to find a place to park, they’ll be here in a sec.”

“Jeannie is here?”

“We don’t call her like that anymore,” Benji said, his tone playful but revealing of the fact that he thought it was stupid.

“Where are your friends?” Tracey asked, not aware that Dottie’s knees were flaking on her. “We can all sit together and catch up!”

“I- Sure, it- it’s that table over there,” Dottie managed to get out, pointing to it with a lone finger. “I need to do something first but you guys go sit and I’ll find you later!”

Without waiting for confirmation, Dottie launched into a sprint towards the backdoor, not stopping until she saw the parked van on the other end. She found Donny with half his body shoved inside the back, searching for something on the floor while Jeff peered over his friend’s shoulder on his tiptoes, arms heavy with carefully looped cable cords.

“He always does this!” Donny complained, voice a little muffled.

“We should get him a stick bag for his birthday.”

“He has a brown leather bag, he just never uses it because it doesn’t look cool but if he keeps losing these goddamn sticks and making me find them, I swear-”

“Woah, what’s the rush?” Jeff asked when he spotted Dottie bounding towards them.

“My friends are here,” she wheezed out, dropping the water bottles she was still holding onto the van’s carpeted floor.

“What?”

“My shitty friends from New York,” Dottie explained. “I just ran into them, they want to sit with me and catch up and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Okay, okay, come here,” Jeff pulled her into a tight hug. “Who are these people again?”

“Remember when I told you about my best friend Jeannie who kinda stole my boyfriend but not really?”

“That bitch!” Donny said, abandoning the search for Gareth’s second set of drumsticks.

“Yeah, so, her and three more people. Trace and Ben are being super nice to me which is odd as hell because they spent all semester not talking to me before I moved away, and apparently Howie is here too and he’s always been kind of a douchebag but I never cared for him that much and I doubt he cares about me either.”

“I know I’ve said this before but they sound like they suck,” Jeff said.

“They do, yeah,” she rested her head on his shoulder, arms wound around his waist. “What do I do? They already know I’m here, I can’t just disappear and miss the show.”

“Hey, look at it this way,” Donny proposed. “You won’t be able to talk that much when we start the set and as soon as we’re done, we’ll be there for backup.”

“Yeah! You just gotta survive like ten more minutes on your own.”

“That does not make me feel any better.”

“We’re playing Mötley,” Jeff said, looking down at her.

“What? There’s no way Eddie allowed that.”

“Oh, Ed was in no position to argue,” the two boys snickered over her head.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out,” Donny said mysteriously before turning back to the van. “By the way, have you seen Gareth’s extra drumsticks?”

“Yeah, I put them in my door pocket ‘cause they kept rolling around the back,” Dottie said, unlatching herself from Jeff’s front and going to get them. “Here.”

“You hold onto them, he didn’t bring the holder.”

“I told him we were forgetting something!”

Feeling more confident after their pep talk, the trio made their way inside where they exchanged a final group hug. For good luck, Jeff said, and while no one knew if he meant it for the band or Dottie, the question went unasked. He was the first one to walk into the bigger room to take the rest of the cables to their friends setting up on stage while the water bottles changed hands once more, this time settling on Donny’s arms.

“Hey,” he said, before they finally had to face the music. “You’ll be okay. You have us now.”

“I know. Thanks, Don,” she smiled, leaning to kiss his cheek and leaving a bright red print on his skin. “Oh, no, I forgot I had lipstick on!”

“Leave it,” he laughed, walking backwards and pushing the doors open with his shoulder. “It looks badass!”

Dottie felt a little bit like a lamb walking towards the slaughterhouse as she approached her table, now occupied by friends from what felt like a previous lifetime. Tracey and Benji were sitting next to each other, each of them holding a beer bottle and doing what one could only assume was gossiping as they looked around the place and the people mingling around. Next to them sat Jeannie, hand wrapped around a tall cocktail with a practiced air of nonchalance undercut by the tiniest bit of hardness in her stare. Rounding the group was Howie, already wearing an Indiana University shirt and cap he’d probably gotten during his tour earlier on in the day.

“Hey everyone,” Dottie said, smiling at them when she approached.

“Dorothy?” Howie said, getting to his feet to pull her into a hug. “Wow, what happened to your hair?”

“Oh, I just… I chopped it off! Do you like it?”

“Love it!” Tracey was saying but a voice rose above hers, cutting her short.

“You look like you’re wearing a costume,” Jeannie sneered before also getting up and hugging her former friend.

Being friends with Jeannie had never been an easy task for anyone who had been brave enough to try. She could be lovely if she liked you, could even be considered caring on occasion, but she could also tear you apart just as effortlessly with a few well-chosen words. Jeanette Sanders was the undisputed leader of their friend group, and she carried that title with pride, not allowing anyone to challenge her or her authority if they wished to remain in her graces. Tracey, on the other hand, had always been known as the genuinely kind one of the bunch, if a bit of a pushover. Whenever Jeannie lashed out, Tracey was always there to patch up the wounds she left behind in her wrath, never complaining about it but, most importantly, never defying her.

Howie, however, was a different story. In true Golden Retriever fashion, he had been deemed too dumb to be Jeannie’s second in command but too useful to cut by the time they’d entered high school. He had the most money, the biggest house, and as soon as they reached the age to own a license, the only one who had unlimited access to a car thanks to a very generous gift from his wealthy Criminal Attorney father. That is not to say that the only reason they were friends with him was what he could purchase or what he owned; after all, they’d known each other since they were six, but it was a well-known fact that they put up with his consistent silly frat-boy behavior because he just made plans go so much smoother if he was included in them.

What Howie had going on with his dumb rich kid lifestyle, Benji matched with his stereotypical still-in-the-closet theater kid attitude. Benji was smart, calculating and quick-witted, he was unrivaled in the Fine Art of a Comeback, and had secured his place as Jeannie’s right hand man a long time ago by sheer virtue of knowing who everyone was, and most valuably, what everyone wanted. He could be incredibly manipulative and two-faced, but he was also the one who was the most honest with Jeannie, constantly calling her out and keeping her in check whenever he thought she went too far.

Regardless of this, Dottie had to admit that if you had asked her what she thought of them a mere year earlier, she would have never described any of her former friends with such harsh words. Instead, she would have told you that Tracey was loyal to a fault, tender and compassionate with everyone around her, and that Howie was funny in a boyish sort of way, clumsy, hardworking, and entirely too selfless regarding his material possessions. She would have labeled Benji as self-assured and opinionated, never shying away from being in the spotlight and most likely to be destined for stardom, and Jeannie… Jeannie would have simply been called her Best Friend.

“It’s nice to see everyone,” Dottie said, swallowing her pride and sitting at the table, her back turned to the stage. “Are you excited for college? Tracey was telling me you two are moving in together.”

“Oh, yeah!” Howie said, leaning back on his chair. “We haven’t found a good place yet, but I’m hopeful. Do you live around here?”

“No, no, I’m just here for the show,” she shrugged. “I live in a different town, we’re like 30 or 40 minutes away I think.”

“Where do you live?” Jeannie asked.

“It’s called Hawkins, it’s to the Northeast? It’s really small, you probably haven’t heard of it.”

“But it’s here in Indiana?”

“Yeah, still Indiana!”

“At least you’re close to Indianapolis,” she said, like she would have dropped dead if she had to move anywhere that wasn’t a major city.

The sudden feedback of a microphone cut through the noise in the pub, and Jessie, busy stationed at the till, motioned to a coworker to lower the lights and cut off the ambient music. On the stage, the boys cringed at the shrill sound, Donny immediately lowering the volume of an amp at his side. Jeff looked sheepishly at the crowd, one hand on the neck of his guitar, the other resting on top of the mic casually.

“Hi,” he simply said, his easygoing tone making people turn towards them with curiosity. “Our name is Corroded Coffin, we’re from Hawkins, Indiana, and we’d like to play a few songs for you tonight if you guys don’t mind.”

Dottie turned around in her seat, completely ignoring everyone else at the table and feeling all her frayed nerves turn into joyous pride as she saw her friends on stage like they were always meant to be. Jeff stood confidently in the middle, wearing a white Metallica t-shirt he’d cut into a muscle tank, ripped jeans and a plaid red shirt tied at his hips. His chains glinted as he turned to look at his band members and Eddie nodded once, giving him the go ahead so he could start playing the intro to Dio’s The Last in Line.

Even if Dottie knew the setlist front to back and had seen them play each song repeatedly throughout the last few months, she found she was still happily stunned at the talent her friends displayed every time they got to play rockstars for a while. We’re a ship without a storm, cold without the warm, light inside the darkness that it needs, yeah, Jeff sang, and if the silence in the room was anything to go by, Corroded Coffin knew they had everyone’s attention on the palm of their hands.

“Huh,” Benji said, surprised. “Was not expecting that from how they look.”

We’re a laugh without a tear, the hope without the fear, we are coming…

“What were you expecting?” Dottie asked with a knowing smile.

Benji had no time to answer as Jeff strongly yelled the word home, the rest of the band following his lead and diving into the rest of the song with purpose and childlike joy. A couple of excited hollers were heard through the bar as Jeff launched into the second verse with the usual intensity he always performed with; Eddie joined him once he reached the chorus, happy to be the background vocals to his much more operatic-inclined friend.

They took no breaks at the end of the song, launching straight into Iron Maiden’s Flight of Icarus to a similar reception from the crowd, much to their surprise. Dottie sang along without a care in the world, entirely too delighted to care about the people around her when her boyfriend and her best friends in the whole world were finally living their shared dream and gifting everyone one of the best performances they’d ever done. Moore House was no Madison Square Garden, but to Corroded Coffin it might as well have been anyway.

Once they reached the last two songs in the first half of their set, Dottie anxiously leaned forward in her seat knowing this would be Gareth’s make or break moment. Perched behind his drum set, his next task ahead was to ace Metallica’s Motorbreath and Mötorhead’s Overkill back to back, and while he felt more than capable of rising to the occasion, there was still the nagging feeling that something might go wrong at the worst possible moment. He breezed through Motorbreath with ease, having played it several times to great success at The Hideout, but to go straight into Overkill with no time to shake off the tension in his arms had him all strung-out, and he had expressed as much in the van during their trip to Indy.

“Get it, G!” Dottie yelled in an effort to be supportive, and he absolutely heard her in the lull between the two songs, letting out a crazed laugh as he launched into Overkill’s intro.

Eddie wasted no time to jump in and the rest of the boys followed, giving it their all to get the crowd hyped up before they took a small water break. Maybe it was the manifestation of Gareth’s worst fears, maybe it was the fact that he’d gone all out for the last two songs and wore the wood out, or maybe it was simply an unlucky coincidence, but right at the last second, during his last hit, one of his drumsticks fractured into two pieces with a loud crack that made even Howie wince. Donny hurried to Gareth’s side and they shared a quick talk before the drummer stood up and started power walking towards the exit, most likely headed to the van in search of a new pair of drumsticks.

“We’re gonna take a short break, let you guys get a breather and more drinks, take a piss if you need it,” Eddie said into his mic with a cheeky smirk. “We’ll be back in a sec with more songs, thank you for the great vibes so far.”

“This is fun,” Howie said, polishing off the rest of his beer as Jeannie scoffed next to him.

“Where the fuck is he going,” Dottie muttered to herself distractedly as she watched Gareth bolt past her. “G! G! Jesus Christ- Gareth!”

“I’ll be right back-” he was yelling back to her when he saw her bend down and take his extra drumsticks out of the side of her boot. “Oh, thank God!”

For the first time that night, Gareth realized Dottie wasn’t alone at their table and after shooting the strangers a quick hello, he awkwardly turned towards his friend, feeling very much observed by them and not in a particularly welcoming way. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question; she simply pressed the sticks into his hand and mouthed the words “Ask Jeff”. He was about to say something when Jessie the Night Manager appeared suddenly, shoving more water bottles into his arms.

“You’ve got great taste, teach!” she said to Dottie before turning to Gareth. “Band sounds really good!”

“Thanks!” he said, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing behind the floppy curls on his forehead.

“Better get back on stage, hot stuff, break’s about to end,” Jessie winked and quickly disappeared behind the bar again.

“Wow,” Dottie said, teasing him. “Didn’t think you’d actually start drooling.”

“I’m gonna need you to be quiet while I restart my brain,” he breathed out, entirely too flustered to come up with any defensive statement. “You said you talked to her last week, can I have her number?”

“No. Go up there and keep being charming until she gives it to you herself! You got this,” she pushed him towards the stage; he twisted in her hold and grabbed the back of her head with one hand to plant a wet, noisy kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, thank you for these!” he said, jogging back towards his bandmates.

“Love you too! Don’t break them, that’s your only extra pair!” Dottie yelled after him and he waved the drumsticks over his shoulder to let her know he’d heard her.

“Well,” Jeannie said with a dangerous glint in her eyes and her arms crossed. “Looks like Little Miss Dorothy isn’t so little anymore. Didn’t take you for a groupie.”

“I’m not their groupie,” she frowned. “Those are my friends, I’m just being supportive.”

“Really? How did you meet them?” Tracey asked, curiously.

“We went to school together. I had Political Science and Chemistry with Gareth, we were lab partners for a few months.”

“You’re not dating that guy, are you?” Benji laughed. “He seems nice but it looks like he’s in love with that waitress.”

“Ew, no, he’s my best friend,” Dottie said, a fond smile on her face. “They all, actually.”

“Best friends, huh?” Jeannie said pointedly. “In six months? You moved on fast.”

“Guess I learned that from you,” she shrugged, turning around once more to watch the rest of the show leaving Jeannie to fume in silence.

“Alright, everyone, who’s ready for some more?” Jeff said into the mic, capturing the bar’s attention once more. “You good to go, Gare?”

Instead of answering, Gareth simply launched into an intro Dottie was very familiar with, but she was confident it hadn’t been included in the setlist she’d seen in the van. They were supposed to open the second half of their show with a Megadeth song, she’d heard Donny argue for it, so what did Eddie think he was doing joining his drummer and plucking along to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher? It was even more surprising when he approached the mic as Jeff took over guitar duties; the eldest member of Corroded Coffin scanned the crowd with a mischievous smirk until his eyes found his girlfriend before he leaned into the mic.

“Oh, man, wait a second,” he began, turning towards Donny and hamming it up for the performance. “What do you think the teacher’s gonna look like this year?”

