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y11irfilm · 5 months ago

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violet – chapter 2

qimir x f!reader | chapter 1, chapter 3 & chapter 4

summary: she had no direction. a nomad who didn't choose a side. but when a vision makes her save people, she has to face her mind in the worst way possible: on a planet made of water with the man who reminds her of her past.

content: deaths, power bond, a kind of “chosen one”, dark past, sexual tension, dark confessions, kisses | wc: 1700+

notes: hello, it’s not reviewed yet! my creativity is at the heights that i managed to finish this part 2 in hours — english is not my first language!

Kind. This was her favorite memory of her childhood. Surrounded by Jedi, knowing how to wield a saber since the beginning of her memories. “Why is it purple?” she remembered asking his mother, she didn't understand in the past, but now she knew how hesitant she was to answer. “It’s your favorite color, isn’t it? That's why." It wasn't because it was her favorite color.

When she saw blood spilled, she knew why it was purple. She had no salvation.

The smell of the sea and the noise of the waves hitting the rocks. Her eyes were opening with the strange feeling of déjà-vu. She's been here before, in her vision, he. She stood up from the bed she was placed in, looking around. A home made in the stones. It felt comfortable and warm. So many years she hadn't felt this. She stopped for a few seconds, feeling a pang in her stomach, lifting her shirt and seeing some bands around her belly. He took care of you.

Taking a few steps, she found the exit of the cave, leaving her breathless as she looked. It was incredible. The immensity of the ocean just a step away from her, like in her dreams. Where was he? She knew he had brought her here, but why? Wasn't killing her enough pain? This torture to find out her fate was too much.

Walking along the sea marches, she saw him. He seemed calm, and that was strange. Flashes appeared in his mind, making him put his hands on his head. A familiar couple, as they walked on the sea marches, hands clasped with smiles on their faces. They looked like they did in the past. Stop, get out of my head, I know. When she managed to stop the visions, she looked ahead and he was there watching her. The man began to walk forward, leaving her alone again. She wasted no time and walked forward to her appointment.

Her steps slowly stopped as she watched him begin to undress. Beautiful, he was beautiful. If he hadn't been fighting all the way on the forest planet with his helmet, she didn't know if she would have had the courage to attack him. She didn't know why she thought that.

The man began to enter the water, swimming and swimming until he was away from the margin. She moved, looking at his belongings, a saber was lying on top of her clothes. Looking at him and knowing he wasn't looking, she walked over and took the saber in her hands. He reminded her of her father's saber. “You are truly a surprise.” Her voice echoed throughout the place, leaving her on alert and putting her saber in attack position. “A surprise in the best sense if you have any doubts.” He turned to look at her, letting a smile grace her face. “Why haven't you killed me yet? Torture? I do not need this." She took a few steps back.

He swam out of the water, still wearing that damn smile. “Kill her? You’re the one with the gun.” Coming out of the water, he collected his clothes and got dressed. The drops running down his body. Not for a moment did you leave each other's eyes. She seemed to be in hypnosis, the torture was to look away from those playful eyes that knew exactly how to play with her. Her eyes were like two large obsidian stones.

"Do not move. Until you don’t tell me why all this shit.” She prepared to ignite her saber, but stopped. Her memory betrayed her, so she let him fall to the sandy ground. Every step felt like she was burning inside. Feeling his presence, without any kind of excuse for fighting, felt dangerous. She looked ahead, noticing his bizarre approach. Just one more step and he would melt into her. “I thought having an acolyte was enough, but your mind is a treasure.” He murmured, looking at every part of her face. “And no acolyte could bring me that pleasure.”

His breathing was irregular, every word out of this man's mouth was fire. An indomitable fire. “I am nothing, and that’s all you need to know.” She didn't deserve anyone's interest. That man could sink her into worse memories of her, and she would rather die than look another second into those dead eyes. He brought her face a little closer, ending up touching his nose to hers. “It’s so angry.”

“You will regret it.” She muttered. Her skin was burning, she wanted him to stop talking. She felt her barriers breaking down every second she let herself look at him. She took a step back, but before she could finish the action, she felt a hand above her hand pulling her close again. Noses touching. “I accept the risk.”

"Are you hungry?"

"What is your name?"

They walked side by side back to the cave, the heat could still be felt between the two. He let her keep the saber, even though she knew she wouldn't use it against him. She would not be able to do such an action. “Qimir. Can I ask yours?” She thought for a few seconds before saying her name. He nodded as if absorbing the information.

“Can you access my mind?”

"Not exactly. Your anger says something about you.” She knew exactly what he was saying, remembered his dark thoughts.

“Why did you kill those Jedi?”

Qimir stopped walking, looking at her. “You tell me, you were the one trying to stop me.”

His gaze dropped to the stones in the sand, she didn't know how to respond to that without creating more curiosity in him. Her desire was still to remain like salt in the sea, a nothing mixed with so many others. “I saw it happen.” She whispered.

She continued walking, not wanting to answer any more questions, even though she was curious about him. Arriving at the entrance to the cave, she turned to continue watching the ocean. Holding the saber tightly in her hand. “Let’s continue what we didn’t finish on that planet.” Her voice in her ear left her destabilized. She turned her body towards him, facing each other. He approached her, holding the arm that had the saber and pressing it against her belly.

"Do. Finish what you started.”

Her eyes left the ocean to be held by his. Eyes were beautiful. How could a person seem so unreachable? Qimir was standing still, ready to be killed. For her to avenge all the deaths she let slip through his hands. Bloody hands. “Jedi do not attack the unarmed.”

“You said you weren’t a Jedi.” And she wasn't. She never was and never would be.

"Stop this." She tried to pull her arm away, but he grabbed it tighter, not allowing her to pull. “So tell me why you don’t just finish it. Let's go." Qimir looked deep into her eyes, allowing her to continue. But his eyes started to water, not knowing why to continue. “Your parents were Jedi, weren’t they?” Qimir turned his head to the side, asking in a whisper.

“Don’t talk about them.” Tears ran down her face.

“Tell me why you left them.”

“Because I chose it that way.” More tears flowed, she was lost in her thoughts. "Let me go!" She tried to pull her arm again.

“All this pain, this anger. That's what you were hiding. So this is who you are.”

“I'm not like that anymore. I left everything behind.”

“Why have you been hiding all this time? Did Jedi know about you?”

“I left them for protection.” It was a joke how she was a terrible liar in front of a person who could read all her thoughts.

Qimir thought for a while until she realized something happened. “Ah, they were afraid of you. The Jedi saw something in you and that's why they threw you away.”

“They didn’t throw me away.”

“Then why are you still aimless? Why were you never a Jedi?” He, he, he. He is the cause of this. Of your fall. "Why?"

“I have blood on my hands!” With her voice breaking, she moved her hand, pushing him towards the entrance wall, turning on the saber and placing it in front of him. “They would never forgive me. They knew and were afraid of me. Blood of my parents. I was never meant to be a Jedi because I killed one.”

His eyes piercing, trembling and dead.

“Get out, get out, get out.” She dropped the saber, lowering herself to the ground and placing her hands on her head. Hitting one hand on the head. She just asked for a breath of life. So much death and pain.

The heat returned to her body. A body crouched down beside her, placing a hand on her back and stroking it. She took a deep breath, then managed to remove her hands from her head. Her gaze then went up to the man. Qimir looked at her with an affection she hadn't seen in years. She remembered the dead eyes, his mother's eyes. He turned his head to the side a little, barely blinking at you. His hand went up to her arm, exploring it and little by little she found herself intertwining her fingers with his. Her heart was racing and she could hear the ocean far away. But there is an ocean of silence between the two and they were drowning in it.

