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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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How You Play the Game Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was miserable without you, and the pain just wasn't lessening even though you left him weeks ago. He needed to find a way to move on, because you didn't want him, and you weren't coming back. But he should have known there was no substitute for the best thing he'd ever had.

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, angst, consensual sex, sex with a condom while intoxicated (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Weeks later...

As you flew to Vancouver from Detroit, you thought about that six hour flight to Boston where you hadn't stopped crying for a single minute. You thought about leaving San Diego and how it broke your heart to move on to the next city and the next assignment. At least this time you had a window seat instead of the middle seat in the last row. And this time you weren't continually wiping your tears on Bradley's Padres jersey.

You had his jersey on again today, but this time you felt calm as you reached into your bag to take out your computer and read over the research you'd outlined about the Vancouver Canucks. Your eyes caught on the blue golf ball, and after a second of hesitation, you reached for that instead.

You'd taken it everywhere with you. It joined you in every hotel room, on every flight and in every rental car. You had it with you in your tote bag when you were in Boston about a month ago working on the exclusive with the Bruins' coaching staff. You were carrying it when you bumped into Abigail Archer for the first time in person.

With your article completely forgotten now, you dug your phone out of your pocket. It was in airplane mode, but you took a deep breath and unlocked it. You had to scroll a bit to get to the text thread with Bradley, and then you tapped his name and you almost let the tears rise to the surface. You held them back as you read the series of sporadic messages he'd sent you since early November.

I miss you.

Did you make it to Boston safely?

Ace, please call me back. I miss you so much.

I have this whole weekend off, and I can't help but think it would be easy for me to fly to wherever you are. If you would want that.

I still miss you.

I hope you're doing well.

You hadn't responded to a single one of them. And you never called him back either. But sometimes, when you were in a hotel room in a city that you couldn't even identify without looking at your calendar app, you'd get lonely enough to listen to his voicemail message. See ya, Ace.

It took until you met Bradley Bradshaw for you to really understand just how lonely you were. Going back to your apartment in New York City didn't feel like going home. There was nothing there that made you smile. There were no baseball cards or too small Angels tee shirts. There was no Bradley making sure you were taking a break when you needed one.

And he was part of the reason why you let yourself start to be convinced that you could have more out of your career. Maybe he was right. Somebody else might have something better to offer than Greg or the New York Times. When you talked to Abigail and started to test the waters, it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be. Making some calls to see what else was out there ended up validating one fact for you: Bradley was right, your writing was in high demand.

But you had to complete your contract with Greg before you could do much else. And that included Detroit and Vancouver. But you hoped after this, your work-life balance might improve. If you decided to take this information back to Bradley, you hoped he would listen to you. Maybe he would even see what you wrote about your career change in your Detroit Red Wings article. If he was even still reading your articles. There was a chance he might still miss you now, and maybe he'd understand that you needed to see the bigger picture for yourself first.

Before you left him alone in his bed, he told you that you knew where to find him. He made you feel like it was still okay to go there.

--------------------------

Bradley walked past his coffee table dressed in his flight suit with his travel mug of coffee in his hand. He paused at the front door and looked back at the mess he still couldn't bring himself to clean up. You left him weeks ago, damn near a month ago, but he just couldn't bring himself to clean up all of the fucking baseball cards.

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was being ridiculous. He was never ridiculous before he met you, so you must have made him this way. Every time he tried to clean them up and put them back out in his garage, his hands faltered and he left the cards out on the table. It was like some sort of sick reminder that you'd really been here with him. It was a way to convince himself he didn't imagine up the perfect woman in his mind and then have to live through the aftermath of watching her leave.

He tightened his fingers around his mug and rubbed the heel of his other hand against his eyes. Then he took his phone out. He knew he shouldn't do it since you never answered his other messages before, but he texted you anyway.

I hope you're doing well.

When he re-read what he'd sent, he started to panic. It sort of sounded like he meant it with an air of finality. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he didn't want to hear from you, because it was quite the opposite. There were times when he felt so lonely, he'd have done anything for you to write to him or call him back.

He swore he could still smell you in his house, and right now it felt a little too much like you were there. He wrenched his front door open and slammed it closed behind him, breathing in the crisp December morning air. He had to start making some changes, and he needed to do it this week. You weren't going to respond to him. After four weeks he should accept that as a fact and stop bugging you.

He'd been skipping Hard Deck nights and leaving the locker room after work without really talking to anyone. Nat knew why he was miserable, but even she seemed surprised it had gone on for this long.

A few days ago, she said, "You've never behaved like this over a woman before. This has all just been very surprising, and I don't know how to help you."

Bradley had shrugged and laughed sarcastically. "Well, I fell in love with her. First time for everything, right? I'll know better for next time."

And that was the truly fucked up part. He had fallen in love with you over the course of ten days. As he drove to work, he thought about your face and your voice. He knew exactly how many miles he put on his Bronco driving back and forth to see you at the games in Anaheim. He knew exactly how much money he spent on all the tickets. He knew how badly it hurt right now to be without you. And he knew he'd repeat everything all over again if he could see you for five minutes.

Just like every other day, he had to collect himself before he could head inside to the locker room. There was no getting his time with you back. There was no second chance. There was no communication. He needed to stop. He took off his aviators that you'd liked so much and set them in his cup holder. When he checked the time on his phone, he had a notification that a new article from you had been posted eight minutes ago. It was like this every day. He'd wait to see each morning if you'd written anything, and then after it was posted, he'd read it at least three times.

Your final World Series article was the worst one. It was released two days after you left. He must have read it a hundred times. He'd even take a screenshot of the short passage he was certain was about him.

This World Series was exciting and dynamic for so many reasons. We witnessed some of the best major league pitching in the last decade, and there were more stolen bases than the past three finals combined. Professionally, I may never witness anything like this again. And I can even tell you that on a personal level, I was profoundly changed for the better by everything I allowed myself to experience and enjoy between San Diego and Anaheim over the course of the series.

Bradley looked at his phone screen now. It had to stop. He desperately wanted to read your article on the Detroit Red Wings, but he needed to make this feeling stop. It was like he was constantly in pain every time he thought about you or even simply read your name on his phone. Your written words were never going to help him move on, so he needed to do something about it right now while he felt like he could.

He deleted the New York Times app. He thought about deleting your number as well, but he needed to save some of his strength to get through his workday. So he just tucked his phone in his pocket and climbed out of the Bronco.

---------------------------

When Bradley walked into the Hard Deck on Friday night after work, he felt defeated and exhausted. He managed to delete the app you wrote for, but he still couldn't bring himself to delete your phone number. Moving on was a necessity right now. He didn't even know why he bothered to come to the bar, but staying home and looking at baseball cards on his coffee table didn't seem to be helping him.

"You're here!" Nat called out as soon as he walked inside. The bar was decorated for Christmas. Was it that close to the holidays? He'd completely lost track of the weeks, but at the same time, he knew exactly how many days it had been since he'd seen you. His mind was too aware of that number, and it tacked a new one on each day.

"Hey," Bradley managed to grunt when his friend came over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. The Christmas tree and the strings of lights blurred, and he had to close his eyes. He was missing the feel of your arms around him and the way you smelled. None of this was Nat's fault or anyone's fault really. Bradley didn't even blame you. He couldn't. You and he were nothing.

"Let me get you a drink," Nat whispered, and she took him by the hand. He recognized the upbeat Christmas song, and he saw the guys waving from the pool table. But when he turned to face the bar, Shannon was right there with her usual smile and a pint glass in her hand. He didn't know why he wasn't expecting her. The last time he saw her was when he brought you here, and he'd give anything to go back to that night.

Bradley just shook his head. "Something stronger. Please." Shannon raised one eyebrow at him and set the pint glass down in favor of a whiskey tumbler and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Yeah."

"Haven't seen you around in a few weeks," she said, watching the amber liquid slosh neatly up the side of the glass as she poured. "Kinda missed you." She met his eyes as she pushed the glass across the bar. "You look so sad."

He held eye contact with her, trying his best to push the intrusive thoughts away. "Maybe I'll be around more now," he muttered, downing the whole drink in one go and setting the glass down again.

Shannon was familiar to him. Comfortable. He'd been messing around with women for damn near two decades without any deep feelings. You were really his first foray into something... more. But you were gone. You didn't want to talk to him. You weren't coming back.

She refilled his glass and said, "Take this one a little slower, Bradley." He nodded before downing it just like the first one, and she kind of smirked and shook her head. "You'll pay for this in the morning."

He laughed sardonically. "That's the idea." He left the empty glass on the bar with a little nod indicating that he would be back. He desperately needed to clear his head, but he'd been trying everything for weeks. Taking a walk outside, having a cold shower, going for a drive. Nothing fucking helped.

He needed to forget the feel of your body and the sound of your voice. So he drank an extravagant amount of Johnnie Walker on Nat's tab, and he started to feel looser. He laughed at her when she asked how many he had so far.

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back," he rasped with a smile that he knew could charm every woman except for his best friend.

She just rubbed her hand up and down his arm and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Let me know when you want me to get you home."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, Nat. Just fine." He finished his tumbler and tried to remember if that was his fifth or his sixth, but it didn't matter. He was warm now, and his lips were a little numb. This was exactly what he needed tonight. After he shot a round of pool and lost, he flipped through the jukebox, but it was all bullshit Christmas music. He wasn't in the mood. He thought about playing the piano, but there was an empty stool at the bar now, so he headed in that direction.

"One more?" Bradley asked Shannon as he sat, and she reached out to touch his cheek.

"You sure you really need one?"

"Yep," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat as she swam out of focus for a split second. "Just one more. It'll make it easier."

She turned away from him to get one more clean glass. Then she filled it for him. "Thanks, Shannon," he muttered when she set it down in front of him. He was leaning on his propped up hand, and he knew she was kind of pretty. But he knew you were prettier and funnier and smarter.

"You can't have what you want," he mumbled to himself after Shannon walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and just looked at the screen. Delete it. He had to. He opened his contacts, and there you were right at the fucking top.

Ace

You'd always be at the top, wouldn't you?

Instead of deleting your number, he sent you a text before he could reconsider.

Ace, I fell in love with you.

Fuck. Fuck! You didn't want him. And there was no way to take that message back now. He closed his eyes and shook his head, because he couldn't tell if he was about to cry or laugh. He was fucking miserable. Truly, he'd never experienced this before, and it hurt like hell. His thumb hovered over your name once again, but he couldn't delete it. He drank the whiskey and tried again. But still nothing.

He watched Shannon move around behind the bar. She wasn't you. She wasn't what he wanted, but when she announced that it was last call, she made her way over to him.

"But no more for you," she teased, reaching to take his glass away. But he had her wrist in his hand before he registered what he was doing. She looked a little surprised. The tears were in his eyes again, but maybe it wasn't so obvious to her. He couldn't say the words. He needed her to be the one. When he licked his lips, she leaned a little closer. "I'm done in fifteen. Are you interested? Or are you too drunk?"

He took a deep breath as his eyes closed. He needed to try to move on. The pain needed to stop, or else he didn't know what he would do. Right now he was numb enough. It was now or never. "I'm interested."

Bradley was very aware of what he was doing, it just vaguely seemed like someone else was doing it. He gave his keys to Shannon once they were outside. "Remember where I live?" he asked, walking toward the Bronco.

"Of course I do," she whispered.

He found himself with his back against the passenger side door with Shannon's lips on his. It felt fine. Would probably feel better the more he got used to it again. He could do this. He kissed her back and told her to drive, because he knew he shouldn't.

She drove and parked and took him by the hand, leading him inside his house. As soon as he saw the baseball cards, he wanted to upend his coffee table. He wanted to do this and get it over with and go to sleep for a week. And if he didn't feel better after that, then he didn't know what he was going to do.

When Shannon tried to turn on his bedroom light, he took her hand in his and guided it away from the switch. "Too bright," he mumbled, and she started to get undressed. He stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom and closed the door. When he looked in the mirror, he'd never seen anything quite so pitiful. He splashed a little water on his face, but it just made his flushed cheeks stand out more. He dug around under the sink for some condoms he thought he still had. When his hand closed around the box, he sat back against the wall and cried.

He had no idea how long he was in the bathroom. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe his face. You didn't want him. He went back to his bedroom where Shannon was naked on his bed, her skin glowing in the light filtering in from the bathroom where he forgot to flip the switch off.

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. But she must have taken that as a sign that he was ready to go. He wasn't, but he told himself he was. She touched him, and he let her. She kissed him some more, and he let her do that, too. He reciprocated. He knew to do that much. But it didn't feel like anything. He fucked her, but it just wasn't right. And then he fell asleep with a throbbing head and an aching heart and the wrong woman next to him.

-----------------------

It had been years since Bradley had a hangover. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was hanging off of his bed, and his face was halfway smashed in his pillow. His mouth was completely dry, and he tried to press his lips together and swallow. He had no idea how he got home or what time it was.

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He texted you last night. When he was sitting at the bar. He was pretty sure he told you he fell in love with you. He knew you wouldn't write back. You must have blocked his number by now. He was probably texting nobody by this point, but it still hurt like hell that you didn't want him the way he wanted you.

Then he remembered what he did after he texted you, and the bile rose in his throat so quickly. Shannon was right there next to him when he turned his head. He let her sleep over. He never let her sleep over before this. She was in your spot. He needed her gone immediately.

"Hey," he grunted, his throat like sandpaper. "Shannon. You need to leave."

She rolled over and glared at him. "Still tired," she whispered, completely naked in his bed.

"Please," he begged. He was so fucking stupid, it was incredible. Now he was miserable and hungover and angry with himself. "I need you to."

She sighed and stretched, and Bradley made a beeline for the bathroom, stepping on a condom wrapper on the way. At least there was that. Then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He sat back against the wall for a few minutes, afraid there might be more he had to throw up. He knew his head was throbbing due more to the fact that he regretted everything he did last night with Shannon than him drinking most of a bottle of whiskey.

There was tapping on the door. "If you want me to leave, I need to use the bathroom."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. When he brushed his teeth, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes once again. Was this ever going to stop? It had been more than a month.

Bradley rinsed his mouth and opened the door, barely looking at Shannon as she walked past him, still naked. He went back into his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and some gym shorts and fought the urge to put all of his bedding in the washing machine. He couldn't even be in here right now, so he left for the kitchen. And he passed the fucking baseball cards again. He would have to throw them away or ask someone to come get them, because he needed them gone as much as he needed Shannon to leave.

As he turned on his coffee maker, he heard someone knocking on his front door. He already wanted this fucking day to end. He tried not to look at the baseball cards as he passed the table and wrenched his front door open, and then his jaw dropped in surprise.

"Bradley. Hi."

He braced his hand against the door frame as he looked at you standing there on his tiny porch. You were wearing his Padres jersey. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be a dream. You were here.

"Ace."

He watched your face light up at the nickname, and you laughed softly as you examined him like you'd been dying to see him. He gripped the doorframe a little harder as he reached his other hand out to cup your chin and feel your silky skin.

"Holy shit, Baby. What are you doing here?" His heart was pounding, but he felt somehow normal again. Just like he had five weeks ago before you left him in a state of panic.

"I came to see you." He stroked his thumb along your lip, but you didn't back away. In fact you took a tiny step closer as you added, "I have to be up in Anaheim tomorrow afternoon for some Ducks interviews, but I wanted to see you first. I thought we could talk."

Your eyes were open and earnest, and Bradley felt weak as he looked at his jersey on you. He let his hand drop away from your face, because he had no idea what to say to you right now. He had convinced himself he'd never see you again. "Did you get my texts? Or did you block my number?"

You pressed your lips together and then whispered, "I got your texts. And I've listened to your voicemail a lot. I've missed you." Bradley watched you smile tentatively and give him a little shrug.