Dottie let out a loud laugh disconcerting everyone at the table, but when she locked eyes with Eddie and he winked at her, she knew that Gareth had, as she’d suggested, asked Jeff about the uncomfortable situation going on offstage and had been thoroughly briefed on the issue at hand. It was so like them to change their setlist to make her feel better, and yet so unexpected that it left her a little teary. With a simple gesture, something no one else would have noticed except her, they’d managed to remind her that she had their support no matter what happened or how far they were from her.

As the show went on and the boys played a very funky rendition of Whitesnake’s Saints an’ Sinners, one of Gareth’s favorites, Benji and Tracey began getting more into it, cheering along with Dottie, swaying and headbanging in all appropriate places. Howie looked like he was honestly enjoying himself during Helter Skelter, even going so far as to sing along, elated that there was at least one song with lyrics he actually knew in the setlist. The band took a few seconds to let Jeff drink some water before they played Van Halen’s Little Dreamer, showcasing the boy’s best asset: his lovely crooner voice, full of body and emotion.

By the time Corroded Coffin reached their last song, Moore House was packed with the patrons that had been sitting outside when they’d first arrived at the bar. A light irregular shower had forced people to either go home or seek refuge inside, and many had gladly chosen to stay for the rest of the show and were now being treated to a high energy rendition of Quiet Riot’s Cum on Feel the Noize to close out the evening. During the song, there was a moment where Donny and Eddie, who were goofing off with each other, turned to look at Jeff and Gareth who were also playing along to their antics from the other side of the stage.

Miles away from home, in front of a crowd that had only just met them but seemed nonetheless enthusiastic - or at least not disgusted by their presence - the quartet had never felt more at ease when performing. Even if Moore House wasn’t The Hideout, they knew they could get used to it just as easily if given the chance.

“So,” Eddie said, once the applause at the end of the song had quieted down. “Normally that would have been our last song, but today’s a special day for us. You see, Moore House, today’s the very first time we’ve played outside of our hometown. Little Hawkins has had quite the monopoly on us for the last few years,” he joked, making a few people chuckle along with him. “The truth is, we wouldn’t be here without a very special someone in the audience. You might have heard her screaming her ass off like a banshee all night - that was pretty metal of you, princess.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving her floating between the tables as Dottie realized Eddie was talking about her. Charmed like a snake, she sat a little bit taller, eyes glued to the tender smile her boyfriend was not so secretly affording her. It didn’t matter if anyone else saw the hearts floating above his head - he was so in love with the short haired girl sitting a few feet away from him that he was willing to bear all the jokes their friends had been making at his expense for the past week every time they practiced the surprise they had planned. Just the look on her face was worth all of it, and so much more. Donny motioned for her to stand up and she did so, one hand wrapped around the back of her chair for support.

“That’s our banshee!” Gareth said, gleefully.

“Actually, that’s our manager,” Jeff chuckled into his mic without missing a beat. “And she’s the one that got us this gig so you’ve been enjoying the show, please give it up for her.”

Jessie finger-whistled loudly from behind the till, leading the amused applause that broke out while Dottie marveled at the audience happily following Jeff’s commands. It was undeniable that Corroded Coffin had always been charming, but seeing how strongly a crowd of college aged strangers reacted to them had her feeling incredibly bittersweet at the fact that their path to glory was being cut short so early by themselves of all people. Maybe she could convince them to see their college adventures as a hiatus rather than a permanent break. Four years would pass by quickly, wouldn’t they?

“To show our gratitude to our most Darling Dottie, our friend and manager, let’s end this on a high note, shall we?” Eddie redirected everyone’s attention back to the stage. “This has been Corroded Coffin, from Hawkins, Indiana, and we have one final question for you, guys-”

No fucking way, Dottie thought when she heard Jeff start playing their surprise song. There’s no way. They’d never do this outside of Gareth’s garage, I must be totally hallucinating-

“Whatever happened to Saturday night?” Eddie sang into the mic, exchanging positions with Jeff and taking the lead singer spot in the middle of the stage. “When you dressed up sharp and you felt alright?”

“Oh, I love this song!” Benji said, in true theater kid fashion.

“You used to love Rocky Horror, didn’t you?” Tracey said, remembering an old theater ticket Dottie used to keep around as a bookmark.

“I still do, yeah,” she breathed out, a dazed smile etched onto her face.

Eddie wasn’t the best singer in Corroded Coffin. He knew this very well and didn’t have any issues admitting to it, especially when what he lacked in the voice department, he knew he more than made up for with his guitar skills. When he’d brought up the idea of closing the show with Hot Patootie/Bless My Soul as a thank you to Dottie, everyone else had quickly agreed that while the gesture was lovely, the song did not fit in with the rest of their planned set. The boys had then begun suggesting different songs they knew she liked, but Eddie had remained undeterred. In the end, the only reason he’d managed to crack them was because he’d arranged the sax break into a new guitar solo that had really excited Donny upon hearing it, and so the rest of the band followed suit in changing their opinion.

“Go, girl!” Benji pushed Dottie towards the stage when the solo started and Eddie kneeled near the edge looking right at her as he played. “He’s waiting for you!”

With red cheeks and embarrassed giggles, Dottie let herself be guided towards the stage by both Benji and Tracey, turning back to look at them dancing with one another when she felt their hands leave her back. Shifting her focus back on Eddie and only Eddie, Dottie let herself imagine a future where they got to do this all the time, and instead of having to play covers of well known bands, Corroded Coffin would be allowed to play their own songs - the ones she knew were written into notebooks stashed in Eddie’s closet and Donny’s old toy chest (now turned into a junk trunk after donating all his action figures to his little sister Giulietta to marry off to her Barbies).

With your arms around your girl you’d try to sing along, it felt pretty good, woo, really had a good time, Eddie belted before he moved away and sang the chorus along with Jeff at this mic, eyes never leaving his girlfriend’s beaming figure at the bottom of the stage. He had never felt so in the zone performing before: he had a cheering audience that consisted of more than five drunks, his girl was dancing and singing along with the crowd, and his best friends were killing it even after Gareth’s little drumstick mishap. At the start of the night Eddie Munson had been sure he would never be a rockstar, but at that moment he couldn’t deny he certainly felt like one already.

“Good night, everyone!” Jeff said while they played themselves out. “You were fuckin’ awesome!”

Most people cheerfully clapped for them before going back to their chosen alcoholic beverages for the night, the speakers sparking back to life with classic rock to mask the chattering and gossiping. Eddie took his guitar off his shoulder and hurried off the stage, wrapping his sweaty arms around Dottie who squealed in delight when he lifted her up and shook her around excitedly.

“Okay, okay, calm down!” she laughed, hands coming to hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

“Thank you, darling, holy shit, thank you,” he said, his voice full of emotion as he squeezed her sides. “That was the best moment of my life, I’m so fucking thankful.”

“You guys were so good! That was your best show ever, I’m so proud of you, babe.”

“Yeah?” he grinned at her, finally moving his face off her neck. “You have no idea how much I wanna kiss the shit out of you right now but the guys are totally gonna notice.”

“We can sneak down to the lake after we drop everyone off,” she whispered, mischief in her eyes.

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he groaned, eyes closed and face tilted towards the ceiling. “I’ll- I’m gonna take my shit back to the van and I’ll be right back or else I’m gonna do something stupid and get us kicked out of the bar.”

“I’ll go get us drinks!” she announced, loud enough so that the rest of the boys could hear her. “Beers for everyone okay?”

“I’ll go with you!” Gareth said, springing up from where he was squatting while he unplugged a pedal. “Leave the kit here, guys, I’ll come get it when my arms aren’t about to fall off.”

He offered his hand to Dottie who happily took it, and together they went to order beers for everyone as a prize for a job well done. Corroded Coffin’s Big Show had been perfect and a celebration was in order, even if their table had been co-opted by a bunch of teens none of them really felt like partying with. Sense of danger lulled by the excitement of the evening and the fact that she was now flanked on both sides by her best friends, Dottie relaxed and finally let her guard down, content on enjoying the festivities and listening to the chatter around her as she often did when hanging out with the boys.

In retrospect, she should have known better. Hawkins had changed her, softened her, made her more trusting, more vulnerable. She was easy prey now, and as much as she tried to hide the gaping hole in her chest every time she looked at her former best friend, Jeannie had always been an expert in sniffing out blood in the water. Dottie really should have known better.

The Corroded Coffin boys might not have been stellar students during their time at Hawkins High, but their social status as the school’s freaks had taught them a very valuable skill: all four of them could spot a lion dressed like a lamb from miles away. Introductions had barely been made before they recognized Jeannie for who she truly was, all fake smiles hiding a look of contempt she just couldn’t - or wouldn’t - mask in its entirety. It was almost laughable how easy it was to pinpoint how important she thought she was, and also just how much it bothered her that none of them seemed to fall at her feet no matter how much she flicked her long hair over her shoulders.

Jeannie sat silently at the table, becoming more and more upset as the minutes ticked by and no one so much as turned to look at her. As Tracey talked to Donny sitting next to her, gushing about the show and his performance, Eddie stretched and then dropped his arm on Dottie’s chair, pulling her closer to him without the rest of the group noticing. She looked up at him for a brief second before she leaned forward with the excuse of grabbing a napkin, letting their thighs touch as she sat back down. They both turned towards Tracey with bashful smiles, and upon hearing her friend praising the lamest band she’d ever heard, Jeannie felt a ball of anger grow and lodge itself in her throat. Time to hunt.

“How would you even know if they’re good or not? You only listen to Hall & Oates, Trace,” she laughed dismissively, finger tracing the rim of her glass with a practiced smug expression.

“You do?�� Donny asked Tracey who had suddenly gone mute. “My sisters like them too, I think we have all the albums at home. Do you have a favorite?”

“Um, I don’t know, they’re all good…,” Tracey said, squirming uncomfortably under the sharp sight of her friend.

“Oh, come on, you love H2O,” Dottie said, matter-of-factly. “You used to listen to Maneater constantly.”

“Oh, oh, here she comes, watch out, boy, she’ll chew you up,” Jeff sang softly, making Tracey’s mouth lift up in a thankful smile.

“Show off,” Benji said, but it was clear to everyone he meant it as a harmless joke.

“You guys listen to Hall & Oates?” Howie asked, surprised.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Eddie shrugged. “We all love metal the most, but we’ll listen to almost anything once. How do you think we got this one into our music?”

“Actually, Donny was the one to corrupt me with that Helter Skelter cover, so if you want a teacher, that’s your guy,” Dottie smiled, remembering old conversations with the gentle boy who helped her navigate her first D&D session.

“Why does only he get the credit for corrupting you?” Gareth complained, shoving her lightly.

“Because he lets me borrow all his mixtapes whenever I want them.”

“And I don’t? I’ve offered you my tapes a million times but you never take any.”

“That’s because you’re obsessed with making me listen to Anthrax and I’ve told you like ten times that it’s fucking noise.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie said, raising a hand to stop her. “That’s sacrilegious, princess, you can’t say that.”

“Can’t I have my own opinions?”

“Yes, but if they’re wrong, we’re legally obligated call you out on them,” Jeff said, bottle of beer halfway up to his mouth.

“Et tu, Jeffrey?” Dottie asked, hand to her chest dramatically making Eddie snicker next to her.

“You’re fun,” Benji declared. “I like this new Dorothy.”

“Me too!” Howie agreed.

“New?” Gareth frowned, baffled. “What do you mean new? She’s always been like this.”

It had been a long time since any of the boys had had questions about Dorothy Burke’s past. As months went on and their friendships got stronger, they’d gotten to learn about her extensively and she about them in return. The five of them were a well-oiled machine by then; banter flowed easily, diner and takeout favorites had been memorized to perfection, and comfort was given before it could even be asked.

It was strange for them to think of a moment in their lives before they knew Dottie, because it truly felt like they had known her forever. She’d opened up to them about why she was the way she was sometimes, her past experiences and her fears shaping her into the fiercely loyal yet deeply afraid of being lonely girl they had come to love and appreciate. No one could imagine her being something other than who she had always been - that shy tenderhearted teen looking for connection with a bag full of snacks and a set of borrowed dice - so hearing that Dottie hadn’t always been their Dot was a little shocking, to say the least.

“It’s not that she was very different,” Tracey tried to explain. “It’s just that she used to be more… reserved I guess?”

“She was a loser.”

“Jeanette!” Benji scolded her. “That’s rude!”

“What? You know I’m right!” Jeannie defended herself. “She never wanted to go to any parties or bars, never misbehaved, never drank. I’m surprised she even had a boyfriend while she was such a prude.”

“I- I was just busy-” Dottie muttered, embarrassed in front of her friends and feeling her hidden wounds rip open once more.

“Yeah, busy being a loser! You never wanted to go anywhere with us, the only time we could get you to break a curfew was on Tyler’s birthday.”

“If all that makes her a loser I guess we are losers too, aren’t we boys?” Eddie said, dropping his hand from the back of Dottie’s chair to her shoulder protectively. “I mean, shit, I had to do my senior year three times.”

“I had a panic attack the first time I smoked weed and I’ve never touched that thing since,” Jeff added.

“I still go to church every Sunday morning with my Nonna,” Donny raised his glass as if he was toasting.

“The only party we went to during senior year was the one Dot made us go to, and we had to leave because she got into a fight,” Gareth said, laughing at the memory.

“Actually, Eddie got into a fight,” she clarified, feeling brave with her friends by her side. “I just finished it.”

“Well, you did blackmail the guy, so I think 50% of that fight was on you,” Donny reminded her.

“Fuckin’ Andy, man,” Eddie shook his head. “I had a bruise on my ass for days.”

“She almost broke his nose so I’d say you guys are even now,” Jeff finished, turning to the four people staring at Dottie like she had grown two heads. “You should have seen her, it was awesome.”

“You did all that?” Howie asked, almost with reverence.

“Are they gifting fucking lobotomies in that shitty town of yours or did you suddenly grow a personality so you could lie to get new friends?”

“That’s so mean, Jeane-” Tracey said, but Dottie interrupted her.

“You know what, Jeannie? You’re right. I was a loser,” she said in an even tone, aware that she was bleeding out around a shark. “I’ve always been a loser, and that didn’t change when I moved to Hawkins just because I went to a party once. I’ll always be a loser, I know that, but at least I’m not trying to pretend like I’m cool when I’m actually fucking miserable all the time.”

“Holy shit,” Benji muttered, but no one paid any attention to him.

“Don’t act all high and mighty with me, Dorothy. You may have new friends now that don’t know the real you, but I do. Let’s not lie to ourselves here, you’ll always be that know-it-all nerd who used to hide under my wing for protection.”