"Anger. Fear. Loss." Every word said was as if her heart was going to explode, it was so fast. "Desire." Her gaze dropped to his lips, it was a new sensation. Totally different from any other experience. Qimir followed and let his gaze also fall to her lips. “Below the surface of consciousness there are these powerful emotions.” He helped her stand up again, not letting his fingers leave hers. "I lost everything. But when you lose everything. Finally becomes free.”

Her mind was a total mess. She just wanted to stop thinking about her mother. How those eyes hurt you. “I don't care about any of that, I just want them out of my head. Stop torturing me. I feel so, so angry.” Her free hand goes up over Qimir's arm and is left hugging her neck.

Qimir brings his face closer, saying close to his ear. “That anger will disappear when you allow yourself to feel it.” He pulls away from her ear to look at her. Each feeling a force pulling them towards each other. The pink of his lips startled her, making her eyes widen. “Allow yourself to feel.” The exchange of looks. His hand was left on her waist, feeling a slight squeeze of courage.

She pulled his neck, touching her lips to his. She felt his grip on her waist again, being taken to the wall that just moments before he was pushed against. Qimir held her neck with both hands, deepening the kiss. Letting go of all the desire he had been feeling since he saw her taking him down in the fight against him. It was impossible for him not to feel any kind of desire, he had finally found the perfect person. So broken that only he could stick each piece together.

There were no dead eyes, no dead parents, no fear or anger. Everything disappeared and only Qimir's lips moving over hers with so much affection and desire that his heart needed to leave his body stuck in his thoughts.

#qimir fic #qimir imagine #qimir x you #star wars qimir #qimir smut #qimir x reader #qimir #qimir the acolyte #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars #fanfic #fic

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veronicaphoenix · 7 months ago

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the last song | n.s.

With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.

one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.

The studio is finally empty.

After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.

Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place.

While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her.

This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him.

His passion.

And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her.

Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter.

She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion.

He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those.

Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight.

He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.

“There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.

“One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”

“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe.

She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge.

She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.

Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.

“I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”

With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.

It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignite a delightful flutter in her stomach.

“You’re adorable,” he says over her lips.

For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.

“You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”

“And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.

“Noah, I don’t understand.”

“Let me show you…”

With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished as he does.

So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.

It’s the first of many moans to come.

Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.

The music is playing now.

He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle.

Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth.

With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair sliding between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet.

And best of all, he is hers.

Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt.

He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.

With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby.

She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful.

With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined.

But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive.

Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion.

Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score.

As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go.

“So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.

He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one new sound from her lips.

“So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple.

“Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck.

“No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her.

“Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”

She does have an idea.

Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.

She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless.

A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the voice recording app.

“Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”

His eyes darken.

“Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face.

“I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home.

She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time.

“Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen.

Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor.

And with that, they’re making music once again.

One last song.

One more time.

Louder.

#inspiration was kicking in #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens one shot #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

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Blurred Lines 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: double chapter day! Thank you to @alicedopey for the ask! I see you girl.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Cotton drags over tinted skin, flecks it red catching along with the new blood trickling from the split. A hiss passes through clenched teeth despite your gentleness. The act reminds you of when your daughter was only six, crying over a scraped knee as you covered it with a Spongebob bandaid. You don't have any of the yellow strips now, just the roll of gauze and medical tape.

"Ah," Nick clenches his jaw again.

"Sorry," you murmur, "it needs pressure."

You push your thumb against the cotton and he winces, forcing a smile as he crackles out a chuckle.

"I can handle it, honey," he assures you as you hold the cotton above his brow, his other brilliant eye looking up at you. "Just like you handle me so well."

You don't respond. Your boss is a mercurial man. One moment, charming, the next rigid and ignitable. You've learned it's better to just go along with whatever mood he's chosen.

"Other guy looks worse," he remarks as you lift the cotton.

You nod, "I'm sure, sir."

He laughs again, closing his eyes with a sigh. He sits reclined in one of the leather armchair, his head tilted as you tend to him. It's after midnight. You're supposed to be at home sleeping. Your daughter's coming back from college for the weekend, you planned on brunch.

You sift out the box of slender steri-strips and bend over him, carefully sealing the gash above his brow. He's a handsome man. Objectively, you must admit it. Dangerous, too, but you don't wonder about the cuts and bruises. He has a shining badge that tells you more than enough.

"Hands of a goddess," he purrs as he opens his other eye again.

You stand and gather up the waste, packing away the medkit. You thank him plainly and fight the urge to look at the clock. You wad up the used gauze in your fist.

"Sir, is there anything else tonight?"

He lifts his head, both eyes on you now. He considers you as he sits straight and grips his knees. He stands and shrugs, spinning on his heel and striding to the mirror hung on the wall, just above the low table decorated with brass and oak.

"Did I interrupt you?" He asks as he checks his reflection. His left cheekbone is purpled and scraped.

"No, I was only sleeping," you say. You try not to let on that it doesn't come easy or often for you. It's not his concern.

"Mmm," he squints at himself and winces as it tugs at his wound. "Well, you can find an extra room here, drive back in the morning."

"That's kind, sir, but I'm okay," you back up, "I'll clean this up and go if there's nothing else."

"You'll just be back tomorrow," he turns and crosses his arms.

"Um, it's my day off, sir."

He clicks his tongue and nods, "forgot."

You force a small smile. No big deal.

"Got big plans then?"

You hesitate. He doesn't usually ask. You shake your head. You don't think he really cares.

"Would you like some scotch before I go then?"

He inhales, chest rising deeply before falling again. He drops his arms and slips his hands into his pockets. One tail of his shirt is untucked and his jacket is splotched with dark stains. He is sauvely unkempt.

"Sure," he grumbles as he paces before the artificial fireplace.

You dip your chin and leave him. You toss away the garbage and tuck away the kit. You wash your hands before you return to the den and take the thick-bodied decanter from the cabinet. He stands with one hand on the mantle as he stares at the floor.

You pour him a glass and bring it to him. He accepts it without looking up. You ask him if he wants the rest left out for him. He says it doesn't matter.

You bid him good night as he resumes his pensive trance. The adrenaline slakes away and now he's coming down. He'll be in for a good sleep, a lot better than your own. You'll be lucky to get a few hours before you're due to meet Josephine.

🥃

You smile across at your daughter. Every time you see her, she seems more grown up than the last. She has a pretty flower pin in her hair and her lips are glossed the perfect shade of rose. She reminds you of your age, both in a good way and a bad way.

You don't fail to notice the other looks in Josephine's direction. Joey, she corrected you when you picked her up. The changes in her make you feel stagnant. You suppose that comes with age too. You're done blossoming, you only have the wilting ahead of you.

"So, exciting," you say as you pinch the stem of your glass, a pair of mimosas between you as you await your entrees, "you got an internship."

"Um, yeah, it's not bad," she pushes her shoulders up, "my boss is okay, I guess."

"That's good, most bosses don't earn much more than 'eh' as a rating," you kid, "sorry, kiddo."

"Mom," she warns.

"I know, sorry," you correct yourself, "I'll try not to do it again."

You remember being her age. Caught in between adulthood and childhood, not wanting to be reminded of the latter.

"It's fine," she sighs, "I just... I'm trying to be a grown-up, you know?"

"Oh, you've got lots of time for that, Miss Lawyer," you trill, "you are very grown up. You know that, don't you? I'm so proud of you."

"Still got a far way to go," she sips from her own glass. You couldn't have ever imagined your daughter with prosecco sparkling in her hand, but there she is. You almost can't believe she's yours. "Let's talk about you. That's a lot less stressful."

"Ha, but boring," you roll your eyes. "You know, same old."