"You missed me," he said in disbelief. "And you got my messages. And you missed me. And you're wearing my jersey."

You looked down at yourself and laughed. "I've been wearing pretty frequently, actually. Turns out I don't have a dress code at my new office, which ironically is in Houston now, but I hardly ever have to be there in person."

When you met his eyes again, he asked. "New office?" He was so confused as he reached out and stroked your cheek with his fingers again just to try to make sure you were still real.

"Yeah," you said softly, taking another step closer to him. "I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for a lot of things." You bit your lip before you said, "I left the New York Times. I just finished my last assignment for Greg yesterday. I'm working on a brand new piece now. I actually begged my new employer to let me come back to California for the Anaheim Ducks article even though it's a bit of a fluff piece, because it meant I could come here and tell you that I'm happier now."

"You are?" he asked, unsure what you meant by that. He was having a hard time listening to your voice and looking at your face at the same time, and he wondered how he'd managed ten days in your presence for the World Series. You were just so overwhelmingly perfect.

"Yes, Bradley. You made me think about my career, and I kind of took the time to change some of my priorities. Because if there's a man as incredible as you who is willing to take a chance on me, then I can take the same kind of chance on myself."

"Ace."

You smiled up at what he was sure was a look of longing on his face. "I'm working for Velocity Report now, and I'm going to have a lot more time off between assignments. Which is important, because you reminded me that I need to take breaks and eat and take care of myself. Even when you're not around."

"I loved doing that for you," he gasped, suddenly dying to kiss you.

"Yeah, well, you were really good at it," you said as your smile faded a little bit. "But that's why I'm here. To tell you all of this in person. You deserve to hear it in person instead of over the phone, especially since I never responded to you. I wanted to, but I just wasn't ready until now. And I don't know if you read what I said about you in my Detroit Red Wings article... but, I still miss you. And I love you."

His heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. "You love me?" he asked, absolutely needing you to say it again for him as your eyes drifted to where the box of baseball cards was still out on the coffee table.

Your smile grew as you reached out for his hand and tugged him closer like you were going to kiss him. "Yes, I do. I love-"

Bradley heard a noise behind him, and his heart sank as his eyes went wide. You were looking off to the side, and he heard Shannon's voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to see her with a puzzled look on her face. He had completely forgotten she was even here. After a few minutes in your presence, you were the only thing that mattered.

"Oh my god," you gasped, wrenching yourself away from Bradley. "Oh, fuck." You looked at him with your hands on your forehead and tears in your eyes. "You know what? Forget I was even here. I'm sorry," you gasped, turning on your heel and walking full speed across his yard to the black car that was parked at his curb.

It took him a second, but then he was right behind you. "Ace! No, Baby, you don't understand." But it didn't look like you were listening as you dug the keys to your rental car out of your pocket. "Ace! Please!" He ran barefoot out onto the street to try to beat you to the car door, but you were too fast. When he reached for your hand and spun you around to face him, you had tears streaming down your cheeks.

He was frozen, clinging to your hand as you whispered, "She's the bartender. I should have never come here."

"No," he begged, stepping into your personal space, but you kept dodging him. "It's nothing. I want you here. I need you here."

But you pulled your hand free and reached for the door handle as you sobbed, and it broke Bradley's heart. "I need to go."

He was ready to drop to his knees. "She doesn't mean anything, Ace! Please! I missed you too, Baby! I've been miserable without you, okay? You have no idea."

You wouldn't even look at him now as you pushed him out of the way so you could climb in the car. He felt all of his dreams slipping through his fingers twice now as you slammed the door closed, started the engine and drove.

"Ace!" he shouted running alongside your door until you hit the accelerator and left him standing in the middle of his street without shoes on. "Ace. I love you," he whispered as you turned left at the end of his block, and then you were out of sight.

Bradley sank down until he was squatting with his face buried in his palms. "Fuck!" he screamed, the sound only slightly muffled as he jumped up to his feet and made his way back to his house where Shannon was standing on his porch. She looked disgusted as another car pulled up in front of his house.

"Why are we sleeping together if you're clearly in love with her?" she asked, barely looking at him as she headed toward her Uber. "You should go take care of that."

As Bradley watched her away, he tried to pinpoint exactly how he'd fucked all of this up. He wondered if there was any way to fix it. Once again, he couldn't breathe correctly as that crushing feeling returned to his lungs. This feeling has vanished for those few minutes he was with you again.

"Maybe you don't even deserve her," he told himself as he walked back inside alone, thinking about how for a minute there, you'd loved him back.

------------------------------

Oh, Bradley. Oh, you sweet thing. Should I add one more part? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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hellfirenacht · 8 months ago

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Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

5.7k Words

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers.

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus.

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you.

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question.

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway.

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly.

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you.

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.”

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate.

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?”

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with.

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid-

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before.

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up.

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared.

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something.

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.”

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness.

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.”

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen?

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different.

He really needed a cigarette right about now.

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him.

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched.

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing.

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat.

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen.

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay.

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town.

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag.

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy.

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much.

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right?

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in.

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.”

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked.

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed.

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!”

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room.

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.”

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm.

“And what plans would that be?” he asked.

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet.

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.”

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food.

“Friend’s house.”

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin.

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before.

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.”

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character.

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do.

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out.

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response.

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star.

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him.

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you.

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled.

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?”

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.”

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally.

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked.

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before.

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher.

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige.

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape.

Then you started laughing. A lot.

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question.

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down.

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table.

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting?

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked.

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.”

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!”

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!”

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now.

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot.

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway.

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?”

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered.

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern.

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.”

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?”

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected.

“And green.”

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months.

“What’s real to you?”

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that.

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it.

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.”

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?”

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.”

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again.

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded.

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?”

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Extremely.”

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we’re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent.

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.”

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this.

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.”

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day.

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first.

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back.

Next Chapter

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

#nacht post #nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

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edenmemes · 1 year ago

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red dead redemption 1 starters

❝ it’s wanting that gets so many folks in trouble. ❞ ❝ it ain’t no secret i didn’t get these scars falling over in church. ❞ ❝ if you win power, remember why you wanted it. ❞ ❝ you do a man wrong, he’ll shoot you for it. you do a man right…well, he still may shoot you for it. ❞ ❝ trust me. there’s things you’re better off not knowing. ❞ ❝ you remind me a lot of myself. how i used to be. stubborn and angry. ❞ ❝ i hope you will give me some warning if you get the sudden urge to kill me. ❞ ❝ my side wasn’t chosen. my side was given. ❞ ❝ a little sore, but apart from a couple extra scars, it will be as nothing happened. ❞ ❝ i don’t think you’re a bad person. a little stupid perhaps, but not rotten. ❞ ❝ i certainly don’t mind you asking, if you don’t mind me not telling. ❞ ❝ you are being deliberately obscure as a substitute for having a personality. ❞ ❝ so do tell me, have you needlessly risked your life since we last spoke? ❞ ❝ i came into this world fighting. and i’ll go out of it fighting. ❞ ❝ i hear you speak and suddenly i'm reminded of how the people i respected most in my life had a problem with authority. ❞ ❝ you're looking much better. considering you were almost buzzard food a couple days ago. ❞ ❝ power is like a drink. the more you have, the more you want. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ sometimes in the service of what is right, you got to do terrible things. ❞ ❝ you have quite a story. i really am a little jealous. ❞ ❝ old friends make the worst enemies. ❞ ❝ i had everything, and gave it up in the pursuit of nothing. ❞ ❝ hah. you were always bad at lying. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to stand by and watch good people suffer. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging. ❞ ❝ now, if you don't mind, i'd hate to spoil such a beautiful afternoon on such beautiful land with any further unpleasantries. ❞ ❝ i, too, have a family, friend. and so that we may see our families again i suggest we part ways amicably. ❞ ❝ sometimes i tell myself that everything happens for a reason. ❞ ❝ i see the good in everybody. it’s a flaw of mine. ❞ ❝ well, try not to get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ see if you can keep your gun holstered for once. ❞ ❝ i don’t pay much attention to rumors. ❞ ❝ i swear, if it was down to me, i’d never have gone anywhere. ❞ ❝ lock all the doors. whatever happens, don’t come outside. you hear me? whatever happens. ❞ ❝ what would you care? i’m just a nuisance to you anyway. ❞ ❝ i’ve been hearing some things about you. ❞ ❝ i would rather be dead than a cynic like you. ❞ ❝ damn, a little gratitude wouldn’t kill you. ❞ ❝ trust me, i ain’t no hero. ❞ ❝ as it turns out, it's you or me. the way i see it, might as well be you. ❞ ❝ you live in a dream world. it ain’t like they tell it in books. ❞ ❝ i’m asking you to do what i say, before you get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ those who sit on the fence make a choice…in their own way. ❞ ❝ i’d do anything for you, you know that. ❞ ❝ better watch your mouth, my friend. i've cut out a man's tongue for less. ❞ ❝ there's nothing worse than a nobody thinking he's a somebody. ❞ ❝ you got it all wrong. i’ve always loved you, even now. ❞ ❝ what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own? ❞ ❝ first impressions are hard to erase. ❞ ❝ it’s a long story. too long to tell without a drink in my hand. ❞ ❝ i’m not angry. i’m disappointed. ❞ ❝ you know me. i’ll be late to my own funeral. ❞ ❝ that tone of voice ain’t so becoming on you. makes you seem all pent up and angry. ❞ ❝ you think i don’t know who you are. ❞ ❝ why don’t i get a warm and tender embrace? ❞ ❝ what do you want me to say? yippee? ❞ ❝ there’s always a choice. you’re just too blind to see. ❞ ❝ you’re not ready for that yet. one step at a time. ❞ ❝ every time you go off, i worry you’re not coming back. ❞ ❝ it didn’t have to be this way. ❞ ❝ come on now. try to look on the bright side. ❞

❝ after all i taught you…i’m ashamed. ❞ ❝ it’s easy to make promises you can never keep. ❞ ❝ we all make mistakes. i never claimed to be a saint. ❞ ❝ how does it feel to kill hundreds of men in cold blood? ❞ ❝ it ain’t the first time i had a gun to my head. ❞ ❝ you’re not perfect, and i’m sure not. but you’re better than they are. ❞ ❝ you alright? you’re not hurt, are you? ❞ ❝ this really couldn’t have gone more horribly wrong. ❞ ❝ you’re just like me. you can’t change who you are. ❞ ❝ my whole life, all i ever did was fight. ❞ ❝ you’re in no position to make demands. ❞ ❝ the bright side? there ain’t no bright side. ❞ ❝ my heart’s beating like a drum. ❞ ❝ are you sure you’re alright? i mean, i know all that business must have been hard on you. ❞ ❝ you’ll make me blush with all these kind words. ❞ ❝ i never took you for the jealous type. ❞ ❝ come now, you’re stupid, but you’re not that stupid. ❞ ❝ you’re weak. you always were. you never had the stomach for this. ❞ ❝ seems real quiet, don’t you think? ❞ ❝ you were always a hard and nasty man. ❞ ❝ see, i have nothing but your best intentions at heart. ❞ ❝ don’t talk about things you don’t understand. ❞ ❝ i guess there’s only one room for one hero in this family. ❞ ❝ for a wise man, you are a really stupid man. ❞ ❝ what would have happened if i hadn’t come along? ❞ ❝ you must have mistaken me for someone else, friend. ❞ ❝ you ain’t very talkative, are you? ❞ ❝ we cannot be too careful. the world is very dangerous. ❞ ❝ no, i’m not okay. do i look like i’m okay? ❞ ❝ you are so tense all the time. come, let’s have some fun! ❞ ❝ i will stay and fight. i am ready to die if necessary. ❞ ❝ i know i can’t change the past but i’m sure gonna do something about the future. ❞ ❝ i’ve given you no reason not to trust me. ❞ ❝ choose your tone rightly. remember who you’re talking to. ❞ ❝ there are guards everywhere. if they see you, they will kill you. ❞ ❝ it was nothing. i’m not a kid any more.❞ ❝ a lonely, forsaken place. some people say it’s haunted. ❞ ❝ i’m not sure your idea of paradise and mine are the same. ❞ ❝ maybe if you were more cordial to folks, they’d be better inclined to help you. ❞ ❝ i’ve been in far worse situations. ❞ ❝ you have the exterior of a violent man, but the soul of an angel. ❞ ❝ you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you? ❞ ❝ you’re no better. how many men have you killed? ❞ ❝ stay alert. something doesn’t feel right. ❞

❝ i'm going to hand you over to them and watch them tear you limb from limb…i'm just kidding. ❞ ❝ you love to talk badly of other people because it makes you feel better about yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s been a pleasure spending time with you. ❞ ❝ that’s a lot of sacrifice. i just hope it’s worth it. ❞ ❝ i’m not cut out for this. no, not cut out for this at all. ❞ ❝ i don’t need you to show me. ❞ ❝ men are born, and then they're formed. at least, that’s how i see it. ❞ ❝ a little flattery…now we’re finally getting somewhere. ❞ ❝ i thought you were supposed to be fearless. ❞ ❝ you are a man who has lost his spirit. ❞ ❝ if you were less secretive, people might be more inclined to trust you. ❞ ❝ me mean me no harm? this is funny. what harm could you do to me, exactly? ❞ ❝ come on, after everything we’ve been through, i think we can trust each other, don’t you? ❞ ❝ i can’t rightly believe it. just like in the books. ❞ ❝ i didn’t ask for your help back there. i owe you nothing. ❞ ❝ be careful. what’s stopping me from killing you? ❞ ❝ one day, i promise you, you’re gonna regret this. ❞ ❝ you know i’ll do whatever i can, but i have problems of my own. ❞ ❝ what would you know about leadership? ❞ ❝ you make a choice by not making a choice, you know. ❞ ❝ hold your excuses until you figure out which one to use. ❞ ❝ i'll give you a bad case of "someone just shot me in the head" if you don't hurry up. ❞ ❝ being honest though, this tastes bad enough to kill a man. ❞ ❝ do i look like i need saving? ❞ ❝ sarcasm should be beneath a man such as you. ❞ ❝ are you always this stupid or are you making an extra effort today? ❞ ❝ i don’t like to kill a man on his knees, even if he deserves it. ❞ ❝ don't forget you need me more than i need you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you to hell and back. ❞ ❝ you’d best not be lying to me. ❞ ❝ let's get going. before the weather gets any worse. that sky don't look good.. ❞ ❝ thank you for telling me all that back there. it must have been hard for you. ❞ ❝ i know we ain't exactly old pals, but…have i ever done you wrong? ❞ ❝ your nobility's almost as affecting as your naivety. ❞ ❝ you are a romantic who wants to be a cynic. ❞ ❝ i apologize if i seem to be prying. ❞ ❝ strange place for a decent person to visit, if you don't mind me saying. ❞ ❝ well, you must admit…it's an unusual start to a friendship. ❞ ❝ i can’t really say i understand you. ❞ ❝ every man has a right to change, a chance of forgiveness. ❞ ❝ hello, old friend. it’s been a long time. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand now why i've been playing my cards somewhat close to my chest. ❞ ❝ nobody made my path but me. ❞ ❝ it’ll be a piece of cake. trust me. ❞ ❝ oh, don’t be so deliberately enigmatic. ❞ ❝ my word, what a difficult life you’ve lived. ❞ ❝ you have a strange sense of humor. ❞ ❝ stay and fight me, you coward. ❞ ❝ i ain't planning on staying very long. ❞

#rp meme #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay meme #im sORRY some of the text is refusing to stay small

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laurfilijames · 1 year ago

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Like My Dreams

Part 1

Intro

Pete Dunham Masterlist

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: Mentions of a broken leg, use of crutches. Bruises and cuts. Swearing. Alcohol consumption and use of pain medication. Discussions of fighting.

