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meowmeowriley · 24 days ago

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Ghost wants a dog. He's thought about it for a while, done some research, put out feelers. He's allowed to have a dog where he live, has a house to himself not five minutes from base. Waste of space, he used to think, but space enough for a dog.

He needs a big dog. He's a big lad. When some people think "big dog" they're thinking of a German Shepherd Good dogs, he's sure. But only 40 kilos, max. He needs something bigger, he thinks.

At first, he thought he'd like himself a Rottweiler. Hefty. Big bodied and boisterous. Easily trainable if you've got the time and the grit, both he figured he had in spades, so long as he wasn't on an op. But then he read about tail docking and, well... he couldn't bring himself to think about it any more. Those poor puppies, he thinks.

He goes home with Soap, visiting the MacTavish farm. They're friends, he wants to see the sheep, he tells Soap. Tells himself. He won't admit that he just wants to spend more time with Johnny.

The MacTavish's have Border Collies to herd their sheep. Practical. Cute, he likes the pups, but much too small for him. Not to mention intelligence to rival the rookies he had to whip into shape on base and tripple their energy. He wasn't sure he'd want to deal with that.

But while out, on their way into town, he saw it. A huge dog standing amongst someone else's flock, head heald high and nose in the wind. Soap knew the farmer from his childhood, drove them up the lane when he caught Ghost staring. Due to his staring, Ghost had missed the sign they passed, though Soap didn't. 'Pyrenees puppies 4 sale' it read.

The farmer smiled when he noticed John, the boy who left the fields to play soldier and came back a man. John introduced him as Lieutenant 'Ghost' Riley. Ghost rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. "Simon. Saw your dog in the field, never saw one like it. Wanted to know more." A short introduction, straight to the point.

The response was the opposite. The farmer gave him what felt like his life's story. Took what seemed to Ghost to be a year before he got to telling him about the dog, a Great Pyrenees, apparently. A large bodied, heavy white coated livestock guardian breed. He had two, the one in the field was the sire, the dam was in the barn. As he spoke, he lead the two men towards that very barn.

The farmer entered first, to separate the mother from the pups, for their protection, he said. In the barn was a sight that melted the hardened Lieutenant into a puddle of goo: a litter of snow white, fluffy puppies. Huge puppies. Sticks and hay and debris were stuck all over their fluffy bodies, Simon picked out what he could from the pups as they wallered and slobbered all over him.

Soap took over speaking to the farmer as Ghost slowly accepted that he would never again have crisp black clothes. That everything in his future would be covered in white fluff. The life expectancy of his washer and dryer had just been halved, he suspected.

The farmer explained their personality: that females tended to be more protective, they'd be a home body, not exactly a jogging companion. Loyal but brutish, often misconstrued as lazy. The beast out in the field with the flock would lay about and let the sheep climb all over him, wouldn't even bother to get up if someone hopped the fence like. But if he heard a sound he didn't like, or saw another dog or a predator in the field, he'd let loose a bark that'd freeze a man's blood, and hunt the perceived threat down come hell or high water. "And you should see her in action," the farmer laughed and shook his head. "Almost killed the male over getting too close to his own pups. Protective to a fault. 'S why I had to turn her out, you see."

Ghost saw an oversized cotton ball trip over it's own feet as it tried to get to his fingers because it needed to be pet. It was the only one without any tan or grey patch. Ghost saw his future best friend.

The farmer started to explain that these pups ought to be sent off to other farms, they wouldn't do as family dogs, but John walked him out of the barn. Explained that the man they'd left behind had no family to speak of, needed something other than work to focus on, and if anyone were able to handle the instincts and behavioral issues of a livestock guardian without livestock, it'd be Simon. The farmer agreed, so long as he made sure to choose a male, for safety reasons.

The two drove off another twenty minutes later, after Simon had listened with rapt attention to the farmer detailing everything about what the pups had been through up to that point, and what he'd need to do moving forward to make sure his little guy was happy and healthy, Ghost holding young Spirit to his chest.

From that point on all of Ghost's belongings had long white fur and drool on them, courtesy of his personal polar bear.

On the day of their wedding their ring bearer was their own pseudo-bear, and nobody left the venue without drool or fur on their clothes.

#ramblings #a love letter to my own pyrenees #call of duty #modern warfare #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago

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Simmer #4

CH4. 0800-Awkward | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Eddie’s van was cleaner than you expected and it smelled like mint gum and coffee. There were sheets of paper on the passenger seat he cleared for you with quick hands, boyish scrawls of ink noting down recipes and ingredients, a page of music in between.

Music blared from the radio when Eddie turned on the engine and he scowled at the noise, bashing the button to turn it off so you were both squished between awkward silence instead. You put your hands on your lap, sitting up too straight, throat tight.

The quiet enveloped you both.

“Where am I takin’ you?” Eddie asked gruffly once he turned out of the parking lot. The rain was still bouncing off the roads, the sky dark and angry, navy coloured clouds blocking out all the light. “You live near Robin, right?”

You nodded, pulling at your knuckles until you gave in and picked at a nail, nervousness clawing at you like a persistent puppy. The boy beside you made your stomach tumble, and you weren’t quite sure why yet. “Yeah, just off fourth and Maple,” you told him. “But you can drop me off at the pharmacy, it’s only, like, a ten minute walk from there.”

Eddie scoffed at your suggestion, like he’d do no such thing, but he didn’t say anything else. So you spoke instead, your heart in your dry mouth, watching the boy’s profile, wondering how someone so pretty could be so damn mad all the time. Was it just you?

“So, uh, is Wayne your dad?”

Eddie didn’t take his eyes off the road, he just stepped on the accelerator a little too hard when the lights changed from amber to green. When the engine stopped yelling, he answered. “He’s my uncle.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. Something told you that asking anything about Eddie’s father would result in a very quiet, very tense ride back to your apartment. “He’s real sweet— your uncle. He’s been super nice to me.”

“Wayne’s nice to everyone,” Eddie replied shortly and it hurt like a kick to the stomach.

The breath left you and you deflated, just a little. The skin around your thumb was becoming raw from your picking. You couldn’t help it, even if you muttered it as you looked out the window. “Clearly it’s not a family trait.”

“What?” Eddie’s voice was all surprise, even the van juddered as he pressed on the brakes a little too hard. You glanced over at him, chin ducked down, fingers torturing the ones on your other hand. Eddie was all raised brows and parted lips, an almost curl of amusement on them. “What did you say?”

It was a dare, a challenge. A ‘go on, say that again. Are you brave enough?’

You glared at him, just like he loved to do to you so often. “I said, clearly, it’s not a family trait.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie laughed, a rough bark that told you he didn’t actually find you funny at all.

You were a built up dam, spilling over the top with a new job, new friends, a new apartment in a new town. It was scary. It had been hard.

You burst.

“You’re so mean to me,” you told him hotly, “all the time! And then you apologise, only for it to last until the end of your shift. I know I’m not like, the best waitress— I mean, I’m hardly Nancy, but I’m trying! I— I haven’t done anything to you.” You sniffed, you wobbled. Tears threatened you both and your voice came out a little higher now. “Have I? If I have, I didn’t mean to.”

You dragged a hand over your face and when you looked back to the boy, Eddie looked horrified. He was pink in the face, eyes darting from you to the road and back again, his finger curling around the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip. He didn’t say anything.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you muttered to your lap and when Eddie slowed to the next stop sign, you flung a hand onto the door handle. “Just drop me here.”

The sound of the rain slapping the pavement only grew louder when you managed to open the door a crack and it seemed to spur Eddie into action. He leaned over you and grabbed at your hand, using it to pull the door shut again. It snapped back into place and Eddie was scowling when you swore at him in return. “Fucking Christ, woman,” he huffed. “I’m takin’ you home, alright? You’ll drown out there.”

“It’s a bit of rain, Eddie,” you snapped. “I lived in Chicago, I’ll survive some water.” Your ferocity was short lived, because you gave in with a huff, eyes watering once more as you pressed yourself against the seat and crossed your arms in defeat.

There was a voice in your head, someone from an old job, an old classmate in middle school, your mom. It didn’t matter who, they were all cruel. Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby.

“Can you just - fuck - can you just let me talk?”

You watched as Eddie licked his lips, maybe out of nerves and he gripped the steering wheel harder still. You thought he’d maybe yell at you, maybe he’d tell you exactly why he was so hot and cold with you, maybe he’d explain in detail why you’d managed to piss him off.

Instead, he asked, “why’d you leave Chicago?”

You stared at him. Was he joking? Was he playing some kind of weird joke? But Eddie waited, his face a pretty picture of sincerity and he glanced at you from the road as often as safety would let him.

“Uh, I didn’t like it,” you scrunched your face at the memory, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Too big, too loud. I don’t really—” you searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t make you sound weak and small. “I don’t enjoy big cities. They’re too much.”

Eddie nodded and suddenly, suddenly, you were having a conversation with him. “I get that. My mom moved to Philadelphia, I don’t see her much, but I used to visit when I was a kid. Hated that no matter what time of night it was, it was never quiet - or dark - fuckin’ lights everywhere.”

There was a silence before you pressed your lips together and hummed. “Yeah,” you agreed. “You could never see the stars in Chicago. I missed that.”

The rain was letting up now, nothing more than a horrible drizzle that you knew would still soak you to the bone, but it was quieter. Softer. The sky turned lilac, a hazy kind of purple blue as the sun tried to break through.

“Where did you grow up?” Eddie peered through his curls at you, his fingers unfurling from the death grip he had on the wheel. He turned down Main Street, one hand in his lap, his head leaning back against the chair. “I know it wasn’t here - would’ve remembered you.”

“Fortville,” you told him, wondering if you just kept talking, your heart would stop racing at what he’d just said to you. “With my parents. It was a tiny place, not much there, probably even smaller than Hawkins and we had chickens and a dog my mom rescued just before I was born. I liked it though, it was a nice place to grow up.”

“Why’d you leave?”

You shrugged, turned to look out the window at the spots of rain on the glass, the kaleidoscope of colours they made now the sun shone through them. “Dad left, found another family. Mom turned mean.” You didn’t elaborate more than that and Eddie noticed how your voice turned softer, even quieter.

“Fair enough,” Eddie answered and you couldn’t help but notice that when he wasn’t frowning, when the lines between his brows were gone, his eyes were the colour of dark chocolate, big and earnest looking. “I can, uh, relate. Kinda.”

A comfortable silence passed after that, one that came with the break of the clouds, dark shadows giving way to a late evening sunset, turning the wet sidewalks golden. You could feel Eddie stealing glances at you, quick flickers of his eyes that went from your face to where your fingers were picking at your nails on your lap.

