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jolalibrary · 6 months ago

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14. soft periwinkle

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter fourteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: dad!frankie, luca appears. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. brief mention of frankie’s sobriety. an: thank you so much for being patient for this chapter, things are still odd at home but I've missed this pair so much <3

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Limbs stretching out, sheets rustling, your smile grows as your hand remains clasped around the phone as you bring it to your ear—

Good morning, baby.

It’s a sound that's so perfect. Just for you.

It's a sound that's so perfect. Just for you. A treat to enjoy each day—sometimes this way, sometimes in person. Still, it's almost cruel when a day starts so perfectly but doesn't end that way. You whisper your response back, even though there's no one in the house you need to be quiet for.

But it’s instinct, just like loving him is.

I love you, Frankie whispers—deep, a little gruff, voice muddled still with sleep. I love you, you repeat back, eyes staring at the photograph on your bedside table.

The one on his side of the bed. Because you have sides now.

You’d printed it the other week and chose the frame a week before that. Eyes flicking over photo-him, how his chin is raised, eyes closed, little lines in the corners from how much he’s laughing as one arm keeps you close, and he rests his other hand on the top of his abdomen.

You hadn’t taken it, Benny had. Sent it to you thirty minutes after he’d snapped it without the two of you knowing.

When will you be here? Frankie's honeyed voice asks, making you sit up from the pillows, push down the duvet. Once it’s delivered, I’ll head right to yours. I’ll be there soon, you whisper—hearing him groan as he stretches.

But soon hadn't needed to feel this long.

Busying yourself, mug in hand—warm against your palm—you lean in the doorway of the office he's built, noticing the time. How it rudely ticks on, widening the gap from the end of the call to the moment you'd hoped to be with him.

You’ve found yourself lingering in this doorway a lot lately, piecing it together, almost trying to recall what it looked like before he’d gotten his magic touch on it. The final touches are almost ready to be made, with the blinds due to be fitted soon.

And this morning, the sun has been trying to show, ready to drape the space in warm gold—little rays of light trying to break through clouds, show more than just spots of cyan between the fluffiest white.

Phone buzzing, you pull it from your back pocket, finding you’re the next stop. A thing you already knew from tracking it since you’d risen. Glancing at the little dot as it bounced around the streets as you checked your emails, showered, dressed and made coffee.

His coffee. Not able to go back now you’ve tried it.

The bubble of anxiety in your chest flares as you drain your cup. It doubles when you place it in the sink. Wiping your hands on a dishcloth, you linger close to the front window, hoping it’s perfect—knowing it needs to be.

Not that there’s any time to fix it if it isn’t.

Not even a backup plan made, a thing you half-kick yourself for as the truck pulls up outside. As your fingers flex and you dig your nails into your thighs—not wanting to open the door and wait, appear impatient; but also not wanting to spare any seconds from not being able to check it.

Not that you’d even needed to worry.

A thing that made you grin the entire drive over, keys jangling up his drive, pushing open Frankie’s front door, closing it behind you as you shout, “Luca?”

There’s a pause.

Then you hear him.

Excited bare feet slapping against the floor, thrill filling your chest, eroding all earlier worries as you move to the living room, kneel on the rug as the little boy runs to you dressed in a white onesie, various shades of dinosaurs at all angles covering it.

An outfit you remember Frankie telling you about the other week.

“Oh, well don’t you look cool?”

Grinning, spotting the smallest gap in his smile, remembering the panicked conversation Frankie had reenacted when he’d called Sam, as the man himself waves at you from the kitchen.

“You like?”

“Of course, you look so cool, Luca!”

“Cooler than Daddy?”

Flicking your eyes to Frankie, half-smirking. “Don’t tell him, but yes. Anyway, I’ve got something for you.”

Pointing at himself, he grins even wider—if that is at all possible. “For me?”

Crouching down, you slide onto your knees, before pulling open the paper bag that crinkles as you gently take out the white t-shirt inside, unfolding it, showing it to him.

And the look, as you expected, is priceless. His eyes widen, joy exploding in them as his finger gently, all but cautiously, scratches at the drawn image now ink-printed on. All you can do is watch, practically fixated on his little brown eyes tracing every element of the thing the two of you had huddled around your laptop over. How a few weeks ago, he had huddled close, dug his knees into your thigh and let you show him how he could arrange it all. His little finger guided by yours until the drawn image he’d crayoned into paper sat where he wanted on the screen, joined by the photo Frankie had found of Luca and Sam were in position. Wanna add some dinosaurs? you’d asked, aiding him in choosing cartoon dinosaurs and stars until he was happy.

“You made this! Can you believe it?”

Nodding, he continues to stare, finger-stroking at one particular photo on the t-shirt. “Mommy will like I thinks.”

“I think she’s going to love it. I bought some gift wrap—do you want to try and do it with me later?”

Nodding again, but more enthusiastically, his hands interlock in front of him. Doing a little wiggle as he stares, as he moves from the t-shirt to you.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you say. “I’m going to fold this up—just so we don’t get it dirty. And then later, we can wrap all the other things for Mommy before she picks you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, watching him hesitate.

A beat occurs. The t-shirt slid safely back into its bag before you feel it—little arms, the familiar scent of laundry and the softness of new fleece. A warmth exploding in you that makes you almost well up, a desperation to cling a little tighter when your arms instinctively move around him, hugging him back as little breaths tickle your ear.

“Thank you, Rainy.”

Your face shifts, trying not to choke up at the nickname coming from his mouth as your eyes meet Frankie’s in the doorway—the biggest smirk on his face.

“You’re welcome, Luca,” you whisper, as the two of you release.

It’s not even a second, barely a moment to take in what has happened before Luca shouts (enthusiastically) that he has a new toy—running back off, barely aware of the size or significance of his hug.

Fingers wiping your eyes, giving Frankie a don’t start expression as he offers his hand out to you.

“Coffee?”

Laughing, letting him pull you up, you nod, “Please.”