“Protection from what?” Dottie scoffed. “I was always Jeannie’s boring little friend from preschool. No one gave a shit about me, you made sure of it.”

“Don’t say that,” Tracey said, frowning.

“Save it, Trace. You were all pretty clear about where you stood when Jeannie started dating Tyler,” she reminded them, and at least Benji and Tracey had the decency to look ashamed. “But thank you, really, because if it hadn’t been for you guys ignoring me, I would have never spent all my lunch periods alone in the library with Mrs. Randall, and I would have definitely never gotten into Michigan without her help.”

“You got into Michigan?” Tracey asked after a beat, eyes shifting over towards where Jeannie was sitting.

“Princess got a full ride and everything,” Eddie said, proudly.

“Well, shit,” Benji said, grinning. “Can’t really say I’m surprised, but congrats! If anyone was going to get in, it was you for sure.”

“You’re such a fake bitch, Benji,” Jeannie turned to him, seething.

“Hey, not my fault your GPA sucked.”

“Okay, guys, come on, we’re losing the plot here,” Howie tried to cool down the room to unsuccessful results.

“You applied to Michigan too?” Dottie asked Jeannie, gears slowly turning in her head.

“Thought it’d be fun,” she shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m going to CSI anyways.”

“Crime Stoppers?” Donny said, confused.

“What?”

“CSI, that’s Crime Stoppers International, right?”

“No, dumbass, Staten Island,” Jeannie said through her teeth, humiliated and furious.

“Isn’t that… sorry, I’m not trying to be mean here but they don’t even ask for your SAT scores to get in there,” Jeff frowned, quickly realizing that had been the wrong thing to mention.

“Once I’m a registered nurse no one will give a shit about my SAT scores. And I get to live with my boyfriend in the city if I go to CSI, so that’s a plus. I’d be stupid to ever leave NYC.”

“You’re still dating Tyler?” Dottie wondered curiously.

“Of course I am. He’s so in love with me it’s actually pathetic.”

“Wow. Does he know you talk about him like that?” she cringed.

“Why do you care?” Jeannie said, smug. “It’s not like he’s still your boyfriend.”

“You’re right, he’s not,” Dottie stood up, brushing Eddie’s shoulder with her hand and feeling very thankful for the path her life had taken. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

As she walked towards the door marked with a “Women” sign, she could hear Benji and Jeannie at each other’s throats, Howie still trying to calm them down to no avail. The heavy metallic door closed behind her back and, for the first time since they’d arrived, Dottie felt like she could breathe normally. She approached the sink furthest away from the entrance and began washing her hands with cold water, staring at the suds disappearing down the drain like she was cleaning up her own blood after a fight.

When she’d joined the Hellfire Club and met Eddie, Gareth, Donny, and Jeff, she knew things would be different. She was still fearful at the time, of course; a lifetime of disappointment doesn’t vanish just because you’ve found a few good friends, but even if she’d realized a long time ago how truly lucky she’d been to find her people in the Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, she’d never actually compared her new friend group to her older one. At least, not until now. Four friends with four clear positions, and her as an addendum. Eddie and Jeannie as the leaders, Gareth and Howie as the class clowns, Donny and Benji as the seconds in command, and Jeff and Tracey as the sensible ones.

And Dottie. Always just Dottie, loser, shy, boring Dottie, attaching herself to a group and tagging along to adventures she hadn’t planned or dreams that had never been her own in the first place. Except… well, that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? She’d gotten them the gig in Indianapolis, that had been her creating the adventure. She’d convinced them to go to that fateful party at Jason’s house, they’d gone to prom as a group because she mentioned she wanted to go, they’d gone swimming in the lake in their undies because she’d agreed to it. And that’s not to mention the countless times they’d gone out for ice cream because she’d suggested it, or the movies they had rented because she wanted to see them.

In return, she’d seen The Exorcist because Gareth had wanted to, she had accepted the job Donny had offered because he wanted to work with her all summer, she’d actually jumped into the lake in her underwear because Jeff had encouraged her to do it. With the boys she wasn’t tagging along. They always made sure of it. She was wearing Eddie’s shirt, Jeff’s belt, Gareth’s rings, Donny’s bracelets. They constantly and consistently included her, not just by inviting her to things, but by actually making the effort to make her feel part of them. And she really was. With them, she had always been, from day one and without having to ask any questions.

“Don’t talk to me, I just want to pee,” a voice broke her train of thought, and Dottie only managed to see Jeannie’s long hair swinging before she went into a stall.

Dottie considered leaving the bathroom, going back to her table and sitting down with her friends, maybe even ordering a basket of fries to share and pretend like nothing had happened, but something inside stopped her. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of her that still cared for Jeannie and if this was going to be the last time they’d ever speak, she didn’t want to leave things like this. Jeannie had been her best friend a lifetime ago. It wasn’t right to pretend like that shared history had never existed.

She moved to the side to dry her hands as Jeannie came out of her stall and went to wash up, biding her time until she figured out what she wanted to say. Jeannie was visibly furious, the little vein in her neck straining against her skin as she chewed on the same kind of anger she’d been carrying inside since they were kids. Jeannie used to be so furious all the time. She’d break all the toys in her vicinity, whether they were hers or borrowed, she’d bite and pull on people’s hair, and she had to be constantly put on timeout as a child so the teachers could get her to settle down for a few minutes.

Their pre-school teacher had been at her wits end the day she sat Dottie next to Jeannie, hoping that the much quieter and well-behaved little girl would be able to influence the terror that disrupted every single one of her classes. The two kids had gotten along just fine during drawing time, but when they were let out to the playground for a break, Jeannie pushed Dottie off the slide, making her fall knees first onto the gravel below. Dottie had then cried and cried, her tender knees oozing blood down her legs and staining her white socks, and Jeannie, upon seeing their teacher approach, also began crying uncontrollably.

What happened next surprised everyone, mainly because Jeannie wasn’t used to being kind to other kids, but the tiny five-year-old sat eerily still in the nurse’s office next to a sniffling Dottie, holding her hand while Nurse Olivier cleaned and bandaged the hurt child. Afterwards and unlike herself, Jeannie said she was sorry, and Dottie, much like herself, forgave her because “that’s what friends do”. Jeannie had spent the rest of their lives pushing Dottie and holding her hand afterwards. Why would she do that if she wasn’t utterly terrified her oldest friend would eventually leave her, constantly testing the strength of their friendship much like a child who can’t quite understand their own emotions just yet?

“Sorry, can I ask you something?” Dottie said, looking at her former friend through the mirror. Upon receiving nothing but silence, she continued. “Why nursing?”

“What?”

“It’s just… You wanted to do Civil Engineering. You talked about it with Benji all the time, you wanted to apply to colleges together. You even asked my Dad about it.”

“Yeah, well… I changed my mind,” Jeannie said, bitterly.

“But why?”

“Because Engineering is not a girl’s career.”

“Says who?”

Jeannie didn’t look at Dottie as she closed the tap and shook her hands to get rid of the excess water, the latter moving out of the way to let her access the paper dispenser. Her silver bracelet shook as she dabbed at her hands with the rough material and Dottie was suddenly struck with a memory so old that for a second she thought she had made it up as an eight-year-old.

They’d been waiting to be picked up after a long day of school on a Thursday, which meant that it wasn’t James the one Dottie was waiting for - it was Uncle Johnny, coming to take her to her swimming lessons at the community center near his home while her Dad was stuck working extra hours. Jeannie’s mom arrived earlier than him that day, bringing her daughter a present: a small Tiffany’s bag with two matching bracelets inside to commemorate the day she had finally divorced Jeannie’s dad. Dottie had been much too young to understand the intricacies of adult relationships and how they affected her friend at the time, so she’d only cooed and awed at the gorgeous piece of jewelry while hiding a pang of quiet jealousy at the fact that she would never be able to match anything with her own mom.

Two days later during her monthly Saturday Crafting Afternoon with Aunt Mary Elizabeth, she told her what had happened with an innocence that tugged her Aunt’s heartstrings before she tore her craft bins apart searching for supplies to make her niece feel better. Between small breaks that consisted of chocolate milk, homemade cookies, and endless hugs, the two of them worked on a ton of bead bracelets, one for each member of their little makeshift family. James’ bracelet was a gaudy little thing with the word DADDY spelled with a 4 instead of an A because they had run out of the correct letters and Mary Elizabeth was nothing if not incredibly creative. Dottie was confident that if she decided to snoop through his bedside table’s first drawer, she’d find the plastic accessory still rattling around with the rest of his junk.

“Don’t- don’t fucking do that,” Jeannie said tiredly, finally turning around and facing her. “You always do that and it pisses me off.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t act like you understand anything about my life!”

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to,” she said with genuine remorse in her tone. “I just wanted to know why, I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what? To rub in my face that you got into a good school and I didn’t? I’m so fucking sick of you, Dorothy,” Jeannie said in calm anger and Dottie wished she’d just yell at her. “Just when I finally thought I’d gotten rid of you, you show up to embarrass me like you’ve always done. Stop pretending like you’ve ever cared about me or my life, because you haven’t. You’re a goddamn liar and you know it.”

“I’ve never lied to you in my entire life, Jeannie,” Dottie said, trying not to bleed out in her attempt to find peace.

“God, do you ever shut up about how good you are? About how nice you are? You were always the Golden fucking Child, and I’ve always been trash compared to you. Oh, Dorothy is gonna do something great with her life, you should be more like her! She’s so kind, so polite, so goddamn quiet,” she said, voice mocking before it switched back to scathing. “Fuck you.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never said anything like that to you! Actually, you were the one who was always treating me like trash!”

“Oh, give me a break,” she laughed. “You didn’t need to say it, everyone else did it for you. You were the teacher’s pet who always got away with murder, and I was the stupid fuck-up who was too much like her Dad and couldn’t get into your fancy college. I might be a bitch, but at least I’m honest.”

“Jeannie, are you even listening to what you’re saying?” she argued desperately. “I’ve never thought of you like that, I swear! I literally spent my entire life wanting to be more like you - you had a pretty house, and all the toys you wanted. And you had a mom! Everyone wanted to be your friend, and I never understood why you picked me instead of anyone else-”

“I knew it, I fucking knew it, I always knew you were a jealous bitch-”

“God fucking damnit, I loved you!” Dottie admitted, clenching her fists in frustration. “I loved you so much, and I wanted to be like you because I thought if I was, it would make you love me back! You treated me like shit all the time, and I still loved you. You were my best friend, Jeannie.”

Jeannie might have looked like she had just been slapped but Dottie knew she didn’t understand the meaning behind her words, not when she had only figured them out after they’d tumbled out of her own mouth. Feeling strangely lighter, she watched as her oldest friend’s eyes changed from furious to scared, as if she was that five-year-old holding her hand while Nurse Olivier bandaged her bloody knees again. Dottie understood then that it had never been about her or their friendship, but she’d just served a shark her corpse on a platter and she needed to get some closure before she left the sanctity of the girls’ bathroom or else she’d always wonder what could have been.

“Why did you apply to Michigan?” Dottie asked, eyes full of unshed tears.

“...Because you were there,” Jeannie muttered, defeated. She crossed her arms before she continued. “After you left I asked Mrs. Randall about you and she told me you were early admission. I was just so mad at you, I- I don’t know. I never told anyone else you had already gotten in when I decided to apply.”

“Why did you switch to Nursing? You could have picked literally anything else.”

“Tyler’s pre-med at Cornell. You know how his family is, and I obviously couldn’t get in with him, so this was my only choice.”

Tyler’s family, while perfectly nice, supportive and polite, had always stressed to their sons the importance of getting into the family business. Not all of them were doctors, but everyone who had gone to college in the last three generations had gotten a degree somewhere in the Health field, and most importantly, they had also married a medical professional. Tyler’s dad was a generalist, his mother was a psychiatrist, his uncle was a surgeon who had married his assistant nurse.

They never made Dottie feel like she had to change her career path to be with Tyler while she was dating him, and yet there had always been a silent expectation put upon their son to “get serious” further down the line. Jeannie knew what this meant for her own relationship once they went off to college, so she decided to make two households very happy by trading in her Civil Engineering dreams for a future that included a shiny RN badge and a nuclear family who lived in a friendly cul-de-sac.

“They talk about you sometimes, you know?” Jeannie said, surprising the other girl. “They say you were always nice, ask me if I’ve heard from you. I think Flynn misses you the most.”

“He’s a good guy,” Dottie said, smiling. “You should ask him for advice on college stuff, he helped me out a ton.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will.”

“I, um… I should get back to my friends,” the short haired girl said pointing at the door with her thumb. “We have a long way home, so…”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” she smiled, a little wistful. “That guy with the long hair, uh…”

“Eddie. His name is Eddie.”

“Is he good?”

“He’s the best,” Dottie’s smile grew bigger at the thought of her boyfriend. “They all are.”

“They seem nice,” she said, falling quiet afterwards.

“Goodbye, Jeanette.”

“Goodbye, Dottie.”

Jeannie stayed in the bathroom needing some space to process their final goodbye, surrounded by New York Dottie’s remains while Hawkins Dottie walked back to the table. Eddie, as usual, was the first one to notice his girlfriend’s turbulent expression, instinctively putting out a hand to touch her as soon as she was in range for him to do so. He pulled her into the space between their chairs, fingers splayed against the low of her back protectively.

“You okay?” he muttered quietly, but everyone’s eyes were on them regardless.

“Not really,” her lips curved into a small pout. “Is it okay if we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Eddie downed the last of his beer and sprung out of his seat. “We just gotta, uh-”

“We’re on it,” Jeff said, also getting up. “You two go get the van closer to the door so we can load the drums, it’s supposed to start raining soon.”

“I have to talk to Jessie about your payment, she told me-,” Dottie said, but the sound of more chairs shuffling cut her off.

“I’ve got it!” Donny said, putting on his battle vest while heading towards the till.

“I’ll go get my stuff,” Gareth announced, unceremoniously jogging towards the stage to disassemble his drum kit.

“Okay then, uh,” Dottie turned towards her former friends to find them already standing up and heading towards her.

“I’m so sorry,” Tracey said, throwing her arms around her for a comforting hug. Neither of them knew who needed it more. “I’m sorry about everything. It was really lovely to see you again.”

“You’re glowing, girl,” Benji said when it was his turn to get a hug. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

“Show was great, guys,” Howie said to Eddie and Jeff, giving them both a boyish pat on their shoulders.

“Thanks, man. See you around.”