“You haven’t— you haven’t done anything to me,” Eddie murmured. You looked up at the sound of his voice, nails forgotten about and you saw that flush on his cheeks rise over his nose, turning it pink. He licked his lips and you tracked the movement, feeling the nerves roll off of him and fill the space between you. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t, I didn’t mean to be… mean.”

Eddie parked the van and you blinked, not even realising that he’d stopped on your street. Your apartment building was just a little down the road, waiting.

“You lied to me when I came in that day,” you squinted at the boy, both of you cringing at the memory of Eddie pretending that he wasn’t who he was. That he wasn’t who you were looking for. “Why? Why did you do that?”

Eddie turned a deeper shade of pink, cheeks burning and he fumbled over his words before he swallowed harshly and turned towards you in his seat. He tugged at his curls, unsure what to do with his hands now he didn’t have the wheel to grip. “I’m, shit, I’m sorry ‘bout that. That was— that was just. Stupid.”

You nodded, looking at him with sad eyes that seemed to make his brow knit together in despair.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t do well with like, making friends?” Eddie offered an explanation that he didn’t seem to be able to admit easily. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to smile at you, tried to ease the feeling of guilt that was swarming him. “I get stuck in my ways, y’know? I just go to work, go home, go back to work— new things—” Eddie glanced over at you with those big eyes. “—new people, make me kinda, nervous. I guess.”

You let your gaze settle on his, watching as he took in a breath and blinked. He looked a little dizzy, his confession making the air a little lighter. But something else lingered. It felt like glitter, a sparkling, pretty thing that swirled in the front space of the van. It was hopeful.

“I get nervous too. Shy,” you admitted. You felt nervous now, tummy tumbling, a whole aviary loose inside. “About a lot of things.” About you, is what you didn’t say. “But I’m not a dick about it.”

Eddie snorted and the sound made your lip quirk up, an almost smile. Eddie nodded, like he was agreeing with your passive insult, his lips twisting as he looked you over once more. His gaze was warmer than you’d seen it before, no furrow between his brow to make you wonder if he was pissed at you. Now he just looked… interested.

“You’re right,” he announced. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’ve been a dick. I’m sorry.”

“You said sorry earlier,” you reminded him. “With breakfast. But then you were a dick all over again. This hot and cold is making my head hurt.” You fiddled with the hem of your uniform dress, lifting powder blue away from your knee to pick at a loose thread.

“I did, didn’t I?” The boy let his head fall back onto the window, a dull thud, curls sticking to the glass that was all fogged up from you both sitting talking. The setting sun made him golden, peach coloured cheeks and honey eyes, all bronze shadows and inky lines over his arms, peeking out from his T-shirt. “Was it good? Your breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes and Eddie grinned, truly, he beamed at you. It was a flirtatious thing, a pretty thing - it made your heart pick up and your breath catch in your throat because it was so fucking unexpected.

“Yes, it was good,” you murmured, back to shy, back to dipping your chin and not really being able to look him in the eye. “But that’s not the point.”

“You’re right,” he said again. The boy seemed so much more agreeable out of his chef whites, without the heat and the noise and the constant sizzle of the kitchen. “I really am sorry - I hate, fuck, I hate that I didn’t make you feel welcome. That was shitty of me.”

You sniffed, pulled the thread loose and watched baby blue spring and curl around your finger. “It was.”

Eddie looked hopeful when you finally found the courage to meet his gaze again. He gave you a slow shrug, a half smile that still didn’t look fully sure. But he tried anyway.. “Can we start again?” He moved, shifting closer to you, close enough that the stick shift was pressing against the slight pudge of his tummy and you could smell his cologne, could see the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He held out his hand for you, silver rings and all. “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

He waited with wide eyes for you to reach out too, to slip your hand into his and curl your fingers around his palm. He did the same, engulfing you. His hands were much warmer, wider, bigger. Calloused and with silver scars, no doubt from too sharp knives.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

—————

You burst through the kitchen doors just as you broke. A burn in the corner of your eyes, a hollow thud in your chest as the adrenaline of being yelled at surged through you. A family with too many kids to keep track of, a plate of fries on the floor before you could bring out every meal, a stressed out mother who took out her frustration on you and the fact you’d forgotten the soda one of the small boys was yelling about. She was sharp about it, loud enough for the other customers to hear and you watched as Robin frowned from the booth she was serving.

She grabbed your elbow as you passed, feet threatening to stumble with how quick you moved, cheeks hot, throat tight. “I’ll get it,” she whispered. “Take a minute.”

But you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak before you could suck in a breath. “S’fine. It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”

So you let the kitchen door hit the wall as you almost ran in, eyes blinking back tears of embarrassment and the noise was enough for Eddie to look up from the grill where he was flipping burgers. He frowned at the sight of you, but this time, he looked concerned. You rushed past him to grab the glass of soda that was sitting forgotten on a tray - next to the extra basket of fries the woman had requested, fuck - and turned on your heel to go back out the way you came.

“Hey,” Eddie called after you, “what’s wrong?”

You brushed him away with a raised hand, the other holding the tray of missed items and you didn’t trust yourself to look back at the boy as you rushed back out the door. You sniffed and blinked before you put on a smile, approaching the woman who’d loudly berated you in front of the entire diner.

“I’m so sorry again,” you whispered as you placed the drink and fries on the messy table. One of the kids screamed and you flinched, trying your best to keep the smile on your face as the woman turned to you. “If there’s anything else I can get you, ju—”

“If there’s anything else I need, I’ll get it myself,” she scoffed meanly. Her voice was too sharp, still too loud, a biting thing that dug into your arm and wouldn’t let go. “You got a pretty face, honey, but that’s not gonna get you far. Can hear that empty space in that head from all the way over here.”

You blinked again, uncaring that a tear slipped out, a hot drip of water down one cheek. You kept smiling. In fact, you smiled all the way back into the kitchen before your breath stuttered and your face crumpled.

“Hey, hey, c’mon.” Eddie. At your side, a hand catching your elbow, fingertips grazing your skin like he was still too unsure to hold you fully. “C’mere. It’s fine.”

He led you through the kitchen, hand guiding you so your blurry eyes didn’t lead you into the corner of a station. There was something spicy cooking in a pan, garlic and chilli and soy that Argyle took over stirring as Eddie left it alone in favour of you. Jim must’ve heard the commotion in the dining room, ‘cause he made a rare appearance outside of his office, hand holding onto the door frame as he leaned out, frowning at what he saw.

“Chicago,” he called through the kitchen, voice booming over the radio, the sizzle of the grill, the drone of the vents. “You good? You wanna talk?”

You turned, bumping into Eddie’s side and shaking your head, all whilst trying to smile and appear like you were absolutely fine. Totally normal. Definitely not crying like a baby. You cringed, turning back around and ducking your chin to hide your glossy eyes, your wet cheeks.

“S’fine, Jim,” Eddie called back. “I’ve got her. Jus’ give us five minutes.”

“Munson, you got burgers on!” Your boss called back, you heard him sigh and Argyle told him that he’d manage.

“Five minutes!” Eddie said again, his voice sharper and louder than before and you were moving faster to the back door, bypassing the walk in altogether.

“If they burn, that’s too much money to get thrown in the trash, Eddie,” Hopper complained. “That’s prime fuckin’ beef from the Sinclairs, Eddie and I don’t got time to get Lucas back out for another delivery— hey! Are you listen—”

Eddie ushered you out of the fire exit, blue skies and too bright light making you squint, a rush of hot air that was heavier than the kitchen, muggy and smelling like cut grass and the smoke that came from the vent on the wall. The door snapped shut before Jim could finish talking.

The silence was a warm thing, cloying like the summer afternoon, the edge of a heatwave, the steam from the kitchen that lingered in the small alleyway out back. You brought the heels of your palms to your eyes, pushing there meanly as you sniffed a little wetly and tried to stop your bottom lip from trembling. If you faced the crumbling wall, maybe you could pretend Eddie wasn’t there, watching you.

“Hey, c’mon.”

You groaned.

“C’mon,” Eddie coaxed again, his hand pulling at your wrist, urging you to stop hiding. “You gotta stop letting customers get you all upset like this. ‘Specially the ones that are utter assholes.”

“You heard her?” You asked weakly, embarrassment crawling up your neck. You knew he would’ve, shit, Wayne probably heard it all the way down the street. Of course Eddie heard it from the kitchen. “God, that’s so—” you let out a small groan of anger, a soft wail that was tinged with a little shame.

“No, no, stop that,” Eddie frowned as you buried your face in your hands once more. He got you by your shoulders, palms and fingers curling over the bone there, impossibly wide, engulfing. You turned soft for him, letting him manhandle you until you were facing him, brows crinkled, your cheeks warm. “She was a bitch. You’re okay, it’s alright.”

You sucked in another breath, one of those awful ones that hitched and made your throat close up a little. It was hard to look into Eddie’s eyes. They were big and warm and earnest, crazily so, the colour of burnt honey and he was painfully close. The alleyway pushed you both together, space limited between the walls, the empty pallets, the stacked up crates.

“She was out of order, yeah?” Eddie continued softly, his thumb pushing softly into the meat of your shoulder, drawing circles through your uniform. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re all just human here, Chicago. It’s fine.”

You nodded, numb. Tears still stained your hot cheeks, salt gathering in the corners of your mouth and you felt embarrassed at the reaction, the white hot rush of anxiety that gripped the back of your neck as soon as someone raised their voice at you. You blinked again, feeling heavy, another fresh wave of tears making your vision turn into kaleidoscopes. You scrunched your face, annoyed with yourself, head tilting back to the strip of blue sky you could see between the buildings roofs.

“God, I’m so fucking lame,” you groaned. “So stupid.”

You brought your chin back down to just catch the boy smiling, a dopey, soft thing that made you think he was gonna laugh at you. He did, but it wasn’t mean. In fact, Eddie’s laugh was a damn pretty thing. Scratchy and raspy and warm, enough to make you stop screwing your face up and blink at him.

“You’re not lame,” he told you firmly. He dropped his hands from your shoulders now that you weren’t intent on hiding. You found you missed the weight of them on you, a grounding feeling that helped the tears subside. “Or stupid. Shit, kid, you gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I’m always forgetting stuff though,” you argued. The sun was a blazing thing above you both, hot on your head, your shoulders, the back of your neck. Your uniform itched under the heat and you were backing away into the shadows along the line of the diner wall. Eddie followed, shoulder to shoulder as he leaned against the brick, lounging enough to bring him to the same height as you. “I’m messing up orders and I keep walking into the same stupid table - even though it’s always there! I got a bruise on my hip the size of a fucking peach,” you grumbled unhappily.

Eddie snorted at hearing you swear, a cannonball of a word coming out of your sweet mouth, usually talking softly and shyly at him and customers. He knocked your shoulder with his and tutted. “You’re still new,” he shrugged when you scoffed. You’d been at the diner for almost two months. “Get out of here with that, you are. You’re in a new town and a new job. Give yourself a break.”