Sliding your arm around his back, half walking and half being led to the kitchen, unsure how you could ever begin to describe the content feeling pulsing inside of you.

“You okay?”

Nodding, you wipe another tear, staring at him, before you press a kiss to his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Have I told you how happy it makes me when I get the notification that you've posted and I find you looking so good?

Do I need to know how to build decking in Will's yard? No. Do I suddenly want you to dick me? Yes.

When did you start uploading hour-long videos?

Morales, I don't think you know how hot you look laying planks of wood.

Didn't know laying decking would get you so worked up.

Anything you do gets me worked up, keep up.

How worked up are you?

Worked up enough that I'm wondering if your lunch can be extended or whether I should go for an afternoon nap.

Your code for naps is broken. I know what that means now.

I trust you with my secret. Especially since you love my naps.

I do. But then I love everything about you.

Am I going for a nap alone, Morales?

No, but start without me, but do not finish.

Did you send flowers to my house?

The card saying Frankie didn’t give it away?

I got a card saying Maurice. Are you telling me your name is Maurice Francisco Morales?

Fuck. They must have misheard me when I called them at drop-off.

Well, they’re lovely, Maurice. I’m very excited to be wined and dined by you—are you sure 8pm isn’t too late for you?

Hilarious.

Do you have to be careful of what you eat? In case you’re up all night.

I’m hoping to be up all night anyway.

You mean with me right? Not with indigestion.

Have I told you how funny you are?

Not today. They are really pretty, Frankie.

I can’t wait to pick you up tonight.

I can’t wait to forget to put underwear on.

Fuck.

For the amount of time it’s taken for the two of you to get here, as soon as he holds the door for you, you can see it was worth it.

A thing you feel you should have known before now, when he’d showed up to pick you up with flowers in a nice shirt and a pair of slacks eyes widening at the sight of you—a scratchy, syllable broken fuck, you look beautiful leaving his lips as you try not to drag him into your home.

You only stop yourself from doing so because he’d insisted on treating this like a real date, and not just going out for food. Something you’d reminded him when his mouth slid over yours, when your spine met the front of your door and his knee tried to slot itself between your legs—hitching the fabric further and further up your knees. Chest heaving, already sure that the thin fabric between your legs is damp with want.

“If you do this now, you’ll ruin your surprise,” you say against his parted lips, eyes flicking up, finding pupils almost swallowing brown. “It’s a good surprise too. Lacy. New.”

You were still thinking of the groan he emitted when he told the hostess his name.

Tearing your eyes away from his, you sweep them slowly over the restaurant, the urge to tighten your fingers around his hand almost unbearable as your heart swells with a tender ache.

Because the restaurant is nice, really nice. It’s nothing short of warm, romantic—cosy. Each table is graced with a flickering candle, casting a gentle, golden glow that pirouettes on the walls. Fairy lights drape like delicate garlands over the bar area, the twinkling reflections like constellations in a night sky.

The deep red walls are decorated with local art, each piece telling a story with little tags beneath them highlighting the name and price of the creators as your gaze lingers on a particular painting. It’s a street, one a few blocks from here, Harold’s in the corner, nestled close to the edge, yet it holds its presence with quiet confidence.

By the time you’re seated, the sounds and murmurs of other diners have blended into a soft, melodic hum that mixes with the soft acoustic music. The air is tinged with rosemary with cooked dishes that flutter past on trays with swirling steam.

You can understand why it’s a place he’d wanted to bring you. Why there had been nothing but disappointment in his voice when he’d had to cancel all those months ago.

Your eyes gaze at him as he sits, dropping the stare when you brush your fingers over the leather menu—lips curling into your cheek at the sight of the candle flickering between the two of you.

“Big enough for you?”

Smirking, you bite down a laugh as you unfold your menu. “More than appropriately sized—you undersold yourself.”

Reaching across for you, your hand slides into his—finding itself home as his thumb slides over yours. Staring at the appetisers, the mains, it all sounds far too good, making it far too hard to choose. Eyes scanning over each, unsure what it is that you both want to eat or feel safe to eat—not sure if you’ve packed mints or if there’s a convenient way to brush your teeth between getting back and taking him to bed.

“I think I mentioned it, but you look good.”

“Oh, do I? I… I was not aware. Must have gotten lost in you pressing me against my front door.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, eyes lingering, something there etched and hanging.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t buy it, gripping his hand a little tighter—tilting your head to ensure your eyes lock onto his. “Frankie,” you say softly. Silently letting tell me to be spoken wordlessly.

“Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re mine.”

Tightening your hold on his hand, ignoring how your neck is warm, your chest and ears, you let a smile broaden out. More so, when his palm twists, interlocking your fingers.

“Believe it, I'm not going anywhere.”

Your lips remain parted, more words wishing to fall, willing themselves to. But you stop, staring at his thumb as it circles over your knuckles.

“Not… even to the bathroom?”

Laughing softly, you squeeze his hand again, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Well, maybe for that. But I promise to come straight back.”

Smiling, it sliding into his cheek, he swallows before whispering okay.

“Can’t believe I met you because I decided to be spontaneous and try and dabble at DIY.”

Brushing his thumb over your fingers, he grins—that one which crinkles his eyes and makes his teeth show. “Can’t believe I gave such good service you stalked me a few days later.”

“I did not.”

“I don’t blame you Rainy, I look good in an apron.”

Shaking your head, exhaling loudly you lower your gaze to your menu. “Look better in just your hat, Morales.”

“Glad I’ve got it in the truck then.”

Just finished the project, I’m done. All signed off. No more Mr Grump. So, how’s the second grump in my life?

I’m not grumpy.

It’s okay that you are, your son is on vacation.

I ate chicken nuggets and waffle fries for dinner.

Oh, baby. But was it good?

Ridiculously good. No wonder the kid is mad for them.

Do you want me to come over? I know you have work early and I can bring my laptop, work from yours tomorrow while you’re out.

I’d like that. But only if you want to.

Yeah, of course I do! I get to use my key!