Dottie wrapped her arms around herself while Eddie led her towards the van, never letting go of her hand while he guided the vehicle closer to the double doors that led to the backside of the building. The smell of an incoming storm filled the air as he lowered his window and lit up a cigarette before turning to her with a knowing look on his face.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” he asked, only the rumble of the van’s motor filling the quiet of the night.

“I… I think I used to have a crush on her,” Dottie said, coming to terms with something that deep down she had always known but had never dared to think about.

“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?” Eddie pouted, succeeding in his goal to make her giggle.

“You’re silly,” she moved closer to him, ready to put their argument behind and Eddie obliged, throwing an arm around her. “The show was so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah? You liked our surprise?”

“Are you kidding? I loved it. You’re so talented,” she leaned up to kiss him but couldn’t reach his lips, giving him a peck on his jaw instead. “We have to come back, see if we can get you booked again.”

“I love you,” he said, staring down at her completely and truly lovesick. “You’re amazing. Best manager in the fuckin’ world.”

“I love you too, Ed. Thank you.”

“The hell you thanking me for, darling?”

The van’s back doors opened with a loud noise startling them apart as Gareth and Jeff pushed the rest of their equipment onto the carpeted floor, quickly securing it and climbing into the backseat. Donny rushed out of the building with an unlit cigarette in his hand and an envelope in the other, waving it in the air proudly. The first thunder of the night mixed in with their cheers as he got in and Eddie pulled out of the parking lot.

“Hey, guys,” Donny said, watching Jeff count their earnings. “You wanna go to McDonald’s?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Eddie said, turning the corner and heading towards the Golden Arches glowing in the distance. “We need fries, don’t we, princess?”

“Yes, please,” Dottie agreed. “And milkshakes.”

“Dot, your old friends sucked ass,” Gareth said, tone conversational but still a little upset on her behalf as he leaned over her seat to throw his arms around her shoulders.

“I don’t know. They weren’t always that bad,” she mused, hands coming to hold his forearms crossing over her collarbones. “You guys are much better though.”

“Hell yeah we are!” Donny said, smug.

“Hey, Gare… I think you might wanna look at this,” Jeff said, barely contained mirth staining his serious tone.

On his hand was a napkin with girly writing scribbled with a blue pen on it, right underneath the Moore House logo. It read: hey hot stuff, sorry to disappoint. I would have totally given you my number if you were older, but sadly you’re not. Keep drumming like that and make me regret having morals when your band becomes huge. XO, Jessie.

“Turn back!” Gareth yelled dramatically, pulling at Eddie’s shoulder. “In the name of love, turn back!”

“Sit down, Bono, she’s four years older than you. She’s not interested,” Donny cackled, forcing him back into his seat.

“Yeah, man, she just wanted to let you down gently,” Eddie said, joining in on the teasing.

“That’s my future wife you’re talking about, you assholes,” Gareth said, knowing full well he didn’t have a chance with Jessie the Night Manager but having fun pretending he did.

As the rain kept falling and their good natured ribbing continued while heading to McDonald’s, Dottie quietly basked in the knowledge that she was safe swimming on open waters with her best friends. She swore right there and then that she was willing to die for each and every one of them, because she knew they were much more likely to be on the surfboard next to her, fighting for their lives together instead of being the ones attacking her.

Previous chapter of her life finally closed, she peacefully leaned against her seat as Eddie pulled into the McDonald’s drive thru. NYC Dottie is dead, long live Hawkins Dottie, she thought, unabashedly staring at her boyfriend as he ordered enough fries and milkshakes to last them the whole trip back home.

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @eg-dr3amer3 @oneforthemunny @munsons-queen

@cinemabean

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #corroded coffin #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

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cocoa-rococo · 5 months ago

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Koopaling Headcanons: Morton

The gentle giant who's solid as stone, and the main enforcer of Bowser's army! A wonderful lad, he is.

Right-handed.

Fond of scrapbooking! He has a few about his siblings and growing up together, but also keeps some about his interests. Wendy likes to gift him cute papers and pattern clippers, and Lemmy finds him cool stickers.

Likes watching wrestling with Roy, which often becomes wrestling with Roy.

He likes watching cooking shows for recipes ideas with Larry, and listening to him ramble about how people are doing things incorrectly.

Has a fairly good memory, and is the most likely to not get distracted on a mission, a trait Ludwig is incredibly grateful for.

Favorite season is winter, due to the novelty (but he can't stay in the snow for too long). Summer is a close second.

A pretty decent writer. His prose is fantastic; it's speaking aloud that he had trouble with.

Surprisingly good at healing magic, possibly more so than Ludwig or even Kamek.

He got gifted a camera from Iggy when he was ten, and he's been taking good care of it ever since. He uses it for scrapbooking, mostly, but he likes taking pictures of what surrounds him.

Very fond of yarrow flowers, due to the colors and how so few of them grow in the Darklands. He first discovered them when he was stationed on a mountain fortress waiting for Mario, and picked a whole bunch to keep inside.

Favorite candies are butterscotch and caramel chews, as well as crunchy rock-candy.

While his favorite pastries are donuts, Wendy once gave him a slice of her patisserie’s strawberry shortcake to try, and he’s been hooked on the flavor even since.

Prefers keeping his notes on pen and paper rather than a phone. He likes the feeling of writing.

Favorite fruit is raspberries and oranges.

Allergic to peanuts, but he prefers Nutella anyway.

His skin is actually much thicker than his siblings to help resist temperature extremities, and since he likes to burrow in sand a lot, it sometimes can get cracked and dry. He and Wendy like to get treatments and make a day of it together.

One of his favorite things is just sitting with his siblings and seeing what they're doing. He's happy to help with whatever they're involved in.

The physically strongest koopaling out of the seven. He's sometimes not quite aware of his strength, but he's trying to get better at it.

Has a soft spot for cute, fluffy animals. Probably aware of Larry's love for a ‘girly’ pony show, but doesn't mind.

Likes listening to Ludwig go on about his mystery novels, and helps as a sound-board for when he needs to bounce theories off someone.

He keeps a miniature zen-garden in his room, and likes to spend time raking little patterns in the sand and moving the rocks around.

The first of his siblings to figure out how to transform his wand into another weapon.

Magic is a weird case with him; trying to cast was difficult, even if the effect was fine. When he learned how to wield his hammer, however, it felt much more intuitive.

Really good with kids, even if he doesn't see a lot of them. He was the most excited out of all his siblings for when Junior was born.

Easily the best secret keeper out of the seven. That koopaling is a VAULT.

Has a fondness for birds, especially ducks. He once got to go to a farm with little ducklings and hold them, and he was crying happy tears almost the entire time.

Coincidentally, he's got an amazing rubber ducky collection. It's very cute, and touching it without his permission will very likely kill you.

Is a big fan of sculpture work, and sometimes will make little trinkets and carvings from chunks of rock he finds. His love of making things is also what convinced him to create Morton's Construction, when his siblings were making businesses.

Wendy is on a persistent quest to make him an Instagram for his scrapbooks and carving work. Morton is on a persistent quest to remember to use it, but always gets distracted.

One of the best taiko drummers —and kumi-daiko performers — this side of the Darklands. He practices with the Hammer Bros.

Can and will stop everything and anything he's doing to make sure an animal crosses the street safely.

Has an almost mom-level accuracy for knowing where lost things are. Any time his siblings can't find something, they go to him, and ninety percent of the time, his guesses are right.

Loves giving hugs! Does not love how he sometimes hugs a little too hard and people get squished.

He likes experimenting in the kitchen with Larry, offering spice suggestions and combos, even if he turns the heat on way too high.

#smb #super mario bros #mario bros #koopalings #morton koopa jr #morton #cocoaposts #SURPRISE EARLY POST #wanted to get this out before july ended #AAAND WE'RE FINISHED!#morton was surprisingly one of the easier 'lings to headcanon for?#maybe because i already had a good grasp on his personality?#not sure #either way WE'RE DONE #the entire set complete!

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 8 months ago

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🐺 My Best Friend’s Father

My Best Friend’s Father: Isla has been friends with Allison Argent since she moved to Beacon Hills, and it was given that she would eventually become friends with Christopher Argent. After begging Chris for some hunting tricks to protect herself from the supernatural, Isla finds herself breaking an unspoken rule between best friends. Do not fall in love with their father.

Warnings: Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No).

To Note: Christopher Argent x NAMED!Female!Reader, Legal Age-Gap, Allison is NOT Dead, Reader is Depicted to Have Hair Long Enough to Pull Up.

Word Count: ~7.6k

There is an unspoken rule about best friends. Don’t ever catch feelings for their father’s, no matter how attractive they are, or how nice they can be. It was a recipe for disaster and certain death for said friendship, not to mention the glaring age gap and societal standards. It was wrong, and you knew that.

But can you control who you love?

You had met Allison when you had started a tutoring job in chemistry at the local high school, you were already friends with Lydia, so becoming friends with her was bound to happen one way or another. You had been with her through thick and thin, from her mother dying, her breakup with Scott, and her near death experience at the hands of the Oni.

Out of everyone in Beacon Hills, you would say that you were closest to Allison, but that also came with a draw back. The longer you were friends with Allison, the more you got to know her father, and the more he got to know you.

Friends. You would say that’s how you started out, you had practically begged him to teach you some hunting tricks to learn how to protect yourself. He was agreeable given your proximity to Scott and the fact that you spent a lot of time with him and Stiles. They were bound to drag you into something.

Training was probably the worst thing you could have asked from him. Close proximity, hands on your body to show you correct form, and rolling around a mat while trying to learn how to throw an actual punch had all made the subtle feelings glaringly obvious. Especially when you ended up just staring at each other for a solid minute rather than doing the work you intended to do.

Your last training session had you so close you thought he was going to kiss you while you straddled him after successfully pinning him to the ground. Well, he hadn’t and you had hopped, skipped, and leaped out of there a soon as you were done to take a long, cold shower.

Since then you had been ducking out on your training sessions, saying you were busy with your online classes, or telling him you were sick. You had pulled every trick in the book you could think of, and eventually Allison had come sniffing, asking why you hadn’t been by in nearly three weeks.

Thank god she wasn’t a wolf because she would have instantly smelled your lie.

You had edged around it, since you both had a pack meeting to attend and if you spent the time talking to her about it, you’d be late. So with a promise to eventually talk about it, you headed for the meeting where you spent the entire time under the gaze of one Chris Argent.

Fidgeting for what had to be the thirtieth time in the last hour, you tried to get yourself into a comfortable sitting position. You couldn’t, not with those blue eyes practically staring holes in your head. The worst of it? You were planning on going on a date afterwards so you were dressed up nicely for once.

This was probably the first time he had ever seen you in something other than jeans, leggings, or sweatpants, and he probably knew exactly what you were dressed up for. Now you may be hopelessly in love with Chris Argent, but that didn’t mean you were trying your best not to. The whole reason why you were going on this stupid date was to try and forget about him, not because you actually liked the guy you were going with.

You were hoping he was charming, or cute enough to distract you, you didn’t even care of it was only for one night. That’s why you had gone all out on yourself for once. Make up, clothes, heels, hair, you had done it all in hopes to entice your date.

After pulling out a black boat neck long sleeved shirt, you had paired it with a leopard print asymmetrical ruffled skirt that had a slit that went up to your left thigh, flashing a bit of enticing skin. Pairing that combo off with a pair of black, chunky ankle strap heels, and a cute little black handbag, well, you were set. You had even gone the extra step to curl your hair before pulling it up into an updo held by a clip.

It went to show just how desperate you were to find someone else to supplement the love you longed to have. Find someone else, forget about Chris. That was your new mantra.

“So that’s it for the patrols,” Scott finished talking. “If anyone wants to be added or removed text me, other than that, we’re done.”

“About time,” Your muttered underneath your breath before shooting to you heel covered feet and striding towards the door.

“You’re in a hurry tonight,” Derek muttered as you strode passed him. You shot him a look, daring him to say more with your eyes.

“I’m busy,” You snapped out.

“Yeah, not until eight so you and I can have a nice conversation.” Allison spoke up, practically skipping up to your side and taking your arm. Allison pulled you out of the loft and then to a quiet place where you wouldn’t be disturbed. “Well you look hot tonight… got a date?”

“Actually yes, I do.” You returned, crossing your arms over your modest cleavage. “So if I could please leave so I’m not late…”

“You’ve got thirty three minutes,” Allison huffed at you, crossing her own arms and owning up to the fact that she had probably dug up information on you. “So what’s up with you and my dad, Isla? You haven’t been over in three weeks, dad’s been moping and you look like your nonexistent boyfriend broke up with you.”

“Chris does not mope, Allison.” You returned, your eyebrows furrowing at the picture of one Christopher Argent moping. “And like I said, I’ve been busy, classes—“

“Ended four weeks ago, I know when my best friend is avoiding someone. What happened?” Allison said, cutting you off. “You two get into a fight or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, its— Allison it’s probably best if I start learning hunting from someone else. Someone I won’t—“

“Fall in love with?” She offered, cutting you off again. Your eyes went huge and darted around, looking to see if anyone was near and had heard her.

“Allison!” You hissed at her. “You can’t say things like that, especially with those sensitive ears around.”

“It doesn’t make my words any less true, I know you love my dad.” Allison responded with a shrug. “It was weird to think about at first, but now not so much.”

“Alli, he probably doesn’t even like me like that, why would he?” You answered in frustration. “He’s your father for Christ’s sake.”

“So? It’s kind of obvious that he likes you back, and age aside, you two make each other happy, which my dad really needs right now.”

“Allison!” You screeched, your face flushing with heat. “God! Your his daughter and I’m your best friend! That’s just— no! Why do you think I’ve stayed away for the last three weeks!”

“Well, I’m not bothered by it as long as I don’t have to call you mom,” She said with a shrug.”You really should give him a chance, I love both of you and I want you two to be happy.”

“Allison,” Your sighed, resisting the urge to rub your face and smear your make up. “Now really isn’t the time, I’m supposed to be going on a date with another man.”

You started walking for the exit, Allison trailing behind you. Just as you neared the exit, Scott and Stiles appeared with Malia, Chris following shortly behind.

“Oh, that reminds me, can I borrow your phone Isla?” Allison asked as you tried to ignore Chris’s perpetual stare. Yep, he definitely knew something was up with you, and you had a feeling he had caught on to your avoidance.

You plucked your phone from your purse, not questioning why Allison would need yours when she had hers, and handed it over. While Allison did whatever she was going to do on your phone, Scott turned his eyes to you.