“I’m just— god.” You bit down on your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m such a crybaby, I hate it. I must look like such a mess.” Your eyes felt sore, your cheeks puffy and warm, all too familiar and just as embarrassing as it was when you were ten, fifteen, twenty years old.

Eddie just shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his chef whites. He looked at your face, just for a second, before ducking his chin and studying the concrete below his feet. “Nah,” he said quietly, “you look pretty like always.”

It was quiet for a second or two, the surprise on your face morphing into a crooked smile, a quirk of one corner of your lips at the boy’s words. You sniffed and laughed a little watery, a shy sounding thing that made Eddie blink at you. “You’re being nice to me,” you told him.

He grinned like he couldn’t help himself, a sharp, sudden thing that made his face look even prettier. Curls spilled from his poorly tied bun and his cheeks went rose coloured, more blush than flushed from the heat. He knitted his brows together in faux confusion, tried to act too cool, too blasé. “I am, aren’t I?” He huffed. “Weird.”

You shoved at him in jest, your hand on his shoulder and he barely even budged. But you felt a thrill in touching him, your hand just by the muscles in his arm, where you knew a tattoo lay, curling around a bicep that you couldn’t see under his uniform. It was easy to joke like this, to smile and wipe your eyes one last time when Eddie was playing nice.

You felt like a teen with a crush, that lovesick, giddy type of softness settling in your chest and it purred when you looked at the boy. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But Eddie got prettier when he smiled at you and when he reached out to straighten the pen that was about to call out of your chest pocket, you were done. A goner.

You wanted to ask if this made you friends.

Instead, you swallowed your embarrassment and hoped you hadn’t been staring. “Thank you,” you murmured shyly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Eddie pulled open the fire exit and waited for you to enter first, holding open the door as the noise of the diner flooded back out to you. Kids yelling, the grill popping, the coffee machine whirring.

“Would you rather Jim gave you one of his famous three minute counselling sessions?” Eddie winced theatrically. “I haven’t had one myself, but rumour has it there’s a stress ball and some talk about toughening up and how the world just ain’t fair.”

You laughed, walking back into the kitchen with Eddie by your side. Your shoulder brushed against his arm and you shook your head, looking up at him with a heat in your cheeks you were sure he’d be able to notice. “No, m’glad it was you.”

You must’ve surprised the boy, because he blinked as he stopped at the grill. Argyle had flipped all the patties and left the spatula by the countertop but Eddie didn’t take his eyes off of you as he grasped it. You watched his brows lift a little, mouth parting before he closed it again and nodded, looking a little numb.

And then: “cool. Yeah, no, good. Come get me next time too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #linecook!eddie

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

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If I Should Stay

Y’all are the absolute funniest most of the tags/comments on part 2 were either “oh shit Nancy????” Like we as a collective Steddie hivemind genuinely forgot Steve and Nancy were a Thing for a minute and I think that’s so sexy of us. OR y’all went “OH THANK FUCK ROBIN REMEMBERS” which. Y’all. Y’all don’t understand how little control I actually have over this fic 😂 like genuinely I’m not creating anything, it’s writing itself, I’m just writing the words down. It’s fantastic. 😂 also keep in mind I have a tentative posting schedule of every 4 days so expect something on/around the 16th! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Eddie runs.

He’s terrified and a coward but it’s kept him alive this long so he runs, books it back to his van, ignores Harrington calling out for him, only realizes when he’s most of the way home that he’s still got the ring clenched in his hand.

He stares at it long enough at a stoplight that someone honks at him when it turns green. “What the fuck,” he whispers again, placing it on his desk when he gets home. “What the fuck.”

Wayne knocks on his door then immediately pokes his head in, which completely defeats the purpose of the knock, but Eddie’s door was open anyways. “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’alright, kiddo?”

“I think I hallucinated.”

Wayne’s silent for a few long moments. “Did you take somethin’? Or are you bein’ dramatic?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

Wayne sighs. “Wanna tell me what you think you hallucinated?”

He’s about to, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite say it. Like there’s a dam at the front of his mouth, and the words can’t break through. He lets out a desperate chuckle and shakes his head, flopping backwards onto his bed. “I don’t even know.”

Wayne raises a brow, but before he can respond, there’s a knock on the trailer door.

Knock is a polite term for it. It’s more like someone’s trying to break down the door with their fist. “Munson!” Someone yells. “Open this door, dammit, or I will drag you out by your ears!”

“Boy,” Wayne says, looking at him. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”

Eddie groans, grabs his pillow, and screams into it.

When he surfaces for air, Wayne’s gone, talking to the person at the front door. Eddie vaguely recognizes the voice. Female, young, probably someone he has a class with.

Wayne, the traitor, lets her in, and Eddie’s suddenly faced with a furious Robin Buckley. He blinks. “Buckley?”

He tries to think back, but he hadn’t sold her anything recently—or ever, for that matter—so he has no idea why she’s here, looking like she’s about to murder him. “You said you’d listen.”

He blinks again. Sits up to face her. “What?”

“Steve. He told you.”

“Steve- Harrington? Oh, come on, Buckley, are you delusional too?”

Blue eyes narrow at him. “You’ve got a little stick-n-poke on your thigh. It’s an upside down star. It’s crappy ‘cause you did it yourself, but that’s why you love it. He already said your favorite song, so I won’t repeat it. You’ve had a frankly ridiculous crush on him practically since the moment you laid eyes on him. You call your guitar your sweetheart because that’s what your mom called you, and she’s the one who taught you to play.” She crosses her arms. “I can keep going.”

“I suppose you’re from the future, then, too?” Her words catch up to him and he suddenly blanches. “I, uh, I’m not sure about your second point.”

She softens some, which is rather unexpected, but he’s grateful. “Oh, Eddie.” She sits on the edge of his bed. “Me too. It’s alright. I’m sorry, I got upset because you ran, after you told Steve you’d listen, and…” she sighs, looking around his room, before standing when she catches sight of the ring on his desk. She picks it up and studies it. “This is practically all we have left,” she says softly, and Eddie feels like throwing up.

“Because I die?”

She looks at him like she’s seeing a ghost. “Yeah.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

@paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

#if I should stay #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #time travel fic #starambles

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denaliwrites · 1 year ago

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Don't Blink

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Summary: Going home was meant to be a vacation from all the aliens and monsters.

Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels, babes.

You hadn't slept in days.

It started innocuous enough -- some nerves as you crawled into your bed, for once. You'd assumed it was because you were so used to the TARDIS that home didn't feel as much like home anymore. You thought that maybe, after a day or two, it'd get better.

It got worse.

Waking up the next morning, you were confronted with the feeling of being watched. No matter where you went -- your mum's, the shops, the cellar, even the restroom. Everywhere. All day. By the time you dropped into your bed that night, you were exhausted from being on high alert the whole day.

You didn't sleep well that night.

Nightmares plagued you -- they were nebulous, slipping just out of focus every time you thought you could make out even just a single detail. But despite that -- or maybe because of it -- you were terrified.

You awoke drenched in a cold sweat, covered in goosebumps and with a stomach churning with unease. You felt feverish, but when you took your temperature the thermometer flashed with a perfectly normal number.

Going about your day felt like a monumental task. While your limbs felt weighed down with lead, the rest of you felt light, jittery... panicky. Any attempts to focus for more than thirty seconds at a time failed miserably.

Maybe it was just your heightened state, but you could've sworn that everyone could see that you were starting to lose it.

That was the first night you didn't sleep.

The second night, you finally caught sight of the predator in the underbrush -- the thing that had been stalking you since you arrived back home. Only for a brief, blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but it was still long enough for you to know that it was the cause of your sleepless nights and worsening mental state.

You weren't sure how a perfectly ordinary angel statue could cause so much distress.

The third night, you noticed the statue had moved -- just a couple inches -- but it was enough for you to see the difference. Finally, you called the Doctor. Not five minutes later, you heard the TARDIS materialize outside.

You turned away for all of one second, but when you looked back, the angel had gone.

Well, "gone" was relative. It was out of line of sight, you could say that much for sure. But you knew it was still lurking nearby -- you could still feel it watching you.

The Doctor didn't bother announcing himself as he barged into your flat -- the TARDIS brakes were announcement enough. The sonic screwdriver was held aloft, its light moving in erratic circles in the darkened flat as the Doctor gradually made his way to you.

"Where is it?" he asked once he finally reached you. "Did you blink -- did it move!?"

You weren't sure how to answer. He had told you not to take your eyes off it, you recalled that now that he was here, yelling at you about it -- but you didn't even remember looking away just moments ago you were so exhausted.

In the back of your mind some little part of the normal you knew that the Doctor was just worried, but that little piece was dwindling with every moment you continued to lose sleep.

You'd moved right past delirium at this point -- and, hell, you weren't even sure how much of this was real. What if you were hallucinating? Angel statues that could only move if they weren't being looked at? That was a little crazy, even for the Doctor.

He turned to look at you when you remained silent, and when his eyes met yours they melted into pure, unadulterated concern and some dam inside you broke.

Sobs wracked your body and you collapsed. The only reason you didn't hit the ground was the Doctor surging forward, arms wrapping around you and holding you steady.

"Oh, dear," he cooed, holding you close. You buried your head into his chest, your cries still rocking through you, though the Doctor's arms kept you pretty snugly in place, and his clothes did an excellent job of muffling your blubbering.

You could feel one of his hands running comfortingly through your hair, while the other rubbed soothing circles into your back.

Miraculously, you calmed. For the first time in days, you felt like you could relax. Breathe. Hell, maybe even sleep.

It was with that thought that you felt yourself being effortlessly lifted. The Doctor carried you, bridal style, back to the TARDIS, through the doors and the console room and the halls, until he reached your bedroom and settled you carefully onto the bed.

"What about the angel?"

"You're completely safe in the TARDIS. I promise."

You knew that he knew that you had meant something different, but you were too tired to argue. Now that you were safe, sleep was coming to claim you rather quickly.

Once you fell asleep, you were haunted by nightmares again, but you were just so glad to be getting any sleep at all that you didn't care.

You found the Doctor in the console room the next morning, looking over something on one of the monitors. Without even so much as sparing you a glance, he dived right into it.

"That's no ordinary Weeping Angel."

"What do you mean?" you asked with a yawn and a bleary blink in his direction.

"See, normally a Weeping Angel wouldn't waste any time -- you blink, you're dead. Well. Teleported to another time so that they can feed off the energy that the displacement causes. But this... this is..."

"It's torturing me."

It wasn't a question -- how could it have been? You and the Doctor both could see what it was doing to you.

"Yes," he confirmed sadly.

"Reminds me of something," you said with a shrug.

"Oh?"

"Oh, do I get to be the brainiac for once?" you teased with a smirk, leaning back against the console beside him.