You still at home?

It shouldn’t make you smile, but it does.

Blooms over your face, makes you feel ridiculous, like you want to kick your feet out from under his blanket and shriek with joy. Because it’s simple; you know it’s a slip-up as he likely rushes from thing to thing.

I am. You/we are running low on groceries? Wanna go grocery shopping with me Rainy? Only if you let me push the cart.

He’d already called you on his lunch, told you how Harold had struggled with his breathing again, that he should be done in an hour, maybe two. I’m not going anywhere. Yeah? You’d only realised you’d been nodding when he called out your name and you quickly responded with a year.

In truth, you hadn’t left his home in four days.

A thing you’re beginning to feel increasingly guilty about. Like you’d moved in without as much as asking. Your things had found themselves even more with his, and deep down—later confirmed when you’d called a friend to catch up—you realised you didn’t even really miss your own place.

A thing which should feel odder than it does; a thing you turn over when you lock his door and head out to him as he pulls up to grab you. It turns over and over, almost folding in on itself by the time he’s parked up and exiting, still telling you about how he’d helped a man who knew even less than you—a thing he hadn’t known was possible.

It isn’t until he collects a cart, and wheels it to you with ease, do you realise he’s made you. Known right under your smile and humour that you’ve been thinking something.

“Tell me.”

Smirking, you exhale, walking in with him through the automatic doors as you’re both washed over in air-conditioning. “I’m wondering whether I go back to mine tonight for just underwear and clothes or…?”

Adjusting his curls under this hat, he steps behind you to avoid shoppers leaving the store. “Do you... want to go home?”

You’re thankful his hand doesn’t move from your back, allowing you to root yourself to it, letting him lead you to the fresh produce.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, that’s all.” You watch as he grabs a plastic bag, glancing at you. An unreadable expression gliding across his face. “What?”

“Baby, if I could have my way, I’d never let you leave.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really fuckin' not.”

Swallowing, you feel a flutter. A spread of warmth slides out across your chest and through your lungs—the same one you feel when he looks at you for a little longer than normal. When his smile catches yours when you’re talking to Benny and he’s fetching drinks with Will.

Watching him tie the bag, placing it down carefully, he straightens back up.

“Do you want to go home tonight?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “I’m also worried if I stay for another week, like I want to, it’ll be really hard when I do go back.”

Snorting, he ties another bag—an assortment of shades beginning to make a pile in one corner. “So, for your sake—and mine—I should tie you to my bed?”

Glancing around, mouth open and eyes wide, you smirk. “Francisco.”

Shrugging, he grins, grabbing the end of the cart, leading you to another aisle—one quieter, fewer people.

“If I had brought my croissant pajamas, you’d want me to go home.”

Holding up two items to you, you point at one as he nods in agreement, shelving the other where he found it and adding the other to the cart. “Your croissant pajamas?”

Licking your lips, you pretend to be enamoured with some dried sauces. “Well, I have my sexy ones where I aim to be naked, then my cute-but-he-could-still-make-me-naked ones, and then I have my food ones.”

“The fact you’ve not shown me these before now upsets me.”

Laughing, you feel him tug on the cart, as you reluctantly follow. “Because you want to laugh?”

“No, because I think you’ll look hot in them and then I can see how many puns I can do before my mouth is between your thighs.”

He makes sure to look over his shoulder at the last part. A thing you both like and rather loathe all at once, especially here—in a place with people. Where you can smother your little tells, but likely not hide them well enough from him and the way he knows you so well.

“I do really like your cockiness.”

“Oh, Rainy. I know you like the first four letters of that last word.”

Nudging the cart into him, his laugh makes your chest bloom. Almost explode. A sound you’ve had the chance to experience in person more lately—a treat, a thing you’re not sure if you can so easily give back up.

“You fancy something in particular for dinner?”

“Not sure—we should buy dinosaur-shaped nuggies, though.”

Adjusting his hat, he comes to a stop before some frozen doors. “I can grab those before Luca is back—”

“For us, Morales.”

Narrowing his eyes, Frankie slowly tilts his head. “You been eating dinosaur nuggies, Rainy?”

“I cannot confirm or deny. But I will say there’s not an age on dinosaur nuggies.”

“Fuck, you have! You like dinosaur nuggets.”

Shrugging, mirroring him from before, his gooey smile slides up into one cheek—making that dimple appear, making it hard not to reach out and brush it with your finger and then your lips.

“We should buy some granola—maybe fruit? Be adult-like.”

Rocking his head from side to side, he shrugs, nodding,

“Hey,” you say, passing some cakes—large ones, lots of frosting, “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

Tearing his eyes from a shelf, thinking, he slowly nods.

“And, does that mean it’ll be your sixth year too?”

Fingers sliding over the cart handle, waiting, not pushing, he slowly grabs a box, placing it down with the other things, before moving closer around the cart. “You remembered?”

“Well, I love you, Morales. What’s important to you is important to me.”

Nodding, he scratches at his arm, momentarily looking lost in the cereal aisle. Like he's shrunk, lost. The shadow of his smile having faded, almost flattening to a thin line.

“Frankie?” you ask, watching in real-time as he comes back to you.

Like the world goes from black and white to colour.

“Do you... want to do anything for it?”

“My birthday?”

Smiling, you look down briefly before meeting his gaze. “No, your six years.”

Shrugging, he picks up a box, stares at the back of it, likely pretending to read it. To be in awe of it.

“What if I said I wanted to do something for it? To celebrate you. Would that be too much?” You wait a beat, watching him re-shelve the box, and his Adam's apple bobs in his neck. “It can be small. Just us. I can even just get you a cake, but no candle, of course.”

Snorting, he runs his palm along his chin. “Of course.”

“Think about it. Let me know,” you say, pushing the cart closer, nudging him with the end of it as he flicks his eyes to you.

And then it's slow, cautious.