Summary: Life is getting back to normal for Pete, including going back to work and participating in his first scrap since almost getting killed, and little does he know that an unexpected person is going to step in and show him that while football is life, there may be more to life than just football.

After moving home to help your sister with your nephew, Jack, after her divorce, you meet his bruised, but gorgeous teacher, and later discover you're connected in more ways than one.

A/N: Part 1 is here!! Pete deserves the world and I'm using this fic as a way to rebuild his for him.

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"Have you heard from the Yank at all, there, Peg Leg?" Swill asked through a grin, ducking when Pete raised his arm up in an attempt to hit him.

"Aye, I'll beat you with my crutch, you cunt," he threatened, turning away for a split second before making a quick jab at his mate with the proposed weapon, making Swill jump and spill his beer. "And yes, I have. Turns out our Yank mate has sought his revenge and managed to get a recording of that geezer Jeremy admitting he put the blame on him, so he's right back into Harvard now and will be graduating soon as."

"Ahh, result!" Swill cheered, clanking his glass against Pete's before extending his arm out to cheers with Ned and then Ike.

"Gonna be a proper Journo now."

"Good on him," Ike nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. Says he's planning a visit back across the pond soon as he's done," Pete explained.

"Oi, when are you going back to work, Pete?" Dave asked, handing him a fresh pint before taking a sip of his own.

Pete took a long drink, tilting his head to the side and shrugging slightly as he swallowed his beer. "Soon, I hope. Apparently the little lads have been giving the substitute a right time. I already had to go in and give 'em the what-for…tell 'em to be nice while I'm away."

"Bloody buggers," Dave sighed, shaking his head.

"Told them I'd taught them better than that." Pete took another sip, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Their response was that they wouldn't have to be such shits if she wasn't such an old, miserable cow."

"Yeah, there's no doubt you're their role model, then eh?" Dave laughed.

Pete shrugged in agreement, finding no point in arguing.

"Once I get out of this cast I can go back in," he explained, turning and leaning his back against the bar. "I'm itching to get back to it, but more just to get out of Steve and Shannon's place."

"That bad?"

He sighed, choosing his words carefully, "Shannon is being nice to me for the first time ever, but they fuss constantly. It'll just be nice to go home."

"Yeah, all in time, mate." Dave clapped his shoulder, happy Pete was being cared for and wasn't spending the long days of recovery alone.

There were days his leg ached like hell, and after ditching his crutches about a week ago, Pete sometimes wished he still had them to lean on. He sat on the edge of his desk, reading out loud to the class from there rather than pacing through the desks like he had been, his limp becoming more and more noticeable with each step, but despite the pain from the long days of being back on his feet, he was grateful to be back in his classroom with life pretty much back to normal.

Being back in his flat helped with his overall recovery too, having felt desperate to get out of Steve and Shannon's stuffy place and in the familiar comforts of his own, having appreciated time spent with them and his sweet nephew Ben, but ultimately relieved to relish in the peace and quiet.

The bell rang, signaling the end of their school day, and Pete marked his page and closed the book, glancing at the clock in slight disbelief that the day was already over.

"Okay, boys, we'll pick up there tomorrow," he announced, collecting some papers on his desk as his class packed up their notebooks and began filing out of the room. "And remember your assignments are due on my desk first thing Tuesday morning, so get cracking on them!" he shouted over their excited voices, some of them moaning in disappointment over their homework.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a text from Bov confirming their plans to meet at the pub later for beers, and excitement buzzed through him knowing that in two more days, West Ham was playing Manchester at home. The two firms hadn't seen each other since the GSE surprised them at the station and embarrassed the hell out of them, and word was that they were gunning for a comeback more than ever. Pete knew he would have to be careful, but the thought of getting back into fighting and experiencing that rush as his firm kicked the shit out of the other's whose bruised pride had never recovered from the last time made him feel like he was close to invincible.

"I don't know why you keep eating it, then, Bov," Pete scolded, walking through the doors of The Abbey with his mate who kept going on about his sore stomach, unable to help the laugh at his expense as he watched him hold his gut and beeline it right for the toilets.

"What's the matter with him?" Dave asked, nodding in Bovver's direction as he struggled to get by other patrons.

Pete shook his head and sighed, "Bloody guy insists on ordering the hottest curry going and then fucking complains about his insides turning as soon as he's stuffed it down."

"He'll never learn, will he?"

"Nah, serves him right," Pete chuckled, clanging his glass against Dave's after being handed it.

"I don't know about you boys, but I am more than ready for the weekend," Ike said exasperatedly, "work has been kicking my ass."

"You best be rested up for our big event on Saturday…" Dave warned, earning a scoff from him.

"Yeah, yeah, you know I'm good for it. When have I ever let us down?"

Dave opened his mouth to quip at him, but started laughing when Ike shoved his arm and directed his attention to Pete. "What about you, eh? You feeling up to it?"

"Mate," he said pointedly, his eyebrow raised, "more than I ever have." Pete grinned, knowing each of them would be keeping extra close watch on him despite him feeling like no one would be able to knock him to the ground.

"I've been trying to get Fiona down here for some drinks," Swill started to explain, "her bestie is here staying with her for a bit and said they were looking to go out on the pull-"

"Aye, I'll show your sister a good time," Ned interrupted, causing Swill to glare at him seriously.

"Don't you fucking think for a second you're gonna touch my sister."

Pete laughed into his beer, listening to the two of them carry on until Keith interrupted them.

"Isn't she the hot one that moved away a few years back?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Swill confirmed.

"Oi, she's fit as fuck," Ned chimed in, making a crude gesture with his hands.

"She's here helping her sister out with her nephew or something, I dunno," Swill nonchalantly explained. "I keep telling her that Fi's place is too cramped and she should come stay with me."

"In your dreams!" Pete laughed, "Poor girl would be traumatized if she spent more than five minutes with you."

"Yeah, well, you'll just see when she comes 'round, eh. I'm very charming when I need to be."

"The only charm you're going to have is when you're helping me kick the snot out of Manchester's top bloke." Pete wrapped his arm around Swill's shoulders and necked the rest of his pint, the exhilaration of the upcoming match and fight already tingling through his veins.

"Fucking right, mate!" Swill cheered, patting Pete on the back aggressively to help pump him up even more.

Saturday turned out to be one of the best days Pete could remember having. The Hammers won 2-0 and him and the boys made the ruck afterward almost look too easy, but it didn't go without it's evidence.

He looked at his bruised reflection in the mirror, having missed seeing various shades of red and blue marking his face, his skin tender as he pulled the razor down over it before rinsing it off under the tap. He smiled to himself in thinking a clean shave would make up for his appearance when he showed up to school that morning, the colours even more pronounced than they were yesterday, having already earned glares from other staff members as he walked through the hallways to his classroom. The little lads always got a kick out of seeing their teacher's battle wounds unlike the Headmaster, but Pete still did his best to set a good example for them and prove to everyone that even a Weekend Warrior could maintain his professionalism. Pete winced when he went over a cut on his cheek, making blood spring from it again, and washing the remaining shaving cream off his cheeks and chin, he dried his face and went through to his bedroom to get dressed.

"Have a good day, Jack!" you smiled, watching your nephew climb out of the back seat of your car, thinking how dapper he looked in his neatly ironed school uniform and finding how he styled his hair with a bit of gel too sweet. He was growing up so quickly, ten going on fourteen it seemed like some days, and despite the circumstances, you were grateful to be around him more. There was no doubt that the split between your sister and his dad was tough on him, but overall he seemed to be coping okay, and you hoped a small bit of it was because his one and only amazing Aunt was there to help look after him. Part of your designated duties were to drop him off and pick him up from school and football practices, your work hours more flexible and easier to line up with his activities than your sister's, and it was the least you felt you could do to help out.

"Thanks, Auntie."

"You've got your football gear, right?" you called out through the passenger window you quickly rolled down before he got too far from the car.

"Yup," he confirmed, holding up his cleats and giving his backpack a shrug to keep over his shoulder.

"Okay, then, I'll see you at half four when practice is over. Maybe we'll go grab a bite and see a film?"

He scowled, "The match is on tonight!"

You raised your hands in mercy, "May the football gods forgive me!"

It earned a laugh from him, making you smile, the little 'see ya!' he gave you as he turned and ran off toward the building enough to make your Tuesday feel a little less mundane.

Glancing out of the corner of your eye at the backseat as you reached for your purse, you did a double-take, noticing Jack's lunch bag and homework left forgotten on the seat.

"Shit!" you hissed before giving a long sigh, looking out the window for any sign he was still around.

He was long gone into the school now, forcing you to switch your car off and take it inside, and you trotted down the pathway quickly in your heels so as not to be late to work yourself.

Something had cheesed-off the secretary already this morning, and with little to no help from her, you took it upon yourself to wander down the hallways in search of Jack's homeroom.

"You alright there, Jack?" Pete asked, passing out a worksheet on each desk, his concern growing after noticing the sulk on the boy's face. He looked like he was about to cry, having finished rooting through his bag for the second time since he'd gotten into class, clearly searching for something that wasn't there.

"I don't have my assignment." There was so much defeat in the poor kid's voice, and Pete couldn't bring himself to be cross with him even if he wanted to be.

"It's alright, mate, you can hand it in tomorrow."

When that didn't seem to ease his troubles over it, Pete crouched down beside his desk, his leg complaining as he did.

"You did do it, yeah?"

"Yes," Jack confirmed, his disappointment not fading. "I think I left it in my Aunt's car."

"Right, then there's nothing else to be done about it for now, eh? Mistakes happen, I won't knock any marks off for it."

"I forgot mine, too, Mr. Dunham," the boy sitting behind Jack called out.

"No you did not, Louis," Pete said through a wince as he stood. "The only thing you forgot was to actually do it."

Louis, along with all the other boys, laughed, the kid being famous for never handing in anything on time or simply neglecting to do half the assignments tasked in the first place, his admission not coming as a surprise to Pete.

About to explain the instructions on the pages he had just handed out, Pete was interrupted by a light knock and the door opening, making all of them pause to look at the slightly embarrassed, but extremely beautiful woman who was disrupting their class.

"I'm so sorry," you began, smiling in your bashfulness. You looked directly at Jack, making Pete swivel on the spot he stood on to follow your gaze before looking back at you with a big grin on his face, watching as you held up a folder containing what had to be his forgotten assignment.

"Looks like you've got yourself a guardian angel, mate," Pete smirked, limping over to the door where he opened it more for you.

You apologized again, but somehow couldn't wipe the smile from your face as you got lost in Jack's teacher's vibrantly blue eyes, the colour seemingly enhanced and appearing almost fake due to the reddish bruises that surrounded them.

"Don't give it another thought," he assured you, looking back at you with a similar amusement before reaching his hand out to take the folder decorated with West Ham United stickers from you.

More bruises and cuts decorated his knuckles, making you wonder what the hell this man got up to when he wasn't teaching your nephew, and you made a mental note to ask Jack questions about it all later.

"You've forgotten your lunch, too," you spoke, peeling your eyes away from the man who made butterflies flutter violently in your stomach. Jack trotted up to the front of the class where you stood, taking the bag from you sheepishly.

"Jack, you're a very lucky lad," Pete began, moving to perch on the edge of his desk. "I don't have anyone bringing me my lunch if I've left it."

You shrugged and nervously tucked your hands in the pockets of your jacket now that they were free, biting your lower lip to try to stop yourself from smiling more.

"I won't take up anymore of your time," you said to the impossibly handsome teacher, maintaining eye contact with him as you took a step backwards toward the door, praying your feet didn't betray you. "Sorry, again, for the disruption."

"Not a problem at all," he said slowly through another bright grin, his head tilting curiously as he crossed his arms over his chest while you walked through the door, closing it behind you.

The second it latched you heard the entire class erupt in a long 'ooooooo', jeering their teacher as any group of ten-year-old boys would for talking to a girl, making you smile even more when you heard him shush them and chuckle lightly before continuing on with his lesson.

10:47 Fiona: We're going to the pub tonight.

10:49 You: …

10:49 Fiona: I said, we're going to the pub tonight. That's an order.

10:51 You: Fine.

10:51 Fiona: Don't be mardy. We need to get out of the house. I promise to show you a good time.

10:51 Fiona: Plus, there's a match on, so it'll be full of fit lads.

10:52 You: Is that really your main selling point?

10:52 Fiona: Yes. We'll see which of us can get the most free drinks.

11:09 Fiona: I'm taking your silence as a yes.

11:09 Fiona: Maybe you'll even get a snog or a shag in the toilets!

11:17 You: I swear you're a bigger perv than your brother.

Tucking your phone back inside your desk drawer, you bit the inside of your cheek and sighed out deeply, trying to regain concentration on the computer screen in front of you, but it was helpless. All you could think about was the fraction of a possibility of seeing Jack's teacher there, the teacher whose name you didn't even know, out of the simple fact that he probably spent his time outside of school in a pub watching football as most men did. Even if he did happen to be in that exact pub, in that exact part of London, on that exact night, the chances of him being there without a woman, or many, hanging off his arm were slim. Maybe he was even engaged or married, happily at home on a Tuesday night with his missus…

Regardless of your speculations, you continued to think of the way he had looked at you, letting this silly and unexpected fantasy get the better of you, recounting every moment of your meet-cute and how unbelievable it would be to find yourself tangled up with the likes of him. Had you exaggerated the glint in his eyes and the brightness of his smile, or how he made your whole body tingle with that nervous-excitement enough to feel like you were floating?

With another sigh, you willed yourself to get a grip, needing to get something accomplished in your workday, the chances of seeing him outside the school slim.

Still, a girl could dream, and smiling to yourself, you secretly thanked your friend for her persistence in taking you out.

Several very distracted hours later, you pulled up beside the pitch outside the school, seeing a small mob of boys in various coloured jerseys running around it, and your eyes immediately found and fixed on the tall coach that was unmistakably the same man who had occupied your mind all day.

You sat for only a couple of minutes before their practice was over, watching the banged-up teacher with a hitch in his step walk around collecting pylons while the boys ditched their jersey's into a bag and started to clean up their belongings piled near the fence.

Jack ran to your car even though his bags were far too heavy for him to be, and seeing how sweaty he was along with the muddy stains covering his gym gear, you wondered how many of these pick-ups it would take until your car began to smell like gross footy equipment.

"How was it?" you asked when he hauled on the door and threw his stuff in, flopping himself into he back seat before shutting the door and putting on his seatbelt.

"Good. Thanks for bringing my assignment, you're a legend."

"Don't I know it," you winked at him, taking one last look over at his teacher who just so happened to be staring at you, and you felt yourself flush from head to toe as you tore your gaze away from him and blinked into reality, putting your car in gear and driving off.

You were quiet for a couple of minutes, debating quizzing your nephew about his teacher, and ultimately decided there was no harm in it.

"Does your teacher always show up with bruises on his face?"

Glimpsing in the rearview mirror, you saw Jack smile. "Mr. Dunham? Yeah, most of the time."

"You're acting like that's a normal thing, Jack," you laughed, "Why is he always battered?"

"He's a Hooligan, so yeah, it's normal."

"A Hooligan?”

"In a footy firm?” he emphasized in the form of a question, like it was the most obvious thing. “Yeah. West Ham’s, obviously."

You nodded, trying to wrap your head around the information you were getting. You knew of the firm because of Fiona, having heard the odd thing about it through her because of her brother Swill, but the ins and outs of football were something you didn't pay much attention to anymore. You weren't even sure if Swill was still a participant of the barbaric side of football, assuming he might have given up his hooliganism in exchange for his respectable career as an accountant.