"I guess we'll find out," he teased back, mirroring your expression and bumping your shoulder lightly with his own.

You blushed, suddenly self-conscious, but you forged ahead anyway. "So, usually when a predator becomes a maneater it's because it's sick or injured and almost always starving, and humans are really easy prey compared to deer and antelope and stuff."

He was watching you with such rapt, adoring attention. You could barely stand it.

"But," you continued, "sometimes there are outliers. Predators that kill humans for unknown reasons, reasons that don't align with what we know about typical maneaters. The maneaters of Tsavo -- they were these two perfectly healthy, normal lions by all appearances, that killed anywhere from -- realistically speaking -- twenty-eight to thirty-two people, but reportedly they killed over a hundred. And no one really knows why they did it. There are theories, of course, but because they were healthy, and it happened over a century ago, there's no way to really confirm one way or another why they killed all those people."

You paused, thinking.

"Well, no way for the average person."

The Doctor beamed at you. "Oh, you are clever, aren't you?"

"I try."

"So you think maybe this Angel is an outlier?"

"Yeah, it's possible."

"No indicators of illness or injury, no signs of weakness or starvation. Just..."

"Sadistic tendencies?"

"But why?" he asked no one in particular, leaning back to stare at the monitor again.

"And..." you started thoughtfully. The Doctor turned to look at you again. "Why me?"

"Why you?" he repeated cluelessly.

"I wasn't here when it arrived, and it couldn't have known I was gonna be coming back anytime soon. It's possible it's been waiting for days, weeks for me to come back -- and it could've been waiting even longer if I hadn't decided I needed a break. That's a lot of waiting for a random person you don't know is coming back."

Realization dawned on the Doctor's face. "It's targeted."

"But why?"

"Why indeed?" he asked in that tone that was meant to sound casual but only served to let you know that he was deeply worried. "Let's find out, shall we?"

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant #canon typical peril #weeping angels

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mydearesthrry · 1 year ago

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harry’s house home - h.s.

a/n: this is the cheesiest thing ive ever written okay. like its really sweet and almost cringey oopssss sorry. i hope you enjoy anyway !!! (p.s. originally was supposed to be titled harrys mojo dojo casa house but thats for another time)

🎀 warnings/cw: angst, swearing?? i actually dk, fluff, mention of flying anxiety, this is also completely unedited

🐇 pairing: famous!bf!harry styles x fem!reader

💐 wc: 2.1k

summary: it's not home without harry, you've come to realize.

This almost felt like a routine now.

Lying awake in her king sized bed, she was staring up at projected stars on the ceiling, gnawing on her bottom lip as she let her mind drift away in thought.

She misses him. Again.

Due to Harry being on the second Europe/UK leg of tour, she had decided to stay at home for a little until the final show, and it had been a good month since she last saw Harry. She had begun to run on Harry’s time, adjusting her sleep to wherever in the world he was so that she could talk to him. Their time zone differences weren’t gracious enough sadly, and she was wide awake at 3:40 in the morning.

Harry was busy so she couldn’t call or text him, and she wanted to let everything go as smoothly as they could so he could finally come home. Initially, she let herself be selfish and a bit greedy and took up almost 10 minutes of his time, texting back and forth and allowing her brain to read his responses in his voice.

Contrary to popular belief, it was easy for y/n and Harry to have a relationship that could withstand whatever problems they may have faced because they communicated, but communication can only get you so far.

She missed him.

All-consumingly, selfishly, and overwhelmingly missed him.

The amount of rocky moments that the couple had endured on the nearly 3 year long running tour had been more than the past 4 years of their relationship combined. Whether it be a schedule conflict, missed dates, late nights when she didn’t even know if he’d be home, nothing could compare to the feeling that she had swirling around in her chest right now.

They’d gotten into a fight a few days ago and since then she had been hesitant to text and call him in fear that she would ruin his day, or even worse, his shows. She knew well that he wouldn’t let it show to his millions of fans, but she could read him like an open book and the guilt that would swell in her body would just make her shut down. But it was getting hard to be alone. It was hard being in such a big house that was filled to the brim with reminders of him, which in turn would remind her that she was alone and that he was on the other side of the world.

She allowed her emotions to take the reins, and as she slowly started to feel everything, she could feel a harsh tug in her chest. She put a hand to her heart, letting out a deep exhale as she felt the familiar sting of tears tingle her nose, sinuses becoming stuffy immediately. She scrunched up her nose, allowing the tears to fill her eyes as she let out her first breathy sob. It wasn’t uncommon for her now to cry over missing Harry. In fact, she’s never even told him the extent of how much she missed him, and just tried to deal with it on her own. But this time, she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to just let it pass.

Picking up her phone, she quickly pulled up her favorites list in her phone, sobs still wracking her body as she tapped on Harry’s contact. She sniffled and tried her best to calm herself down as she heard the ringing coming from the phone signifying that he was receiving the call.

“Hey, ‘M in a meeting. Everything ok?” And just like that, the entire dam broke open, and she let her emotions flood the room she was sitting in.

“Harry,” she let out a pitiful whine, “I’m sorry I’m calling you like this, I- I knew you were in a meeting, and I’m sorry. And I know we’re in a fight and y’probably don’t want to talk to me, but I just… I need to hear your voice right now.”

“Oh— um, yeah, hold on, baby. It’s okay, ‘m glad you called me. Give me two seconds, okay? ‘M gonna mute m’self t’tell Jeff I need to take 20, but I’ll be all yours in a sec.” He promises, voice immediately drenched in urgency.

“Okay,” she whispers weakly, putting the phone on speaker and sinking back down into the mattress, laying the phone on her chest. There was an uncomfortable weight weighing her down from the inside out, and the pressure served as a good reminder to breathe as she anticipated the return of her boyfriend back to the phone.

“M’kay baby, talk to me. What’s the matter? Are you okay?” His voice exits from her speaker, another whimper emitting from her throat without warning.

“I jus— God, H. It’s so pathetic,” she sniffles, placing her hands over her eyes. “I jus’ miss you. So much.”

“Oh lovie,” a few soft shuffles are heard from his end of the line, and you can only assume he found a quiet place to sit down. “I miss y’so so much more.”

She nods even though she knows he can’t see her, but she knows her sweet boy knows her so well. “‘M trying to be supportive, trying to not freak out about you not being here, but it’s so hard, H.”

Trying to stifle the aggressive breaths leaving her mouth, she composed the best she can before speaking again. “I just want you to come home. I know I’ll be with you in a couple of days, but I just want you home. ‘M sorry, it’s so selfish of me to say this when you’re all alo-“

“Shh, my love. It’s okay. Take deep breaths, can y’do that for me first really quick, sweet girl? Sweet sunshine baby, miss you so much.” Harry cuts her off, knowing that she would cry and gasp her way into a potentially dangerous situation, and he couldn’t handle the thought of her being in danger especially when he wasn’t there.

“Okay, fuck, ‘M so sorry, H.” She breathes out, voice still wobbly, her breathing becoming a little more stable by the second.

“You don’t have to be sorry, ‘s what I'm here for, isn’t it? Now, tell me what’s got you so upset that you’ve cried y’self out so hard that y’got a killer headache right now?” His lips quirk up at the soft, barely noticeable laugh coming from the other end of the line. One that probably would’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else, but not to Harry.

“How’d you know? Hurts like hell, though. But, um— I miss you, a lot, obviously. And I hate that we’ve been fighting more now that you’re on the road again and I’m not with you, it doesn’t feel good because all I want is you here with me. All I want is you to come home. It- it feels so empty without you here.”

“Princess, I-“ he starts, but she cuts him off before he could continue.

“In all four years of our relationship, it’s never been so hard for us to be- us? And I thought about it, y’know, been crying myself to death over you, Mr. Styles, you’re quite the heartthrob. Literally.” You snort softly, trying to break the ice. Her lips draw up when she hears a matching chuckle coming from him.

“Tell me then, what’d you realize, silly girl?” He says.

“I don’t feel like I can be away form you for too long. It doesn’t feel like home here, and I think,” She whispers. “None of our places feel like home when you're not there. I think home has always been wherever you are.”

“Lovie,” Harry’s voice breaks, a telltale sign that he too was feeling the swell of emotion. “Y’breaking m’heart over here.”

“I’m sorry, I just– y'told me to be honest and you needed-”

“I needed to know. Thank y’for telling me, but I’ll see you so soon, Angel. Actually, I can even-” His voice cuts before more rustling is heard, and she can hear the muffled sounds of Harry’s voice, so she assumes that he’s pressed the phone to his chest. A few more brief hums are heard before a muffled ‘thank you!’ makes her brows furrow. “Right then, what’re you doing in like, say 4 to 5 hours?”

She makes a confused face at this. “What? Uh– nothing, why?”

“You’re coming home, baby.”

—

After exclamations of shock were given to Harry, he excuses himself from the call to get back to his meeting, leaving Y/N laying in her bed staring at the same stars that watched her weep in shock. She sits up with her hands on the white duvet, eyes wide as she whispers out, “I have to pack.”

Jumping out of her bed, she wheels her extra large suitcase out of hers and H’s shared walk-in closet, her green Pleasing beach bag already resting on one of the hooks on the bedroom door. A flurry of clothes, toiletries, makeup, and hair equipment gets sporadically thrown around the room, everything ultimately ending up in her suitcase. She places her more important items into her beach bag which now worked as her carry-on, and wheels everything out into the foyer.

Checking the time which now reads 6:30, she calls for an Uber to arrive at their house to transport her to the LAX airport. Her flight was set to leave in 2 and half hours, leaving her with just enough time to check in, find her gate, and grab a coffee once she's got to her terminal.

—

The long flight went just as expected, her fear of flying slightly eliminated by the (in her opinion, wildly unnecessary) first-class seating, courtesy of her incredibly dramatic boyfriend. She fell asleep 2 hours into the flight and slept for the majority of the it, her lack of sleep finally catching up to her. Waking up about 30 minutes before landing, she twists her head to open the window door, being greeted with the softest sunset she’s convinced she’s ever seen. And suddenly, her chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore.

The baggage claim was a wreck, delaying her from seeing Harry by another hour, but eventually, she made it into the car of the driver that Harry sent. Staring out the window, the condensation from the weather outside slightly obstructed her view of the beautiful city that she’d never seen before, and all she could think about was how she wanted to experience it with her love.

“Ma’am, we’re here.” The driver calls from the front, distracting her from her thoughts. Thanking him profusely, she jumps out of the vehicle, running toward the back entrance that Jeff had texted her to go to. The security guard at the door, James, a kind older man who she’s known since she started dating Harry, opens his arms and greets her with a smile. She grins and runs into his arms, James lifting her a little. Her dynamic with James reminded her of the relationship she'd had with her late father, and that made him even more important and special to her.

“Mi sonrisa,” She looks at him with a bright smile. “Welcome back.”