Begins with a gradual lift of his knuckles under your chin when he's beside you, tipping your mouth up to meet his—and you swear you taste a thank you on your lips as he kisses you. As he places another, and another. Your hand slips to his lower back, feeling yourself want to turn and momentarily forget how public the two of you are, when you feel him ghost his mouth over yours, eyes slowly opening, practically drinking you in.

“Don’t go home just yet,” he says, your lips rolling together, fingers slowly splaying out on his back. “Unless you want to go, that is.”

“I don’t.”

“Then stay.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t step back, not immediately, whispering an okay himself as his eyes flick from one of yours to the other. “Please bring your food pajamas.”

“You gonna promise me you’ll still love me?”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, sliding your other hand from the cart as he steals it from under you, he grins. “Forever and ever.”

“I might hold you to that.”

He just grins. A knowing grin.

You find you don't hate the look one bit.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

we're almost to the end of this pair, and that hurts my soul. i'm going to miss them so much. thank you for all the support until now, and going forward. i adore each of you for coming along this ride with me, even if all i gave you was hardware frankie and some texts.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales

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edsbug · 5 months ago

Note

I just realized I don’t think I've ever requested a fic from you and I'm???? appalled???? Please forgib 🥺🖤 I'd love to see how Eddie x reader deal with a big storm coming into Hawkins; currently holed up bc of Hurricane Beryl at the moment. 🌀🌩

hii steph!! i hope you made it through the hurricane alright. thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write! i hope you like it<3

thunderstruck

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader.

summary: eddie and reader prepares for a storm. (wc. 1.1k)

contains: horror films, uncle wayne makes a cameo, pure fluff.

The first rumbles of thunder rolled through Hawkins as the sky darkened, heavy clouds gathering in an ominous, bruised mass. You looked out the window of Eddie's trailer, watching the branches of the old oak tree sway in the rising wind. Eddie sat at the small kitchen table, fiddling with a string on his acoustic guitar, his usual energetic demeanor subdued by the approaching storm.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping away from the window. “Need any help with that?”

Eddie looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nah, just trying to get this thing to stay in tune. But thanks baby.” He set the guitar aside and reached for your hand, pulling you gently into his lap.

As you settled against him, the first drops of rain began pounding the roof of the trailer. “Looks like we're in for a big one,” you remarked.

Eddie glanced up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Perfect night for a horror movie, don't you think?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You're impossible. But yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you spent the next hour fortifying the trailer for the incoming storm. Eddie found a stack of old towels and you helped him roll them up, pressing them against the bottoms of the doors to prevent any water from seeping in. You checked the windows, making sure they were securely latched, while Eddie double-checked the flashlights and gathered some candles and matches, just in case the power went out.

As you worked, the wind picked up, howling through the trees and rattling the metal siding of the trailer. The sky was almost black now, flashes of lightning illuminating the landscape in brief, eerie bursts.

You and Eddie settled on the worn-out couch, a stack of VHS tapes and snacks spread out on the coffee table in front of you. The opening credits of Nightmare on Elm Street had just started when the phone rang. Eddie jumped up, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his haste to answer it.

“Hello?” he said softly. “Oh, hey, Wayne.”

You could hear Wayne's voice faintly on the other end, his tone filled with concern. Eddie glanced at you, his expression softening.

“Yeah, we're okay. Just getting ready for the storm,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I've got everything under control. Don't worry about us.”

Wayne's voice rose slightly, and you could make out the words “stay safe” and “call me if you need anything.” Eddie nodded, even though his uncle couldn't see him.

“Thanks, Wayne. We'll be fine. You stay safe at work, okay? Yeah, talk to you later.”

Eddie hung up the phone and turned back to you, a sheepish smile on his face. “My uncle wanted to make sure we were alright. He's stuck at work until the storm passes.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at the concern in Wayne's voice. “That's sweet of him.”

“Yeah, he's a good guy,” Eddie said, plopping back down beside you. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Freddy Krueger.”

As the movie played, the storm raged outside, the sound of rain pounding against the thin roof and thunder cracking in the distance creating an eerie soundtrack. You and Eddie huddled together under a thick blanket, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. The flickering light from the TV cast strange shadows on the walls, adding to the spooky atmosphere.

Every now and then, the power would flicker, the screen going black for a few seconds before the backup generator kicked in. Each time, Eddie would squeeze your hand, his touch reassuring.

“I've got you, sweetheart” he'd whisper, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

As the last credits of Nightmare on Elm Street rolled off the screen, the exhaustion from the night caught up with both of you. Eddie's arm around your shoulders felt warm and comforting, and the rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a peaceful state. The flickering TV screen provided a gentle glow as you and Eddie drifted off to sleep on the couch, wrapped in the warm, thick blanket.

Outside, the storm continued to rumble, but it was a distant sound now, more soothing than threatening. The rain had lessened to a gentle drizzle, and the occasional flash of lightning was just a dim flicker on the horizon.

The first light of dawn seeped through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the drenched landscape. Wayne pulled his truck up by the trailer, the engine’s low rumble mixing with the distant sounds of birds starting their morning calls. He stepped out, stretching his tired limbs after a long shift, and glanced at the trailer. The sight of it standing unharmed brought a sense of relief.

Wayne quietly let himself in, careful not to make too much noise. He walked into the living room, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw the two of you on the couch.

Eddie's head was tilted back, mouth slightly open, one arm draped protectively around you. You were curled into his side, your head resting on his chest, the blanket cocooning you both. The TV was still on, a static-filled screen casting a dim light over the room.

Wayne shook his head fondly, moving to switch off the TV. The sudden silence was almost jarring, but neither of you stirred. He then picked up the empty snack bowls and soda cans, placing them quietly on the kitchen counter.

He stood for a moment, just watching the two of you sleep, a sense of pride and affection filling his chest. Eddie had always been a handful, but seeing him like this, so caring and protective, made Wayne’s heart swell.

When you woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and bacon. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing you were still on the couch, nestled against Eddie.

Eddie stirred next to you, his eyes fluttering open. He gave you a sleepy smile, his hair a wild mess. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, stretching. “I think your uncle's home.”