"Mr. Dunham's the coolest. He's everyone's favourite teacher. A lot of grown-ups and other teachers think he's bad or whatever, but he's the nicest out of anyone and is really smart, too," Jack went on, pulling you out of your thoughts for a moment. "I want to teach history like him when I grow up. It's my favourite subject."

"Well, then, I'm sure glad I brought in that assignment for you."

"Yeah, I was real upset that I forgot it. I want to keep my grades up in his class."

It was incredible to hear your nephew talk like this, finding a role model in someone so unconventional, but seeing as his father wasn't really one to look up to, you figured it was good he found someone who inspired him.

"Right, my man," you announced, parking in your sister's driveway. "Enjoy the match! I hope they win!"

"Mr. Dunham says they will for sure. Birmingham doesn't stand a chance!"

"Well good, because even I am going to watch it tonight!"

Jack pulled a shocked face, "You're gonna watch football?"

"Yes! Cheeky…"

"Make sure you cheer for the proper team!" he laughed, tugging on his West Ham shirt to show you the crest. He closed the door after taking out all his things and ran up to the house where he stuck his tongue out at you from the porch, making you laugh and shake your head.

"Want another one, Pete?" Bovver asked, nodding to his empty glass that had been drained for a while now.

"Nah, man, I'm good. Gotta be sharp for work tomorrow."

"Since when?"

Pete glared at his mate, not wanting to get into too many details, the truth behind his reduced consumption of pints being he had just taken some pain pills on account of his leg. He had done his best to cope with it, but after running around too much at practice he had to give in, needing something to help take the edge off.

"Oi, Fi's on her way over," Swill said, sitting down beside Pete.

"Oh, tonight? Sweet," Pete said, curious to see who her friend was and if she was actually as fit as the other guys kept claiming she was.

The Abbey was packed by the time the game started with the GSE dispersed throughout to watch on the various screens hung on the walls and above the bar, Pete sticking to their usual spot in the back corner where less people were gathered.

He spotted Fiona making her way through the crowd, judging by her tipsy smile and half-finished pint that she had already been here for a decent amount of time, the atmosphere of the whole place very rowdy as the Hammers maintained a lead.

"Pete!" she called, nearly pushing someone down to get to him to give him a hug.

"Aye, aye!" He stood and accepted her embrace, unable to recall the last time he had seen her.

"How are you doing? You gave everyone quite the scare!"

He chuckled, "Yeah, all good. I'm doing fine now, thanks, Fiona." He took his seat again and looked up at her with a smile, watching as she clapped her hand on her chest.

"What a relief, you should've seen how gutted they all were. Swill was beside himself."

"As they should've been!" he laughed, spinning his empty glass on the coaster. "You enjoying the match?"

"Wha- oh! Yeah," she laughed, her smile somehow larger than her brother's, "I'm not paying all that much attention if I'm honest!"

"I can tell!"

She shrugged and took a long sip of her drink, glancing around the bar.

He nodded at her, his brows knitted, "Where's your friend?"

"Hell if I know! Somewhere over there," she waved, motioning in the direction of the pool table, "Ned and Swill are chatting her ears off."

"Sounds about right…"

Pete settled into his seat and drew his focus back to the match as Fiona went and greeted someone else, but he'd be kidding himself if he pretended his thoughts weren't constantly on you, unable to get you out of his mind for even a second. He wondered if he would be lucky enough to see you again; if Jack would just so happen to forget something on a weekly basis and if you were going to be the one consistently picking him up from school and football practice, or maybe even be the guardian he would get to sit down and discuss Jack's grades with at parent-teacher interviews.

But it was rare for lightning to strike twice.

The Brigid Abbey Pub itself was incredibly charming, even if most of the people occupying it were far less so. Swill was the same as always, never changing his lewd, loud ways despite being forced to be well-mannered and respectful throughout the day, but it was rare that anyone had ever made you laugh as hard as he did. His mates were all there, most of them hanging around where you and Fi were, but mentions of someone named Pete and his whereabouts kept coming up.

You found yourself taking in your surroundings more than the game itself, looking at all the plaques and paraphernalia that hung on the walls, all while scanning the crowd in hopes of spotting the one person you somehow felt desperate to see again.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Hmm? What? No one," you lied to Fiona, though very unconvincingly.

"You spotted a fit bloke, didn't you?" she said with a grin that rivaled Swill's.

"Yeah, me," Swill chimed in, causing Fiona to talk back to him about being gross and them to start bickering as they usually did.

They always managed to make you laugh, and you had to admit you were having a better time than you thought you were going to, enjoying the company of your bestie and her brother, who's mates were exceptionally kind and welcoming.

It wasn't until you overheard a couple of them discussing a fight they had had that you really started paying attention to what was happening around you.

“Wait, are you still part of all that?” you asked Swill, grabbing his arm to make him turn around to face you.

"For life!" he exclaimed, "I'll be dead before I leave it."

"Yeah, well, some of you are making that come true more than others," Fiona scoffed.

You screwed up your face in complete bewilderment, "Wait. What?"

"The head of the firm," she began explaining, "their mate, Pete, nearly died about four months ago in a fight. He's just been back to work the last few weeks and everything. It’s a complete miracle he's even alive."

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. "And he still fights?"

Ike huffed out a laugh before turning serious, "Oh, fuck yeah…like nothing ever happened."

The rest of the lads all excitedly started recalling how intensely this Pete had fought the other day, going on about how their fearless leader was back and stronger than before.

"Is he here?" you asked, wanting to meet this death-defying prodigy of England's roughest unofficial sport.

"'Course he is," said Ned, "he's sat over there in his usual spot." He nodded toward the back corner of the pub, and standing on your tip-toes, you attempted to see over the hoard of heads between where you were and there, but it was impossible to manage.

It was almost hard to believe that these men, who held regular jobs and had seemingly normal lives, still carried on the insane, delinquent habits of the firms brought on from decades prior, and even more so that after one of them was nearly killed, they continued on with more pride than ever.

The match ended in a win for the mighty Hammers, the high spirits of their dedicated supporters lingering on in the pub, helping to keep Pete going despite being the most sober one of all his mates. As the groups of people started to thin out, he was finally able to spot where Fiona and the rest of them had been loitering, his eyes trained on one person in particular.

His heart hammered in his chest as he downed the rest of the beer he had been nursing, praying for the slight nervousness he felt to calm.

"Well, fuck me," he murmured under his breath, standing from the table where he left Dave asking him what he was on about and where he was going.

Not bothering to ease his friend's mind with an explanation, Pete slowly made his way through the crowd, almost afraid that if he moved too quickly, the scene he was walking toward would vanish from his sight like a mirage.

A grin that met his eyes crept up his lips, thinking that maybe dreams didn't fade and die and it was possible that lightning could strike twice after all.

---

Part 2

Taglist:

@stealfromthedevil @inbar-thomas1980 @theesirenteller

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this series or any others, please comment, send an ask or a DM! 💗

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham x female reader #pete dunham x reader

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lightsoutletsgo · 8 months ago

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hello mimikins i am here asking u to ship me w a driver pls and thank u. i am an '03, finishing up year 3 of my super cool and smart science bach degree. ummm i dont know how to describe myself. i like to think im funny and sarcastic and people probably think i talk to much. ok have fun i love u congrats on 500 :P

BEAR!! okay I knew as soon as I saw your request who I was gonna pick fr (I picked him even before our little rant earlier) mwah mimikins 🤍

LOGAN SARGEANT ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you sweet girl, pretty girl or baby - loves your eyes so much! like honestly finds himself getting lost in them mid-conversation and then being like "huh? sorry baby what did you say?" - his love language is a mixture of quality time and physical touch. he's happy to spend time just existing with you when you're both doing your own thing, but he also loves cuddling with you and holding your hand - loves loves LOVES when he gets to treat you as his passenger princess! we're talking seat warmer on, blanket, little snack box, charging cable in your favourite colour, cute cosy slippers for your feet and he's the bf who has a "passenger princess" sticker on the passenger seat sun visor mirror

logan loves helping you study! he happily cuts up little fruit pots for you or makes your favourite snack and rewards you with a bite and a kiss when you get the right answer. whenever he can, he picks you up from class after a test and always asks you how it went. he'll cuddle you and tell you you did a good job regardless of the outcome. he's great at helping you stay focused and he will sometimes kidnap your phone so you're not tempted to get distracted.

he loves that you're sarcastic and dry sometimes because it reminds him a lot of oscar's sense of humour so he's used to it. he doesn't mind sometimes being the one you make fun of - he knows you don't mean it, plus! if he pouts about it, he knows you'll kiss him until his pout disappears. loves taking you to drive-in movies and driving to the beach to stargaze. he's actually a real softie and romantic at heart. he loves going on dates like bowling or to the arcade! anything where he gets to hold your hand or be a gentleman or do something for you, like win a huge giant teddy - he finds his heart still skips a beat every time he facetimes you when he's away and you're cuddling the bear dressed in one of his hoodies sprayed with his cologne as a substitute until he comes home.

he never thinks you talk to much! in fact he likes that you talk a lot because he's quite quiet. he loves listening to you mumble to yourself while you're revising and studying and he can't help the way he smiles when he listens to you talking to yourself when cooking or focusing on something. logan finds though that sometimes, late at night when you're curled up next to him, your hand clutching his tightly even in your sleep, he's the one talking. he talks to you about his plans for the future, how glad he is he met you, how much he loves your smile and how happy you made him that day. he swears one day he'll tell you when you're awake but he's still working up the confidence to do it! it's okay though, you know... you caught him one night when he thought you'd fallen asleep and now you try and stay awake that little bit longer just to hear what he will say to you.

"logan?" you call as you open the front door, the weight of today's classes and tests pushing down on your shoulders, "kitchen!" he calls out and from further inside the house you can hear your playlist of nostalgic childhood bops drifting down the hallway. you drop your bag in the hallway and kick your shoes off, just wanting to forget the day already. as you enter the kitchen he looks up at you, a huge grin spread across his face, "how was your day baby?" you just shake your head, unable to find the words. sensing your angst he moves around the kitchen island, "want a hug?" you sigh and nod, your head dropping to lean against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, his head resting on top of yours as he sways you along to the track playing in the background. "well... I'm still proud of you sweet girl." he pulls back to look at your face. placing a soft kiss to your scrunched forehead and sighing with relief inwardly when the tension there melts away. "can I offer you a suggestion to cheer you up?" you nod and he leads you over to the counter excitedly, "I got some of that pizza dough and sauce and toppings and stuff and I figured we could make pizzas and then watch a movie?" you smile at him, "sounds perfect love!" he backs you up against the counter and places a hand either side of you, effectively trapping you, "you are perfect baby."

#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡#sweet moots ₊˚✧*:･#bear 🐻#the charles to my carlos #mimi.writes #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader

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lilietsblog · 1 year ago

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non-mat Russian insults!

"Donkey" refers to a person who makes avoidable mistakes with significant consequences.

"Goat" refers to a person who is inconsiderate to others.

"Infection" (notably Russian does have a transliteration version of this word, but the version used in the insult is the 'native' word "zaraza") conveys a general "I wish you weren't doing this right now" sentiment. Unlike the rest of this list, easily applies to inanimate objects and abstract phenomena.

"Svoloch" is not quite translatable directly, although it's a relative to the verb "to drag". Refers to someone who is not merely inconsiderate, but evidently actively malicious.

So a driver on the road cutting you off is a goat ("kozel", specifically male goat); your boss committing fraud to underpay your salary is a svoloch; your relative falling for a transparent scam and losing a large sum of money is a donkey; and a small child putting a frog in your tea for laughs is an infection, as is a stuck desk drawer and a usb stick that appears to have no less than 20 sides. (Yes, this is an insult that's mild enough to apply to a child, although usually not by its own - that's a harsher insult, while the context of "you little infection" is more playful)

All of these are literary words, fully acceptable in books, on TV etc, although of course you won't see them in academic/formal writing. Children aren't encouraged to use any of these, but outside of insulting someone specifically (which is a problem because they're being mean) won't get punished for it either.

(As distinct from 'mat', which originates from the word 'mother' and refers to the category of insults of severity that is in a certain category of legal system legally equivalent to assault. The words themselves don't actually reference motherhood directly and instead are derived from words that mean 'penis', 'vagina', 'to have sex', and in a less word-creation productive way 'prostitute'. Those are 100% not acceptable anywhere that has any pretension of being 'for kids', and in most literary fiction will be censored. Sometimes a book will have 'just one bad word' and that will usually be the Russian word for 'female dog', 'suka'. NOTE: this is NOT the same word as bitch regarding actual context of use. You can say 'bitch' respectfully, it produces the adjective 'bitchy' which is more or less an objective quality, and overall the word is in most context most accurately translated as the Russian word 'sterva' which describes an aggressive/disagreeable woman. The only context in which 'suka' / 'sukin syn' (literal translation 'son of a bitch') is used is to communicate extreme hostility and denigration. It's 100% fighting words. While most mat is curious in that it can produce pretty much neutral meaningful sentences (a famous example is 'why did you put that here? Put it back!') with its profane word roots, 'suka' does not have this productive capacity; what derivatives do come from it will still communicate extreme hostility and denigration. Do NOT confuse 'bitch' with 'suka' or things will go poorly for you, socially speaking. There are also 'mat substitutes', words that are like 'dangit' or 'gosh darn it' in that they're softened grammatical and semantic analogues of the actual swear and don't carry as much weight. Children are discouraged (sometimes heavily) from using those, but not punished. These words are relatively literary and will be used in books whose characters are swear-heavy, and in online spaces mat will often be banned altogether while these words are allowed. And I don't mean censor heavy spaces, I mean the kind of friendly self-policed fandom space where kids can find out about queer identities - there's no meaning/sentiment that mat conveys that can't be conveyed without it with the rest of the Russian swear word arsenal Children are 100% punished for using 'mat' words, even on accident. It's heavily taboo, although some households will of course use these words anyway and their kids will pick it up. It's a class thing)

#languages #russian #russian swears #the origin of this post is that i called my dog 'stinky infection' after it went to poop where i did not want it to poop #and started thinking about it #its interesting!!!

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dead-dog-dont-eat · 10 months ago

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trazuil hcs plzzzzzzzz!!?? (pos)

(also I noticed that ur ask sentence is a lyric from ice nine kills 'enjoy your slay'-)

haha! Knew someone would notice it, lol.

Also, since I mostly deleted my OG post of Trazuil (I didn't like it so I wanted to remake it) I might as well dump all my info about xem right here on this ask. And heads up, there's mentions of violence and abuse up ahead in this post btw:

-to start off, Trazuil is a AMAB nonbinary person (he/him and xe/xem), he is also an arospec gay

-Xer autistic, borderline (like me), have PTSD, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, gender dysphoria, is a selective mute and also has ASPD

-He's a slasher (a killer who mutilates/kills people with knives, blades, chainsaws, etc; just wanting to save you the google search of the definition of a slasher)

-OG idea was that Trazuil was mostly going to be Nigerian; but I was also leaning that he would be Afro-Latine instead, so I went ahead and made him both afro-latine AND nigerian. He would be VERY fluent in both Spanish and Swahili.

-I was struggling a bit for this one, because I couldn't find a good VA that would fit Trazuil, so given that, my choice would have to be Joel Perez (aka, Valentino's VA from Hazbin Hotel). Of course, Trazuil wouldn't be acting like Valentino because there is a HUGE difference between the two. One is, of course, Valentino is an abusive rapist pimp while as Trazuil is a slasher with a dark past. Oh, and Trazuil would absolutely OBLITERATE Valentino when you put them in an room for an hour and half an hour in you'll be hearing Val's screams and his insides just PAINTED the entire room.