"Oh, trust, I could tell by the dark circles."

"Oof, you did not," you cackle, "Josephine-- Joey."

"You should try some vitamin C cream--"

"Don't," you warn her with a point across the table.

She giggles and her eyes flit around. There's something else. Something she's not telling you. But she wants to.

"What's going on?" you prompt.

"This is such a nice place," she looks at the table and fidgets, "thanks for breakfast, mom..."

"But..." you add on.

"I... hate to ask but..."

"You need money," you utter, "that's okay. We can make it work. What's it for?"

"Books," she says, "I kinda ran out before I could buy them all, so..."

"That's okay. I'll see if I can't get a few extra hours at work then."

As if he could hear the very allusion to his existence, your phone flashes with a private caller. It's Nick. It's only ever him. You flip the phone down to hid the call.

"Take it," your daughter insists, "it's fine."

"No, it isn't. It's my day off. It's our day," you say, "it can wait."

She smiles. She's so pretty. You can't help but feel inadequate next to her; your own daughter. She's young and vibrant and you're wearing a blouse you bought a decade ago that squeezes your middle a bit too tight.

"Like I said, I'm boring," you sit forward, "tell me about the good stuff. The juicy stuff. Any boys-- or, men?"

"Mom," she snipes.

"What? I gotta live vicariously through you."

She rolls her eyes, "no."

You laugh. You always loved teasing her. She's hard-nosed and too focused to worry about the piddly troubles caused by boys. Or...

"Any girls?"

She looks at you with fire in her eyes. Ah, that's it.

"What's her name?" You goad.

"No, it's nothing. We're not even-- I mean, there's no one," she takes another gulp of her mimosa.

"Sureeee," you drag out the word teasingly, "how many more of those to spill?"

"Enough," she warns, "what about you, huh? You seeing anyone besides your soap operas?"

Now it's your turn to frown, "no," you answer evenly, "I... don't think that's in the cards for me, honey."

"Mom, it's okay," she softens her voice, "dad wouldn't... he would want you to be happy."

"Mm, he would, but he was my happy," you bat your lashes against the singeing heat. "I'm okay, really."

"You deserve someone," she says. "You don't have to be alone."

"I am alone, doesn't mean I'm lonely," you deflect. "Anyway, let's enjoy this. I don't get enough of you."

"Alright, twist my arm, I'll settle for free mimosas and a breakfast bowl," she gives a snarky grin.

You smile. She's the hope you have left. You hope that she never goes through the same pain again. One loss is enough for both of you.

🥃

Joey orders and Uber and you sidle in next to her. You clutch your phone over your purse as the haze of the mimosas fogs in your vision. You may have indulged a bit much.

Your phone shines and you look down. 'Private'.

"I see what you mean about bosses," Joey chides.

"It's not-- not a big deal," you dismiss the call.

"Mom, maybe it's an emergency," she sniffs, "he's been calling a lot."

"He's an adult, I just sweep up his crumbs," you wave her off.

Your phone lights up once more. You're starting to get paranoid. Still, you have to maintain boundaries. Today is your day off.

You exhale and sit back. You watch the city smear by and yawn. The restless night tingles on your eyelids.

Finally, you get to your apartment and slump out of the Uber. You stop as Joey helps you tip the driver with the app and you carry on into the lobby of your building. The feeling of the world passing you by lingers beyond the car ride.

Upstairs, you get Joey settled into the room you haven't changed since she left. She puts her bag on the bed and hangs out in the living room as you put on a pot of coffee. It's too early to be this tipsy. You yawn and your phone once more comes to life.

You swipe it up and tell Joey to help herself to the coffee as you sweep out of the room. You head down the hall and step into your bedroom as you answer, "Mr. Fowler."

"You're busy?" Nick asks.

"It's my day off," you say firmly.

"Yes, we talked about that."

You're quiet. Confused. You try to recall the last time he bothered you outside of work. When you're not being paid for it, you never really hear from him.

"Is something going--" you stop and suppress a hiccup. It's more dehydration than the alcohol. "On?"

"I have guests coming," he says, "thought you might like some overtime."

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry, but--"

"Clearly you're disposed," he says tersely. Is he mad?

"I wasn't expecting--"

"It's fine. It was an offer. I can manage on my own."

"Of course, sir, I wouldn't--"

You flinch as the line cuts and the call goes dead with a bloop. You pull the phone away from your face and furrow your brow. Really? He hung up on you.

You toss your phone on the bed. Whatever. Forget him. Even if you weren't three glasses deep, you wouldn't leave Joey just to kowtow to his pretentious friends.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #the 355 #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #blurred lines

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bobnelson · 2 years ago

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IGNITE REVIEW - ((HIGH ALERT!!!)) Ignite Amazonian Sunrise Drops - Ignite Drops Review

#youtube #ignite review #ignite #ignite drops review #ignite drops reviews

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cocogum · 6 months ago

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The Great Wave - Chapter 7 Review

‼️SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER‼️

Warning(s): unhinged behavior, fat shaming, unnecessary use of foul language, osamodas slander

This chapter made the stupid decision to edge me.

We come back to Yugo having an episode from the poison he just drank and he is going through it hard.

My guy is coughing up blood, eyes are turning red, body is shaking like a mad man, screaming in agony, and his wakfu antlers are even going crazy…

To top it all off, he’s now having a series of igniting explosions because of the dofus residing in him. Like you can’t make this shit up, my guy is literally creating explosions from the inside out. Look at the damages.

(damn, amalia is carrying this whole banquet. look at her saving these ppl what a queen ✨)

Which clown decided it was a good idea to poison a demigod in charge of six dofus and expect nothing abnormal or deadly to happen?????

Oh yeah, the blue-skinned cows.

I don’t care what anyone says. The osamodas family was in charge of the poison attempt, I don’t care if it was that Sadida woman’s idea since it’s obvious she’d know more about poisoning. The osamodas are at fault, the osamodas king told Aurora that they should wait and let them enjoy this last happy occasion. He also told Aurora that they knew about the marriage but weren’t invited?? Come on, they’re clearly at fault here!! They’re the ones who told the Sadida servant to do something about it and she improvised! But what these two bozos didn’t know, was how it would backfire on them. This is stupid to think about because they KNEW Yugo wasn’t a normal person. Poisoning Yugo is like trying to poison a deadly cobra. Or in this case, A FUCKING DEMIGOD. Either way, you’re gonna get jumped.

Like, OF COURSE Yugo’s gonna have a freakout and fuck shit up when his body had been messed with a deadly substance.

OF COURSE, he’s gonna hurt a lot of people around him if he’s around anyone.

OF COURSE, he won’t fucking die cuz of his divinity status.

OF COURSE, he’ll start ruining the kingdom these two fucking dumbasses want for no reason.

You can’t make this shit up.

These two are so bad at being villains, they don’t even know what the fuck they’re doing to people they don’t bother knowing more about. They don’t even know who their target is.

After understanding what kind of poison Yugo drank, which was the belladone, we now know why Amalia knew what was in the cup. She probably recognized the smell of it.

Amalia: “Adamaï…The belladone is the worst of poisons…”

According to how she describes it, this poison is so deadly that it kills the person or animal who drinks it in under ten seconds. The victim first drinks it and then foams at the mouth before collapsing and dying.

We’ve seen the same thing happen in another era of the World of Twelve and that was back in the Cire Momore backstory which was an event around the Dofus era.

The daughter of a queen tried poisoning her for all the suffering she’s endured and had the help of a painter to do it.

Gustave (painter): “I found the berries at the exact place you indicated.”

Princess: “Perfect. Do not forget to carefully wash your hands. The belladone is highly toxic.”