As if on cue, Wayne appeared, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. “Morning, kids,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Hope you two slept well.”

Eddie sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, we did. Thanks, Wayne.”

Wayne nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Good. There's breakfast in the kitchen. Figured you'd be hungry after a night like that.”

You and Eddie exchanged a grateful look before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“Think it's safe to say we survived?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice.

Eddie chuckled, pulling you closer. “Survived Freddy Krueger and a thunderstorm. Not bad for a night in Hawkins.”

#bug writes #my dear steph<3 #request #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #wayne munson #fic #fanfic #fluff #stranger things

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ziocio · 1 month ago

Text

So about the tail and floating in endless nothingness thing.

EDIT - IM POSTING A THEORY/RAMBLE IN READ MORE

ITS RELATED TO THE DRAWING

Click if you dare.

So you clicked.

Inhales...

OK. SO WE ALL KNOW ABOUT SOAP'S PHONE CORRECT?...

Now you see, in case you didn't notice, Soap deleted a photo of Microphone, going to the gallery where already deleted images get sent.

Now, those deleted images don't get deleted right away! They permanently get deleted 30 days after the initial deletion.

So obviously, Cobs deleting the contestants doesn't remove them straight away!

But then there's the tail story from Bow.

Bow wasn't deleted! She just died at the same time as Mephone4! Bow managed to come back due to not being apart of MeLife when Mephone4 came back. But she still in a way is connected to MePhone (refer to her shimmer screaming)

All of the contestants and creations Mephone4 created are connected to him. She is in no way different, floating in an endless abyss of nothingness.

This endless abyss is likely to be Mephone4's network or code!

It's the place where the Shimmer and Mephone code overlap.

Knowing how Shimmer is a highly powerful organic life source of light, who's to say that light cannot be projected again? Bow must've found something while in the code, something that resonated within her. Something that allowed Mephone4 to bring contestants to life.

This allows her to come back from death as a ghost. But what?..

It's definitely something related to the shimmers. May it be the lost Shimmer or something deeper.

Now, as for the deleted contestants.

With the context of Soap's phone, I don't think they would be in the main network anymore.

MephoneX deleting them sends them into a separate network than the creation network, where they're timed for deletion. Like a regular phone.

When Toilet unplugged the Me device, MeLife shuts down. But yknow what the Cloud is?..

That's the void!!!

It's a failsafe! It's not MECLOUD the place!! It's where it saves backups!

Perhaps Bow is a backup!!

If Bow WASNT a backup, she wouldn't be here.

ITS BACKUPS!!! THATS WHAT HAPPENED!

The moment the plug is pulled, everything is removed. But there's always backups.

If I'm not an idiot, this could include upcoming deletions.

So all the survivors of II17 (before the plug getting pulled) have a CHANCE to live!

They weren't directly sent into the deletion folder. Because the system backs them up on the software!!

The backups is what let Bow come back!!

Not completely, as she's a ghost. BUT, SINCE SHES A GHOST SHES MADE OF FULL LIGHT.

Light? As if she were like THE SHIMMERS.

Bow as a ghost isn't ELECTRONIC ANYMORE. BECAUSE SHE ISNT APART OF MELIFE!!

MEPHONE'S SHIMMER SIDE LITERALLY GAVE HER LIFE AS A GHOST!!! THATS WHY SHE CANT BE DELETED!!!!

So all the backups who didn't get X'd can ALSO return as ghosts if they know the tail method or just get lucky!

Something like that!!!

ITS THE SHIMMERS POWER WITHIN MEPHONE'S NETWORK THAT HELPED THEM SURVIVE!!!!

I assume in II18, the deleted contestants CAN be saved.

It's just a battle against the clock and Cobs.

But saving them won't make them real.

The shimmers power makes them real, not the mephone power.

I am so tired

#inanimate insanity #ii paintbrush #ii lightbulb #ii test tube #ii fan #ii 17

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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year ago

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Melanie and Verde’s relationship got me thinking about Idol! Reader and Photographer! Bakugou.

You’re up on the stage, white hot lights pouring on your face as you belt the lyrics to the song you and your boyfriend wrote together. You dance and hop around the stage, feeling the music so intensely that you wished this moment could never end. Your face is all beams and smiles as your backup dancers weave their bodies around you, complimenting your own performance.

Katsuki was circling the stage with his expensive camera, paying no attention to the screaming fans behind him demanding his attention. He was focused on shooting you in the most flattering lights, trying to get the best shots for your new article coming up.

He can’t help the little smile as you beam at him with a wide grin. You dance a little closer to the stage, making sure to lock eye contact as you sing the ending lyrics to your love song. Your fans cheer and scream for you both, Katsuki getting some attention of his own since you posted a cheeky photo of you smushing ice cream into his face.

You wave goodbye to your fans, bidding them a safe trip home as you skip off stage, giddily trotting to your dressing room. Katsuki is already sat on the couch flicking through the camera film, already deciding which ones to post for your official Instagram story.

“Hi baby, what did you think of the show tonight?” You ask happily, grabbing some comfy clothes and changing behind your screen. Katsuki looks up.

“An incredible job again, siren. Got some real good shoots here. Lighting didn’t fuck it up too much, so they must have got a new person workin’ ‘em. Good thing too, Sparkle Bitch was too flamboyant and made you glare,” he listed off, saving some of the most powerful photos.

“But as my boyfriend, how did I do?” You ask him as you come round the screen, hair tied up as you plonk yourself on to the couch. Katsuki places his camera down and grabs you by the waist, making you squeal as he sits you on his lap. His lips lock with yours as you squeak, slowly melting into the kiss.

“You were so fucking amazing, baby. Absolutely fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs lowly. Your eyes widen at his (not so) little friend bumping against you as you kiss him again and get off his lap.

“You perv, not now! I’m gonna go get in the shower. I’m sweaty from the lights and the costume and I’m parched,” you laugh, already stripping for the shower.