“Muchas gracias, te he extrañado,” She greets back, grabbing the VIP pass that he’d pulled out of his pocket. “I’ll see you in a few, thank you for waiting for me!”

A wide grin is now plastered on her face, nearly splitting her face in half. This is where she belonged. Skipping down the halls of the venue, occasionally asking a worker passing by where the hallways were to get to the dressing rooms. Once she finally found them, she walked up to Harry’s, a nervous twinge making itself known in her tummy. Raising a fist to knock, she taps on the door softly with her knuckles, waiting for Harry to answer the door. She doesn’t even have time to register that the door opened at all before she’s grabbed by Harry and immediately pulled into his arms.

“My sweet love,” His voice is hoarse, strained, almost as if he’d been crying. He pulls her back just enough to see her face, a soft smile on his face and green eyes shiny with tears. He places a kiss on her forehead, before dipping down to be eye level with her and laying the softest kiss on her lips. It was featherlight, and the room was quiet, so quiet, that the only sounds that were heard were their soft, slowly interconnecting breaths, and the soft smack of their lips breaking. Harry stared at her face once more, Y/N sharing the same sentiment, nothing but pure understanding in both of their eyes. It was Y/N who broke first this time, connecting their lips in a deeper, meaningful kiss.

When they both pulled away, Harry pressed another kiss to her temple before cradling the back of her head with his hand, bringing her face into his neck. Tilting his head down to have his lips leveled with her ear, he whispered, “Welcome home.”

✿✿✿

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfictions #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry <3

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flowercrowngods · 1 year ago

Text

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 06: true & misunderstandings

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a while, filling their bubble with a silence so long that Steve’s entire being re-centres itself around Eddie’s hand in his, focusing on the warmth, on each minute twitch, and on the way his thumb aches to move and stroke the back of Eddie’s hand.

A silence that is disrupted in the gentlest of ways when Eddie, trembling just as much as Steve, says, “I love you.”

Steve blinks, not entirely sure for a second or two if he heard that right, or if that was just another thought his own, pressing and urgent and so, so real.

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie says again, and Steve is sure that he didn’t imagine it this time — but that doesn’t make it make sense. It doesn’t feel real. Eddie sounds so sad about it, too, like he is confessing to Steve a crime that has been weighing him down forever, something that he can’t be redeemed from.

It makes the dam break, the image of loving him as an irredeemable act, an unforgivable crime, a sin irremissible. Years and years of learning how to be in love with Eddie and not being too much, learning not let that consume him — years and years of trying and failing — all come crashing now as he hears that sad little voice.

Steve as the one who’s in the way of Eddie having a good life, a great life, a happy little bubble for himself in a world that used to be so cruel to him. Steve as the one who makes Eddie so incredibly, unbearably dejected.

It eats away at him, tears away at his soul so much that he barely even registers the words that belong to the sad, sad voice.

I’m sorry, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat; and Eddie asked him to listen.

“It’s always been you, Steve. To me, it’s… You’re it. Always have been. But I had to move on, you know? After years, I just… God.”

Eddie’s collecting himself, gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words that are slowly trickling through the fog in Steve’s mind and settle just behind his stinging eyes.

“Remember when I told you I used to have a crush on you? Years ago. And how that was all in the past, and that I had moved on? Well,” he huffs, nerves wracking through him as he squeezes Steve’s hand repeatedly. “Turns out, not so much. Don’t think it ever will be. But I thought, you know, I thought I was past the stage where it consumed me. Because you were still in my life, still right there, still happy, happier than I think I could make you, and… You were there. Still. After all those years, you were the one thing I hadn’t ruined. and I couldn’t tell you. I had Chrissy, I was— I was getting over you. I could breathe again, I could love again. But not… Not with everything I have, because that’s still with you. Only with you.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, his hand shaking now, and Steve wants to let go, wants to turn around and wrap himself around Eddie, hold him, his face pressed to the back of Eddie’s neck as he listens, feeling those vibrations in his cheeks as he talks.

He doesn’t. He stays right where he is, but the urge is becoming stronger and stronger.

Eddie loves him. And he sounds like he is about to cry because of it. Steve still wants to apologise.

A sniffle. “Chrissy knows. She said she’s the same, that she has a person like that, too. I never expected to love her as much as I do, but it’s a… It’s a different kind of love. And if I got to spend the rest of my days with her, life would be good, you know? Like you said about Robin. She said the same, said we’re doing the right thing. But—”

Eddie stops here, his voice growing hoarse and his breath hitching a little as if he’s holding back tears. Steve wipes away his own.

“But I don’t want a world where losing you is the right thing, Stevie.”

They both let out a sob at that, the weight of Eddie’s words settling inside Steve as he becomes aware of what Eddie is saying. Of what he is doing.

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

“I’ve done everything,” Eddie continues, purely and utterly heartbroken. “Everything, to get over you. And it seems that I did it so well, because now I’m losing you. And it seems like I got it all wrong, too, because— Because I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t ever wanna lose you. But you have to know. I need you to know that I’m so in love with you I can barely even breathe. Or, or think. When you’re there, but especially when you’re gone. Loving you is part of who I am. It’s like, it’s like a rule in the universe, you know. A law of nature. Simple biology, like you’re the sunshine and I’m a measly dandelion, and there’s so much more of me because of you. And when you’re gone, then so am I.”

Eddie’s crying now, and Steve pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face in them to hide he way he’s falling apart. Because this is not happening.

“And if you wanna leave, if I’ve done something you can’t live with, that’s— I won’t stop you. But please, I would just… I’d like to understand, Stevie. Because I love you. So much and for so long that I know I will never stop. It's just what I do in this life. And if I’m gonna have to stop, I need to know why.” A beat. “Please?”

There are no words coursing through Steve’s head as he tries and tries and tries to say something, anything. There is no, I love you. There is no, Because I can’t bear the thought of watching you live a life with someone else when all I ever do is imagine my life with you.

There is no, Tell me why you love me. No, Tell me you love me. Say it again.

All there is, all that comes out, is, “I’m sorry.”

And behind him, Eddie’s shoulders fall. He slumps, just a little, but Steve can feel it in his tension-riddled body.

Steve wants to scream. Wants to be brave like Eddie and bear his heart, because he loves him too! He loves him and maybe they can get it right, maybe their loves can match, maybe they can fix this.

But all the words get stuck in his throat, because they have seven years of practice.

“You don’t get to do this,” Eddie says quietly, just barely louder than a whisper, and Steve tears at himself from the inside out. “You don’t get to just… Say that. I’m sorry. Leaving me like that, after all of this. After everything? You’re sorry? No, fuck you, Stevie.”

Eddie’s hand is still in his, his hold unwavering, as if he’s holding Steve in place. And he is. Eddie is an anchor, he’s the north star, he’s— fuck!

“You’re everything,” Steve rasps after all, the dams broken and breaking, seven and more years of keeping the words to himself come flooding now.

He turns around this time, freeing his hand from Eddie’s, who tries to hold him tighter for one second, two, three, before Steve’s head lands between his shoulder-blades and he finally allows Steve’s arms to come up around him.

“You’re everything, Eddie, and when you told me you used to have a crush on me, I wanted to tell you that I’m right there with you. I wanted to tell you that, finally, finally I was right there with you.”

He says the words into the space between his heart and Eddie’s, feeling tremors underneath his hands. Breath is scarce as the air in his lungs is filled with Eddie once more, that familiar scent of him, everything about him; everything.

“But then you weren’t there anymore, said it was all in the past, and I had missed my chance. But I didn’t care. Because, Eddie Munson, you’re impossible to un-love. It never stopped. Never, never stopped. And it was fine, it was fine. But then you got engaged. And I can’t watch you anymore, Ed. I can’t watch you be the happiest you’ve ever been and have it not be my fault. I can’t watch you live that life you’ve always hated, the life that I always imagined having with you. The life I thought you’d grow to love because of me. I love you, Eddie. But I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Underneath him, Eddie is still as Steve silently cries into the back of his t-shirt, clinging to him now, holding him. For one last time, maybe.

Silence falls as they both just breathe air that’s filled with confessions and apologies.

And then, eventually, after an eternity or two, Eddie says, “I’m not marrying Chrissy.”

Steve’s heart stops, just for one second. He blinks. Swallows. Doesn’t dare to hope. “You’re not?”

Eddie shakes his head, reaching for one of Steve’s hand where it’s splayed across his middle. “No. She, uhm. She said we shouldn’t. Said I should get my boy instead.”

“Wh— Why?”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. “Because it’s you. And I… Tell me I’m not late again. Tell me I didn’t fuck it up again, tell me there’s a chance.”

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

Steve lets out a breath, breathing out Eddie, unreasonably scared that if he lets go of the air in his lungs, Eddie will disappear again. Leave again. Get over him again, for real this time.

“Is it true?” he asks instead of answering.

“Is what true?”

“What you said. That you love me. And that Chrissy knows. And that it’s fine. That it can be okay. That it… That we… I’m scared, Eddie.”

“What are you scared of, Stevie?” A whisper, a question so gentle that Steve lets out a pathetic whimper as he tries not to cry again.

“Me,” he says. “Fucking it up. Not making you happy. Not getting it right. Freezing like I always do, because it’s muscle memory. I’m— I don’t wanna make you sad, Eddie.” And you sound so sad. You already do.

Eddie breathes deeply and moves his hand, lacing his fingers with Steve’s as he leans back slightly, further into Steve’s embrace.

“It’s true,” he whispers. “All of that and more. And I’m scared, too. Because that’s not how I planned it, you know? Three in the morning with more tears than anything else, sounding and feeling like the world’s gonna end. You deserve a better love than that, Stevie, but… It’s sorta all I have, you know? If you’ll let me. If you want to. We can be scared together and figure out how to not be that anymore.” Eddie lifts their linked hands to his lips and brushes a kiss over Steve’s knuckles. “It’s all true.”

Steve lets out the breath he was holding, sinking further into Eddie, holding him tighter. Daring to brush a kiss to the back of his neck — a featherlight one that is barely more than a touch of lips to overheated skin. It makes Eddie’s breath hitch, so he does it again.

“Can you stay?”

“Hm?”

“The night. Here, I mean. Can you stay here tonight? I wanna… Just wanna hold you for a bit. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Stevie. That’s okay. Do you wanna go to bed?”

He nods, still tightening his arms around Eddie, scared that he’ll leave. Scared to wake up if he moves. Scared to— Just scared.

“Hey, I’ve got you, c’m’ere” Eddie whispers, somehow winding himself out of Steve’s hold and pulling him up to stand.

And there, standing face to face with Eddie, everything is slowly starting to become real. The confessions. The broken dams, years and years of pent up tension, of hidden emotion and a yearning so deep it’s left scars, little ridges in his rib cage from where his heart has broken and healed and soared and burned and fluttered over and over and over again.