Based on this passage alone, we’ve learned that the belladone are purple berries that are so toxic, that they can even damage you if you don’t properly wash your hands after you pick them.

After that, during the banquet, the princess secretly poured the poison into her mother’s wine. But just before she could drink it, her dog suddenly jumped at her, causing her to drop the wine, which made the pet drink it from the ground instead.

The results were exactly what you expected to happen.

Once the dog drank it, he foamed at the mouth and collapsed, immediately dying from the drink.

So when we compare this instance to what happened to Yugo, we can see a huge difference.

Unlike what happened to the dog (or any mortal), Yugo is still standing but is terribly shaking, coughing blood, and having an episode. His body is trying to get the poison out of his system by coughing but his body is still alive.

The only thing Yugo can say while in this situation is “It hurts”. My guy is in severe pain but he’s still breathing, I don’t think anyone in the history of the krosmoz has ever taken the poison like this, let alone a divinity of all people.

Yugo: “Sor…ry. The…pain.”

Bro even has the time to say sorry while kneeling on the ground and holding his stomach. He’s literally at death’s door, grasping for life, his body trying and struggling to reject the poison, and he still finds the time to apologize for something that wasn’t even his fault.

What a chad.

Amalia: “Yugo…He should already be…”

Adamaï: “My brother isn’t like everyone! He possesses the six primordial eliatrope dofus, if he manages to take hold of himself, then he can take it…”

Even Amalia is shocked that Yugo is still breathing. But Adamaï over here is telling her that he WILL survive this if he can perfectly control it with the eliatrope dofus.

And we all know how that ended up for him the last time he used them…

So Adamaï flies in and takes Yugo away from the banquet before he actually hurts somebody.

Adamaï: “Yugo, you have to focus. Or else you’ll destroy your kingdom or end up killing someone!”

But bro is not listening cuz the second Adamaï pulls him up, dude just overcharged himself before exploding AGAIN.

JUST LOOK AT THE DAMAGE!! THAT LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE A CRATER!! You can even see how perfect the circle looks from this shot.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

AMALIA FUCKING GROWING SOME BALLS AND JUMPING ON THE OSAMODAS.

Nah cuz this scene was what we needed! THIS was the moment we wanted to see ever since that blue-skinned woman started breathing in front of our screens!!

As soon as Yugo caused another explosion, this was it for the stupid clown ‘royal’ family. They signed their death sentences and Amalia is fed up with their bullshit.

Cuz trying to make her marry one of their relatives, being disrespected by them while her brother did nothing, getting told to leave her home and kingdom, being told that she should be replaced, sure she could manage all that.

She can take it. But seeing her husband being poisoned like that on the same day that a wedding was supposed to happen AND having the osamodas randomly being there to witness it, was the last straw before she finally fucking snaps.

She had just lost her whole family in a short period, she wasn’t going to lose her husband to some clowns.

(Also what the fuck were they thinking of poisoning her husband when she had already lost so much?? Did they really think this whole thing wasn’t going to backfire on them??? What a bunch of amateurs.)

And look at them just standing there looking 😮😱😱😱😧😮 LIKE OF COURSE SHE WAS GONNA KILL Y’ALL, YOU BOTH LOOK LIKE THE ODD ONES OUT HERE ‼️‼️

They even looked caught off guard when they saw Yugo causing explosions.

You got Aurora over here with her dumb ugly bat pet looking all shocked, covering her mouth as if she was surprised to find out her dad’s shenanigans wouldn’t work. And then you got animal king over here realizing he fucked up.

And right when they get confronted for their repetitive bullshit, they see literal death looking back at them with the most bloodthirsty eyes they had ever seen before.

Amalia’s so pretty in this shot ready to rip them apart 🥰🥰

Like yes queen, cut them to pieces, we’re about to have a barbecue 🤤🤤

As soon as they get caught red-handed, that’s when they suddenly turn soft and act like victims.

Fatty: “Stay back my daughter, this girl has lost her mind.”

“StAy bAcK mY DAUghTEr, ThIs gIrL hAs-“

Shut yo dumbass up little boy you knew something like this would’ve happened stop playing with me.

He’s over here acting like a random passerby when a second ago he told Aurora that they should wait a little more for something to happen.

So when he gets cornered by the very same girl who he had disrespected and ignored in Season 4 and wanted to be replaced so his useless trophy daughter can take the throne, now she’s suddenly “lost her mind”???

Fuck you.

Amalia: “YOU MONSTERS! I WAS READY TO CONFIDE YOU MY KINGDOM!”

Fatty: “I don’t know what you’re imagining, girl, but…”

That useless fat fuck KEEPS PLAYING THE CARD VICTIM EVEN WHEN SHE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BLAME HIM.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

WTF IS WRONG WITH THEM?!!?

She has EVERY RIGHT and he’s over here HEARING HER say that she was ready to give him the kingdom but this fatso is too high up his own ass to hear her cuz he’s still delusional and telling her he didn’t do shit. Even when she was this close to giving it to him, this guy was not budging from the victim card.

If I could spit at anyone in my life, it’d be him. What a sad excuse of a man. I bet my own kidney Chibi can take him in a fight.

This is literally my favourite panel of this WHOLE volume so far.

Amalia: “You poisoned my husband.”

I love it so much ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

LIKE YES FUCKING KILL THEM RIP THEM APART THEY’RE JUST STANDING THERE LIKE PROCESSED MEAT READY TO BE CUT‼️‼️‼️‼️

DO IT ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

I just love how the more Amalia becomes enraged, the more her speech bubbles tremble and shake, implying that she’s slowly but surely becoming more unhinged and losing it.

Fatty: “Crazy girl…”

Takes one to know one, bitch.

This chapter genuinely edged me, I WANNA SEE SOME BLOOD ALREADY‼️‼️

YOU’RE CO CLOSE JUST KILL THEM‼️‼️‼️‼️

DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT-

I PRAY that these poor excuses of antagonists DO NOT appear in volume 2. The chapter cover of the tenth chapter only features the Sadida servant who poisoned Yugo and she looks completely calm, almost like Yugo’s explosions and Amalia and Aurora’s fight have calmed down.

SO PLEASE TOT PLEASE DON’T PUT THEM ANYWHERE ELSE ANYMORE.

Seasons 3, and 4, and the great wave’s first volume are already enough. So cut it out. Let me have a day where I don’t get a migraine just thinking about what kind of dumbassery these fake osamodas will do in the next chapter.

#wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu manga #wakfu webtoon #the great wave #wakfu the great wave manga #wakfu the great wave #the great wave chapter 7 #wakfu the great wave chapter 7 #wakfu the great wave chapter 7 manga #the great wave manga #wakfu reviews #wakfu review #the great wave review #wakfu the great wave review #wakfu the great wave manga review #aurora slander #osamodas slander

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word-wytch · 2 years ago

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 9

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 9/? 4.4k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ There are two things you are learning very well — the volumes of a few words, and the impact of a touch.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: mild angst, longing, mild exploration through touch

Frost. The first of the year.

It covered the leaves that littered the parking lot outside your apartment in swirling fractals and crunched beneath your boots.

Barely out of October and you could already feel winter knocking at your door.

The sky was awash in a pale blue-grey as the sun came up behind the overcast clouds. The rain from the weekend brought down most of the leaves, though some of the more reluctant ones still clung to the trees in patches of yellow and orange.

You unlocked the door to your red Chevy Nova and dropped your leather satchel on the passenger’s seat.

The fog that had settled in your mind lifted just enough to get your papers graded. Just enough to get most of the dishes washed. The laundry could wait.