“If you’re thirsty, my number one fan has something for ya!” He cackled as you flipped him the bird. He shook his head fondly, before sending the photos from the camera to his phone.

The next day, the highlights from your performance were plastered on your Instagram. Thousands of likes and comments poured through, some commending the show, some being thirsty, but you didn’t care. You adored your fans.

What you didn’t know however was the photos that had your biggest smiles, the smiles where your nose was scrunched in pure glee. Your dimples made gentle fingerprints in your face, in the same places he fondly holds you. The smile that makes him go weak in the knees, one that should only be his. Those photos were his to keep.

So unless you were to go into his Cloud Drive, you would never see the secret folder he has of your best moments and cutest memories.

#🥀 rambles #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff #bnha x reader fluff #mha x reader fluff

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saladmix · 3 months ago

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@shyalia sent me another amazing piece and I had to share it. Look at the lad! The attention to detail is so sweet, and 2012 Leo looks so good look at this turtle, suddenly realizing he's got to guide four versions of him and his brothers that got to live a normal life and therefore have no ninja training through a whole dang apocalypse. She captured everything SO perfectly, I love it!

This is a scene from Chapter Four of The Day the World Broke, and you can check out an excerpt below the cut!

“My room, welcome,” Mikey jumped in, and then he jumped up, giving a classic butler bow and spreading his arm wide to gesture to the glory that was their simple but definitely awesome room. “Pleasure to host you. If I knew you were coming I would have straightened up.”

He wouldn’t have. But it was a nice thing to say, right?

“You live in a house?” Leonardo asked, and for the first time he seemed to look around a little more closely. Mikey saw his eyes linger on their photo board, which was mostly Mikey’s because their dad had gotten him a polaroid camera for his birthday last year and he definitely went a little overboard with it. But it was so cool, you know, and the retro vibes were awesome. He liked having actual photos that lived somewhere other than his phone because one time he’d lost his phone and all his photos and had to listen to what was basically an hour-long lecture from Donnie about proper cloud storage.

“Where else would we live?” Donnie asked, sounding dismissive. Mikey didn’t take offense, sometimes Donnie just sounded that way, especially when he was overwhelmed. Did Leonardo know that? He definitely had his own Donnie by the sounds of it. How similar were they? Did he have a Mikey? Did he want to meet himself?

What was he saying, of course he did.

“We live underground but I suppose��there’s a first for everything,” Leonardo said, and Mikey watched him take a few steps forward to take a closer look at the pictures. He saw him linger over one he’d taken of Raph and their dad at the dinner table. Nothing special, it had been Mikey’s candid phase where he was trying to capture the essence of life but Raph messed it up and looked at him mid-noodle slurp.

“Underground? Like a cave?” Mikey asked. He didn’t know anyone who lived underground, aside from the wild fancy rich people houses he sometimes saw on HGTV. Man, he bet those guys were sitting pretty now, in their underground furnished bunkers with backup generators and an indoor vegetable farm. They didn’t have to worry about anything. Oh, to be a billionaire with a crazy house.

Leonardo stepped back from the photo wall and tilted his head, a half-yes. “Sewers, technically.”

Oh no. That was the exact opposite of a billionaire bunker. The sewers? Mikey was about to ask some extremely important follow-ups but Leo cut him off.

“You live in the sewers?” Leo asked, voice still high and stringy. He let out a strangled sounding whine and Mikey saw his fingers grip harder around his head. “Oh my god why?”

Can you just ask people why they live in the sewers? You probably can’t just ask people why they live in the sewers. Technically Mikey didn’t know the answer to that question but it felt like a real Mean Girls moment. Oh my god, Leo, you can’t just ask people why they live in the sewers. He almost said it, but the joke fell flat on his tongue, like the weight of the situation burdened his humor too much.

Read more here! Pay attention to the tags and warnings!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50818507/chapters/128379037

#tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2012 #mutant mayhem #tmnt multiverse #tottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2007 #rottmnt #im still crying over this look at leo's lil face #he's like y'all live in a house?#there is so much talent in this person HOW #so much talent in every artist ever one day i'll show you guys my art and you'll be like yikes stick to writing salad #artists on tumblr #artwork #tmnt fanart

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brookghaib-blog · 5 months ago

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Whispers of the past pt.12

Pairing: Hoshina Sohiro x reader

Summary: 10 years ago, Y/N went missing after being attacked by a kaiju, now working by Gen Narumi's side as his secret weapon, she hides herself in hopes that one day she reconnects with her first love, Hoshino Soshiro.

warning: you will either hate me or love me for this :)

p.11 - pt.13

-flashback-

Hoshina's pov:

The warmth of Y/N's touch lingered on my skin as I pulled away from her embrace. But as I lay, my phone began to buzz insistently against my back pocket. I glanced at Y/N, who was blissfully unaware, lost in her dreams, looking at me.

“I need to make a phone call” I said.

Y/N looked at me, confused by the sudden need. “What? Who are you calling?”

“I’ll explain later,” I replied.

I slipped out of the couch and padded to the kitchen, where the glow of the phone screen illuminated the darkness. The name "Captain Ashiru" flashed repeatedly, accompanied by a string of missed messages.

Call me when you're alone.

Where are you?

Urgent. Call me ASAP.

A sense of foreboding settled in my chest as I dialed her number. Ashiru answered on the first ring.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice sharp with worry.

"I'm out with a friend," I replied, keeping my voice low. I didn't want to wake Y/N. "Why? What's going on?"

Ashiru hesitated, then asked, "Is this 'friend' a girl?"

I felt a flush of embarrassment but answered honestly. "Yes, she is."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Ashiru's tone turned grave. "Hoshina, I received an anonymous call, here, at the base. They reported a humanoid kaiju disguised as a girl. Supposedly, this kaiju has been participating in killings during kaiju attacks. The caller said they saw you with her and that you might be in danger."