“Hey Isla, do you want me to put you down for next Wednesday night?” Scott asked, his eyes peering into yours. Blinking yourself from Chris’s gaze, you looked at Scott before nodding.

“Sure, yeah, Wednesday’s are best for me. It’ll be better than staying home and twiddling my thumbs.” You answered Scott, taking your phone back from Allison. “But I think I have a prior obligation on Friday so I’m going to have to bail on that one.”

“No problem, someone will fill in,” Scott answered before looking at his girlfriend. “Ready to go?”

You didn’t hear Allison’s answer because your phone buzzed, looking down at your purse, you pulled my phone out and checked the screen.

I’m sorry to hear about that, hopefully we’ll be able to schedule some other time. Hope you feel better.

You blinked at the screen, confused by the words, but before you could open the text and figure out what was going on, you heard the sound of Stiles’s Jeep rumbling to life and taking off.

“What!” You exclaimed before hurrying forwards. “Don’t you dare! Stiles!”

You ran out into the parking lot just in time to see the Jeep leave the parking lot, stranding you at the loft. Letting out a sigh, your arms dropped down as you tried to figure out what the hell you were going to do now.

“Need a ride?” You jumped in place at hearing Chris’s voice so close to you. Putting your hand to your racing heart, you reluctantly turned to look up at him.

“I—“ You started before chewing on your red lip. “Well yes, Stiles was supposed to be my ride, but clearly I’ve been ditched. I have— well I mean… I’m supposed to be meeting someone at the nightclub… and Stiles said he’d take me.”

“Since when do you go clubbing?” Chris asked, his eyebrows raised skeptically, before his blue eyes washed down your body for what had to be the thousandth time this night.

“I don’t,” You responded meekly. “But I was invited and thought I’d live a little for once…”

“Come on, I’ll take you,” Chris said, reaching up and placing a hand on your back, steering you towards his SUV. “Last thing I need is for you to be wandering around town dressed like this…”

You didn’t respond to that comment but reluctantly allowed your body to be lead over to his car. You could feel the heat from his hand soak through the thin fabric of your shirt and couldn’t help but shiver. It was just cold enough that his body heat felt wonderful, and you had to resist the urge to stop walking and lean back into his touch.

Reaching his SUV, Chris was gentlemanly enough to open your door for you and shut it when you had climbed onto the seat. Sitting stiffly in the passengers seat, you waited as Chris walked around and got into the drivers seat, turning the car on.

You spent the first five minutes of the drive in uncomfortable silence.

“You look nice,” Chris spoke up, breaking the thunderous silence. Your fingers curled around your handbag.

“Thanks,” You whispered out, your cheeks flushing once more.

“This wouldn’t happen to be a date, would it? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.” He asked as he came to a stop at a red light and turned to look at you. You could only look in his eyes for a few seconds before feeling guilty and looking away.

“I’m not dating anyone… and yes… it is,” You whispered before your phone once again buzzed. You pulled your phone out and looked at the new message.

Check Ur Messages

“What the— Allison?” You questioned, unlocking you phone and going into your messages. While you were checking your messages, Chris pulled into the parking lot of the nightclub and found a spot. A frown appeared on your face as you noticed a bunch of texts on the chat between you and your date you didn’t remember sending, and opening it up, your mouth dropped open.

“Isla?” Chris asked, leaning forwards. “Everything okay?”

The hand holding your phone dropped into your lap.

“Well, I had a date,” You muttered. “Allison texted him back pretending to be me and claimed that I was sick with food poisoning and had to cancel.”

Letting out a drawn out sigh, you leaned back against the seat.

“I went to all this effort to look nice for one, and she canceled it. Why the hell would she do that?”

“It’s not a complete waste… and you always look nice, Isla, no matter what you wear.” Chris mused quietly, letting his hand rest on the steering wheel. “Isla, why have you been canceling our sessions? I thought everything was going great?”

Going great as in you now wanted to jump him? Yeah… Not so much.

“Well my classes—“

“Ended four weeks ago,” Chris spoke up, giving a you soft look with a raised eyebrow. “Allison has been keeping tabs on you for me. You literally have been doing nothing but avoiding me for the last three weeks. I may be old, but I’m not a fool.”

“You’re not that old,” You responded quietly, your cheeks a hot. “And everything is fine, I just think that I should maybe ask Derek or Peter to train me, you know, get a broader experience…”

“Really?” He asked, skepticism in his voice. “Those two? You do realize you are human, Derek might be a better choice but Peter spends half his time staring at your chest or crotch.”

“He does not!” You exclaimed, your blush deepening at his words.

“I’m a guy, Isla,” He said, waving the hand resting on the steering wheel. “I know when he’s doing it.”

“Well, so what?” You huffed, your voice rising. “If it gets the job done then so be it! It’s not like he’s the only one looking!”

“I still don’t understand why you’d rather go to those two!” He argued back. “They’ll snap you like a twig Isla!”

“Again so what!” You fired back, now getting worked up. “Maybe I’ll actually learn a thing or two about fighting a werewolf!”

“You’d really rather learn from them!?”

“I’m not supposed to fall in love with my trainer!” You snapped, not thinking about your words before you spat them out. As soon as you realized what you had said, you felt your heart dropped and the car went silent. Your voice dropped to a whisper as you covered your mouth with one hand. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But you did,” You flinched slightly at his quiet words and your hand slowly reached for the door handle. The door was locked. “And you are not running away before we talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” You said in a hush. “I’m just an idiot who fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have.”

“You’re not an idiot, Isla,” Chris spoke up, his hand reaching over and gently taking yours. “You are beautiful, loyal, comforting, and I have found my life revolving around when you come over.”

“But it’s— Allison’s my best friend, and—“ You dropped your head into your remaining hand as he squeezed the one in his grasp. “What would people think?”

“You think I care what people think?”

“You should, it’s your reputation.” You shot back, giving him a look. You stared at each other for a full minute, and you wondered if your words had finally sunk into his brain. Letting out a breath through your nose, you slipped your hand from his and pressed down on the seatbelt release, letting the straps slide free from you body. “Thanks for the ride, but since I dressed up this nice, I might as well try to put it to good use.”

Just as you fingers went to unlock the door so you could sulk out of the car and pretend that this never happened, you heard Chris’s own seatbelt sliding free. Momentarily stopping your exit, you turned back to him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what he was doing this time.

Within seconds Chris had an arm around your waist and was hauling you across the leather console. With a small squeal of surprise, your hands shot forwards and your fingers sunk into his shirt as you clumsily tottered around, your knees hitting the edges of the drivers seat as you straddled his lap.

Before your brain even had a chance to catch up with the fact that you were no longer sitting in the passengers seat, Chris’s lips were on yours. He was going for broke and not using any ounce of restraint or control.

His scruffy face scraped across your cheeks, gently scratching your skin as he pressed his mouth against yours in an open, far from chaste, kiss. His lips tugged at yours until you relented to his unspoken wishes and opened yours with a soft groan.

As you were pulled into a deeper kiss, you slipped your fingers up his soft shirt to grip his shoulders, needing a way to anchor yourself before you floated away. Chris’s own hands trailed across your body, his left sliding around your back to hold you against his chest while his right slid up the slit in your skirt to rest against your upper thigh.

Months of wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, have his lips pressing against yours, have his hands on your body because he wanted them to, rather than because he was trainingy you. It was all over.

It was better than you could have dreamed of, not just his kisses, making your mind race before tripping and tumbling into a tangled mess. His fingers gently caressing your skin, making goosebumps appear on your skin and electricity run beneath your skin. All you could think about right now was how much you didn’t want him to let you go.

It was only when your lungs were burning that you separated, your face was flushed and your breathing heavier than you would have liked as Chris buried his face into your shoulder, pressing his lips against your bare skin. Your own chin rested on his shoulder as you tried to come up with a logical excuse for that, or a reason why it should be a one and done type of thing.

You came up with nothing, your mind and body only wanted more now that you had a taste.

Straddling his lap with your legs and body squished against his was the most distracting thing you had ever experienced, but at the same time, you didn’t want to move. With a tentative breath, you dropped your chin, resting your forehead on his shoulder while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You are going to be the death of me, Christopher Argent.” You whispered, gently running your fingers across his neck.

“Hopefully not anytime soon, I quite like your company.” Chris responded, brushing his fingers up your back. “And I’d really like to start up your training again. You have three weeks to make up for.”

You couldn’t help the groan of misery at the mention of making up for those three weeks of missing training. Just because he had finally gotten you to admit why you were avoiding him, didn’t mean he was going to start going easy on you, if anything, he might start pushing you harder. Chris chuckled at your groan before pulling back so he was looking at your face.

“I’ll whip you back into shape in no time.” He told you with a cheeky smile.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You moaned out, your head dropping back. You received more chuckles before he pressed another kiss at the edge of your mouth.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to my apartment, since you tried so hard to dress up, I might as well be the one to enjoy it. Plus, we need to have an actual conversation about this.” You waited for him to let go so you could go climbing back into the passengers seat. He didn’t. Clearing your throat, you gave him a teasing smile.

“Chris, you actually need to let me go, because I don’t think you driving with me straddling you would be a good idea.” He let out a huff before releasing you and helping you crawl back into the passengers seat. You put your seatbelt back on as he started the SUV up again. While Chris pulled out of the nightclub parking lot, you started drumming your fingers on your thighs.

Everything was out in the open now, and it felt awkward to you. After fidgeting for what had to be the tenth time in the span of three minutes Chris reached over and grabbed onto your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Your eyes darted to your joined hands resting on your thigh, he knew you all too well.

Curling your fingers around his in response, you relaxed slightly and looked out the window at the passing lights. You knew each other, you were both adults, you could handle this properly.

Standing in the kitchen of Chris’s apartment, you tried not to drum your fingers on the countertop as Chris pulled out two glasses and then a bottle of scotch.

“You planning on getting me smashed?” You questioned as he poured two glasses and then slid one your way. A humor filled smirk flashed across his face.

“You look so wound up that you could be played like a violin, Isla.” Huffing at him, you snatched up the glass and raised it to your lips. You took a careful sip, keeping your face straight as the liquor burned down your throat.

“Can you blame me?” Chris leaned back against the cabinets behind him and studied you. “Chris, you are respected man, a highly respected man at that, there is no way I could ever allow my personal feelings be the cause of your reputation being ruined.”

“Have you ever considered asking my opinion in the matter?” He returned, taking a sip from his glass. No, you had not taken into consideration how he felt because you were convinced that you getting involved him would be life destroying for him.

“No, but—“

“Relationships aren’t one sided, Isla/N, I have a say in it too, and right now, what’s hurting me is you avoiding me.” Your eyes widened and your mouth opened to respond. But any response you could have made was caught in your throat and you just slumped were you stood, wordless. That… hurt to know.

He was right naturally, he pretty much always was. Pursing your lips, you looked down at the glass in your hands.

“We have seventeen years between us, Chris,” You finally whispered out. “I don’t want you dealing with whispers and gossip you don’t deserve.”

The glass in Chris’s hand paused halfway to his mouth as his blue eyes stared at you, he slowly lowered his glass back down to the kitchen counter top. Transfixed with every little moment of his body, you watched as he straightened up and started prowling towards you.

You couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit being hunted down by a fox, and your feet agreed with that statement. Stepping backwards, you backpedaled as Chris advanced until your butt hit his countertop and your hands snapped to steady yourself. Blindly setting your glass down on the counter top, you stared up into Chris’s eyes as he placed his hands next to you, caging you in.

“Work with me, Isla, please,” Chris asked softly, somehow managing to look pleading despite being having an ‘alpha male’ air to him. Your lips parted as you stumbled to respond, your face heating up while a light blush dusted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.

“You don’t play fair,” You finally managed to whisper out, your voice just as weak as your knees were feeling at the moment. A relenting sigh passed through your lips before you responded. “But if this is what you really—“

He was on you before you could complete your sentence, his mouth instantly claiming yours as he moved a hand to the center of your back and pulled your body against his. Gasping into his mouth, your eyelids flickered closed when his tongue traced your lower lip, begging for entrance. Whimpering slightly when Chris further nipped at your lip, you parted your lips just enough for him to gain entrance.

Chris dove in, stealing the breath your lungs while hungrily tasting every inch of this kiss he could get. He was insatiable taking everything you had to give and then more, and when his tongue started teasing yours, a flare of fire burned up from the core of you body. Letting out a moan, your right hand jerked up to grab a hold of his bicep, your nails digging as your brain literally started to short circuit.

All you could think about was the hand splayed on your back, so big and strong, the smell of musk invading your senses, how your skin prickled from the cold room. You had never wanted this man more than you did right now and it was a little scary to think that you could actually have him.

Despite Chris kissing the daylights out of you and dominating your mouth like no other man or boy had before, you still managed to register his other hand slipping beneath your skirt to caress your outer thigh. Groaning at the light touch, your nails dug into his muscles when he started to slide his fingers up.

Between his mouth and his fingers lightly drawing up your leg, getting higher and higher, you didn’t know what to do or what to think. You felt like you were caught between feeling dazed and overwhelmed, and wanting more. His fingers grazed the thin strap of the thong you had bravely pulled on tonight, slipping beneath the thin strap and running along your skin.

Whimpering from his touch, your eyes nearly rolled back when his deft fingers slipped inwards to brush through your folds. That sent a blast of fire through your belly and had your hips jerking while your head dropped back, your lips detaching as a low moan poured out of your mouth. Chris let out a pleased chuckle before bending down to press open mouthed kisses along the delicate skin just underneath your jaw.

Your chest heaved against his, a clear indication at how worked up he could get you with a couple of kisses and light touches. Chris continued to stroke his fingers while you dug your fingernails into his arm even harder and tried not to wiggle around. Every pass he made against your clit had your trembles increasing and your breath more ragged.

It was evident how undone you were becoming between your trembles, your panting, and your white knuckle grip on both his arm and the counter top. Your neck was quickly becoming a center of pleasure with just a kiss of burn from Chris’s stubble.

“Chris please,” You breathed out and rising on your toes. Your body alight with burning desire and a need for more consuming your every thought.

“Do you need me like I need you?” Chris questioned, brushing his lips up the column of your neck until you were once again gazing at each other in the eyes. “Do you want this as much as I do?”

Your puffy lips were wobbly as you stuttered to get words out, he really did mean every word he said. Well he had his fingers shoved into your thong and practically in your body, you’d think that would be more than enough evidence for your brain to figure out that he was deadly serious.