It has all come to this. Here. Eddie’s hands in his, his thumb stroking gentle patterns on Steve’s skin.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie whispers again, not moving. Only winding his arms around Steve’s shoulders when he leans in, tucking his head under Eddie’s chin, holding him tightly.

“I love you.”

Eddie smiles against the crown of his head, Steve can feel it with everything he is. “Yeah?”

He nods, mirroring the smile he cannot see. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah? We can talk more in the morning?”

It’s a question that makes Eddie sound so small, so insecure — like he half expects Steve to take it back, to run away again and leave him. It breaks his heart, what he put Eddie through. What he put himself through. What they have put themselves and each other through, inevitable as it was.

“Yeah,” he promises, taking Eddie’s hand again and leading him to the bedroom, blanket thrown over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I think you’ll have to explain again.”

“I will. As often as you need.”

I know, Steve thinks. I know you will. I love you.

It still feels like a dream, falling asleep with Eddie in his arms. It still feels like it will burst the moment he makes a wrong move, the second he blinks too hard or breathes too long.

He’s still trembling a little, still reeling, still confused and tentative in his hope. But at least this time Eddie is with him, stroking his cheek like he, too, can’t believe that this is all real. Like he, too, is scared.

But maybe they can be scared together. Maybe they can make it work. Maybe their love can match.

For the first time in weeks, months, years, or even forever, Steve falls asleep with a smile on his face, his forehead pressed to Eddie’s.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar

come back tomorrow for a happy ending | read part 7 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steddieweek2023 #steddie week fic #dio words #hi these are sleep deprived hungover 6am words lmao i hope they’re fine i’m posting this from a steam train 🚂

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logansargeantsbabymom · 4 months ago

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Too Good To Say Goodbye pt 10

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

warnings: Sadness, more douche Logan, death

A/N: I’m sorry in advance.

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10

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Lando's POV

(back in the waiting room)

My chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. Each breath is a struggle, shallow and rapid, as if I’m drowning in the air around me. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, a relentless drum that drowns out everything else.

I look around the waiting room, the sterile white walls closing in. The smell of antiseptic is overwhelming, making my stomach churn. I clutch the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white. People move around me, their faces blurred and indistinct. I can’t focus on them. I can’t focus on anything except the gnawing fear in my gut.

My thoughts are a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control. What if something goes wrong? What if I lose her? The words echo in my mind, a constant, torturous refrain. I try to remember the last thing she said to me, try to hold onto something, anything, to ground myself, but it slips away like sand through my fingers.

I force myself to breathe, to count each inhale and exhale, but it’s like trying to hold back a flood with a paper dam. I can’t stop shaking. My hands tremble uncontrollably, and I bury my face in them, trying to hide from the onslaught of terror.

Minutes stretch into an eternity. I see a nurse walk by and I want to scream, to demand answers, but my voice is trapped in my throat. I’m helpless, stuck in this purgatory of waiting.

Every second feels like a knife twisting in my chest. I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face, and pray for a miracle, pray for her to come back to me.

3rd Person POV

Lando stood in the cold, clinical hallway of the hospital, the sterile scent of disinfectant filling his nostrils. The world seemed to tilt as he tried to process the doctor's words. "I'm sorry, Mr. Norris, but Y/N isn't going to survive the surgery. We've done everything we can, but the damage is too extensive."

His knees felt weak, and he grabbed onto the edge of a nearby chair to steady himself. The doctor's voice seemed distant, like it was coming from underwater. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Just a few hours ago, he had been holding Y/N's hand, whispering reassurances as they prepared for the arrival of their twins. Now, everything had unraveled into this nightmare.

The doctor continued, his expression a mix of sympathy and professional detachment. "We can wheel her to a recovery room if you wish. That way, you can be with her for her remaining moments."

Lando's mind raced, struggling to make sense of the situation. He looked into the doctor's eyes, searching for some sign of hope, some indication that this was all a terrible mistake. But there was none. Only the stark, unyielding truth.

"How long does she have?" Lando's voice was barely a whisper, his throat tight with emotion.

The doctor hesitated before answering, "It could be minutes, or it could be a few hours. It's hard to say."

Lando nodded numbly, his heart breaking with every beat. He couldn't bear the thought of Y/N being alone in her final moments, of her slipping away without him by her side. "Yes," he said finally, his voice trembling. "Please, take her to a recovery room. I want to be with her."

As the medical team wheeled Y/N into the recovery room, Lando followed, his steps heavy with dread. He could hardly recognize her under the tangle of tubes and wires, her face pale and devoid of the vitality that had always defined her. He took a seat beside her bed, reaching out to take her hand in his. It felt so small and fragile in his grasp, a stark contrast to the warmth and strength he had always known.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm here, love. I'm right here."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She tried to speak, but the effort was too much. Instead, she squeezed his hand weakly, a small gesture that conveyed more than words ever could.

Tears streamed down Lando's face as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against her hand. "I love you so much," he choked out. "I don't know how to do this without you."

The room was filled with the steady beeping of the heart monitor, each sound a cruel reminder of the ticking clock. He talked to her about everything and nothing, sharing memories and inside jokes, trying to fill the silence with the life they had built together. He told her about the first time he saw her, how his heart had skipped a beat, and how he knew from that moment that she was the one.

As the hours passed, Lando felt a strange mixture of peace and despair. He was grateful for these final moments, for the chance to say goodbye, but the pain of losing her was unbearable. He held her hand until he could no longer feel its faint pressure, until the heart monitor’s beeps grew slower and slower, and finally, fell silent.

When it was over, he stayed by her side, his heart shattered into a million pieces. The love of his life was gone, and with her, the future they had dreamed of. He kissed her forehead one last time, whispering, “I love you, Y/N. Always.”

Leaving the hospital felt like tearing himself away from a part of his own soul. The world outside seemed indifferent to his pain, the sun shining brightly as if mocking his grief. Lando knew that he would never be the same, that the wound left by Y/N’s death would never fully heal. But he also knew that he had to keep going, to honor her memory and the love they had shared.

And so, with a heavy heart and a life forever changed, he took the first steps into a future that now felt unbearably uncertain and empty.

When Lando got home, he sat on the edge of his bed, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. In his hands, he held Y/N’s engagement ring, a delicate piece of jewelry that had once symbolized their future together. After her death, he couldn’t bear to keep it locked away, so he had threaded it onto a chain and worn it around his neck. It was his way of keeping her close, of holding onto the love they had shared and the dreams they had built.

(four months later)

Today was Lando’s first race back since the tragic death of his fiancée and his twin babies, it was the Las Vegas Grand Prix. The paddock was not as loud and upbeat as it usually was, for when everyone laid eyes on him, they all vocalized how sorry they were for his loss.

Some fans Lando had met and signed autographs for had expressed even more condolences to him and shared their own stories of their losses with their partners and/or children.

Lando never thought he’d ever have to live with not only losing his spouse but his two children too.

For Lando, race day seemed to come by faster than it ever has for him and soon enough the lights were out and away they went.

Lando started on pole with Oscar following suit in second, Carlos in 3rd and Logan not too far behind being in 7th.

The end of the race seemed to come just as fast as the beginning did. This was Lando’s second Formula 1 win but he wasn’t as happy as he thought he would be. How could he be? His Fiancée and babies who he should be celebrating with right now, are dead.

After the Podium celebration and even more people giving their condolences to Lando and saying how if Y/N was still here, how she’d be so incredibly proud of him and how she was the luckiest person on planet earth to be able to share this moment along with parenthood with him, Lando went to the bathroom in the McLaren garage to was rinse the champagne and sweat off.

Lando stood in the warm spray of the shower, letting the water cascade over him, easing the tension from his muscles. The events of the Las Vegas Grand Prix race replayed in his mind—the exhilaration of racing, the rush of speed, and the focus required to compete at the highest level. He had taken off Y/N's ring, carefully placing it on the bathroom counter before stepping into the shower. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, a brief respite from the intensity of his racing career.

As he emerged from the shower, a sense of unease crept over him. He reached for the towel, his eyes automatically darting to where he had left the ring. But it wasn't there. Panic surged through him as he frantically searched the countertop, then the floor, and even inside the shower stall. The ring was gone.

His heart pounded in his chest as he realized what had happened. Someone had taken it. His mind raced, replaying the moments before the race when he had briefly interacted with the team and a few fans who had access to the area. But there was no one he could suspect outright, except for one but there was no way he was capable of doing anything remotely that disrespectful.

Frustration and anger bubbled up within him. The ring wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it held profound sentimental value—memories of Y/N, their love, and the life they had planned together. Now it was gone, stolen in a moment of vulnerability.

Lando clenched his fists, the betrayal and loss cutting deep. He knew he had to find it. With determination fueling him, he dressed quickly, his mind focused on retracing his steps, questioning anyone who might have been near the area.

But even as he searched, a sinking feeling settled in his chest. The realization that someone had taken Y/N's ring from him—a tangible connection to his lost love—was a bitter blow. It wasn't just a piece of jewelry lost; it was a piece of his heart, a reminder of what he had lost and the pain he still carried with him every day.

The next day, as every day since she had been gone he had to deal with the memories of Y/N and their lost twins, Liberty and Carlos, surge through him, a bittersweet mixture of joy and pain. It had been 4 months, but the grief was still raw, an ever-present ache that never fully receded.

Lando’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Carlos. The words made his blood run cold: "Have you seen this?"

Attached was a photo of Logan, down on one knee, proposing to his brand new girlfriend. But it wasn’t the proposal itself that stunned Lando—it was the ring in Logan’s hand. Y/N’s ring. The ring Lando had worn around his neck every day since her death.

Lando’s heart pounded as he tried to comprehend how Logan had gotten the ring. He remembered the last time he had seen Logan, just a day prior, at the Las Vegas Grand Prix but Lando avoided Logan as much as humanly possible.

Lando’s mind raced back to that night. At one point, he had taken off the necklace for a moment, feeling the weight of the memories overwhelming him. He had set it on the bathroom sink while he took a shower to rinse off the sweat and champagne from the race just a mere hour prior. He had thought it would be safe, but now he realized his mistake. Logan must have taken it then, seizing the opportunity to steal something so precious, so personal.

Anger surged through Lando as he stared at the photo. How dare Logan take something that belonged to Y/N, something that represented their love and their lost future? And to use it to propose to another woman, as if it were just any ring, was a betrayal that cut deep.

Lando knew he had to confront Logan, to get the ring back. He couldn’t let this stand. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door, his mind a whirlwind of anger and determination. He drove to Logan’s apartment, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

Lando stood at the door of Logan's apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe he was here, confronting the man who had taken the ring that meant so much to him. It was the last tangible piece of Y/N he had, a symbol of their love and the future they had planned together. When Logan opened the door, his expression shifted from surprise to annoyance.