My heart skipped a beat. "Ashiru, that's absurd. Y/N is the girl I'm with, I mentioned her to you, it's a long story, I'll tell you later, but she the one who been working for the First Division under the name Chisuka. I know her, and I know she's still human and on our side."

"Hoshina, you can't be sure of that," Ashiru insisted. "The caller provided specific details. They mentioned seeing the girl killing during kaiju attacks. If Y/N is this girl, you might be in serious danger. We never heard of this before, if this kaiju is disguised it may be using her body, Hoshina it's not her."

I clenched my fist, anger and disbelief roiling inside me. "No, Ashiru. You don't understand. Y/N and I have a history. I know her. She's not a killer, I don't understand it either, but they are investigating her, we will have an answer."

"Hoshina, listen to me," Ashiru said, her voice urgent. "I want to believe you, but the evidence is troubling. You need to be careful. If there's even a slight chance that she's a kaiju, we have to take it seriously."

I leaned against the kitchen counter, my mind racing. Y/N had been through so much, and now this accusation threatened to tear apart the fragile happiness we'd found. "Ashiru, I'm telling you, she's not a threat. I won't let you or anyone else hurt her."

There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, Ashiru spoke, her voice softer. "Hoshina, promise me you'll be careful. If anything seems off, you need to call for backup immediately."

"I will," I said, my resolve firm. "But I'm not turning my back on her. Not now, not ever."

As I ended the call, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I couldn't let this accusation cloud my judgment. I knew Y/N. I trusted her. And I would protect her, no matter what.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains as I woke to find Y/N still asleep beside me. I carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb her. I was exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the previous night, but I knew I needed to face the situation head-on.

Just as I reached the kitchen, my phone buzzed again, its insistent vibration a harsh reminder of the night's events. It was Ashiru calling, and I knew I couldn't avoid the conversation any longer. I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Ashiru, what's going on?"

"Hoshina. I'm outside your door," she said, her voice tense. "Let me in."

"Did you just track my phone without my knowledge?"

My heart pounded as I hung up and headed to the door. Opening it, I found Ashiru standing there, six officers behind her, her expression grim.

"You went against me, Ashiru," I said, my voice laced with anger. "I told you Y/N can be trusted."

Ashiru stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Hoshina, I have a job to do. The anonymous call we received is serious and cannot be ignored, you are letting your feelings get in the away, and you don't even know if she has any part of your Y/N inside that body. We have to follow our protocol. If you want to keep your job and position, and not be punished for being complicit with a kaiju, you need to cooperate."

I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of frustration. "She's not a kaiju, Ashiru. You don't know her like I do, I aknowledge that it's all sudden, I have only found her again yesterday after so long, but captain please. She told me everything, since when does a monster have any emotional inteligence?"

Ashiru's expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "I understand that you care about her, but if she isn't officially recognized as an officer for the First Division,therefore she coulb be lying and even she's telling the truth about being Chisuka, this call could be enough to get her killed on the spot. If you want her to live, you'll do as I say. She has nothing protecting her or proving her word."

I felt a pang of helplessness as her words sank in. I knew she was right, even if it tore me apart to admit it. "She's not a threat. I won't let you hurt her."

As Ashiru moved towards the bedroom, grabing her arm, I stopped her, my mind racing with questions. "Wait. How did the person who called know about her? How could they have seen her attacks and not reported it before if they could recognized her? Do you know who the person was?"

Ashiru shook her head, her expression unreadable. "I told you all the information I was given. We have to follow through with the investigation."

I watched as Ashiru entered the bedroom, my heart heavy with dread. I knew Y/N would be devastated, but I had no choice. I had to protect her, even if it meant cooperating with Ashiru.

I found the love of my life after 10 years only for them to strip every confidence and love she just declared for me hours ago.

10 years.

I couldn't even be given 24 hours.

Y/N, prove them for me, hate me till then. Show them. That something as beautiful as you could never hurt even the tinniest creature.

Just don't run back to him while I can't save you. I love you too much.

-end of flashback-

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #soshino x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #fics #kaiju art #kn8 fanart #fanfic #kn8 #kn8 x reader #kn8 fanfic

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ocwonderland · 11 months ago

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digital time capsule for ocs

This is a fun little idea I had, to make a digital time capsule of your ocs that you will not open until a year or later! The idea is to make and gather various media that pertains to your original character and store it away in a folder or drive, and you can’t look at it until at least a year has passed. That way you can see how much your OC has grown and developed over the year(s)!

Here are some ideas for what you can store in the digital time capsule:

most recent artwork of the oc (I would recommend making a new one if you can)

moodboards representing your oc

poems that remind you of your oc, or poems about them that you have written yourself

screenshots of nice comments people have given you about your ocs

drawings or photos of your oc’s favorite objects and possessions

color palettes that remind you of your oc (I like to use the website coolors)

links to songs that remind you of your oc (or songs you wrote for them!)

a doodle page for your oc

anything else you can think of!

there aren’t really any rules for this project, you can do it however you want. but if you need some guidance, here are some tips and suggestions for getting started with your time capsule:

put the date of when you completed your time capsule in the name of the main folder

if you’re making a single capsule for multiple ocs, make different subfolders for each oc. Or you can make separate capsules for each oc

have backups of your capsule somewhere, like on a cloud drive or flash drive, in case something happens to the original

set a reminder on your phone or computer for when you want to open your time capsule

remember to be creative, and more importantly, have fun!

#oc #oc prompt #oc stuff #oc tag #oc sharing #ocs #original character #time capsule #oc time capsule

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cjlouwho · 6 months ago

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In This My Weakness

Summary: A week before the wedding, Buck gets a devastating call that his parents won't be coming.

read below or on ao3. I'm thinking of making a part two as well, but this fic can be read alone.

Tommy could tell something was wrong before Buck even hung up the phone. His smile had all but disappeared and the gleam that was usually always in his eyes was now replaced by a cloud of darkness.

Tommy's arm instinctually reached out to rest on the back of the couch, giving Buck the perfect spot to fall into. “What's wrong?” he asked, Buck gripping his phone tightly, staring down at it.