“Yes,” You whimpered, fully giving into your desires for once. Chris let out a sigh of relief before withdrawing his hand from your thong. Your mouth practically dropped open, he makes you finally say yes and he pulls away!?

Smirking at your apparent shock, Chris raised his fingers and stuck them into his mouth, licking the wetness. Your cheeks burned with heat as your eyes went wide, his smirk remained on his lips well after he finished cleaning his fingers. The hand pressing into your back, slipped down, over your ass to just underneath your asscheeks where he picked you up against his chest.

Lurching forwards slightly, you let the counter top go to clutch at his shoulder while he wrapped his other arm around your back. Holding your body against his, Chris started walking through the apartment. Releasing his muscled arm, you lifted your hand to run your fingers down his scruffy face.

“I’m sorry,” You told him quietly as you brushed your fingers along his jaw. His blue eyes met yours and a forgiving smile stretched across his sinful lips.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Isla/N, you were trying to protect me, I can’t be mad at you for that.” Chris answered with a light chuckle.

“Well that’s good because you’ve got me so wet and horny right now I might scream if you don’t do something about it.” His smile turned into a smirk as he entered his bedroom.

“Believe me, Isla, I’ll have you screaming but not because I’ve left you needy.” Chris replied, brushing his nose against yours before abruptly letting you go. Letting out a gasp as you dropped back, your arms flailed for a second or two before you landed on the bed. Staring up into Chris’s face, your eyes remained connected while his hands gently took hold of your left leg and his fingers started undoing the straps of your black chunky wedges.

Holding your ankle, he pulled the heel free from your foot, his fingers trailing over the bottom of your foot making it jerk a little in his grasp. Breathing steadily through your parted lips, you watched as he repeated the process with your right leg.

With your shoes off, Chris climbed back up to jerk my sweater over your head, revealing your lace bra that matched the scanty lace thong still hidden by your skirt. But Chris didn’t reach for any more of your clothing articles. Instead he chose to push your back flat against the sheets to press his mouth against the tops of your breasts spilling out of your bra.

It was a rare occasion you had decided to wear a push up bra, you had full intentions to get laid tonight just to forget about your Christopher Argent woes. Jokes on you because said man was now lavishing your chest with sharp little kisses that left little marks behind. The sting from his little bites followed by the soothing feeling of his tongue flicking across your skin quickly reduced you to a softly moaning mess beneath him and you weren’t even naked yet.

Your hands went above your head to latch onto the silky sheets, needing something to hold while he mercilessly explored your chest. All lovers before Chris pale in comparison already, boys thinking they were men were only interested in getting in and then off as quickly as possible. But not Chris.

He was taking his time, exploring your body, mapping it out beneath his fingers and mouth, acquainting himself with what your had to offer. Which was everything. When he wasn’t kissing or tugging at your skin, his breath was tickling your skin until goosebumps appeared.

Chris moved up your chest, his tongue dipping into the grooves above your collar bones. His hands settled on your bare sides and started to slide around to your back, heading for the bra strap in the middle of your back. Arching your back so his fingers could undo the three hooks, you closed your eyes and breathed out slowly as each hook came free.

When the bra snapped open and the straps on your shoulders went slack, a streak of nervousness went through you. You didn’t have time to stew in the ‘what ifs’ because Chris was pulling your bra free from your shoulders and arms. He tossed it to the floor and took a moment to just hover over you, staring down at your bared chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chris murmured before bending down to capture your lips once more. His mouth nipped at yours, tugging on your lower lip until you parted your lips and he could kiss you deeper. Abandoning your grip on the sheets, your hands snapped around to take his face in hand. Just the feel of his skin and stubble beneath your fingertips felt heavenly.

Every brush of skin on skin contact had you pulling him closer and wanting more. While you were hungrily kissing each other, you started tugging his shirt up, revealing toned stomach and sculpted muscles. Being a hunter sure paid off… Pulling apart, you ripped his shirt off his body, ruffling his hair as you chucked the offending material to the floor.

You hands snaked underneath his arms to yank him down so he was flush against your body. Feeling his skin pressed against yours was serendipitous. While you were digging your fingertips into his back, Chris was finally working his own hands down your sides to pick at the waistline of your skirt.

Lifting your hips, the leopard print fabric was dragged down from your waist, over your hips, and flicked from your legs. Cold air hit your wet thong and thighs, drawing a shiver up your spine and pulling a throaty sigh from your lips.

“Matching set?” Chris questioned, his lips curving into a smirk as his eyebrow rose. You gave him a defiant smirk back. His hand landed on your thigh and his thumb started brushing up against your sensitive inner leg. “You really are asking for it, aren’t you?”

“Come on,” You breathed as you sank your nails into his belt, tugging at it to make a point. “You’ve made your point already, Christopher, I need you.”

“Don’t worry, Isla,”Chris said as he bent down to place a line of kisses along your collar bone. “I’ll save the teasing for a later date.”

He withdrew his hands and the glorious sounds of a belt being undone reached your ears. Your blood hummed in your veins while your eyes focused on staying connected with Chris’s blue ones. The sound of metal and jeans hitting the floor was music to your ears and you practically screamed with joy when Chris’s hands grabbed your legs and yanked your body closer to the edge of the bed.

A soft moan left your lips as he bent down to kiss a fiery trail across your hip bone, Chris’s mouth then started to brush across the low edge of your thong. You barely hand time to blink before his fingers were hooking around the straps and yanking the material down your legs.

You couldn’t close the space between your bodies fast enough, reaching up to slip your hands underneath his arms, you pulled him back down for a passionate kiss. Chris’s own hands went to your hips as he kissed you back, your mouths working against each other like you had hours spent exploring each other, not minutes.

Hands briefly leaving your hips, a partial smile appeared on your lips at the sound of a condom being ripped open. Oh well, you could tell him later…

When the tip of his cock brushed against your folds, you shuddered in his grasp and let out a breathy moan against his lips. Chris devoured each and every sound that came forth from your throat, and your noises only increased when he started pushing in.

Your head dropped back into the sheets as your back arched, your walls burning slightly as they stretched. You will admit, you hadn’t thought this entirely through. You were used to boys caught between teen and adult who thought their dick was bigger than the next guy. You were totally unprepared for what it felt like being with a real man.

Breathing heavily while trying to keep yourself fully relaxed, you hugged Chris’s body against your, burying your face in his shoulder as he ran his lips along your neck whispering praises.

“You’re so unfairly perfect,” You complained breathlessly, curling your nails into his shoulders when he bottomed out and just stayed there, letting your body fully adjust. Chris chuckled in your ear before pressing a few kisses on the tender skin.

“It’s called experience and knowing how to treat a woman right, Isla.” Chris responded while moving his hot and sinful lips along your jaw. Sighing out, you opened your eyes to gaze up into his burning blue ones.

“If you are trying to prove a point, you already have,” His lips twitched into that half smile of his you loved before he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t need to prove a point anymore,” He answered, your noses brushing while he released one of your hips to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed across your kiss swollen lips. “I only wanted you to give me a chance.”

“Your cock is stuffed so far in my body I feel liked a stuffed turkey, I think that you’ve more than just made a point.” You stated boldly with a wiggle of your eyebrow. His own eyebrow rose at your words. “Fuck me already.”

“You kiss your mother with that dirty mouth Miss Y/L/N?” He questioned with a teasing smile. You giggled in return, your lips stretching into a devious grin.

“What mommy dearest doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.” You returned with a shrug of your shoulders. “Now are you going to put those delicious muscles to work? I haven’t got all day…”

“So demanding,” Chris murmured before complying with your demands and wishes. Keeping his intense blue eyes locked with yours, he pulled back almost to the point of leaving you high and dry before thrusting forwards. Your mouth dropped open as you let out a loud groan, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Chris pushed the hair back from your face before angling his lips back to yours. Pressing yours lips firmly against his, you ran your tongue over his upper lip. You had never kissed a man quite like Christopher Argent, every time you gave an inch, he took a mile and left you skydiving with land nowhere in sight.

Wrapping your legs around his torso, you held onto him while trying not to be overwhelmed by both physical and emotional feelings that consumed your very being. Lost in a world of reverie and pleasure, your heart rate increased along with the blood pumping through your veins. Chris’s mouth pulled away from you and started trailing down your neck, sucking possessive marks on the areas of your skin that were most sensitive.

You had always pegged Christopher Argent as a gentle lover, that was true and you were sure he could be. But not when you’ve been skirting around him for months, not willing to take things further than friendship. Giving into his touch tonight showed you the darker side of him, the possessive, rough, yet fully satisfying love.

You would not be walking away from this bed unsatisfied, if you would be able to walk period.

Fingers dug into your hair, pulling your head back as Chris’s other hand brushed down your back to take a hand full of your ass and give it a squeeze.

“You are so perfect, Isla,” Chris rumbled against your neck before drawing his mouth down to your breasts, in an instant his mouth was covering one of your nipples once more. His hot mouth combined with hard thrusts had your chest arching to him while your mouth parted to release whimpers.

Gasping and trembling beneath his body, you could only anticipate the orgasm that was slowly building in the core of your body. Your back slid up the sheets every time your pelvises crashed against each other. With your face faced against his shoulders, you slipped a hand to the back of his neck and pressed his face to the breast he was currently lavishing like it was the best damn thing he had ever put in his mouth.

When your orgasm finally hit you, you threw your head back as you writhed underneath his hot touch. You knew your mouth was open but you couldn’t hear what sounds you were making because the ringing in your ears over took all other sounds. Chest heaving, you panted for breath while Chris ripped his mouth from your nipple and growled.

His own body jerked while he chased his own orgasm, finally slumping down where he placed a few kisses on your marked neck. It was silent for a few moments as you both breathed heavily. Your hand stroked through his short hair as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you that I have an implant and you could’ve forgone the condom?” The exaggerated groan/sigh that came from his lips was the exact answer you needed, and down right laughable.

“It took me who knows how long to even kiss you, and you’re telling me I could have come inside you?” Chris questioned before sinking his teeth into your neck lightly. “You are a teasing little shit, you know that?”

The giggles that poured out of your mouth where unstoppable as you snorted in laughter, slapping a hand over your mouth to smother your enjoyment of his exasperation.

“Next time, Christopher, next time,” You giggled while curling your fingers against his scalp. “I owe you a couple of dates…”

“Yes, you do,” He responded with a sated sigh. “But at the moment all I want is to hold you in my arms.”

“Great, cause at the moment all I feel like doing is lying here.” You responded while leaning your cheek against his head. Chris pressed a few more kisses on your neck before raising his head and brushing his fingers through your now messy hair.

“Why don’t you tuck yourself in, I need to lock up.” Chris murmured, giving your head one last kiss before pulling away. You let out a groan as he slipped from your body and his heat disappeared. Chris laughed as you propped yourself up and rubbed your prickling arms.

Watching as he went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, your view of his ass quickly disappeared (much to your disappointment), and next came out a shirt. But rather than diminish that view, he tossed the shirt your way. Catching the soft material before it hit your face, your raised an eyebrow and looked down at it.

“You’re trusting me with one of your favorite shirts?” You questioned him as you held the soft material up in front of you. It certainly looked like it would feel divine on your skin, and it was a bonus that it smelled like Chris.

“Something tells me you’ll look better in it than I ever will,” Chris returned with that little smirk of his tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Put that on, I want you under the covers by the time I’m back.”

“Someone’s feeling bossy,” You huffed before pulling the shirt on over your head. Chris made a noise of approval as you crossed your arms and gave him a “are you happy now” look, before leaving the room. Grumbling underneath your breath, you turned around and crawled to the head of the bed.

Pulling back the covers, you climbed underneath the sheets and rolled onto your side, letting out a sigh as your body ached in satisfaction. Well tonight certainly hadn’t ended like you were expecting and you were still slightly hesitant with the end result, but a promise was a promise and you would give the two of you a shot.

It had to have been only a few minutes before the lights in the hall turned off and the bed moved slightly as Chris climbed in to join you. Scooting over to where you were laying, Chris slung an arm over your waist before burying his nose in your neck.

“You do realize that Allison is never, ever, going to let me forget this, right?” You questioned sleepily as you wove your fingers with the hand resting on your stomach. He chuckled against your neck and hugged your body closer to his chest.

“That’s what you get for being best friends with my daughter, Isla,” Chris answered smugly while you groaned softly at the implications. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not explaining this one to her.”

“Isla, I’m pretty sure my daughter knew what she was doing when she sent that text and had everyone ditch you.”

“So my best friend knows I slept with her father? Great, just great.”

“At least we don’t have to tell her.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better Christopher!”

“We’ll deal with it in the morning, now go to sleep.”

“You are so bossy,”

“Isla!”

“What!?” You huffed at him before wiggling backwards to tuck yourself as far into his chest as you could. Sighing, you closed your eyes. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, Is.” Chris murmured, burying his face in your hair.

Date Published: 6/5/22

Last Edit: 6/5/22

#chris argent x reader #chris argent #teen wolf

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freedomfireflies · 9 months ago

Text

Knockout Harry and Cherry love going to the farmers market every Sunday for fresh ingredients and sunshine! Harry follows her around from booth to booth as she talks to the venders, collects new ingredients, squeals over all the recipes she's gonna make!

And then they go to the park and feed the ducks before coming home so she can start on all these new ideas! She gets to work kneading her dough, sprinkling her cinnamon, writing in her little recipe book for her future kids! And Harry sits at the counter and just watches her with a giant grin on her face! His chin in his hand while she hums along to some classic oldies like Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald!

And he definitely helps when she asks him! He's not the best cook but he can make a mean chicken croissant dish!! So he starts on that for dinner while she does dessert! And then they spend the evening cuddled up on the couch after cleaning everything up! Reading together as she leans into him and he grins because her lips move while she reads and he thinks it's the cutest ever hehe

#knockout concept #harry and cherry #⭐️#honestly they remind me a lot of Nara and Lucky Blue and I honestly love that bc I love those two #AND IT MAKES ME SQUEAL!! 😭💞

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shitouttabuck · 1 year ago

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Buddie unintentional cuddles can power me through a whole week, so the prompt 3. Person A waking up to Person B curled up and sleeping on top of them really spoke to me <3

hiya thank u frida and @colonoscopys for sendin this one in (and an anon too!!!) very much distracted me from my wisdom tooth woes. i need to add a disclaimer that this is NOT kink it’s just sleepy drunkenness please trust me lol (rated t even!!!! not horny!!!!!!! just unbelievably stupid!!!!)

bed-sharing prompts: person A waking up to person B curled up and sleeping on top of them

put on a slow dumb show for you | 2.2k | read under cut or on ao3

Buck wakes with the same unshiftable heaviness on his chest that he gets mid-panic attack. Except—his body is incredibly confused, because while the physical pressure is bearing down, making breathing a struggle, every other cell in his body is telling him the opposite: no reason to panic, he’s warm and swaddled and safer than he’s ever been.