You turned the key in the ignition and — nothing. Well, it wasn’t nothing, there was a clicking that got louder the harder you forced the key forward.

“Come on.”

Had you left your lights on by accident? It wouldn’t be the first time. The lights were turning on though. You threw your weight into the brakes as you turned the key harder. Over and over it whined and whirred and clicked until finally the engine awoke with a rumble.

You blamed the cold.

Happy Monday.

The thing about the fog is that once it settled it was hard to lift completely. You would enter the teacher’s lounge in a daze. You would go through the motions of pouring yourself your second cup of coffee, of finding an open milk carton. Of putting on a bright face and saying hello as you make small talk with the faculty, though your mind was miles away.

You would sit down on the old, threadbare chair at your desk and review your lesson plans for the day while your mind struggled to adjust to the whirring chaos around you. The fuzzy voice over the loudspeaker. The ringing of bells and hundreds of voices echoing off the lockers in the hallway. The teenagers that you were responsible for filtering into your classroom, the energy of this weekend carrying over into their laughter and antics.

You would put on that bright face and pull yourself together, though the fog was thick with thoughts you couldn’t seem to shake. Sometimes you were grateful for the distraction of your class — tangible and in need of attention. Other times the mask got heavy. It was hard to breathe behind. There were times when all you wanted to do was hide, but the mask offered little protection.

At the top of fourth period, you stood at the front of the classroom like you always did, checking little marks by the names in your grading binder as your eyes scanned down the rows. You paused when you got to Eddie’s.

His seat was empty.

Your stomach dropped, as did your face. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You wondered if they noticed the change in your expression.

Maybe he’s just running late.

Maybe he’s sick.

You steadied the pencil in your hand, took a deep breath, and continued on down the rows. Inside your heart was racing, mind spinning with every possibility. It took all of your strength to keep the mask on for your class.

It might have been the longest 50 minutes of your life. When the bell finally relieved you from your post, you barely remembered to grab your purse before your feet carried you briskly, as fast as they could professionally move, down the hallway toward the teacher’s lounge.

You snatched one of the newspapers slumped in a pile on one of the tables and began to tear through it, flipping through the pages with ravenous eyes, looking for something, anything about an accident or a death or his name or anything.

You sensed someone behind you peering over your shoulder. You could almost feel their hot, labored breathing on your neck.

It took little more than a tilt of your head to see who it was. “H-hi Doris,” you said, stilling the paper in your trembling hands.

“Boy I’ve never seen anyone read a paper so fast in my life,” she said dryly. “Watcha lookin’ for?”

You tucked your wild hair behind your ear and pulled yourself together. “Oh, um,” What were you looking for? Would it sound weird to say? Of course it would. Your mind whirred with appropriate and totally not crazy responses. “My— my car was having some trouble this morning and I uh, you know just thought I’d check the paper to see um— uh, a number for a mechanic or something.”

Ms. O’Donnell stared down at the paper. “Good luck finding one in the obituary section.”

“Ha. Very funny,” you said, folding the paper. “Say uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen Eddie today? Was he absent for your class too?”

She huffed, un-phased. “Munson? Haven’t seen him. Honestly I’m more surprised when he shows up.”

“Ah, ok.” You stared down at the paper, the words blurring.

“You know he got a D on the pop quiz I gave on Friday.”

You gave a single nod, lips forming a hard line. “Well, he wasn’t able to study, was he?”

“Course not, it’s a pop quiz. You know I’ve gotta give it to you for trying.”

“Yes, well, so is he,” you said curtly. You left the paper crumpled on the table, turning on your heel toward the door.

Tears burned behind your eyes. You knew it was silly. Maybe that’s why they stung. The whole thing was silly and he was probably just sick like half the school was this time of year. But your feet had their own agenda and that was how you found yourself standing in front of the receptionist in the main office.

“Eddie Munson?” she asked, looking over her paperwork. “No I didn’t get a phone call or anything. I marked him as an unexcused absence.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks for checking.”

“You know, his attendance has actually been… unusually good this year.”

“Yeah— yeah, I know. Thanks anyway.” Head down, you almost ran into Diane as you turned to leave.

“Hey soldier, what brings you to my side of the line?”

“Nothing it’s— it’s stupid. I should get going before my lunch break is over.”

Diane folded her arms across her soft, green cardigan. “What’s up?” she asked gently, guiding you out of the way of incoming traffic. “You seem… upset.”

“It’s really nothing. I’m just…” you glanced around the office.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Your voice caught in your throat. Your mouth twitched but no words came out.

“Come on, that’s what my office is for.”

Diane led you across the noisy office with all the talking, and phone ringing, and copy machines whirring, through her doorway — into silence.

You sat down and looked around at what everybody else saw when they took this seat — the concrete walls painted a soft peachy-pink. The plants in her window. The few inspirational posters. The warm glow of the three lamps that lit the room. No fluorescents.

Only Diane did not take her usual place behind her desk, instead she took the seat next to you.

“I’m sorry, this is really stupid. Eddie wasn’t in class today, and I— I know it’s like, well so what, but—” you started.

“He’s the one you’ve been tutoring right?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s never been absent before?” Diane asked with a little chuckle, “It’s almost November.”

“Yeah— yeah, I know. It’s really paranoid of me. He just said that he was going to a party this weekend and I—“ you swallowed, glancing away.

Diane’s face dropped. “Oh.” She put her hand on your shoulder. “I know this is a hard holiday for you, but I’m sure he’s fine. You’re just catastrophizing. I understand where it’s coming from though.”

“Yeah— yeah I’m sure you’re right, I just…” you sighed, taking a moment to steady your breath as her hand soothed over your back. “This weekend was… hard. It’s still hard. All day today.”

“That’s the hidden toll of teaching, isn’t it?” Diane mused, “You see these kids every day and you get so… invested in them. It’s an emotional labor, you know?”

You did know. Just like the papers you graded, it was something you took home with you. Even before Eddie. That was the thing about teaching, even after you went home the job never really ended.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

Her words hung in the air as your stomach dropped, face turning hot. You couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Yes,” you choked out. “I mean I care about all my students,” you added quickly.

If only she knew.

______

Tuesday, October 29th 1985

Eddie slid his plastic lunch tray along the counter as he waited for his turn in the lunch line like some sort of prisoner.

In his mind he was still cruising the freeway, watching state signs pass, watching the upright citizens of the world go about their daily grind as he watched like a spectator from the outside. Just rambling through. That was what he loved most about skipping school — the feeling of being outside, of wondering what sort of bullshit class his friends were having to fight sleep through as he drove on past with a mug full of coffee and a tank full of gas.

His suffering had earned him almost $300 on Saturday and he was bound and determined to put it to good use. He needed a three day weekend after that. Hell, he really needed to just take the whole week but he figured that might be pushing it.

When he saw the look on your face as he entered your class an hour ago, he was grateful that he hadn’t. He would spend the first ten minutes of it running his fingers over the subtle indents that your green grading pen left behind on his test, feeling for your hand through the paper. Feeling the braille of the lines that came together to form the words “I’m proud of you”.

He could count on one hand the number of As he had gotten in his life — this was one of them.

He would spend the next forty minutes of class watching you, as he always did, with his cheek pressed against his knuckles. He would imagine you in his passenger’s seat — cruising down the road with a mug full of coffee and a tank full of gas. How you would bring your own tapes and serenade him with Joni Mitchell’s “Coyote”. How he would much rather be a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway.

The lunch lady took his tray and slapped a helping of overcooked green beans that looked more grey than green, followed by a splat of mashed potatoes and a shriveled pork chop. Eddie was grateful for how generous she was with the gravy, it would help combat the dryness. Yum.