“They're uh- they're not coming,” Buck answered, his voice cracking.

Tommy was confused. He hadn't actually heard the phone call. Buck had been in the kitchen of their new place when he answered, then quickly stepped outside. Tommy had only been reading his facial expressions through the glass door.

“Who's not coming where?” he asked slowly.

Buck sighed. He bit the bottom of his lip before responding. Tommy knew that was something he'd do when he was trying not to let his emotions take over. “Mom and dad,” he replied, “to the wedding. They're not- um, they're not coming to the wedding.”

“What?!” Tommy turned to better face Buck on the couch. “What do you mean they're not coming to the wedding, Evan?”

Buck shrugged. Tommy knew he was barely holding it together, trying to play it down, make it seem like it didn't bother him as much as it really did. But, at least to Tommy, Buck was a terrible liar.

“Evan, honey, speak to me, please. Why aren't your parents coming to our wedding?”

Another shrug, but Buck looked away from his phone this time. He glanced over at Tommy, who could now see the redness in his eyes. He was fighting to keep the tears away.

“They, um, th- they said they had planned a cruise like a year ago and forgot until now, apparently.”

Tommy ran his hands through his hair, eyes wide, feeling more confused now than before. “I'm sorry, what? Evan, that doesn't make any sense.”

“I guess they didn't get insurance for the cruise, so if they cancel they don't get their money back, and they completely forgot until they got a reminder email this morning.” Buck shook his head and let out a laugh. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

“No, you should very much be surprised. They can't get money back for a cruise so they cancel on their son's wedding? This doesn't make any sense. Should I call them? I'll call them.”

As Tommy went to reach for his phone, Buck laid a hand over his, stopping him. “No, Tommy, don't. I- I really appreciate it, but it's fine. Really. I'm fine.”

Buck patted Tommy's hand, then got up and started making his way back into the kitchen. He had been in the middle of cleaning some things up when he got the call, so he needed to go finish that.

Except, at least to Tommy, the conversation was very far from over. So he got up as well and followed Buck.

“I just don't get it,” he said. “Can they switch dates? I've had to do that for trips before.”

“I asked that. But whatever cruise they're going on doesn't go back to those same places for a few months, or something... I don't know. The answer was no, though.”

“What all did they say? I feel like I'm getting a third of the story here.”

“They said what I told you. Can't make it, have a cruise, no refunds, send their love... and a blender, I guess.”

“We already have two blenders.”

“And now we'll have a backup for our backup.” Since they got into the kitchen, Buck had been avoiding eye contact. He was keeping busy, moving dishes from the drain to their spots in the cabinet, clanging silverware together as he tossed them into a drawer, and even moving spices from their usual spots on the spice rack to new spots.

“Well, should we- should we change our date then?” Tommy asked. Yes, they both wanted to get married on the anniversary of the day they first met but, if they needed to adjust for the Buckley's, they would.

The question stopped Buck in his tracks. Still turned away from Tommy, he lowered his hands to rest them on the counter. “We're not changing our date.”

“Evan.”

“No,” he doubled down, firmer this time. “We're not changing our dates. If they can't make an effort to show up, then they just won't be there.”

Now Tommy was starting to get somewhere. Sometimes it took a minute, but Buck would always eventually let his true feelings out.

“If you're sure.”

“I am.” Buck finally turned to face Tommy. He wiped at his eyes, letting out a humorless laugh. “I really thought we were getting somewhere, you know? I thought... I thought they cared.”

“Ev, I think they care, they just-”

“Prioritize a cruise over our marriage.” Buck finished.

“We could Facetime them,” Tommy offered weakly.

Buck shook his head. “No, if they- if they can't show up they don't need to be there at all.” He wiped at his eyes again, but this time the tears couldn't be held back. He felt like a little kid again, his lip trembling, head down, trying to quiet his sobs so his parents couldn't hear him.

But his parents weren't there this time; Tommy was. He was there, and he was wrapping Buck up in a hug before Buck even realized he had crossed the room.

He held on tight, clutching the back of Tommy's shirt. His shoulders shook with the force of his cries, but Tommy held on.

He always held on. His strength, both mentally and physically, kept Buck upright during his toughest moments.

Buck did the same for Tommy too. That's why this relationship worked so perfectly. They didn't go fifty-fifty here; they both gave one hundred percent of themselves.

“I re- really wanted them th- there,” he managed to get out through little breaths.

“I know, I know,” Tommy soothed, running a hand up and down Buck's back.

“They were s- supposed to walk me down the a- aisle.” He pulled back from Tommy just enough to look up at him. “Oh God, what are we gonna do about that?”

“Hey, hey, don't worry about it,” Tommy said, bringing his hand up to Buck's face. He used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from his cheeks. “We'll figure something out. We don't have to do the walking down the aisle, or my mom can walk us both, or we'll walk together, or-” he paused, “or you could ask Bobby and Athena.”

Buck sucked in another breath, contemplating the idea. “That's- You think they'd do that?”

Tommy smiled softly. “Of course they would. They wouldn't hesitate for a second.”

“Bobby's already doing the ceremony though.”

Tommy shrugged. “Doing things a little differently than normal is the Buckley way, isn't it?”

Buck managed a shaky laugh. “The Buckley-Kinard way now. Sorry you're stuck with me.”

Tommy shook his head. “I'm not.” He placed two fingers under Buck's chin, just like the night he first kissed Evan. The night he tried to play it cool, all while his heart was racing and mind filled with a million different thoughts. He kissed him softly, slowly. He could feel Buck's body relax, some of the weight from the last few minutes falling away.

“I love you, Evan.”

Buck reached up, running his hand through the back of Tommy's hair. There were a lot of people that told Buck they loved him. Some, he believed, others... not so much. But there was one person who he believed it every single time, and he was gonna marry that man in a week, no matter who was or wasn't there.

“I love you too.”

#evan buckley #bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #tevan #buck and tommy #buck tommy

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