-Personality wise, he would be a mixed of Shadow the Hedgehog and Spawn from Todd McFarlane's comics. He would also be a bit of a foodie like Hannibal Lecter.

-Another difference would be between Val and Trazuil xemself would be that Val most likely has killed innocent people (cuz it was mentioned that Valentino in Episode 4 has killed past sex workers/employees of his that didn't do a good job before and/or during when Angel Dust arrived in Hell). Trazuil, on the other hand, is basically like Dexter Morgan; he mostly killed people that were murderers, abusers and rapists since he still has moral values and also because he was a victim himself. He only has killed a few innocent people only because they were pissing xem off.

-Xe are younger and somewhat shorter than Bezel; his age range would probably be mid-20's but he kinda acts like a bit of a grumpy old man lol

-Going back, he would often times keep the flesh of his victims for meals. Like being said before, he's a bit of a foodie like Hannibal, always finding creative ways to upgrade his meal. Sometimes, when the kill is slow he'll just hunt animal meat as a substitute.

-He wears mostly long-sleeved or any long clothing to cover his body because of the scars he has all over xer body. Xe's insecure the most about them since they were a reminder of the way he was abused--hence his gender + body dysphoria

-Mentioning, he was mostly abused by his family when he was young. Xe were raised by a group of fallen-angen-turned-powerful-demons that had a toxic tradition of viewing one's values. Hence, he was abused and almost left to die on Earth because his family exiled him and took away his powers. Afterwards, he was left to defend himself and mostly replied on sharp weapons.

-Trazuil mostly lives in the woods in his cabin, and he keeps all his weapons in a shed he built

-He knows color theory, astronomy, and vintage stuff really well; someone would ask "how do you make teal?" And he'll be like "Just use equal amounts of blue and green, that'll do." Along with having an knowledge for exo planets, black holes, etc.

-He's a big softie for dogs and other species in the canidae family

-Oh, and I should probably mention: whenever he's angry (not pissed) xe'll swear/mutter in either Spanish or Swahili as a way to censor himself. HOWEVER, I do imagine that he's a bit sadistic and unhinged when it comes to killing his victims. Like picture that one scene in the movie adaption to "The Shining" where Wendy is scared for her life while holding that bat to defend herself as Jack is walking up the stairs to her while saying "Wendy, dearest, love of my life...I'm not gonna hurt you...I'm just gonna bash your brains in" in the most intimidating way. Imagine that in the woods, but Trazuil is holding an axe and he's chasing his future victim.

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somethingsgottasaveyou · 11 months ago

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Music Asks! Please & Thank You 🖤

12: A song to shut everything out?

16: An album you could listen to for days on end?

23: What are some lyrics you love to pieces?

34: If you could be a member of any band for one show, who would it be?

*wishing you good things this year, especially going to concerts*

Ohh thank you! ☺️

12: A song to shut everything out? The past year it's really been Lost Along The Way // All Time Low Other than that; Iris // The Goo Goo Dolls (There is something about this song I swear)

16: An album you could listen to for days on end? Quite a few but let's settle for Wake Up, Sunshine // All Time Low

23: What are some lyrics you love to pieces? Good god so many, how much time do you have?

The only thing that's left to do is live. (I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous // Frank Turner) I need to start to be myself 'cause I'm sick of everybody else. (Broken Man // Boys Like Girls) She finds hope in the strangest places, she reads her books and she knows the faces of everyone that ever said she's alone. She knows every word to the saddest songs and she sings along. (So Far Away // Mayday Parade) I reserve my to feel uncomfortable. I reserve my right to be afraid. (Sometimes You're the Hammer, Sometimes You're the Nail // A Day To Remember) Music: it's my substitute for love. (Substitute // Frank Turner) This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end. (Alone Together // Fall Out Boy) I never knew how much it would hurt to feel. You gotta hurt sometimes to learn to heal. (Some Kind of Disaster // All Time Low) My broken pieces don't fit in. (The Antidote // Simple Plan) Try and get better and don't ever accept less. (Get Better // Frank Turner) I'm a bit too pop for the punk kids but I'm too punk for the pop kids, I don't know just where I fit in. (Figure Me Out // The Summer Set) It's the only way I have learned to express myself; through other people's descriptions of life. (L.G. FUAD // Motion City Soundtrack) Punk is for the kids who never fit in with the rest. (Four Simple Words // Frank Turner) Maybe one day I'll be back on my feet and all of this pain will be gone. (Lucky One // Simple Plan)

I escalated here, apologies

34: If you could be a member of any band for one show, who would it be? Never once spent a thought on that actually. I wish I had any idea 😅

Thank you so much, this is literally so sweet 🥹 I did plan big for concerts this year and I'm so excited!

#i hope 2024 treats you well!#thanks a lot for the ask 🖤

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 3 years ago

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No Business Like Show Business | Part Three

Series Summary: you work backstage at a theatre and become close with the star of the show (who you may also have a slight crush on)

Pairing: James McAvoy x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: not proof read 🙈

A/N: ugh im sorry it takes me so long to write each part of this story, writers block is a bitch. Feel free to substitute James for any actor of your choosing. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Two | Masterlist

- - - - -

If you’d have told me five years ago that one day I’d be working in a professional west end theatre alongside some of the countries best actors and actresses, I’d have been amazed. Add on that I would get to meet James McAvoy, and actually be his friend… well my inner teenager is fan-girling HARD.

James has been spending a lot of time with me in the props room lately. He sits and learns his lines while I sit and make the props. Sometimes we talk and laugh, other times we sit comfortably in each others company as we silently get on with our jobs.

I think he’s just happy to get away from Anastasia to be honest. I know its unprofessional to speak badly about the people you work with, especially if they’re one of the ‘stars’, but she is unbearable. On the rare occasion she actually chooses to acknowledge my existence, she insists on calling me ‘props girl’ and refuses to learn my name. James always gives me an apologetic look, even though its not his fault.

I don't know what her problem is with me. I’m just going to get on with my work and stay out of her way.

— — — —

As you take the familiar route through the theatre corridors and down to the basement, you’re surprised to find the props room door already open. ‘Vera?’ you think to yourself as you slowly approach the door. ‘Finally got her’ you smirk, preparing yourself before jumping into the room.

“Caught you! Step away from the tin- oh!” You stop as you find James sat on one of the chairs, his script on the table in front of him. He holds his hands up in fake surrender.

“I’m innocent I swear”

“Sorry, I thought you were Vera. She’s been sneaking in here and stealing my biscuits.” You explain and James laughs. “You’re here early today aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we’re rehearsing a difficult scene today so I wanted to get in and study the lines before.”

“How’s that going?” You say, dumping your bag and looking over his shoulder at the pages of dialogue in front of him.

“Eh, not good. I just can’t get this scene right.” He says looking down at his script in defeat then back at you. “Hey would you mind running through the lines with me? If you're not too busy?”

“Sure, yeah I can do that.”

“Great!” he says pulling out the other chair from under the desk and gesturing for you to sit.

As you sit he riffles through his script looking for a specific page and hands it to you. You stare at it, suddenly feeling very anxious. You hated reading aloud anyway, but reading a scene with a professional actor made you feel a whole new level of dread.

What if you mess up the words?

What if you lose your place on the page and can’t find it again?

How are you supposed to read it? Just like read the words off the page or is he expecting you to actually act it out?

You've never acted before, you're probably terrible at it and he’s going to think you're pathetic.

Why did you agree to this?

He must have noticed the panic in your eyes because he suddenly reaches out to put his hand on yours.

“Don't worry, this isn't an audition or anything. I won't judge you. I just need someone to say the other characters lines so that I can practice mine. But if you really don't want to do it I completely understand.” He flashes you a smile that instantly reassures you.

“It’s fine, I can do it.” You say, more to yourself than to James.

“Thank you.” You both smile as he squeezes your hand and nods to signal that he’s about to start the scene.

It was a passionate argumentative scene between two lovers. James delivered his lines perfectly, as you expected he would. You started off a bit slow, stumbling here and there but with James acting his lines out with such realism you felt yourself getting sucked into the scene so much that before you knew it you naturally started acting out the lines too.

Throughout the scene the argument gets less angry and more passionate. By the end of the scene you and James are both out of your seats standing so close together that your faces are inches apart. His hand is cupping your face, thumb gently stroking your lips as he’s staring hungrily at them. You're heart is beating so loud in your chest you think he can probably hear it too. Then suddenly he breaks away, and you stand there trying to regulate your breathing.

“And that’s where the characters will have their kiss, which we haven’t rehearsed yet so we’ll stop there.” He takes the script back from you and smiles. “Well done Y/N, you’re a natural! You should be on that stage instead of hiding down here underneath it.” He says and you laugh “I mean it Y/N, I really feel like there’s something there. Have you done any acting before?”

“As a kid, yeah I took classes and I loved it. It was all I ever thought about for a while, being on stage. It just never worked out”

“Why not?”

“Because I grew up-”

“You don't want do that” he interrupts with a smile.

“-and I became painfully aware of other people’s opinions.”

“Now you definitely don't want to do that.”

“Yeah well I do! I know I shouldn’t care, but that’s easier said than done.”

“At some point you’ve got to stop living your life in fear of what people might think, and just start living. The truth is people will form opinions of you no matter what you do, so you may as well do the things that you want.” He pauses, studying your face. “and if anyone judges you, fuck ‘em… not literally I mean, that’s not great advice-”

“No I know what you mean” you both laugh. “Thank you James”

There’s a comfortable silence as the two of you look at each other, smiling. James glances behind you to the clock on the wall, his eyes widen.

“Shit! I need to go, I’m supposed to at rehearsal!” He heads to the door “thank you for reading with me.”

“It’s fine, anytime.”

“See you around superstar.” He winks before disappearing out the room.

You stand there for a moment, replaying what just happened in your head. He was about to kiss you, right? I definitely felt that way. You didn’t imagine that.

You shake the thoughts from your head and refocus your mind on getting your work done.

— — — —

At lunch you make your way to the wardrobe department.

“Fancy a coffee date?” You ask cheerfully as you walk through the door, looking down at your phone.

“Are you buying?” an unexpected voice replies and you look up to find an almost naked James standing on a stool in his underwear.

“Sorry!” You say, quickly covering your eyes. “I thought you were-“

“Vera?” He says at the same time as you “This keeps happening. You do know that me and Vera look nothing alike?” He jokes and you laugh awkwardly.

“Where is she?”

“She just gone to the storeroom, she should be back any minute. At least I hope she will, I’m getting cold.” He laughs. There’s a brief silence. “You can look at me you know? I don’t mind.”

Slowly you drop your hand from your eyes and tentatively look up at him. He flashes you a smile which you return. There’s another small silence as you look at each other, but the silence is interrupted when Vera returns. She looks between you and James before giving you a cheeky look that makes you have to suppress a laugh.

“Hello my lovely, what brings you to the wardrobe department?” She says as she wraps some fabric around James torso and marks various measurements.

“I was just looking for you actually. Wondered if you wanted to come to the coffee shop with me for lunch?”

“That’s a brilliant idea! Will you be joining us James?” She asks and he looks surprised.

“If thats alright with you..?” He replies, looking at you but Vera responds.

“Of course it is dear. I tell you what, why don't you get dressed and go with Y/N to get us a table while I finished up here.” She says as she hands James his clothes.

“We can wait for you-“ you begin but Vera cuts you off.

“Nonsense. You two go on ahead and I’ll join you.”

— — — —

“She’s not coming” you say as you read the text message on your phone. “She said she’s sorry but she’s suddenly got a lot of work to do and said to have a nice lunch without her.” You put your phone back in your pocket and look across the table at James.

“Guess it’s just you and me” he smiles.

There’s a silence as you both takes sips of your coffee.

“So, how did the rehearsal go?” You ask.

“Really good! Although I have to say I preferred having you as my scene partner.” He says with a wink.

“Careful, if Anastasia heard you say that she’d probably have me fired.” You say with a small laugh.

“Nah, she’s harmless really. She talks like she’s the most important person in the room but in reality she knows she’s just as replaceable as the rest of us. Just ignore her. She’s only a bitch to you because she’s jealous.”

“Jealous?!” You laugh in disbelief as you look down at your coffee “Of me? I don't think so.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? You're kind, funny…” he pauses and you look up at him “…beautiful… People like you a lot Y/N and Ana can’t stand it when there’s someone else in the room that people like more than they like her. So rather than try to make herself better, she tries to make the other person worse. The best thing you can do is just carry on being your wonderful self.”

“Thanks” you say quietly, feeling awkward from all the compliments. You find yourself looking down at your coffee again as you twirl the cup in your hands. Suddenly James reaches across the table and places his hand gently on your forearm, causing you to look up at him again. His face is closer now.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not just saying this to make you feel good. You really are a wonderful person. I’m so glad I got this job, because it meant I got to I meet you.”

You feel cheeks getting hotter as James’ brilliant blue eyes gaze into yours.

‘Is this really happening?’ You think as James seems to be slowly getting closer to you across the table ‘Am I really about to kiss James McAvoy?’

A flash of light catches your attention and you turn to see a man stood at the coffee shop window with a camera covering his face. It flashes again and you realise he’s taking photos of the two of you. James sits back in his chair and looks at you, a mix of sadness and irritation on his face.

“I’m sorry but we’re gonna have to leave now. If he knows where we are then its only a mater of time before more paparazzi leeches turn up and if we don't get out of here before they arrive… well its just not a situation I want to put you in.”

You finish the last bit of your coffee and follow James as he heads to the door. Already there’s a few more people with cameras waiting outside and a small crowd of people who had been passing by and stopped to see what the happening.

“Stay close to me” James says as he puts his arm around you, lifting his jacket in the process to shield your face from the flashing of the cameras as you walked out of the shop.

The second you both stepped out of the cafe the cameras started flashing and excited shouts erupted from the crowd as people realised who the paps were here for.

“James over here!”

“A smile for the camera?”

“How’s the show going?”

“Is it true you're dating your co-star?"

“Who the girl James?”

“Are you cheating on Anastasia?”

You had no idea how many people were crowded around you now, though it sounded like a lot. While the jacket over your head did a good job of keeping you hidden, it also meant you couldn’t see where you were going. But you didn’t feel scared. You kept your eyes down fixed on your feet as you walked and trusted James as he lead you. The coffee shop was only around the corner from the theatre so you knew you wouldn’t have long to go.

You come to a stop and hear the sound of a door opening. You walk through and as it closes behind you, James removes his jacket off you. He looks at you with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you alright?” You ask and he just nods and sighs.

“I’m so sorry you got dragged into that.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just sorry you can’t even go for a coffee without people hassling you.”

“Downside of the job.” He shrugs and gives you a small sad smile. He reaches out and smooths your hair. “My jacket messed up your hair… you're still beautiful though.”

His hand moves down to gently stroke your face and stops on your cheek. He searches your eyes, as if looking for your permission before leaning to press his lips against yours.

Part Four

Taglist: @halfofwhatisayismeaningless @internetgremlin-reads

#james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy imagine #james mcavoy reader insert #james mcavoy fanfic #james mcavoy #theatre #theater #reader insert fic

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lollytea · 2 years ago

Note

🍟

Gilbert has been obsessed with Flyer Derby for years. It keeps him entertained during all those hours spent alone in his room. However, his interest doesn't involve much action and is instead limited to watching all of his school team's games, collecting books on the sport and keeping updated on the current derby season with magazines. He does like to zoom around on his staff over the roof of his house sometimes and pretend he's an athlete but it's not a substitute for the real thing. He is very much aware that he doesn't have what it takes to play Flyer Derby competitively. But he can at least hang on to wishful thinking as a way to get him through the day.