"What do you want, Lando?" Logan asked, his tone edged with irritation.

Lando took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check. "You know why I'm here, Logan. You took Y/N's ring. That was hers, and it belongs with me."

Logan's eyes flickered with something- guilt, maybe, or defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" Lando's voice rose, his control slipping. "I saw the photo. You proposed to your girlfriend with Y/N's ring. That ring is all I have left of her. Give it back."

Logan's face hardened. "She's dead, Lando. She's not coming back. You need to let go."

Lando felt a surge of rage at Logan's callous words. "You have no idea what you're talking about. That ring is a part of Y/N, a part of our babies. You had no right to take it."

For a moment, Logan's defiant facade cracked. He turned and walked back into his apartment, returning a minute later with the ring. He tossed it to Lando with a look of disdain. Lando caught it and immediately checked it, feeling a rush of relief that it was indeed Y/N's ring. But before he could turn to leave, Logan's voice stopped him.

"You know, Lando," Logan said, his tone venomous, "it's your fault she's dead."

Lando froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Logan stepped closer, his eyes cold. "The doctors told us she wouldn’t be able to have another kid. That she was too fragile to bear another baby, let alone two. She told you, no? Maybe she'd still be here if you kept it in your pants."

The accusation sliced through Lando, leaving him stunned and breathless. He had already blamed himself in countless ways, replaying every moment, every decision, wondering if he could have done something differently to save her. Hearing Logan admit that was like pouring salt into an open wound.

"That's not true," Lando whispered, but his voice lacked conviction. He wanted to believe it, but the guilt was too deeply ingrained.

Logan shrugged, a cruel smirk on his face. "Believe what you want. But you know I'm right. You knocked her up and now she's gone. And now Yelena has to grow up without her mom because of you."

Lando's heart shattered at the mention of Yelena, Y/N's one-year-old daughter from her previous relationship with Logan. The thought of Yelena growing up without Y/N was almost too much to bear. He had tried to be there for Yelena, to fill the void left by Y/N’s death, but it was never enough. The little girl had lost the most important person in her life, and the weight of that loss crushed Lando.

"Yelena..." Lando's voice broke. "She doesn’t deserve this. But neither did Y/N. Your relationship was toxic, Logan. She was happy with me. We were building a life together, a family. She died because of complications with the pregnancy. Even if the doctors told her that she couldn’t have another baby, she never told me! You can't put that on me."

Logan’s sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of something—regret, pain, maybe even recognition. "She chose you," he said, his voice bitter. "She was happier with you. But that doesn’t change the fact that she's gone."

Lando’s anger surged again, mingling with his grief. "You’re right, Logan. It doesn’t change anything. But blaming me doesn’t help either. We all lost Y/N. We all have to live with that."

Logan looked away, the fight draining out of him. "Just take the ring and go."

Lando turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. Logan's words echoed in his mind, stirring up doubts and guilt he had tried so hard to suppress. When he got back to his car, he sat behind the wheel, staring at the ring in his hand. The accusations lingered, poisoning his thoughts, but he forced himself to focus on what mattered: Y/N, their babies, and Yelena.

He put the ring back on the chain around his neck, feeling its familiar weight settle against his chest. Despite the pain, he knew he had to keep going, to honor Y/N’s memory and the love they had shared. Logan’s words had cut deep, but Lando refused to let them define him. He would carry the ring, and the memories it held, with pride and determination.

As he drove home, Lando made a silent vow to Y/N and their lost children. He would remember the love and the happiness they had brought into his life, even if their time together had been cut tragically short. He would find a way to heal, to move forward, and to keep their memory alive. And he would never let anyone take that away from him again.

And for Yelena, he would be there as much as he could. He knew he could never replace Y/N, but he would make sure that Yelena knew how much her mother had loved her. He would tell her stories, share memories, and keep Y/N’s spirit alive in her daughter’s heart. Because that’s what Y/N would have wanted. And Lando would honor that, no matter how hard it was.

I may or may not have let a tear or two slip but unless you guys want an alternative ending, this series ends here 💔.

Thank you to each and every single one of you guys who’ve read, commented, reposted or shared this post. To the ones who accidentally found it on a different chapter and gave the whole thing a chance. To those who’s been here since the sneak peek I put out in May. To the ones who comment as they read.

Thank you to everyone on Tumblr who let me post my writing and to the ones who want to see more!

I have loved writing every single part of this story (even when I had major writers block for part 7) and I’m so happy you guys are taking time out of your day to read each part as they come out!

Goodbye “Too Good To Say Goodbye” Series, I have loved every bit of you but I do have to make room for other upcoming series!

Taglist:

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welcometomytrashcan · 2 months ago

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Before the Dawn: Chapter III // Logan Howlett

Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader Chapter 3/4 Read Chapter 2 here Word Count: 1369

Background: You are a mutant with hydrokinetic abilities (think Percy Jackson meets the mermaids from H2O), and arrived at the X-Mansion 4 months before Logan. You started dating Logan after the events of X-Men but before he left for Alkali Lake. You are both in love with each other but have yet to confess it. Takes place within the events of X2, Canon violence, pre-established relationship

With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you and Logan sprinted through the collapsing base. The roar of the dam’s crumbling structure echoed through the metal corridors, water already starting to flood certain sections. But that wasn’t your focus. Right now, you had to find Stryker and stop him—once and for all.

As you stepped outside, you spotted Stryker near a helicopter, preparing for takeoff. Logan moved fast, grabbing Stryker by the throat and slamming him against the helicopter, driving his claws into his sides.

Stryker screamed in agony.

"How does it feel, bub?" Logan growled.

Stryker gasped, "Why did you come back?"

"You cut me open. Took my life. You tried to take Y/N's too," Logan snarled.

Stryker managed a twisted smile. "You make it sound like I stole something. You volunteered for the procedure. As for Y/N... I wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity."

Logan's claws dug in deeper, and Stryker winced.

"Who am I?" Logan demanded.

Stryker smirked. "You're a failed experiment. If you knew your past—the kind of person you were, the work we did—you’d know people don’t change. You were an animal then, Wolverine. You still are."

Stryker glanced at you with a cold grin. "He’s still an animal now."

He turned back to Logan. "I just gave you claws."

Suddenly, an alarm blared from the distance. The ground trembled as the sound of metal screeching and concrete cracking filled the air.

"What the hell is that?" you asked, alarmed.

Logan pressed his claws deeper into Stryker, demanding, "What is it?!"

"The dam’s ruptured," Stryker said through clenched teeth. "It’s going to flood the spillway. It’s too late. In a few minutes, we’ll all be underwater."

You and Logan exchanged a tense look. Stryker glanced between you both, sneering. "You can’t save your friends. They’re as good as dead."

He turned back to Logan. "You’re a survivor. Always have been."

Logan’s face hardened. "I thought I was just an animal—with claws. If we die, you die."

Without hesitation, Logan ripped his claws out of Stryker and shoved him against the helicopter’s wheel, securing him with a chain. You stepped forward, melting the snow beneath him and freezing it again, pinning him to the ground.

"We have to find the others," you said urgently, pulling Logan’s attention back to the base. The rumble of the dam breaking grew louder.

As you started to walk away, Stryker shouted after you both. "There are no answers that way!"

Ignoring him, the two of you raced back toward the base. Jean, Scott, Storm, the students—they all needed to get out before the dam collapsed completely.

The base was shaking violently by the time you reached the others. They were about to head down a pathway that would’ve led them to certain death. Logan thrust his claws into a control panel, slamming a door shut.

"You don’t want to go that way," you called out. "Follow us!"

You helped guide the group back outside, everyone moving as quickly as they could through the snow. But when you reached the spot where the helicopter had been, it was gone.

"Damn it," Logan muttered, scanning the horizon. Panic started to creep in, but then, through the clouds, you saw it—the jet. Rogue was at the controls, with Bobby helping her.

The jet descended, wobbling dangerously as Rogue struggled to keep it steady.

"She’s not going to make it," you said, fear creeping into your voice.

Rogue managed to land the jet roughly onto the ground.

"Go help them onto the jet!" Logan ordered, his tone sharp but firm. "I’ll catch up."

"What about you? What are you—"

"I need to take care of something," he interrupted. "Go."

Reluctantly, you nodded and ran toward the others, helping them board the unstable jet. Despite the chaos, you kept it together, focused on getting everyone to safety.

Once everyone was aboard, you glanced back and saw Logan confronting Stryker again. Stryker was chained up, thanks to Magneto, and Logan stood below him.

"Who has the answers, Wolverine?" Stryker taunted. "Those people? That creature you’re with?"

Logan didn’t reply. He glared up at the man who had ruined his life, the man who had turned the woman he loved into his own weapon. “I’ll take my chances,” Logan spat, tearing off his dog tags and dropping them at Stryker’s feet before turning his back on him.

As Logan walked away, Stryker shouted after him. "One day, someone will finish what I started, Wolverine! One day!"

Logan jogged back to the jet, leaping inside just as the ground shook violently beneath you. The dam was about to burst.

"Are you okay?" you asked as he rejoined you, your hand brushing down his arm in comfort.

Logan gave a small nod. "I am now."

He planted a firm kiss on your forehead.

"Come on, get us out of here!" he called, strapping himself in.

Storm and Scott scrambled to start the jet, but the engines sputtered and failed. The cabin filled with tension as everyone realized that the water was coming fast.

“Why isn’t it working?” you yelled, fear rising in your throat as the water rushed toward the jet.

And then, in the chaos, Charles’ voice softly called out. “Jean?”

You looked around, suddenly realizing Jean was missing. Panic gripped you, and you shot a glance toward Scott, who was frantically looking around as well.

“She’s gone,” Scott muttered, his voice strained. “Jean… where is she?”

You bolted to the back of the jet, searching for any sign of her. Your heart pounded in your chest as you screamed, “Jean! No! You can’t do this!”

But as you reached the door, it slid shut in your face. Through the window, you saw her standing outside, her eyes glowing with power, her face set in grim determination.

“No!” Scott yelled, banging his fists against the glass. “Jean! Don’t do this!”

You felt a pang of guilt slice through your chest. You could’ve helped. You could’ve used your powers to manipulate the water, to do something. But your leg was still weak from the earlier fight, and you weren’t strong enough to control the water currents. You hadn’t been at the school long enough to master your abilities. I could’ve helped her…

Outside, Jean’s powers surged, and she lifted the jet with her telekinesis, guiding it into the air. The water from the dam swirled around her, bending to her will. She was holding back an entire flood.

You pressed your hands against the glass, tears streaming down your face as you tried to reach out with your powers. “Jean!” you called, but your voice was lost in the roar of the flood.

Scott’s voice broke, trembling with anguish. “Jean… please.”

But it was too late. With a final, heartbreaking glance at Scott, Jean guided the water around the jet, holding it at bay just long enough to save you all. The jet soared into the air, leaving Jean behind.