His brain scrambles to organise this juxtaposition of sensations. The room is dark, and not unfamiliar, even if he’s spent the night in here less than a handful of times. Eddie’s digital alarm clock is blinking at him, and Eddie’s recently mounted décor of three framed photographs on the far wall is facing him, and Eddie’s entire fucking body is draped over Buck’s and crushing the breath out of him.

Oh. Okay. The second half of his cells were right, then—he’s safe. His heart can stop racing now. And it does, a bit.

But his brain keeps reaching for puzzle pieces, laying them out for assessment before him. His mouth tastes like he licked the bottom of a public trash can, and there’s a sharp twinge behind his temple, and he feels more than a little nauseous.

That’ll be the last five tequila shots Ravi pressed into his hands pre-karaoke. Eddie’d just stumbled off stage, arm-in-arm with Karen, fresh off a You’re Still The One duet that had Karen sniffling half-way through and making grabby-hands at an amused but equally-smitten Hen. Buck had only enough time to whoop as Eddie curtsied dramatically before they were calling his name.

Buck’s good at a lot of things, but singing is not one of them. He’d whined and stammered and straight-up crawled under the table before Ravi, sweet, evil Ravi, had ducked down to join him with a tray of shots. After that is—a bit of a blur, to be honest. There was some Carly Rae Jepsen, maybe? He remembers sliding back into their booth next to Eddie and watching the rest of their friends be disgustingly romantic.

That, coupled with the best friend he’s a little unbearably in love with singing the most hopeful love song ever written, is just a recipe for Buck’s heart to get a little messy. And maybe it made him bolder with his affection than usual? Clingier, anyway. He must’ve been pretty needy for Eddie to let him crash in his bed. But Eddie’s always making sure Buck has what he needs, so that isn’t anything new. And Eddie must’ve been pretty wasted too, if this total lack of personal space is any indication.

Buck doesn’t think Eddie’ll mind waking up like this—a perk of having a physically affectionate straight best friend is that he’s mostly oblivious to a classic no homo situation. He breathes deep, weight on top of him grounding instead of suffocating, lets himself tentatively wrap an arm around Eddie to hold him steady as his chest rises with the depth of his inhale, and closes his eyes again.

Except Eddie snuffles and shifts and then jams his knee directly into Buck’s bladder. After the drinks he put away tonight? Buck’s dangerously full bladder.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, desperately trying to shift Eddie to the side. “Oh—fuck.” He clenches—everything, really, because he’s too old to wet the bed and too fond of the life he has to wet Eddie’s bed, as the aftermath of that really only involves fleeing the country.

In the end, fear of that outweighs any qualms he has about waking a peacefully slumbering Eddie, and he all but shoves him off, gasping a breath of relief when Eddie’s weight shifts from his bladder to his thighs.

“Whu—what?” Eddie slurs, scrambling up with a pinched expression. “Buck? What’s wrong?” He sits up clumsily, straddling Buck’s thighs.

“Nothing,” Buck says, voice strained. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—really need to piss. And…” He gestures uselessly between them, face contorted in apology.

“Oh,” Eddie frowns. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Buck echoes, feeling hysterical. “Um, I’m gonna…” He tries to tug his legs free from under Eddie and Eddie clambers off obligingly.

Buck swings himself out of bed and hurries down the hall to the bathroom, cursing himself for everything from waking Eddie to ruining what could’ve been the cuddle session of his dreams to going and fucking falling in love with his best friend in the first place.

He lets the door swing shut behind him and absentmindedly lifts the toilet seat, shoving a hand into his boxers and then just about leaping a foot in the air when the door squeaks open again and Eddie shuffles over to stand behind him, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder.

“Um,” Buck says, feeling dizzy for reasons that are only partly alcohol related. “Uh.”

“D’you need a hand?” Eddie asks sleepily.

Buck laughs nervously, frozen facing the wall with his hand down his boxers. “Uh. What?”

Eddie yawns, muffling the back-half of it into Buck’s shoulder and crowding closer, plastering himself along Buck’s back. Does Buck have alcohol poisoning? Is this the tequila version of an absinthe hallucination?

“D’you need me to hold it?” Eddie clarifies, nuzzling Buck’s shoulder gently.

Buck chokes on his own spit, body buckling as he pulls his hand out his underwear to thump his own chest. No, he skipped straight past the alcohol poisoning, he’s dead, not even a coma could dream this up.

Eddie steps back, frowning in concern when Buck finally spins to face him, eyes wide. His whole body is taut, stark contrast to the sleepy slump of Eddie’s shoulders.

“Do I—what?” he manages.

“Sorry, I wasn’t, like, trying to baby you,” Eddie says, looking unsure. “But after earlier—”

“Earlier,” Buck echoes. Eddie’s gaze has dropped to south of Buck’s navel, where his boxers have rucked up enough to leave a considerable amount of his happy trail on display. He yanks the waistband up quickly, and Eddie’s head snaps up too, cheeks dusted pink. Then his face, his perfect, beautiful face, falls.

“Wait, Buck—do you not remember? After karaoke?” he asks, taking a step back. “Oh, I—I didn’t think you were that drunk.”

“I wasn’t,” Buck insists, racking his brain, and oh.

The tequila-soaked memory swims up, Buck desperate for the toilet and stubborn about being able to get there himself, despite tripping over his stupid Bambi legs not two steps from their table. Eddie laughing and slinging an arm around him, half-carrying him to the men’s room. Buck standing in front of the urinal, frowning and arms flopping helplessly at his sides.

“Eddie,” he’d whined. “My hands aren’t working.”

Eddie’d laughed again, fond and warm, and asked if he wanted to sit in a stall.

“No,” Buck had pouted. “My zip…” He’d turned to Eddie, lopsided grin and beseeching eyes, and Eddie’d shaken his head and come to stand behind him. He’d undone Buck’s zipper and asked, “Alright?” and Buck had pouted some more.

“Can you help?” he’d asked, mortifyingly pathetic. Eddie’d raised an eyebrow and snorted, and then Buck had said, “Eddieee. These are my nice jeans. My hands don’t work. Your hands are perfect.”

Eddie’d muttered, “Might as well happen like this,” and slipped a hand into Buck’s jeans and—ah. Held his dick while he peed.

“Oh,” Buck says now, voice small. “Fuck, Eds, I’m sorry.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, somewhat blearily. “Why? I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, but I know—I don’t think we’re on the same page. I don’t—” Buck closes his eyes and presses the heels of his palms into them. “I don’t think it meant the same thing for us.”

“Oh,” Eddie’s face is suddenly unreadable. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes another step back. Buck wants to cry. He basically tricked his best friend into touching him—doesn’t matter if Eddie did it platonically, because drunk or not, genuinely needing help to piss or not, Buck’s pretty sure his own intentions were not all that innocent.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” he says. “I was drunk as hell—that’s not an excuse, but it won’t happen again. I—I’ll be better at keeping it to myself. The last thing I ever want is to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”

Something passes over Eddie’s face. “Wait,” he says slowly, “you asked me to hold your dick as friends?” There’s an uncertain lilt to the question, like he truly doesn’t know what the answer is anymore.

“Uh,” Buck says. He could use the confusion to wrestle the cat back into the bag and then ship said bag one-way to Nicaragua, but Eddie’s looking a little lost, arms crossed in his black vest and boxers and mismatched socks. Buck can’t be the cause of that. “No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I swear I wasn’t trying to trick you. I was just really drunk.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, stepping forward again and reaching out to tug Buck in by the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s the problem then?” He slides a warm hand under Buck’s shirt, smoothing it across his skin.

Buck inhales sharply, blood rushing to his brain and cheeks and cock so quickly he reaches for the porcelain toilet tank behind him to steady himself. “W-wait. Were you holding my dick as friends?”

Eddie blinks at him, disbelief slowly overtaking the slack sleepiness of his facial muscles. “You thought—is that generally something your friends do for you?”

“No, but…” Buck falters. “Why—why did you, then? Why else would you…”

“I was holding your dick because I want to kiss it,” Eddie snaps, and then claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. “I want to kiss you,” he amends. “You, not your—I mean, sure, that too, but. Can you say something.”

The many million times Buck has daydreamed and fantasised and wished for this, he’s never anticipated fuzzy patches in his memory of it. But these things are clear: waking up with Eddie plastered to him like he wants to touch Buck at every possible point, Eddie following him in here unprompted and pressing up against him with unchecked affection, because even in his sleepy state Eddie just wants to make sure Buck has what he needs, even if what he needs is help holding his dick in a context that’s soft and sleepy and miles from sexual.

“You came in here to hold my dick,” he says, grin spreading.

Eddie’s cheeks are so rosy, rosier than they’d been with the flush of alcohol, even. “I came in here because I didn’t want your uncoordinated drunk ass pissing all over my bathroom.”

“Aw, Eds, you romantic,” Buck says, stepping closer. Eddie sighs exasperatedly, tilting his face up expectantly anyway. But, oh—

“Did we kiss already?” Buck asks, heart dropping. “Do I not remember?”

Eddie brings up one large palm to rub Buck’s sternum gently. “Nah. Didn’t seem like the right time. I kinda—I wanted to do that not-drunk.”

“Oh,” Buck says, sagging with relief. “Good.” Eddie gives him a sleepy, wonky smile, and Buck says, “I’m not drunk now.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, stepping back and patting Buck’s chest. “Nope, just hungover and harbouring the most toxic tequila-flavoured morning breath anyone’s ever had.”

“Don’t forget desperate to pee,” Buck grins. “You gonna help a guy out?” He flaps his arms limply, batting his lashes at Eddie.

Eddie grumbles unintelligibly, lips twitching with amusement as he bodily rearranges Buck to face the toilet again. Buck melts back into the cradle of his arms, safe and sleepy and sated enough that his dick doesn’t do any more than he needs it to right now, even with Eddie’s warm hand wrapped around it.

They stumble back to bed, Buck belatedly remembering he’s not washed his hands but deciding not to care if Eddie doesn’t, and when Buck flops down, Eddie’s right back on top of him.

Buck wheezes as the breath’s punched out of his lungs, and it becomes a laugh, and this time he wraps both arms firmly around Eddie to hold him tight. Eddie exhales into the crook of his neck, breath hot and a little gross, and then lifts his head to press a close-mouthed kiss to the corner of Buck’s lips.

“This one doesn’t count,” he murmurs against Buck’s cheek. “I just can’t believe you thought I wanted to hold your dick as friends, so. It’s an almost-kiss. An IOU. Tomorrow I’m gonna kiss you till one of us passes out. Not as friends.”

“As enemies,” Buck whispers solemnly and then grunts when Eddie digs an elbow into his ribs. “As anything you want, s’long as I can keep the kissing and the dick-holding and—this.” He tightens his arms around Eddie, feeling his chest reverberate against Buck’s as he laughs.

“Deal,” he agrees, nestling closer, messy hair getting in Buck’s mouth as he shifts. “But just so you know what I want—and I don’t mean to skip ahead—though I guess we’re doing the regular dating bases all out of order anyway—” He sighs, deep and satisfied as he gets comfortable, and says, “I’m ready to have and to dick-hold you every day of the week, you know?”

Buck didn’t know, but now he does, and in eleven months’ time when he and Eddie are saying these words in front of their friends and family, sans penis, not one single person can blame him for lurching forward and kissing the adoring smirk off Eddie’s face miles before poor ordained Bobby gives him the go-ahead. Doing true love in order is overrated, anyway.

#911 fic #buddie fic #this might be the silliest thing ive ever written im so sorry frida and rain #911 #buddie #i was gonna say i have no defense for this bc the only painkillers i’m on are ibuprofen and paracetamol #but turns out i’ve had a fever all afternoon so let’s conveniently blame cognitive impairment for whatever this is yeah #writing tag #im posting it to ao3 because its over 2k but like. perhaps it shouldnt be immortalised over there.#bed sharing prompts #mine

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five-and-dimes · 19 days ago

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47 & 50 for the ao3 asks pls!!

47. Shout out an incomplete fic you read this year

Oooh I'm going to shout out... many actually lol. I have a lot that I go back and reread frequently, and I have them open on my phone and tell myself I need to leave long comments about how much I love them regardless of completion and then I forget until I'm in the middle of work. For that, I am truly truly sorry to all these authors. These shout outs do not negate my plan to leave proper comment, promise!!

call your boy a book the way i want to get between his covers by @softest-punk (Notting Hill AU, Hob Gadling, actor, newly out, ducks into a second-hand bookshop while running from the paparazzi. Inside he finds Dream, who might be slightly magic, is definitely beautiful, and hasn't seen a single one of his films. Naturally, he falls in love instantly. It's the happily ever after he's got to work on.)

their choicest and most rare invention by @beatnikfreakiswriting (Early Modern AU, London, June 7th, 1592. Hob Gadling sees a young man on stage, and falls in love. London, June 7th, 1604. Hob Gadling returns from Amsterdam, alone in the world but for his grief, and his player who yet treads the boards.

would you go along with someone like me? by @hardly-an-escape (College AU, Hob is a freshman history major and a first generation college student, while Morpheus is completing a graduate degree in poetry. When they're crammed into a small room together due to a shortage of on-campus housing, it seems like an odd couple situation at best and a recipe for disaster at worst. But as the months go by, mutual respect turns into real friendship. And then... something happens that Hob never expected.)

Ten Dates by @kydrogendragon (Human AU, Dream makes a bet with Death that involves going on ten dates with a man he meets at a bar in order to get his sister to stop meddling in his love life. A fake dating fic where only one person knows it's fake.)

wild horses by @delta-pavonis (Human AU, Hob is a biker who runs a gay bar, and starts running into another mysterious biker on his occasional star gazing trips.)

Like Real People Do by @pellaaearien (Sequel to "Another Word For Ache", Getting together is just the start of the story. Any relationship takes work, and Hob isn't about to back down. Come hell or high water, nothing is going to stop him being there for Dream. He probably should have guessed how very literal that was going to turn out to be.