Eddie took the tray and gave a gracious nod before making his way to the head of the Hellfire table.

“Hey man, where were you yesterday?” asked Dustin through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Eddie plopped both his tray and himself down with a sly smirk. He shed his jacket, revealing the bandage on his forearm.

“Oh shit were you in the hospital or something?” asked Mike.

“No he got a tattoo, you doofus,” laughed Jeff, nudging him with his foot under the table.

Mike rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah that’s super obvious.”

“It is,” Jeff snorted.

“Did you end up getting the sphinx from Powerslave?” asked Dave.

“I actually went with the puppet master, I’ll show you guys tomorrow when I can take this thing off. It’s really sick.” Eddie sawed at the hard, dry pork chop with his knife, stabbing it still with the fork in his other hand.

“So how was um, ‘business’ this weekend?” asked Dustin.

Eddie stopped sawing. He hesitated for a moment, his stomach churning as he recalled what happened. The red in Jason’s eyes as he grabbed him by the shirt. The look on all of their faces staring down at him.

Gareth caught his eyes. “Everybody keep an eye out for Jason Carver and any of his bitchboys. They have it out for Eddie,” he interjected.

The table erupted in questions.

“Why, what happened?” asked Dustin.

“Do we need to make them pay?” Dave cracked his knuckles.

“No— no we’re gonna just lay low but keep an eye out for them. Chrissy keeps talking to Eddie and Jason’s being a jealous little bitch about it. Keep an eye out for her too,” answered Gareth.

Eddie felt the pressure release in his chest and gave Gareth a gracious look. He caught the remorse in his eyes. There was another thing that Eddie was relieved by — he left out the part about you.

“Shitheads just being shitheads,” said Eddie finally. “But uh, Gareth’s night wasn’t so shitty,” he prompted with a raise of his eyebrows, changing the subject.

The table shifted audibly.

Gareth smirked. “Yeah Cindy gave me her number.”

Cheers, elbow jabs, and banging on the table came from all directions. Eddie smiled at his friend, full and genuine.

“I called her last night.”

More eruptive cheers. Louder this time.

“What did she say?”

“How’d it go?”

“Did you ask her out?”

“Woah, easy boys, one question at a time,” Gareth chided gently, raising his hands. “I haven’t asked her out yet. We just talked about movies and stuff. I’m trying to feel it out, you know? Gotta take it slow, I don’t wanna scare her away,” he laughed. “It went good though, we talked for like an hour.”

“You should take her to see Goonies,” Dustin suggested.

“She’s already seen Goonies, plus that’s like… is that really a date movie? What kind of movies are date movies?”

Dave snorted, “Stupid movies.”

“Yeah take her to A Room With a View,” Jeff laughed.

“Ew that’s like, serious isn’t it?”

“How ‘bout Rocky IV, that’s romantic,” offered Dustin through a snicker.

“No—no wait the new National Lampoon’s,” Mike chortled.

“Really helpful, thanks guys.”

Eddie chuckled distantly, taking a stab at his green beans. He glanced over toward the door to the teacher’s lounge, across the expanse of the noisy cafeteria. Somewhere behind that wall you too were at a table, eating lunch by yourself in a room full of people. He wondered if you felt as lonely as he did sometimes, a loneliness in feelings that weren’t appropriate to share.

______

Eddie sifted through the contents of his locker, hunting for his chemistry textbook amongst the chaos of loose papers without homes. The door, which shielded him in part from the noisy hallway, was stark. There were remnants of stickers inside from previous occupants, but aside from the papers with his name on it, there was no trace of Eddie Munson. He remembered his first few lockers here, how keen he was to leave his mark on them, to slap Iron Maiden and Slayer stickers on the inside that future occupants would have to scrape to get off. He was less keen to make a home of his sixth.

“Hey Eddie.”

He recognized the voice. Powder soft and sugar sweet, it was twinged with a tentative sadness. He took one look at Chrissy Cunningham and shut his locker, turning away.

“Eddie, wait,” she pleaded, chasing after him.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he said sharply, keeping his pace.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she admitted, her white tennis shoes hitting the tile in quick succession to keep up with his much larger gait.

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“I— I just wanted to apologize.”

Eddie gave a sharp puff of air through his nose and slowed his pace.

“I’m really sorry about Saturday. I was really drunk, I didn’t mean to get you in any trouble.”

Eddie stopped, turning to her sharply. “Yeah? Well, the longer you stand here and talk to me, the closer I am to getting in trouble again, so…”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you have,” he said curtly, turning away. His feet carried him briskly down the hall, leaving her in the gust of air he left behind.

It might have stopped her feet from following him then, but it didn’t stop her eyes from following as they searched for his across the room in chemistry class.

He would try to avoid them, but eventually the searing heat of her gaze got the best of him. He would concede, and when he did catch a glance of those green eyes from across the room he would think about the time he saw them last. Red and heavy lidded. He would think about the way she stumbled off that couch. The way she crumbled under the weight of Jason’s voice.

So he would concede and meet her eyes for just a moment from across the classroom. Behind them, equal parts desire and remorse.

______

How would you describe Eddie Munson? You had been asking yourself this question since your first encounter after school.

There were the obvious things — Plush lips. Strong chin. Soft nose. A jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Big brown eyes like a baby cow. Wild ringlets that framed his face and cascaded down his shoulders.

Then, more subtly — A summer wind. Restless and frenetic, but soft all at once. Soft in the comfortable silence that sometimes fell between you. The silence of listening. There was warmth in him too — the kind of warmth that colored the brightness of his voice when the silence was broken. He was wild, and warm, and restless, and magnetic all at once. A summer wind.

It was a question you would ask yourself after every encounter. Each time you would come away with something more.

What you did know for certain today was that nothing compared to the sight of his sweet face as he took the seat across from you.

“It’s good to see you,” you said. As if that even scratched the surface.

“Yeah, you too.” His eyes held yours as he shed his jacket around the chair. He leaned forward in it, resting his arms on the desk between you.

You were just happy to see the pink in his cheeks, the extra fluff in his hair today. You could smell the product in it even from across the desk. Your fingers occupied themselves with the pen in front of you. “I was… worried about you. On Monday.”

His eyes widened. “Shit, I’m really sorry about that,” he lamented. You could tell that he meant it too. “I was uh, getting this.” He presented his forearm with a cheeky grin.

You looked down at the inky black lines on his skin. At the gnarled hand grasping a wooden marionette cross with strings hanging down. You followed them down to what appeared to be some sort of zombie or undead creature hanging from them.

Your eyes lit up like Christmas. “Aren’t those… illegal here?” you asked in a crazed little whisper, the look on your face was wild and fascinated.

“Only in Indiana.” You could hear the mischief in his voice. “I drove to Illinois to get it. That’s why I had to take the whole day.”

You had to laugh. And you did. “Well I’m glad you’re safe. I guess it was… silly of me to worry so much.”

“No— no I should have at least called in and made up some bullshit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you’re ok. That’s all that matters.” You looked down at his arm again, at the dark, angry lines across his reddened skin. “Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, it always does a little. This one wasn’t so bad. I have others.” His dark eyes flashed at you as he hooked his fingers over the collar of his shirt, exposing the ink under his collarbone. “This one hurt the worst,” he said with a soft smirk. His hand lingered there, an offering to your eyes.

You cursed the animal inside you. The one that growled from deep within your abdomen and crawled its way into your cheeks. The one that whispered about what your lips might feel like on the skin that he exposed for you.

“O—oh yeah I can see why that would hurt.” Your eyes diverted back to his arm, tracing the lines with your eyes. You brought your face closer to examine, but you were more interested in the velvet skin of his forearm. How something could be strong and soft all at once. Your fingers twitched above it.