Gilbert's favourite team is the Molars, a group of underdogs from Latissa who have been making history with their matches lately. Gilbert follows their lore religiously. He knows everything. Their names, their history, their rise to fame, even the time and place of their weekly practises.

Gilbert's parents had business to attend to in Latissa and Gilbert, brimming with ulterior motives, begged to come along. By some miracle, they agreed.

The family rented three rooms in the town's only Inn. Not as upscale as they were used to but it was only for one night. Gilbert was ordered to stay in his room as his mother and father went out to get things done. He happily agreed.

Gilbert hadn't a notion of staying in his room.

Harvey's abomination assignment took an hour longer than he expected so when he rushed downstairs for his shift, he was head-to-toe splattered with goop stains.

Harvey and Gilbert meet again, maybe a month after the IFWOT incident.

Harvey was standing at the foot of the stairs, attempting to clean himself off, though the goop just kept coming off on his hands. He liked to look presentable if he could help it, but he didn't mind being a little messy if it was just for work. Though this all changed when he heard a shocked and euphoric "Harvey!" from the front desk and he turned around to find a spotless and impeccably dressed Gilbert Park. All sky blue and white and silver. Practically princely.

Harvey couldn't stand feeling like a slob in comparison to whoever was speaking to him, especially when that person was looking at him with such familiar eyes. It made him want to crawl out of his skin. So he panics. And the first thought that occurs to him is Run.

So Harvey fucking bolts. Out the door and into the street, as Gilbert calls out to him.

"Wait! Hold on! Stop! Harvey!"

He's made it at least halfway down the block when the ground rumbles, he hears one final "Stop!" and a fist of earth mounds erupts out of the pathway and snatches hold of him.

Immobilised, Harvey struggles and glances about frantically for whoever did this. That's when Gilbert comes running up, immediately pinning his hands over Harvey's mouth.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'll let you go. I promise. Just please do not yell or act like you're being attacked because I saw Coven Scouts right around the corner and if I get in trouble with them, it's gonna be bad news for me. So just-please, I'm begging you. Don't draw attention to us."

As soon as Gilbert's hands are removed, Harvey blurts out "You are insane."

"No no I'm normal. I'm actually so normal. This isn't a good example of me being normal but I swear that most of the time I-"

"Can you let me go now?"

"Oh. Right right."

It takes Gilbert a few minutes to undo the spell because he's too embarrassed to ask Harvey to please close his eyes so he doesn't feel watched. But eventually he manages it.

Harvey is still completely mentally reeling from the reality that the incompetent witch he met at IFWOT just tore the ground apart and captured him with minimum effort. Like. What else could he do if he didn't hesitate so much?

They eventually get to the reason why Gilbert is here in the first place. He rummages around in his satchel and fishes out a Flyer Derby magazine, pointing enthusiastically at the Molars on the front page.

Harvey squints.

"Every evening they have practise at the field on the outskirts of town. Right? Right??"

"How should I know?"

"You live here."

"Yeah but I don't....I don't keep up with the Molars. Or Flyer Derby. Or... sports in general."

"But you know where the field is, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So could you take me? Please just take me. I don't know my way around this place and-"

"And dressed like that, you're gonna get mugged."

"Wh-really? Oh thorns. Hold on."

Gilbert abruptly tugs at his collar and yanks out a necklace. He removes it.

In a puff of illusion smoke, all of Gilbert's dazzle is gone. Blue, white and silver vanishes and what remains is dull brown and grey. Unassuming, practical attire. There's even a rip at the hem of his tunic. The almost otherworldly glow of his skin fades and Harvey can now make out a small cluster of acne at his jaw.

"You wear glasses?!" Harvey practically booms, because that's the only thing he can think to say. It's like he's now looking at an entirely different boy and the contrast is mindblowing. The frames alone practically shapeshift his whole face.

Gilbert blushes. "Yeah but never in public. I look more like my brothers without them so my parents prefer it like that. Here, lemme just-"

He then steps forward and loops the concealment stone around Harvey's neck. Another poof and all of abomination goo stains are gone. Harvey's breath hitches, stunned.

Gilbert smiles. "I remember what you said back at the convention center. How you get really frustrated when you don't look your best. How bout you keep that? I've got a whole drawer of them at home."

Harvey nearly bawls then and there but he manages to hold himself together.

The decision is made to take Gilbert to the field where the Molars are playing. He worries about skivving on his duties but Gilbert offers to play the rich card if he gets in trouble. He was escorting the son of the wealthy Park family, as per said son's request. What excellent service the Latissa Inn provides. They will surely recommend this place to all their associates.

Gilbert does a very good "rich person" voice which makes Harvey laugh a lot.

Once they reach the field, Gilbert stops a good distance away and announces "Okay. This is perfect."

"You don't wanna get closer?"

"Nope."

Gilbert then opens his satchel and clicks his tongue. His palisman Elio scuttles up his witch's shoulder before transforming.

Harvey watches Gilbert board his staff, puzzled, before awkwardly taking a step back.

"We'll be able to see better if we're at their level." Gilbert explains.

"We?!" Harvey splutters.

"You said you'd stick around."

"Yeah but...on the ground."

"Scared of heights?"

"No! I just...I don't have a staff yet."

"We can share."

"No but also I...I've never been on a staff."

Gilbert grins. "Awesome! So this will be a fun new experience for you!"

After a little convincing, Harvey sits himself down on the end of Gilbert's staff, only to involuntarily screech as they shoot into the air.

Gilbert is then taken by surprise as a pair of arms frantically grasp around his waist and squeeze him tight. Okay. Sure. Touching. This boy sure does a lot of sudden touching. Personal bubble popping. This is fine. His frame stiffens and he keeps his eyes locked dead ahead.

But as Harvey starts muttering about falling and cracking his skull and dying a gruesome painful death, Gilbert relaxes as laughter bursts out of him.

"So you are scared of heights."

"No I just....need to get used to this." Harvey's voice is muffled, as his face is buried in Gilbert's shoulder blades.

"Will you fly once you get a staff of your own?"

"Yeah."

"I could show you how."

Harvey is quiet for a long while. "I can do it myself."

Gilbert frowns. He learned to fly by himself. He remember wishing that someone had helped him.

Eventually, Harvey adjusts enough to open his eyes. This is around the time the Molars begin spinning around over the field.

Gilbert is ecstatic and Harvey isn't sure just how much of him is coaxed into looking just so he can see the face that matches the excitable voice. It doesn't disappoint.

All it takes is an hour. An hour of Gilbert cheering and laughing and practically vibrating with enthusiasm. An hour of Harvey's indifference towards the sport shifting into curiosity, then interest, then wonder, then amazement, until he winds up yelling and whooping alongside Gilbert.

It's different than Grudgby. Though Glandus was crazy about it, Harvey had never cared much for Grudgby. Too much clobbering. But this was way different. And it was cool. It was so so cool.

He had never really been this childishly excited about something that didn't involve furthering his future. What was the point of getting sucked into a Flyer Derby obsession of all things? Maybe it was just that Gilbert's excitement was contagious.

Once practise was over and the boys descended to the ground, Harvey immediately had to go throw up in a bush. He supposed this meant that he had gotten a little too carried away.

And that was their first shared Flyer Derby experience.

#the park saga

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worminstuff · 4 years ago

Text

mcyts as teachers

in my brain. lol. thisisjustmyopiniondontattakpls

dream smp edition!!!

i got way to carried away HOLY

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Mr.Wastaken - math

he’s that one math teacher dude whos friends with all his students

funky👏tys👏 and👏 button ups👏

somehow teaches everything so everyone understands

the students won’t bully eachother if he bully’s them first.

everyone does their work and then when everyone is done and just chillin, he’ll tell a story or just talk to them

Mr.Blade - english

he’s that english teacher that if you ask the right question they’ll go on a tangent and you’ll get to not do work for like 30 minutes minimum.

Mr.Blade seems mean but is super sweet to his students. (especially the quiet ones)

never makes them do presentations

Mr.Jacobs - history

is 100% best friends with his students.

so many handshakes

Mr.Karl is literally the best dressed teacher there is and is so nice to all his students. he is easy going on grading but is a tad hard on late work.

totally doesn’t sneak off to kiss coach sapnap sometimes

Mr. Quack - spanish

HOLA NIÑOS

gets so hyped with his students.

kahoot kahoot kahoot sm kahoot

Mr.Quacks class is the one everyone hopes they get and constantly looks forward to. thinks like baking spanish food, watching spanish soap operas, and many more fun ways Mr.Quack has thought of to show them different aspects of spanish culture

Mrs. Nihachu - art

the classroom the kids with anxiety sit in during lunch

gives her students hugs whenever they need them

has art her students have made for her all over her classroom walls and desk

drawer full of candy

Coach Sapnap & Coach Punz - PE

LETS GOOOOOOOO

so scary. they are so so scary.

also the sweetest somehow.

the duo is always constantly trying to create new games to keep students active and they work hard to make sure everyone is happy and being included if they want to, or have an alternative if they don’t.

they play in team games like kickball and get HELLA competitive, it makes for a whole lot of fun inside jokes between them and their students.

the smack talk- holy-

Mr.Fundy - furry science- jk. biology

the👏most👏fun👏science👏teacher

every time they have labs he wears a funky lab coat and goggles

his students make fun of him and he loves it

is a tough grader but makes the class easy and makes it a comfy place so kids won’t be scared to ask questions when they need

electives:

Mr.Notfound - engineering

he’s the type of teacher to put up a video on days he’s tired

actually really enjoys bantering with students, and is super lenient with how much they can talk during classes

a lot of his work is hands on so there’s many bits and bobbles around his room and it’s always a mess

“you’ll need the stuff for the soddering machines but i’m not actually sure where they are...”

the students are well aware that class is WAY more fun when Mr.Notfound is in a good mood.

Mr.Wastaken drops by when he has free periods cause he loves to annoy visit Mr.Notfound

Teacher Eret - sociology

his room is the safe space where you go if you need a good hug or a good cry

kids also eat lunch here

memes on da walls and things hanging from the ceiling

talks with his hands and laughs with the students when they mock him and do it when he does

“TEACHER ERET! you will not believe what sarah did!!” “tell me right now!”

Mr.Dude - comp. science

is always asking students how they feel like they’re doing

brings lunches for students he notices not having any

“snack break anyone?” opened drawer full of goldfish

stands in the hallways during passing time so he can watch out for his kiddos and make sure no ones being mean to anyone

high-fives all the time constantly

Mr.Soot - drama

literally so dramatic all the time for no reason

relentless hamilton references

he’s the type of drama teacher to adore his students and have them adore him back. he loves hearing all the unique ideas and loves to watch kids grow into their shell as they take his class

his favorite thing is watching quiet kids learn they love acting and become more confident

students share their own scrips and plays they write and he absolutely melts every time

Mr.Shlatt - political science

the teacher that everyone tries to get mad cause it’s funny

starts arguments between students because he loves to watch kids grow into their opinions and learn to debate with others

teaches them how to win arguments and it blows up in his face cause they start using his tactics against him

Mr. Halo - self defense

no 🚫 swearing 🚫 zone

gives the biggest hugs to kids that seem sad

he teaches in mostly talking ways where he explains everything but he also loves demonstration lessons

he always has kids talking to him about other teachers that may annoy them or have given them a bad grade because Mr.Halo always has their back

Mr.Skeppy - money management

he’s that one teacher that isn’t really close with his students but every once in a while he’ll get a group of kids that he enjoys and it makes the class a lot more fun

pizza party after tests if everyone passes

actually holds meme contests for literally no reason

Mr.H - hospitality

has whiteboard desks in his class cause he is THAT cool

is always asking kids what the drama is atm cause he wants to be in the know

has holiday party’s in class for EVERY holiday. if you have him as a teacher you’ll be celebrating every holiday for however long you have him. he just lives for a good party.

also has a snack drawer

Mr.Frost - horticulture

shelves and shelves of plants. gives his fav students ones to take home

literally the sweetest teacher, every student understands you can not be rude to Mr.Frost it’s just criminal to do so

another huggy teacher. he just loves his kiddos with his whole heart

the least amount of work for a class out of all of them

he’s definitely that teacher thay takes his class outside every chance they get, and the students l o v e it

staff:

Mr.Minecraft -headmaster/principal

he’s the reason the school has like 0 REAL trouble makers.

everyone’s scared of him, but only because they don’t want to disappoint him.

he creates the best rallies and makes school events fantastic

100% dances at school dances sometimes

Mrs.Puffy - councilor

everyone adores her. even other teachers.

she councils Mr.Wastaken when he needs dating advice. *cough cough* Mr.Notfound *cough cough*

literally 3 drawers full of snacks.

is the founder of their schools GCA and it’s the best thing

let’s kids skip class in her office when they have a panic attack or are to anxious to go

had to have a chat with Coach Sapnap because of how many kids were coming from his PE class having panic attacks (he felt really bad, he’s just intense sometimes)

loves to sit in on Mr.Quackitys classes

Teacher callahan - substitute

he subs in sometimes and when students find out Teacher callahan is subbing that day they freak the fuck out

so much kahoot

how can one man start such party’s without speaking a word

terrorizes Mr Wastakens classes when he can and LOVES to pop in on the PE classes especially when they’re doing something wicked fun and he feels like beating sapnap at something

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yanderetrash · 2 years ago

Text

I swear ill shut up about it but

It may be that im just white knighting for Kim. I completely understand and acknowledge the possibility because otherwise it would be hypocritical

But. I feel like that one post is simply unfair, purely based on information we get in canon. Now, two things. Game is mostly what *you* make of it and one single playthru may not give you sufficient information which means you will substitute stuff based on your own personal bias

First off, based on my absolutely limited and flawed understanding of the world and with the caveat that at my best i can only half pay attention, revachol is an occupied state. Previously it was a monarchy and briefly a communist state but now its basically no national government or any other state branches but rather controlled by the coalition. In text this occupation is seen as "temporary" but also as, most likely if the status quo is not (heavily) hinted to change absolutely permanent. There are foreign military forces stationed in their airspace ready to strike at any moment should they try their whole independence thing again.

So yes ok this is a state under military occupation.

The RCM answers to the coalition such as it is because unfortunately that's the boss of this country now, they have been defeated and conquered. But like, RCM literally is the "citizen's militia" (in the name), and as Kim explains it its been set in place by the citizens (yknow) to take care (hey, let's say police) their own people. The coalition is not happy with this because the RCM is a house brand, not part of their structures. Shivers tells you that there is no need for the RCM in the rich parts of (the city? Its a city state, right?) so really they are only there to help the poor. Wouldn't the rich have better protection, coalition appointed? Bro i dont know either

The RCM does pretty much anything from cleaning up the streets of garbage to performing field autopsies, and it's underfunded and understaffed, with adherence to their ranks being voluntary. Sorta like the union appointed guys only tolerated by the occupational forces

Would also like to say that maybe as an american these very strong feelings don't translate as well but im east european so brother i feel so so so much. I understand their hope and hopelessness and probably have a more mellow, affectionate view of the whole situation. Of course that's part of my personal bias the window thru which i see the whole thing but i cant help but feel im closer to the shape because of it

Now the disaster of a main character youre playing as. I have to say first and foremost that this avengers good guys vs bad guys black and white mentality is sooooo boring and seriously detrimental to everything from worldview to personal growth. Blame whatever you want to blame for it (twitter, pop media, capitalism, idk). People don't necessarily have to fit into one of these two neat boxes labeled good guy and bad guy because by god people don't. Its not a storyteller's fault that their characters are not one or the other, bro thats good writing actually.

Hes a mentally unstable drunk who carries a heavy sadness and a strong air of failure and defeat. He's an overly sensitive little man who can barely face life one day after the other medicating this sadness with alcohol and drugs in a spiral of self destruction. And he really can't let go. The case, the love of his life. It's eating him away from the inside. Like, sometimes mental illness is not cute and its not pretty.