Whew okay I'll stop there. I love all of you 💕

50. You're favorite comment you left or received this year

Can't possibly choose an individual one, but a lot of people commented on "Sunbeam" specifically to let me know that they were skeptical about the au but still read it because they liked my writing and ended up enjoying it! I was so flattered that people were willing to give something that wasn't usually their jam a chance just because they liked my writing 🥺💕

#fic rec #lots of fic recs lol

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 8 months ago

Text

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 4b

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 3390

TW: Angst; end of relationship drama.

AN: The prompt was "I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!"

Sonny wasn’t sure that there was anything more he could do, but he thought about you all the time. As a public defender, there was always a good chance that you’d drift through the precinct, your heels clicking on the tiled floor and your jaw set and ready to brawl with Barba. When it happened, Sonny could only watch in admiration at how relentless you were.

And if he enjoyed the way your various twill or Italian wool skirts fit you like a glove, no one needed to know about that other than god and the priest who heard his confession.

He didn’t have anyone to talk to, really. Amanda was a lost cause, too wrapped up in her own issues. And Sonny wondered if she’d ever really loved anyone or been in a real relationship. She seemed to go through men – no shame – but there was no common ground between that and a committed relationship.

The best support he had was Bella and, god help him, her fiancée Tommy. Sonny had never been much of a fan of Tommy’s, but the man had gotten his life in order after a stint in jail for drug charges. He worked hard and loved Bella, which was the best Sonny could hope for his sister. And now that she was pregnant, he hoped it would be enough.

Sonny went over to the couple’s place one Saturday night to cook for them. Tommy was a lost cause in the kitchen, and Bella was well into the third trimester – complete with swollen feet and a ravenous appetite for their ma’s chicken marsala recipe. Sonny was only too happy to oblige.

After dinner (said chicken marsala, a mixed green salad, and crusty rolls – all wolfed down by Bella with an appetite that made Sonny smile), the trio sat in the tiny living room and sipped the rest of the red wine that Sonny had brought. Bella helped herself to half a glass; Sonny had objected, but Bella had given him an earful about how her doctor said that half a glass of red had heart benefits that outweighed the negligible potential bad side effects, and furthermore, if he was such a fucking expert on pregnancy, he was more than welcome to carry the future Baby Sullivan for the next month and a half. Sonny had looked to Tommy for support halfway through her tirade, but the man wisely averted his eyes and carefully studied the label of the wine bottle until Bella was spent.

There was a heavy silence for a moment, then Sonny’s younger sister asked, as if she hadn’t just yelled at him, how Sonny was doing. Just like when they were kids: screaming and pinching each other one minute, friends the next.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but Bella saw right through it.

“Liar. You look tired. You sleeping?”

Sonny shrugged. “Usually. Some of the stuff I see at work makes it hard.”

Tommy made a sympathetic noise – he had been assaulted repeatedly by his own parole officer and was in therapy as a result, so he knew at least a taste of what SVU dealt with.

“You need someone to go home to,” Bella declared with authority.

Sonny winced and tried to hide it behind a sip of wine, but his sister caught it.

“You seeing anyone?” she asked. “It’s been a while since you got dumped.”

He ducked his head and considered not telling Bella about your recent reappearance in his life but decided to go ahead and tell her. She’d find out anyway, and maybe she could offer some insight from the female perspective. When you’d broken up with him over a year ago, Sonny had leaned heavily on his younger sister, crying to her about the loss of you.

So he told her all the news: how you marched into the precinct one day as a public defender, how you went to lunch with him and accused him of emotionally cheating with Amanda, how you made polite small talk with him and sometimes looked sad when you saw him. How he didn’t know what to do now.

“She probably still has my number blocked,” he finished. “And I doubt she’ll go to another lunch with me. I see her all the time now but can’t get through to her. I wish…I wish I could just let her know how I really feel.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands down across his face. “I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!”

Tommy made that sympathetic clucking again, and Bella looked sad too. You had only met Sonny’s entire family once, but you’d spent time with Bella a handful of times after the two of you clicked instantly. Sonny had pictured a future where the two of you were married, and Bella and Tommy were married, and your respective children could grow up together, cousins as close as siblings.

“Well, if you can’t talk to her or call her, you could always write her a letter,” Tommy offered. He rarely spoke up at Carisi gatherings, and both Sonny and Bella looked at him in surprise. Tommy shrugged. “You know, at least you can get your feelings out on paper. You don’t have to send the letter. But if you do….” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

Bella cocked her head at her fiancée. “That’s actually a good idea,” she said, and Tommy beamed. They both turned and looked at Sonny expectantly.

“Maybe,” he conceded.

“C’mon,” Bella wheedled. She punched him lightly in the arm. “Girls love romantic gestures like that. And who writes love letters anymore?”

“Maybe,” he repeated, but he was already composing the opening lines.

-----

He typed out all of the drafts on his personal laptop, revising and rewriting and sometimes deleting and starting over entirely. It took him a week to get a final version ready.

He thought about Bella’s line about romantic gestures and stopped at a stationary store. He bought some nice, heavy paper edged in a dark blue that reminded him of the sweater you were wearing when he first met you. He bought a nice pen too, and then he got to work.

If you hadn’t gone to that lunch with him and opened up a bit about where you had been when you broke up with him, Sonny would never even consider writing you a letter. But you had, and it had given him a slender bit of hope that you’d be open to hearing more from him.

It took a few tries. His cursive was out of practice, and the first few attempts resulted in misspellings and ink blots. He kept writing it out until it was perfect though, even if his hand was cramped and aching from writing so much. Bella was right – who wrote love letters anymore? If he couldn’t give you anything else, he could at least give you one, perfect love letter. You deserved that much, at least.

*******

You were feeling great – you had spent the morning at a sexual cybercrimes conference. You had seen Barba, implied that his coworker O’Dwyer was smarter than him, and then delighted at how offended he looked. Of all the ADAs you had to deal with on a regular basis, Barba was your favorite to wind up. You practically skipped back to your office, where a mountain of new cases waited for you.

You shut the door to your office and shed your suit jacket in the airless little room. You kicked off your heels and slipped into a pair of sandals and settled into your chair.

You started with the interoffice mail: standard memos and policy changes and an updated public defender contact list. There was a retirement card being passed around for an older paralegal who was ready to hang it all up and move to Boca Raton.

You moved on to your regular mail. There was the usual junk that slipped past your admin. A plea for a donation from Fordham. Some letters from past clients.

At the bottom of the stack was a manila envelope with your name printed carefully across the front. No return address – another client, probably. You opened it and slid out another envelope of heavy, creamy paper. Your name was written across the face in familiar handwriting. Your stomach dipped when you recognized it. Sonny.

You thought about tearing it open then and there, but you got a call to go to the 5th precinct, so you tucked it into your satchel. It was probably safer to read it at home anyway.

-----

The letter sat in your bag like unexploded ordinance, but you got through the day. You rushed home, skipped dinner, and poured yourself a tumbler of wine to the brim. You settled onto your couch, took a deep breath, and opened the letter.

The paper was heavy stock and gorgeous. The handwriting was careful – nicer than Sonny’s usual scrawled signature or block printed notes from college. He’d obviously put time and thought into whatever he wanted to say. So you took another breath, took a few deep swallows of wine, and read it. It said:

You probably think that we first met when we both went bowling with our mutual friends, but that wasn’t the first time I’d ever seen you. The first time I saw you, we were in the same class a semester earlier – Investigative Criminal Procedures. It was a huge lecture hall, and you always sat about five rows ahead of me. Of course I noticed you, because you are beautiful, but it was a fight you had with the professor that made me realize how much of that beauty came from deep within you. Maybe you remember? Professor Graham had some controversial thoughts about search and seizure, and you shot your hand up, didn’t bother to wait for him to call on you, and then you launched into an impassioned tirade that tore every one of his points apart.

My first thought after that class was that if I ever was in trouble with the law, I was going to hire you as my lawyer. My second thought was that I was certain that I loved you.

When I finally met you that night at bowling, you see, I already was in love with you. And you were so friendly and happy, laughing at your own terrible score – I only fell harder. When I went home that night, I made a vow that I’d make you mine, and for a blessed while, I had. But I lost my way, and I lost you in the process.

I don’t want to dwell on what I did wrong because I replay it every day of my life. I just want you to know that I regret, every day, how I neglected you. How I took you for granted. How I assumed that you’d wait around for me to get my act together. How I didn’t put you first or make you feel how special you are to me. I’ll always regret how I failed you.

But I want to say all the things now that I should have told you when we were together.

You are, as I said, beautiful, both inside and out. You always manage to make my heart stop every time I see you, whether you’re in your work suits or in your comfortable pajamas.

You have so many amazing things going for you. You’re easily the smartest person I know, and you have both book smarts and common sense. You’re always able to get to the easiest solution to a problem. You’re abilities in the courtroom as a public defender just proves this.

You have an amazing sense of humor. You always seem to be able to find the humor in the situation, and you always made me laugh. And you manage to tease people in a way that builds them up and doesn’t tear them down. It’s a gift.

You have an amazing heart. You always show care for your clients, and before that, care for your friends, for me, and even for the strangers who cross your path. You never seem to judge – you give the homeless man money with the same love you give to your friends when they need you. I love that about you. You don’t make people work for your love: you just give it freely, even when they don’t deserve it. You certainly gave it to me far longer than I deserved it.

If I had to describe you in a single word, it’d be “rock.” You were always my steady foundation, my touchstone for when things seemed too hard. You supported me when I wanted to give up on law school. You supported me when the NYPD was moving me from precinct to precinct and I wanted to give up on being a detective. You saw me at my worst moments and kept me grounded and gave me hope. Sometimes I felt my faith failing me, but I never stopped believing in you. And no matter what happens, I never will.

More than anything, I want to you know – really know – that I loved you then and I love you still. I know why you probably won’t believe that, but it is true. I know I didn’t give you enough proof of that fact, and I regret it. I know that you think there was another woman with a place in my heart, but that wasn’t the case and still isn’t the case. How could there be room for anyone else there, when you took it so utterly and completely? And when you have it still?

I hope this letter did not upset you. It was not my intention if it did. These are all things I should have said a long time ago, when I still had you, and it’s no one’s fault but my own that I have to write them down and send them to you now.

If nothing else, I want you to know that I loved you completely then, that I love you completely now, and for the rest of my life, I’ll love you just as much. And as such, I want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like.

It was signed, “love always, Sonny.” But you could barely read it through the tears streaming down your face.

You probably read it twelve more times before you went to bed, and since you were unable to sleep, you read it twelve times more.

-----

You saw Sonny across the courtroom a week later, but he just nodded at you and gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his bright blue eyes. You nodded back and smiled.

You were working on your own response, in letter form to keep it true to his own letter. You approached it a lot like your law work – you wrote out an outline and built it from there.

It took you a few weeks to craft the perfect response, and you carried it in your bag for another week. You didn’t want to mail it to him. You figured, after the way you’d dumped him, you owed him a hand-delivered letter. It was the least you could do, especially after he made the ballsy move of even reaching out at all. And you had to admit that there was something romantic about getting a love letter. It was a stark contrast to your last attempt at dating, when a guy you’d gone on a first date with texted you a week later with an unimpressive dick pic.

Then you got a call about a client in the 16th who was arrested and about to face arraignment in a day. You checked your bag and made sure the letter was there. If you saw Sonny, you vowed to hand it to him then and there.

********

Sonny was tortured by that stupid letter. You never responded. He knew deep-down that you might ignore it, but he had some stubborn hope that you’d reach out to him. He had a stupid, recurring fantasy where you rushed over to his apartment in the middle of the night after reading his letter, tearfully admitting that you still loved him too.

He saw you once in court, and you nodded at him in greeting but didn’t say anything. He resigned himself to finally admitting that it was over. But at least you knew how he felt. Maybe it gave you some comfort or closure.

-----

It was another grey day in Manhattan. Well, it was July and sunny, but Sonny didn’t feel particularly up to his nickname. Amanda was just starting to show in her surprise pregnancy, and she was an irritable, nauseous mess. Fin and Liv had collared a potential serial date rapist who was preying on Hudson University students, and he sat in the interrogation room after asking for a lawyer.

The elevator dinged, and Sonny heard the familiar click of heels. He felt his stomach drop while his heart soared, an uncomfortable feeling. The feeling of possibility that would probably just disappoint him.

You breezed past him and Amanda and strode into the interrogation room where Barba was waiting. Sonny heard first some low voices, then louder ones as you and Barba got warmed up and then traded snappy retorts as you tried to find a compromise. Everyone, including Sonny, knew how to read the situation now: if you marched out with your head tilted and Barba strolled out scowling, it was no deal. If you marched out with a smile and Barba strolled out scowling, there was a deal.

Today? You marched out with your head tilted in defiance, and Barba fell in step with you for a few strides, trying to salvage some deal. Sonny smiled to see it. Barba never seemed flustered by anything, but you had a way of making the ADA seem rattled. You just shook your head at him….until your eyes fell on Sonny.

You started to smile, but your eyes slid over to Amanda and Sonny saw it all in slow motion. He saw your smile falter as you took in his partner’s pregnant belly, and he saw you make a giant assumption about who made it that way.

“Shit,” he muttered, and he watched you practically sprint out of the bullpen. Barba, for his part, looked confused and started to follow but stopped. Sonny went after you and nearly caught up thanks to his long legs, and even though you kept jamming the elevator button, he managed to get his hand in and stop the doors.

He called your name, but you shot him an angry look through tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Let go of the door,” you said through gritted teeth. Your voice had a shaky quality as you fought the urge to cry. “Just let me go.”

“No,” he replied. “I know what you’re thinking….”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you retorted. You punched the button on the elevator a few more times for good measure, then you reached into your bag. “I’m thinking that I’m a fucking idiot. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“It’s not like that,” he pleaded, and he felt his own eyes fill with tears. You were so distressed; he just wanted to reach out and hold you, but when he extended a hand, you visibly flinched from it.

“I don’t care what it’s like!” you wailed, and you pulled a folded piece of paper – no, pieces of paper – out of your bag. You tore them in half, and then again and again and again until you couldn’t tear anymore. Then you threw them at him, and Sonny realized that the confetti was your reply to him. Or had been. He knelt to pick up the pieces of torn paper, and the elevator, finally released, closed its doors and carried you out of the building.

He couldn’t chase after you. You were too hurt by what you saw – or thought you’d seen – and he was on such thin ice anyway. All he could do was gather up the tiny pieces of paper from the dirty precinct floor.

And take them back to his desk. And start to put them back together.

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes and tales

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