“You can touch it,” he said. An offering — an experience. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your eyes met his. Hesitant, you accepted, lowering your fingers slowly, then your eyes. He was so warm and impossibly soft. You were almost afraid he would feel your pulse pounding through your fingertips as they traced tentative, delicate patterns across his skin.

There was a gentle puff of air against your face as he sighed at the contact.

It took courage to look up at him, but when you did he held your gaze with an intensity that made you shudder.

“Sorry, my fingers are cold,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” His voice was gentle, distant, like a trance. “It feels… nice actually.”

You lowered your eyes again, and then more of your fingers across his warm, velvet skin, sliding slowly up and down the solid expanse of his forearm. You could feel the tendons, the soft brush of hair at the edges.

“Does it still hurt?” you asked softly.

“Yeah, a little. Kind of itches more than anything now.”

His palm was facing up at you, so close to the heat of your body. His long fingers twitched.

You should have pulled away. You knew you should and you were trying but his skin was like a magnet and you could not bring yourself to do it. It was too painful.

“How was the party?” you asked as a knot twisted in your stomach.

He huffed and shook his head, “Pretty shitty if I’m being honest.”

The knot released a little. “That bad huh?”

His eyes widened, giving a crazed little look, “Yeah, it was that bad.”

“What happened?”

His brow furrowed as he searched for the words, “Just… drama I guess — involving a certain, uh, basic primate. It’s really stupid, honestly.”

Your fingers pressed concern against his arm, ever so subtly. “Jason?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, casting his gaze away. “Yeah, he’s a real dick. Anyway, like I said, it’s stupid.”

You wanted to press on, but it seemed like he didn’t care to elaborate.

“I was worried about you, at the party,” you said softly. And then you did something bold, as if possessed by a force stronger than your noble mind — you lowered your palm.

You could feel his approving hum through your hand, the vibrations rippling from under his velvet skin.

“I knew you would be. I was extra careful.” His eyes flitted up to yours. “For you.”

It was the seriousness of his tone that stirred you most. The earnest, deadpan look on his face, like there were volumes behind those two words.

It opened up a narrow passage, and you entered with the boldest thing that you had ever said.

“I really care for you.”

You wondered if he could feel your pulse hammering against his arm, feel your hand start to sweat. Your fingers twitched, mind racing with second-guessing. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You lifted your hand to remove it, but then he did something that surprised you.

His hand below you gripped your arm.

“No—no,” he soothed, his eyes meeting yours in earnest. “It’s ok.”

Time stopped — frozen as he held you in his gaze. You might have thought your heart stopped too had it not been so audibly pounding in your ears.

“I care for you too,” he admitted.

The breath that was caught in your chest released, and with his permission, you relaxed into the touch. You squeezed his arm gently — a gesture he returned, and heavy sigh escaped both of you at once.

It was only a moment, but there a whisper, no — a bold admission in the quiet of the air between you.

He smiled at you. Breathy and crooked, a wild warmth in his eyes. And for one stolen moment the fear that had nestled itself deep within your chest melted away.

The animal inside you stirred, stretching outward like a yawn, up into your neck and cheeks again. It was warm this time. Comfortable now.

The world around you fell away. The concrete walls, and clocks, and bells, and chalkboards ceased to exist. There was nothing else that mattered except hands on skin across the great divide of the desk lodged between you.

Your mouth twitched but words would not come. You feared that if they did the spell would break.

Eddie was much braver.

“I wish you could have come. To the party. I mean like, hypothetically, not… realistically. But like, another party. I— I don’t know. Sorry that sounds really stupid,” he said with a little chuckle. His arm remained locked to yours, curious fingers wandering across your skin.

“No it’s not, I— I wish I could have gone too. Hypothetically. I would have had a much better Saturday night than I did on my own, trust me,” you said with a pained laugh.

He shook his head, thumb rubbing electric circles on your arm. “Oh I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you said.

And with that Eddie did something even braver — his palm traced its way down your arm until it found your hand. He held it in his for a moment, warm, calloused thumb soothing over your knuckles. You could feel those bones again, those strong fingers that held you steady as you threatened to tremble.

It was only for a moment. But in this moment there were two things that were abundantly clear for both of you —

1. It felt too good to stop.

2. That things would never be the same.

______

A/N: Well, well — we have an admission! After quite possibly the longest October in history, time is going to start moving a little more quickly now that our forbidden lovebirds are on the same page. We've still got some more hurdles to navigate, but strap in as we prepare for liftoff! 🚀

Another note, I will be closing my taglist. Those of you who are already on it will remain tagged, but anyone else who wants to keep following the story can just follow me (as I would sincerely hope you all are) and turn on notifications.

A smaller note — I have given Freak #3 the name of Dave.

As always, I deeply appreciate any and all comments -- keyboard smashing, theories, small novels, all of it. Hearing your reactions to my story fuels me in ways that I can only begin to tell you.

Please reblog and help others to find my precious creation! ✨

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @newlips @chainsawmunson @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @wordscomehither @alottanothing @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @blue-mossbird @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @ruby-dragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me

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afewfantasies · 8 months ago

Text

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter III

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Misc references & details

Summary: A threat to Lorena's safety leads to Gales assessment and acknowledgement of his complicated feelings for Lorena. Lorena tries her best to make peace with her past and what she's willing to accept in her future.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings: Spiking of drinks and gender based dangers relevant for the times.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 2K

Chapter III - In Care of Gale Cleven

Another month has passed....

“Hey boss?” Kurt asks as Gale reviews the ledgers. “I think we have trouble, some guys came in flirting with Lorena pretty hard. They look like bad news” Kurts words alert Gale.

“Who’s in there now?”

“Jeff and Andy” Kurt responds as his boss grabs a pistol. He knew bad news and a beautiful unmarried woman in the middle of nowhere would be easy pickings for some. Locking up his ledgers he heads into the Lodge. He finds Lorena behind the bar like they’d practiced just in case of emergency. All four pigs are hanging on her every word they look and smell like trouble. Gale gives Kurt a hand signal telling him to call in the guys in the case of more trouble and sits to the bar not as an owner but as a patron. It gets the attention of the patrons and Lorena who gives him a soda. Gale never looked for fights but since the war sometimes he found himself seeking them out. Men who rejected the notion of peace needed to know some horrors and he would be the one to hand out that dose of reality for them.

“You alright?” Gale asks Lorena just above a whisper.

“Yeah” she nods. “Brown hat has a knife and denim jacket has a pistol” she whispers. A shrill whistle cuts through the air.

“Come on back over here darling, leave old blondie alone” One of the four trouble makers shouts.

“She’s no dog you don’t whistle at a woman!” One of the regulars says from his table as Jeff rids it of his dishes.

“Mind your business senior” One responds and the others laugh.

“Just apologize, you don’t whistle at women” Lorena says topping them back up.

“Sorry love more whisky” the loser in denim winks. Nodding she heads into the back feeling the promise of a brawl. Rose had taught her the unethical practice of drugging certain patrons. Reaching the glass viles she pours the necessary drops into the bottle of whisky swishing the bottle around. When she emerges more familiar faces have taken their seats. She pours four fresh whiskeys and in ten minutes the trouble makers are knocked out on the pine.