Bit sad that if you wouldn't wanna fuck a guy or whatever then hes tossed into the bad character pile. Wonder if he was good looking how much of this shit would have been overlooked, something to think abt.

So yea, he beat the shit out of that one guy. And he wasn't fired for it. Consider this however, the issue was ongoing for years, no one could find any solution, this wreck of a man was also drunk out of his mind, the only reason he wasn't reprimanded is because tallying things up his outburst solved the case and people (not the cops i mean the people complaining abt the drunks) were happy with the result.

But two things: i dont think that him being a cop made a difference here, harry would have done the same thing had he not been a cop but in the same mental state

And two, Kim would have never ever done this. I mean, no one else did all these years. It wasn't a strategy, it was a drunk's outburst

And three, harry felt very guilty afterwards (i know this doesnt excuse anything but does say something about him, no?), so much so he drunk himself into a mini mind wiping stupor. "Those two cases weighed heavily on you"

Lets be serious here, we've all met this person. Or could imagine this person. It makes me incredibly sad. Imagine to have to wake up being that person every day, i couldnt do it

Now onto the other guy. Completely agreed that Kim would walk around with any tolerate harrys whims if he wasnt a cop. I mean, why would he? I dont think they would even interact at all. The game wouldn't have happened. Null point.

His apprehension to interact with children is completely explained in game, and its not because hes an asshole but i think it would be better to just play the game and find out.

Besides, its not just harry hes patient and understanding with, its everyone. He plays second fiddle to your whims because you would play as Kim if that wasnt the case, but he never appears as anything but compassionate and understanding. He offers a prayer to the dead man. He treats the murderer with compassion. He agrees that letting Ruby go was the right choice and is heavily impacted by the loss of life after the tribunal. Maybe the choices made in game may affect the way he reacts (and honestly ive only done two playthrus so i dont know if hes secretly a bitch if you become fascist or something)

Sure hes a tiny little guy sometimes too rational for his own good, a cynic and a skeptic. Bit of a killjoy. But he's not an irredeemable asshole, and he's not a flawless saint either. He's a funny little weirdo and of course you want to please him since he's likeable and has an opinion on what you do (then again when games give me a little guy with opinions i always want to please them so maybe im not the best person to answer this one)

I think its very easy for strong feelings to swing from one side to the other (from love to hate) but i still don't believe this game is in any shape or form an allegory for modern day america or a commentary on the police institution in the US. Maybe its a bit of cultural dissonance at play. I dont know the remedy sad as it is because im not affected by it

#long post #holy shit its so fucking long but then again its a wordy post about the wordy game #disco elysium #so i concede that swindling those two teens out of their jackets was a bit of a dick move #but man was it funny lol

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cinnamonest · 3 years ago

Text

Razor with a fem teacher darling.

Some sweet lil cute lady in Mondstadt that teaches little kids. Older than our boy, maybe 30s, just old enough to be very maternal (and so that she’ll never see it coming of course). Conscripted by the knights to quit her day job and take on the task of teaching the wolf boy how to adapt to human society, how to speak and interact with others. They find that a normal approach overwhelms and confuses him, so they think your way of doing things would be best for someone... on his intellectual and social level.

They let him stay with her several hours a day and practice talking and teaching him things like the most basic words that he may need to know how to read, how to sign his name, basic addition/subtraction etc... He is like a kid in some ways, namely naivete and maturity, so you kinda deal with him as if he was, almost infantile, like giving him little mantras and poems they teach kids on how to remember basic manners/politeness, giving him stickers and other little trinket-y rewards for correct answers, which he cherishes quite a bit.

And he starts coming more and more often, doesn't want to leave, even stays sometimes overnight, and you let him, because you're glad he wants to learn about human life, so you let him sleep on your couch (although he often ends up just curling up on the floor anyway).

He becomes addicted to praise. Since you once taught little kids, you're used to that whole overenthusiasm people give kids, the "wow! Good job! I'm so proud!" And you give that to him too, because you wanna encourage him after all, and you figure he will only understand if you exaggerate the enthusiasm. He gets hooked on that and is constantly trying to earn your praise and approval, will do things and show them to you as he sits there expectantly, waiting for you to say he did good. Dips his head down expectantly, since you normally pet him on the head. Beaming smile and bright, wide eyes.

As such, the way you view him becomes... soft. Dangerously so, not that you’re aware of that aspect of it yet, but in your mind, he’s like a sweet kid, even ironically a bit puppy-like. He’s so sweet, you tell the knights when giving a report on your progress. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

And then he gets more... comfortable. As all people do in all kinds of relationships, they become less guarded, less careful, less afraid to be open and honest and allow their true self to come out.

You’re forced to become aware of the ways in which he is very much not a kid. Namely physically. One time you told him you had to go for the night and you'd see him tomorrow, but he kept saying you couldn't go yet, he just wants five more minutes! But you sigh and say no, you really have to go, and he huffs and pouts and grabs you by the arm and pins you down. Not yet. Just a few more minutes, he says. You genuinely fear for a moment that he’s about to unintentionally snap your arm, he grips so tightly. You pull, but he doesn’t even budge, you’re not certain that he even processes that you’re struggling, even though you use your full strength. You give a forced, scared smile and ask, hey, remember what we learned about selfishness? And how it's bad? How we can’t force other people do what we want? He hangs his head and says sorry, but seems sad about letting you go. The bruise he leaves lasts over a week. From that point forward, you’re acutely aware of the physical strength he possesses. But still, he didn’t mean to hurt you, he just didn’t understand, you think. He’s still so sweet. He just needs some time.

He likes your attention. That is, he likes to have it. He does not like your attention being given to other things and people. It took you a while to figure out why people would always look so uncomfortable and leave mid-conversation when he was in the room, you couldn’t see how he glared and scowled at people while standing behind you. Once you realize it, you don’t get mad, because it’s not his fault, right? You tell yourself to be patient, just like with the kids. You just have to explain that it’s important to be nice to people. Treat others the way you want to be treated, you say. And how would he want to be treated? Nicely, right? So be nice in the future, ok? He nods, but you get the sense it didn’t really sink in.

And for one thing, you learn he’s, well, appropriately curious about human... love. Relationships. Sex. Very, very curious, and very eager to ask questions. He actually understands and is familiar with quite a bit, you discover (he’s probably witnessed more sex than you have, really), he just doesn’t really know the words, and substitutes as best as he can before you teach him the right words for his... unique terminology, which he uses when describing the things he would like to learn the words for: The thing humans do where they hit each other with their mouths. When the girl-wolf is growing a baby inside and her stomach gets big. The thing mates do together. The white stuff the boy-wolves make, that comes out of their... thing, whatever the word is, tell him that word too, please. Not just wolves, he makes that white stuff too, he clarifies, because he has one of those things, just in case you didn’t know. You... handle it as maturely as you can. You tell him that yes, you’re aware he does, in fact, have one.

But you figure that curiosity is appropriate, he’s a sexually functioning adult, of course he’s curious. He’s fascinated by the female anatomy diagram in the textbook you manage to find in the library, looks at it quite a bit, and, despite your embarrassment, you figure you have a responsibility to make sure he understands. It’s not like it’s wrong, just awkward, so you willingly read the text when asked. Combined with the previous conversation, you soon realize a lesson in... appropriateness is probably needed. That is, since he’s started asking if you have those things too. Does it really look like that? Do those things really have milk in them? Can he feel them? The part of the book that shows the humans mating, why do they do it like that, facing each other? Do they ever do it the way wolves do? Have you done it before? You... have to tell him that he can’t go around asking other people questions like that. It’s not appropriate, you explain, and your job is to help him understand what is and isn’t appropriate. He doesn’t seem to grasp why he can’t ask things like that, seems hurt, like he thinks you just don’t want to, so you have to explain that it’s just... a human social thing.

You soon realize maybe you didn’t explain it well enough. When he keeps staring at your chest, you have to remind him it’s rude. And we don’t want to be rude, right? But he keeps asking why? Why is it bad? He doesn’t understand. When he has a very obvious raging hard-on and just sits there letting it visibly poke at the fabric, you awkwardly chime in that he might want to, uh, cover that up. But he tilts his head because he doesn’t understand why.

It’s only the beginning of such appropriateness conversations. Once when you’re working on something, he wants to show you the work he did, he practiced writing some of those important words. But you tell him to hang on just a minute, I’m working on something important. He doesn’t like that, so he shoves your work off the desk and sends it crashing to the floor. There, now you don’t have to look at all that stuff and can focus on him instead, see? Isn’t his writing good? Aren’t you going to say he did good? He doesn’t understand why you seem upset, but you, having developed an incredible patience in years of working with kids, keep your cool and explain why that’s not nice and why we have to learn to be patient, ok? But you reassure him it is good, put the cute sticker on his paper, and that’s all that matters, he seems happy. You feel like he didn’t hear the important part.

In fact, you were so impressed by the progress in his speaking and intellectual skills that you were a bit blinded to the fact that he’s showing a... concerning lack of understanding some of the more practical social lessons you’ve been teaching.

You swear you’ve said a hundred times now that you can’t just pick up things you want and take them, but he keeps doing it. You had to apologize profusely more times than you can count so the knights didn’t arrest him for theft, but you feel like they’re starting to get tired of the he doesn’t understand excuse.

And you’ve talked about being nice before, you swear, you’ve read several children’s books on the importance of niceness over and over, complete with pictures, and he seemed to like them. And he is sweet, precious even. ...To you. He just needs to work on applying those skills to everyone else, you always tell the superiors. To stop... scowling at people. To stop clinging to you, shyly hiding behind you like a child to their mother whenever someone new comes along. To stop ignoring when other people are trying to talk to him, and to stop interrupting other people who are talking to you when he decides that he wants you to be done with your current conversation and focus on him instead.

And most importantly, you tell them you need to work with him on the little... selfishness problem he seems to have. Stubbornness, rather. He does not like the word no. He huffs and pouts like a kid, getting sad and sulky. Nor does he react well to being denied anything, and especially not being reprimanded in any way. He sulks quite a bit whenever you get frustrated at him. And he doesn’t exactly... listen. Sometimes he’ll heed your “no,” and sometimes he... does what he wants anyway. You almost get the sense that he thinks that listening to you is optional. As sweet as he is, you become increasingly aware that he very much likes it when things go his way, and can become rather pouty when he can’t get his way.

It makes sense, you reason with yourself. Do what is necessary to obtain what you want. If you can’t get what you want, use force. Those are the laws of the wild, of survival in the animal world, are they not? He’s just... adjusting. He’s not used to such complex social constructs. Give him time.

He has to learn things can’t always go his way, especially since soon, you’ll have to return to your normal job, and he’ll be left to his own devices. They ruled that he’s improved enough that you’re no longer needed.

You do worry about that a bit. You worry how he’ll manage, and fear he’ll just go back to being a recluse in the woods, since the one thing he didn’t ever make much improvement on was forming bonds and socializing... well, with anyone besides you. You always tried to make him feel like he had a place he was loved and appreciated -- the same you do with the kids.

You always sensed a sort of lonesomeness in the boy. At one point you began to more carefully curate the books you would find to read aloud to him, being sure to leave the ones that featured families in the “don’t read” pile. He would get a sad look on his face and stare wistfully at pages whenever the story contained a mother or a family in any way. Sometimes you would find him flipping through old books at the pictures, looking out the window at children roaming the streets with their parents, and you couldn’t help but wonder how often he thought about what he could have had, if at all, and you wonder if he ever wished he could have had normalcy. You try to be something of a mother figure he never had -- loving, supportive. It’s the least you can do, right? You’ve done plenty of things that you sensed could backfire, but certainly that kindness would not come to be something you’d regret.

And you expected him to react badly to the news that your time together would be ending, but not this badly. You reassure him it’s ok, you’ll visit him all the time! He can come visit you when school isn’t in session! He still seems upset, even tearful. Why can’t you stay with him?

You choose your words carefully. He tends to hear what he wants to hear, rather than what you actually say, so you try your best to be clear. So there’s no confusion... so that he can’t twist your words.

It’s not your decision to make, it’s the board’s.

It’s their fault. They’re keeping her away.

He can visit you any time you’re not busy.

(y/n) will be too busy to play. Too busy with other people.

But you have to go to work, it’s your primary responsibility.

They’re more important than her than me.

He eventually gets quiet, sulks as he does. You sigh and hope he’ll be able to accept it.

... You get the strangest feeling of... premonition as you wrap up for the day. Like something bad is going to happen. You turn to him and remind him that... remember, doing bad things will get you in trouble, right? Hurting people and stuff like that... is illegal in Mondstadt, remember?

He actually becomes very alert at those words, like he’s having a realization. That’s good, you think, he gets it.

The realization was actually the... implication of the words “in Mondstadt.” It’s illegal and wrong... in Mondstadt. He’s not the brightest person in the world, but that gives him an idea. In his mind, Mondstadt isn't the whole region, it's just the city. So outside of the city... If he gets you outside of the city, then, it'll be ok to do anything he wants right? Yes, that makes a lot of sense to him.

So as your days together draw to a close, he asks for one more thing. He visited you so much. Can you come visit him, just once? He wants to show you his home. It'll be fun, you think, you'd genuinely like that. So you smile and agree. You have no reason not to.

#scheduled post #yan.txt #.rz

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Rest II

Characters: Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,104

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes life is just unbearably tiring. And a comforting shoulder can be the perfect substitute pillow. In which the reader falls asleep on their partner.

Author’s Note: Second part!!! I realize the first didn’t get a ton of traction, unfortunately, but hopefully, this’ll still be welcomed. I realize since most of these are basically pseudo fics, would you guys prefer it to be bullet-pointed or paragraphed? I’m just wondering if one format is easier or more pleasant to read than the other.

Also, adepti’s rules and personal needs are kinda nebulous to me so I sort of made them up myself. Watches also weren’t a thing until the 1800s, and specifically didn’t really become a thing in China until the mid-20th century. But this is fantasy so I do what I want.

Xiao

You loved Xiao more than you could say. Every little moment spent with him made your heart flutter, every habit of his that you’d noticed, every little way he revealed his soul to you.

It seemed so improbable to you sometimes, than an adeptus, someone so very disconnected from the world of humans, should choose to love you. Although Xiao would never let you think you were any lesser than him, would never let his nature put you down, you were still somewhat in awe of the whole setup, and little reminders of his adepti status often brought you back to when you two had first begun to fall in love, when Xiao had explained that he didn’t quite understand the human way of life.

And one of those things that he didn’t understand appeared to be the concept of sleep itself.

It wasn’t that Xiao didn’t know what sleep was. Nor was he unable to sleep, he once told you. Theoretically he could sit down and take a nap much like any normal human. It was more that he didn’t need to sleep, and didn’t see the need to do something that took up so much time and left one so vulnerable.

Not that he didn’t pay attention to your needs; he wasn’t about to disrupt your sleep schedule on purpose, in fact you often joked that Xiao cared more about your rest than you did. It was only that, after spending so many years simply not thinking about things like sleep, it became hard for him to suddenly remember that he had a partner who needed said sleep every day. And a day was oh so short in Xiao’s mind.

It was a beautiful evening at the Wangshu Inn. The air was warm without being stifling and a breeze blew, light and cool. You were on the roof with Xiao, the place that had become your normal meeting spot. For as much as Xiao adored you with every fiber of his soul, he was still an adeptus, and his comfort level around most humans was that of an anxious cat – always ready to bolt.