You searched desperately for her in the water, your hydrokinesis pushing you to the limit. But with the blood loss from your leg and the overwhelming force of the current, you couldn’t sense her. You weren’t strong enough.

As the jet ascended higher, the reality of what had just happened sank in. Jean was gone. And it was your fault. You should’ve been able to do something. You could’ve saved her.

The silence in the jet was deafening. Scott collapsed into his seat, his face pale and stricken with grief. You sat down, staring blankly at the floor, guilt clawing at your insides.

“I could’ve helped her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. Tears streamed down your face, and the weight of Jean’s sacrifice pressed heavily on your chest.

Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice low. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was. You’d failed her. You’d failed Logan. And now Jean was gone because of it.

The jet flew through the sky, but the atmosphere inside was heavy with grief and guilt. The battle wasn’t over, but as you sat there, surrounded by your team, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d already lost.

Tag List: @spacemacandcheese @oscarissac2099

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #x men #x2 #hugh jackman #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine

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drarryspecificrecsdaily · 4 months ago

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2024.08.01

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Come In, the Water's Lovely by @wolfpants [E, 3k]

►In the lush wilderness of Madeira, Harry and Draco reunite.

2. like recognises like by @insomnicazu [T, 4k]

►when potter starts acting exactly like draco before his transition, draco needs to do something. he has to know what terms to use when insulting potter, of course.

3. Meet me at Midnight by ProseMary [T, 15k]

►After days of stalking, Harry overheard Malfoy talking about an important meeting in Prefect's bathroom at midnight. Naturally, he came there to spy. It didn't turn out quite the way he wanted.

4. The power of the chosen mate by Witch1511 [?, 7k]

►His father's past comes to haunt him, but Draco finds refuge in an unexpected Alpha.

5. The Road To Here by @toxikgato [M, 9k]

►Harry's not sure when exactly he went from wanting to break Malfoy's face whenever he saw him to wanting to stuff him full with his pups, but if he were to make an educated guess, he'd say it was about... five minutes after he figured out what wanking was. But still, he was a rational human, he could fight Malfoy during the day and then wank to images of Draco during the night, it was a perfect system… Right until he presented as an alpha and all of his repressed desires bursted out of him like a dam breaking.

6. Sweet Heart, Bitter Blood by syringe [M, 5k] 💗

►Draco is Harry Potter- no, Harry Riddle's betrothed. Together, they summon a version of Harry from an alternate universe where he joined the Order of the Phoenix to kill him and stop him from ever defeating Voldemort in his world. The plan goes to shit when the ritual summons another version of Draco along with him. Turns out the fearsome Harry Riddle's massive soft spot for Draco transcends dimensions.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. every scrap of you (you left them all to me) by Anonymous [E, 54k]

►Twelve years on from the war, Harry finds himself in an endless cycle of bedding Draco Malfoy, and waking up alone. Desperate to understand why Draco won't give him a chance to be something more, he commits to courting the slippery blond git. But there's a reason Draco can't fall for him, and Harry will go to the darkest depths to change that. ★ HD Wireless 2024 | @hd-wireless

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #daily list #2024 #2024.08

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alienoresimagines · 5 months ago

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Masters of the Air Masterlist

Misc.

Mota Incorrect Quotes

Why we should give Crank more love Ted Talk

Mota Characters as John Mulaney Quotes

Buck x Bucky | Clegan

Sheepskin HC

What If John Was Never Shot Down HC

John edition Gale Edition

Clegan as written by A. E. Housman

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Drag Me Under (2519 words) also on AO3

For the Prompt : [ CAREFUL ]: sender gently lifts the receiver out of their seat and carries them carefully to bed after noticing they fell asleep and not wanting to waken them. Or Gale fell asleep on the couch, leaving it up to Bucky to get him to bed without waking him. He has feelings about it all. Mostly, he's in love.

Of Safe Places and Kisses (1419 words) also on AO3

It is Gale's turn to fall victim to the nasty cold that spread through the 100th, which leaves Bucky in charge of bringing him back to health. He takes that duty very, very seriously. Gale just wants to some cuddles.

Gale And His Feelings For Bucky, in Four Acts (6239 words) only on AO3

No dam could've withstood the force of nature John Egan is. No strength on Earth could've stopped Gale from loving him, not even himself. And now, both sat on opposite ends of the couch, Gale reading and John intently listening to a baseball game on the radio but Buck's right hand holding on to Bucky's left, he can't keep the words in his mouth. "I love you." The words curve around his tongue, twirl in the air until they're embedded in every wall of their house, and dance around Bucky who immediately smiles wide, as if Buck hasn't said the words a thousand times by now. It took him two years to figure the words out from the maze in his head, another one to admit them to himself as something eternal and inevitable, and then an additional two to voice them, give them shape and sound until there really is no escape from them, and now he can't stop uttering them. It's freeing in a way he never knew words could be. As though he gives a piece of himself to Bucky with every utterance, and he wants Bucky to have all of him. Or Gale's journey from realizing his feelings for Bucky to realizing Bucky feels the same towards him.

Your Heart Will Always Be Known To Me (7005 words) only on AO3

For the prompt : [ NAP ] while receiver is resting, sender joins them in bed & cuddles up close Or After a long day at work, Gale cannot wait to go home to Bucky, especially since today was a special one for his better half. But instead of the enthusiast welcome home he is used to, he finds Bucky fast asleep in their bed, and is overwhelmed with so much love he has to let it out and let John know how loved he is.

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) (1862 words) also on AO3

For the prompt : [Knuckles] for a kiss on the hand Or Gale's hands are terribly cold in the Stalag and John's more than happy to hold them until they're warm.

And so the weed of sorrow springs at the four cross ways (6536 words) only on AO3 (Outsider's POV)

Neil and his wife never had children, and yet, he realizes as he watches Bucky’s bottom lip tremble and feels the lump in his throat growing in answer, he’s already familiar with the grief of a father. - Still reeling from losing Buck on the Bremen mission, Chick tries his hardest to keep his boys together, especially Bucky. But an overheard confession that could get the other man sent home with a blue ticket forces him to make a decision that could change the outcome of the Münster mission and drastically change Buck and Bucky's fate.

I'd rather be in hell with you (Than in Heaven with somebody else) (681 words) also on AO3

Seeing John arrive in the Stalag, bruised and battered, brings Gale more joy than he's felt in days; until guilt knocks him off his feet. John is having none of it.

Driving In Your Car (I've Never Felt Safer) (790 words) also on AO3

Buck hasn't had enough sleep lately. Luckily for him, Bucky offers to drive him to the mess, allowing him to sleep for a few more minutes. Little does Bucky know that a sleepy and pining Buck proves to be devoid of the reserve he's accustomed to, and it isn't long before Bucky finds himself with a blush on his cheeks.

S'Cute (853 words) also on AO3 (clipped video of Bucky's "S'cute")

Gale is already looking at him, eyes bright and fond and loving, the golden light of the pub shining in his hair and creating perfect shadows on an already perfect face. He's cute. Gale's eyes widen a bit, a blush immediately finding its way onto his cheeks, and it's only then John realizes he’d spoken out loud. Alcohol made the words slur a bit in his mouth, coming out more as "S'cute" than an appropriate sentence but still Gale heard him. Now ducking his head shyly, a small pleased smile on his face, golden hair perfectly styled making him glow among the rest of them, he looks so sweet and handsome, and he's all Bucky's to love.

I'm On The Run With You, My Sweet Love (9,250 words) only on AO3

For the Prompts : "I don't want to move" + Lake Sex -- On a hot summer day, John and Gale enjoy an afternoon off-base at a nearby lake, far from the war and its destruction. They laugh, cuddle, kiss, talk about the future, with no one but the warm summer sun as their witness. Also they come. Twice.

Tell Me You're Going To Be Alright (I Don't Want The World To Turn Without You) (14,564 words) only on AO3

For the prompt : Classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary -- Perhaps life really only started when he opened the door to his room in flight school and shook hands with Gale Cleven. Perhaps the twenty-four years before that were only to learn how his legs and arms worked to get him to this moment, where he learned how his heart did. Or After the Regensburg Mission, John cannot forget just how close he came to losing Gale forever. He copes how he can, tending to Gale's wounds, and holding him when the adrenaline leaves him and Gale can't keep up the officer façade anymore. He lets Gale take care of the cuts that adorned his face even though John had forgotten them. And then, when all the wounds have been treated, desperation to feel just how alive the other still is settles in, like a wildfire of urgency that not even the presence of their men a few feet away can soothe.

Half Of Your Heart Beats In My Chest | Clegan Vampire AU

HCs Part One

HCs Part Two

Dog!John

Dog!John and Meatball

Every inch of your skin is a Holy Grail I've got to find (3063 words) only on AO3

For the Prompt : Thigh or Stomach Kisses -- Kissing John might be one of Gale's favorite things in the world, but right now, there's nothing he desires more than to watch the other come undone beneath him. His left hand leaves dark curls to brace on one broad shoulder, giving him leverage to sit back up, even though he can't help but crane his neck to steal quick kisses. John starts leaning up on his elbows to chase him, and even if it makes something swell in his chest, Gale stops him with a hand on the valley of his chest, fingers tangling lightly on the dust of hair there to push him back down gently but firmly. "Don't," the word comes out as a rasp, arousal making his head swim as he straightens up. Beneath him, John whines pitifully, the sound high in his throat but he flops back down obediently, looking up at Gale with half-lidded eyes, chest heaving.

Clegan Royalty/Bodyguard AU

Moodboard + Premise

Our love, for eternity (1536 words) also on AO3

In all the years they’ve known each other and amongst all the different things they’ve done with and to each other, few things have felt as intimate as Gale kissing his hand, no matter how many times he’s done it. Each one feels like a vow, full of more emotions and words than anyone could ever see behind the gesture. Many people have brought John’s hand to their lips- or their forehead, an alternative he prefers with strangers, he has to admit- in a sign of loyalty. But Gale always does it in absolute devotion and love, so sincere and raw it never fails to tighten John’s throat with so many emotions he cannot name until he almost chokes on them. To all assembled in the throne room today, it is a common gesture meant to show utmost servitude to a monarch. To John, it’s timeless proof there is no one more devoted to him and his heart than the man currently kneeling at his feet. There’s a reverence in how Gale does it. -- After two weeks apart, Gale and John are finally reunited, and though they cannot greet each other as they would like, the eyes of too many on them, they still find a way to show just how much they've missed the other.

Disclaimer : Anything written here is purely about the actors' portrayal in the Apple TV show, no disrespect to any of the real guys intended of course :)

Band Of Brothers/The Pacific Masterlist Navigation

#masters of the air #mota #mota fic #clegan #buck x bucky #buck squared #clegan fic #vampire au #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven

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