Gale takes point leaving Jeff with Rose and Lorena. He and the guys rid the troublemakers of their possessions getting their identification and car keys. He loads them up onto his flatbed truck covering them with a tarp like their dead men. Kurt and Rainey hop in the two cars they arrived in. Gale is in lead driving to the other side of the mountain. They’d wake up lost and with a serious headache. When he’d purchased the lakehouse from Rose she’d been forthcoming about all the dangers about being away from civilization. The sleeping drafts had been something her mother suggested after her and her husband had been attacked. He’d been engaged then to his dream girl. It was only supposed to be a cottage then. Rose and her boys would run it but then the war came and he left and when he returned home single he couldn’t bare to frequent the places he once had with his fiancé. He couldn’t stomach the noise and bustle of the city. He needed peace, he needed quiet and a simple life. The mountains weren’t without issue but simplicity served him well. Arriving at his favourite spot to dump miscreants he pulls into a cliff. Kurt and Rainey behind him. They put the guys in the cars leaving the keys in the ignition. They leave a can of petrol for them and one bullet in the chamber of their gun. They were so far inland that they could drive in any direction for an hour before finding a way out. That’s what Gale was banking on.

In five months Lorena had come to belong to him in a sort of way. She was his responsibility, she lived in his home, under his roof and anything she needed he provided. They shared breakfasts together and he checked on her every night before settling in. Whatever she wanted she got, he’d spent the equivalent of days chopping down trees and using wood to make her custom furniture for her books and her plants and for shelving. Her’s was the only room in his home expertly decorated. So much so he could hardly recognize it. Although he grumbled often about her frilly ways he enjoyed nothing as much as her smiling and happy. Nothing he hated more than her melancholy. With every new letter came a day of tears and sulking. No matter how he tried to consider the facts he couldn’t fathom a scenario where leaving Lorena for another woman would be feasible. The way she handled patrons he could tell she would make a fine mother and wife. After what Egan had said he knew Lorena had loved her ex-husband more fiercely than most men could imagine and she was still loyal to him.

Gale found himself thinking about her on some nights. Thinking of heading into her room and holding her all night and studying her soft features in the morning light. Waking up bathed in the scent of her perfume with her in his arms and not spending the dreadful hour before she woke up downstairs waiting to hear her footsteps pad across her bedroom into the bathroom. But she never looked at him the way the other women did. She didn’t stare longingly or even coyly. She’d never let looks linger with desire and he’d never heard her call a man like him handsome, although everyone else seemed to think of him that way. He thought of what it would be like to come home to her regularly and since their trip into the city he’d been unable to solicit discreet widows for carnal pleasure.

They’d make a handsome couple he thought often but she would never be his in that way. So he put the thoughts away as quickly as they came and his charge would be her protection and preservation like anyone else under his care. If he had to dump four scoundrels in the middle of bear country in the summer he would. Without regrets or remorse because nothing would ever happen to Lorena under his watch.

Back at the lodge he heads up to Roses place and finds supper has been prepared. Lorena sits on the sofa mending one of his shirts as she hums along to the record playing. He watches her in the doorway.

“All settled?” Rose asks.

“Mhm” he nods looking back to Lorena.

“She’s fine they were talking to her filthy but she’s not shaken up” Rose explains.

“Good, I’ll need more of those sleeping drafts” Gale mumbles.

“Mail came after you left” Rose notifies him. He swallows puzzled. Looking at Lorena it’s easy to see she’s in good spirits and not in her usual funk.

“She read the letters?”

“No, one from the ex that was pretty thick and one from the sister” Rose discloses missing nothing even at her old age. Nodding Gale looks up to see Lorena is now aware of his return. She snips a thread and stands draping his shirt over her arm.

“Everything alright, no one was hurt right?”

“No” Gale affirms looking her over.

“Come here, let me see it” Rose says holding up the shirt. Gale smiles seeing the rip gone but a mangled stitch replacing the gaping hole.

“Lorena” Rose tsk’s disapprovingly.

“It’s wearable still” Gale defends with a mocking smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart” Rose tiptoes kissing Lorenas temple.

“Tomorrow” she nods following Gale back to the house. They walk side by side as he uses a torch to light the way. “Thank you” Lorena whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me”

“I do you all take great care of me, let me do as I please and don’t judge me for it” she whispers sticking close. “Only loose and abandoned women work” she says as her mother and other society ladies did.

“Well you’re neither” Gale corrects in a clipped tone.

“Next month would be my sixth wedding anniversary” Lorena confesses slightly over the sound of gravel under their feet. Gale can’t make out more than her figure in the darkness. “My sister Fefe, has spent the day with me since the war. Last year we threw this big dinner party since Reggie was home. I got a letter from both of them today. I bet Fe wants me to come home” Lorena says sounding solemn.

“Why can’t Fefe come here?” Gale asks making her smile. He was a man that didn’t do nicknames ad the silly childhood moniker sounded silly coming from a grown man.

“Felicia” Lorena corrects. “She’d tell daddy who’d come here and make a big stink about me living in the woods with a man. He’d say he didn’t pay for my education and indulge my interests in fashion and hosting to have me stay here” Lorena explains.

“I see and my colour won’t help either will it?” Gale asks.

“My folks aren’t prejudice, maybe my daddy is a little but that’s cause his grandfather was a Native American” Lorena explains.

“So they want you remarried?” Gale asks.

“They do but all the suitors remember me as this happy young beautiful person. The young woman I was before the war” she whispers in reflection.

“Lorena I think anyone would be happy to have you as their wife” Gale says frankly.

“Gale I’m spoiled” she swallows heading up the stairs to their home.

“Why’s that?” He asks lighting the home as he looks down at her.

“I’ve already been in love, I know that that’s like. I’ve had a loving marriage.” She says. “I know what’s like and I’d know the difference and it’d haunt me” she confesses leaving Gale to nod I understanding. “And you and the guys spoil me rotten, there’s nothing you all wouldn’t do for me and you want nothing in return” she smiles. “I can imagine having to bat my eyes and be sweet for some pocket money or a new dress. Or sing the praises of a man who feels he owns me because of the marriage certificate” she says having thought through her options throughly. Raking his hands through his hair Gale thinks a moment horrified by the prospect himself.

“Any son of a bitch mistreats you I want you to send a letter here about where he spends his days and nights. I’ll take care of it for you doll” he says seriously. Lorena often wondered how such a gentle man found violence so natural to him. Smiling she shakes her head.

“It’s better I stay so I don’t damn either of our souls” Lorena smiles. Gale does too reaching out for her. She walks into his arms appreciating the hug and his care of her.

“Tell your sister to meet you in the city and I’ll drive down with you and bring her up here. You can have the house”

“My room is big enough for Fe and I”

“Well if Felicia’s a respectable woman her husband may not like her sleeping in the same house as a single man” Gale concludes.

“He isn’t like that, Felicia can do as she pleases. But I’ll send for her, thank you Gale” she says heading upstairs. It went without saying Gale was beginning to arrive at the place where there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep Lorena safe and comfortable. Stopping halfway up the flight of stairs Lorena turns around stopping him in his tracks.

“Really, thank you” she smiles getting only a smiling nod in response. “Take me shopping tomorrow?” She asks only to receive the same gestures. “Goodnight Gale”

“Goodnight Lorena” he says and she pauses before finishing the ascend and heading to his room. Her smile had been infectious since the first day he’d seen it. Lorena had been laughing at Jeff’s clumsiness, the fool had been half performing for her attention but as long as anything wasn’t too broken Gale let it go on appreciating the unfamiliar sounds of woman’s laughter as he sat in his corner numb to it.

Authors Note: Thank you for reading :) Let me know if you all want this to continue. The next Chapter has Lorena's older sister coming into town. She doesn't hold back and see's Gales feelings for Lorena.

#austin butler imagine #austin butler #austin butler x black reader #gale cleven x oc #gale cleven #major gale cleven #masters of the air #masterlist #black authors #austin butler x oc #austin butler fanfiction

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