Besides, the roof of the Inn was such a lovely place to relax. You gazed at Xiao’s profile as he looked up at the stars, noticing the way that the wind ruffled his hair slightly, the way his posture seemed so relaxed, so comfortable. One of his hands was clasping yours, fingers linked together, his palm nice and warm; the other pointed out constellations to you, each bearing a story, some which had long been forgotten by the residents of Liyue.

It wasn’t often that Xiao was so talkative, so open. Although he still barely mentioned his past – keeping that part of himself shut away with only the occasional crack through which you might learn of his sorrows – he’d become much more willing to disclose his everyday thoughts to you, as well as share stories that he knew. The latter was something you always loved to listen to, not just because the stories he told were always interesting and so full of life, but also because they gave you the sense of knowing him better, something that always made you happy.

Unfortunately, tonight was one night where, though you were more than happy to listen to Xiao talk about the stars, you were kind of dying of fatigue. A headache slipped in and out of your consciousness, and you found it more and more difficult to concentrate on Xiao’s words, finding they were all melting together into some semi-coherent monologue.

Your fatigue must’ve been very apparent, for when Xiao glanced over at you his whole demeanor changed; the carefree look on his face was gone, replaced with one of slight confusion and definitive worry. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You shook your head. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Then you should rest.” Xiao squeezed your hand slightly before moving to stand up. However, as tired as you were, you cared more about spending time with him, and weren’t about to cut said time short.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, causing Xiao to pause, looking at you in a puzzled way. You smiled, slightly sheepish, but pressed forward. “I’ll be fine. If you don’t mind though, may I, uh, may I lay my head on your shoulder.” You gazed up at him, but inside you were struck with the urge to suddenly look away. Xiao was still a bit reticent with affection, not that it bothered you. He’d told you that he was simply unused to it, not averse to it. You weren’t about to pressure him into anything though, no matter the cause, and thus you waited for his response, hoping your expression conveyed that it’d be perfectly fine if he declined.

Your worries proved to be without ground however, for Xiao’s expression grew only fonder. Lying back down he gestured towards you. You gladly scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder, hand once more in his. “You were saying about the boar constellation.” You murmured.

Xiao smiled, kissing the top of your head, before once more going on speaking about the stars. You smiled too, allowing his stories to carry you off to sleep, your head already swirling with half formed dreams about creatures who walked among the stars.

Xiao listened to your breathing even out, still talking a little after it seemed you’d dozed off, making sure that the sudden stop of his voice didn’t wake you up.

Gazing down at your peaceful face he pondered for a moment how much his life had changed so quickly. Even a month ago the idea that he would become friends with a human seemed impossible, much less that he would fall in love with one.

When he’d first met you it was as if something that had been frozen inside him for a long time began to thaw. He was terrified at first, terrified of you, terrified of himself, terrified of the unknown that loomed before him like a vast chasm. It had taken every ounce of courage to hold your hand at first, and every ounce of courage for every step after that.

But he would do it again if he had to, for being with you was the best part of his long, often cruel life. And he would do anything to protect you, anything to make sure you were comfortable and happy and healthy.

“Goodnight.” He spoke softly. Up above the stars kept silent vigil along with him. Tomorrow would be a bright new day, but for now he was simply going to enjoy the moment he’d been given with you.

Zhongli

For someone who’d lived thousands of years, you’d think Zhongli would remember that tea had to be decaffeinated sometimes.

Not that you could really blame him for forgetting. After all it’s not like he needed to pay attention to whether or not his tea was caffeinated. To one of the Seven sleep was something more akin to a perk than a necessity. Sure, it was nice to sleep. But it’s not like Zhongli was going to feel regret if he accidentally downed five cups of tea right before midnight and spent the rest of night starting at the ceiling, wondering where he went wrong.

Unfortunately, you were definitively not a god, and did, in fact, need sleep. So, when you found yourself staring out the window at 5 am, having long come to the conclusion that sleep was just not going to happen, the emotion going through your mind was something more akin to: “Oh. Fuck.”

This turned into an “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me” when you saw the list of your daily commissions. Yeah, someone had to go to Jueyun Karst and Qingyun Peak to collect Cor Lapis, and considering your relationship with Zhongli and the adepti it should’ve been unsurprising that you were going to be the one to do it. But your sleep addled brain was having a difficult time processing things logically, and all you saw when you looked at the list Katheryne gave you was the fact that today was going to hurt.

Your prediction turned out to be only too true. No adepti came to ask why you were mining outside their front doors – honestly what would you even respond to something like that – but the amount of treasure hunters that ran into you began to feel less like a likely coincidence, considering the location, and more like a targeted attack. Thankfully there was nothing you couldn’t handle, but by the end of your expedition you were more than ready to go home and take a nap.

Hurrying through the rest of your day, barely responding to the people you interacted with, by the time you’d finally finished up with your adventuring duties you felt like the most irritated person on the planet.

Arriving home, throwing your pack haphazardly onto the floor you almost tripped and fell flat on your face in your hurry to get to the bedroom. Not bothering to take off your adventuring gear you threw yourself onto the bed and quickly found yourself lost in long overdue sleep.

Zhongli glanced at his watch, frowning as he saw the lateness of the hour. The sun was already beginning to set, and though he’d walked as fast as possible, he still found himself feeling vaguely guilty about being so late. You two hadn’t spoken much in the morning, you’d seemed a bit restless and hurried out right after breakfast, so Zhongli was anxious to spend as much time with you after work as possible.

“Darling?” He called out, walking into the home you two shared. He glanced around uncertainly, surprised that you hadn’t greeted him at the door. The sight of your pack sprawled about the hallway only made him more confused, and vaguely alarmed, and he hurried down the hall, checking each room to see if you were there.

His worry immediately faded upon seeing you, curled up above the covers, evidently fast asleep. Unsure as to whether or not to wake you up he instead headed towards the kitchen, thinking you might like something when you got up.

You woke up in the dark, something that surprised you. You’d been out for a long time. Seeing that the door had been opened you shuffled down the hall, still a bit groggy from the extended nap you’d just taken.

Zhongli smiled as you entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good nap my darling?” He asked, kissing you on the forehead. You nodded sleepily, propping yourself up by your elbows on the counter. Zhongli chuckled. “Here, something to warm you up.”

Yours eyes widened as the cup of tea was placed in front of you. For a moment there was silence, then you glanced back at him.

“Zhongli?”

“Yes?”

“Uhm, is this tea, well, does it by any chance have caffeine in it?”

The look on Zhongli’s face was enough to make you burst into giggles. Perplexion melted into realization, which evidently caused some sort of embarrassment, for the former god blushed a bright shade of red before bringing his hand to cover his mouth.

“Ah, I see. That’s why you were so tired this morning.”

“It’s alright.” You finally replied, the initial fit of giggles having passed. “I know that you don’t have to think about these sorts of things normally. Only me making the same mistake two times in a row would be a bit hilarious, wouldn’t you think” You placed a kiss on Zhongli’s cheek, finally causing him to calm down a bit.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. Next time I promise to pay more attention.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, fatigue coming back after the initial burst of energy. Leaning into Zhongli’s neck you sighed slightly.

“Still tired?” Zhongli asked, voice soft and caring.

“Yeah, a bit.” You admitted. Zhongli nodded, before scooping you up.

Carrying you over to the couch you both settled in a bit. Zhongli began humming a sort of lullaby, and you smiled despite yourself. “You’re too good for me.” You mumbled.

“Nonsense.” Came Zhongli’s reply, just as full of love and affection. “You’re too good for me. And I won’t hear otherwise.”

“If you say so.” You replied, too tired to really fire back, already drifting off.

“I do. It’s only the truth.” And with that he began to hum again. As you fell asleep one last thought lingered in your mind.

If such contentment comes from staying up too late, then I’d be glad to do it again.

#I was today years old when I realize Xiao's VN is Soma from Food Wars #I can never unhear it #That show is my guilty pleasure #anyways... yeah #I hope people like this #xiao #zhongli #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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holylulusworld · 3 years ago

Text

Her substitute (4) - Back Home

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Bonham Walker for @walker-bingo

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Bonham Walker, Stella Walker, August Walker, Abeline Walker

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, remorse, awkward situations, idiots in love, Walkers family is the best, arguments, implied smut

Word Count: 1,6 k

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

<< Part 3

“Y/N,” Stella clings to you, refuses to let go of you. The moment you got out of your old truck she jumped at you, crying as you came back. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” you swallow thickly when Stella tells you how much she has missed you. For now, you will hide you still don’t know if you will stay or go back to New York. “How have you been? I know my departure was—sudden.”

“It was his fault, wasn’t it?” she chokes out, looking up at you. “Why can’t he just admit he wants to go out with you? Dad should stop being so stubborn.”

“Your father and I, we are friends and partners. It’s complicated, you know. Maybe it would be easier if I wasn’t your mom’s best friend. I think Cor—I mean your dad doesn’t know how to express his feelings. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea that I stay here.”

“Why? You are family, Y/N. Please don’t leave us again. August, he doesn’t show it but he’s missing you too. He’s as stubborn as dad,” Stella sighs when you run your hand over her hair. “Dad is an idiot for not seeing how much you care about him.”

“There she is, the long-lost daughter,” Bonham smirks when you walk toward the house, Stella hot on your heels. She refused to leave your side since you are back in town, even followed you home when you tried to change clothing.

“Hi,” you let Cordell’s father wrap you in a hug. “How have things been since I’ve been gone? Do you still drive your wife crazy?” he snickers at your words.

“So, you’ve become an important FBI agent now?” he looks at you, searching your face while hoping you will come back. “I heard about Cordell and you. Why didn’t you tell me you are about to become our new daughter-in-law?”

“Bonham,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly, “this is all a misunderstanding. Cordell and I are only friends and partners.”

“Do you want to tell me you left your home, your family for a job you don’t want out of the blue? I know about the blind date and that you left town right after you canceled, the party,” he slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you into the house. “I am an old man, not blind nor stupid.”

“Love is out of the question for Cordell and me,” Bonham doesn’t say a word. He guides you into the house, biting his tongue. “Emily was the woman he loved, and it will always be her for him. I don’t think he will be able to open his heart for someone else.”

“How about we save the heavy topics for later and have dinner? Abeline made your favorite, and she made a pie to die for, Y/N,” you hate to say no to Bonham, so you nod silently, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know, if he doesn’t man up and asks you out, I’ll handle this for him.”

“Bonham,” he laughs when you try to stop him from playing the matchmaker for you and his son. “Please don’t try to change his mind. Cordell is—”

“A stubborn man, but he has feelings for you, my dear. He’s like his old man,” Bonham ends your sentence. “Y/N, he’s a good man, with a broken heart. He just needs a little push. Let me push him if I must.”

“That’s delicious Abeline,” you try to break the awkward tension in the dining room. While Stella and August won’t stop asking questions about New York, the FBI and your training Cordell sits opposite you, frowning anytime you say something, “as always.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Cordell’s mother gives you a soft smile, offering another slice of the pie to you. “You are always welcome to join us for dinner. Cordell should invite you more often.”

“Mom,” Cordell clears his throat, eyes drifting toward you again. Tonight, he sticks to water, doesn’t even touch the beer his father offered to him. “Y/N will come around when she finds the time. She has her own life…maybe even in New York.”

“Dad,” Stella drops her fork. She grimaces, pointing her finger at you. “Do you want her to leave town again? Why don’t you ask her out? If you can go out with that other woman, you can go out with Y/N!”

“Stella,” August tries to spare you another hurtful scene. He’s grown for his age, and you give him a weak smile. “We talked about this, didn’t we?”

“Fine,” grasping for her water Stella glares at her father. “If she leaves all of us because of you, I will never forgive you.”

“I think that is enough,” Bonham speaks up. “Y/N doesn’t owe you anything, Stella. She is important to all of us, but this doesn’t mean she must stay in town and work as a Texas Ranger, not when she has the chance to become an FBI agent.”

“Grandpa,” Stella sniffs, looking at him, pleadingly. “Please. I don’t want to lose her too. He can’t ruin everything for us. Mom died because—”

“Enough,” this time you drop the fork. “It was my fault too. We arrested that man together. I was the one not wanting to give up and your mom and Jason paid the price. The guilt almost ate me up and your father was the one catching my fall,” you admit, pushing the tears away.

“What?” Stella inhales sharply. She always believed you are like Wonder Woman. Invincible and strong-willed. “But—but you seem so strong and…”

“Even the mightest people fall sometimes. It’s no shame to accept help from someone,” you clear your throat, eyes drifting toward Cordell. You know he’s ashamed Geri called you and that you saw him drunk once again. “Some people might say you are even stronger for accepting help.”

“Hi—erm, can I help you?” watching you clean the dishes Cordell awkwardly stands in the kitchen. “Mom said the dishwasher needs fixing. Let me lend you a hand.” He stands behind you to subtle sniff at your hair.

You can feel his chest press against your back when he tries to take the first plate out of your hand. “I—I can do this,” voice a little shaky you try to focus on the warm water soaking your hands, not the heat coming out of Cordell’s body. “How about you go back and chat a little or something.”

“Y/N, will it always be like that from now on? I want you to look at me the way you did before you left for New York,” he begins. “Please at least look at me. Even if you give me a dirty look. Just talk to me.”

“Do you think you are the only person thinking about shit all the time,” you place the plate back into the sink. “I think about Jason and Emily all the fucking time,” you turn around to jab your finger into his chest.

“Baby girl,” you whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry—” he runs his large hands up and down your arms to calm you. “I should have stayed away from you, but I can’t. Y/N, I feel guilt too.” You huff at his words, not believing he feels sorry at all.

“Oh, you feel guilty for fucking me?” you retort, letting out a frustrated huff. “Do you know why I feel guilty, huh?” he shakes his head, swallowing thickly when tears well up to your eyes. “I feel guilty for getting them killed. I feel guilty for fucking my best friend’s husband. I feel guilty for hiding whatever we have from our families and friends. And I feel guilty for wanting you so bad that I can’t think straight when you are close to me.”

“Baby girl,” he gently cups your face, stroking your skin with his thumbs, “I’m so sorry for being an insensitive asshole. I should’ve told you how I feel a long time ago.” His lips softly press against your forehead, and you sigh deeply, hating he makes you feel weak all over again. “Please, give me a chance to show you I can be better.”

“I need to…I need to go,” you duck under his arm to escape the painful situation. Before you flee out of the house you look back over your shoulder to give Cordell one last glance. “Give me a few days to sort my thoughts, Cord. I just can’t be with you right now.”

“Hey, Ems,” you sit in front of your friend’s grave. “Do you think I should go back to New York? I-I know it’s wrong to love your husband, but I can’t stop my heart from beating only for him.” you sniff, wiping your eyes. “Shit, I can still feel his hands on me. He’s just—fuck. Cordell gets under my skin, Emily.”

Silence is a good friend tonight, so you sit there in front of her grave, drinking your favorite beer. “Do you remember when we first met? I thought you hate me, and you believed I am too cool to hang out with you. But the truth is, back then, I thought you are the coolest girl I ever met.”

“Shit, I wish you were here with me, Emily. I swear, nothing would’ve happened between me and Cordell if you were here. I could’ve never done such a shady thing,” you sip at your beer, sighing deeply.

“...and even now, I think about him and his fucking hands. God, his hands all over me and his lips against my throat. I love when he calls me baby girl. It drives me crazy, and I believe that I will lose my mind.”

“Coming,” Cordell grumbles, reluctantly opening the door to his house. “Y/N?” he gasps when you grab his shirt to bring him down for a messy kiss. “Baby girl.”

“Just shut up,” cupping the back of his neck, you kiss him again, this time slow and gentle. “I-I don’t know what to do. I only know that I want you.”

“I want you too—” you find yourself in his arms, your legs around his waist as he carries you inside his house. “Let me show you how much, baby girl…”

>> Part 5

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