#sorry it’s all i can think about when i hear the song

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

my palms ran red turning over jagged rocks, thought i'd find some kind of sign; you pressed your mouth to my wound, weren't your bloody lips sign enough?

qh43 x reader: you really have to stop meeting like this.

(warnings: mostly plot, but also blasphemous filth (yes, we're back on the smut train), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), fingering, hair pulling (i haven't changed), choking (i really haven't changed), descriptions of self-doubt and shame and all my typical stuff. mostly tension building (10k words worth), general debauchery.  please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: oh my god, favorites. i hadn't read this one in so long, so thank you for allowing me an avenue to rediscover it. i'm so happy you're getting to rediscover it now, too. if you want a song to listen to that i think goes with this story really well, give BONES! by girly teeth club a try :) i do genuinely believe that this story was a real turning point for me, and it holds a very special place in my heart because of that (i had the line then who was i praying to? well, who answered? taped to my computer for a long, long time. personal favorite of mine). i hope you enjoy this one again, and also hello to the followers and readers who have no idea what i'm talking about when i bitch and moan about my old account. i see you, and i love you, and i'm so eager to hear what you think. enjoy mechanic qh43 and all of the mythical divine powers that he inspires within me. to the seven people who care, more ol and rus coming momentarily. sunday is now my designated tumblr day, so if you want to chat, sunday is your best bet. i love you and your snakes! be kind to yourself).

like most all-consuming things, it started with something insignificant.

if your tail light had never gone out during the summer before your third year at university, perhaps none of it would have ever happened. part of you wanted to believe that some determined power would have guided the two of you together no matter what, but most of you thought the powers of the world to be nonchalant at best, hostile at worst.

regardless, your right tail light went out a few weeks before school started, and despite your intense unwillingness to spend money on your car, your mom insisted that you get it fixed.

"that family auto shop will do it quickly," she suggested, "the one a few streets down from school."

so here you were, standing uncomfortably in the lobby of the mechanic's, less than soothed by the harsh noises that echoed through the small garage.

you cleared your throat, attempting to get the attention of the teenage receptionist, probably the daughter or cousin of the owner, currently on her phone.

she looked up immediately, smiled wide, full of braces and friendliness. "sorry," she said, only a little guilty to be caught on her phone. "how can i help you?"

you smiled right back at her, immediately put at ease by her presence. "my mom called earlier," you said. you went to continue, but were enthusiastically cut off.

"miss tail light!" she exclaimed, to which you laughed and nodded. "have a seat," she urged, "quinn should be out in a minute, and that's a quick fix."

you nodded and sat down, then crossed your legs as you waited, bouncing one foot against your other calf. you looked at your hands, twisted one ring around your finger.

"you're the tail light?" a low voice called from the lobby entrance, forcing your gaze up from your hands to meet a pair of eyes that somehow swam with both steel and uncertainty.

this newcomer, quinn, supposedly, confirmed by the embroidered patch on his breast pocket, seemed to be immediately off-put by your matching gaze, as he shoved his wide hands in the pockets of his coveralls and blinked several times, a bit too fast.

his confusing mannerisms, combined with his curious combination of handsomeness and beauty, forced a small smile to your face as you stood up.

he really was pretty like you had never quite seen before, tall but not menacingly so, broad across the chest in a way that just looked warm, his coveralls hanging off of him, drawing attention to his frame, his thighs, his arms.

his hair was messy, curling only slightly at the tops of his ears, his cheekbones and jawline so, so sharp, but his nose and mouth softly curved.

you cleared your throat again when you realized you were probably staring.

"i suppose i am," you said, answering his question, approaching him and the door, by extension.

he gave a forced nod before turning to leave, urging a fluid reaction from the muscles in his neck and shoulders, which you pretended not to notice as you walked behind him.

in a choppy, sudden motion, he made to hold the door open for you, arm extended but gaze averted.

"thank you, quinn," you said, trying out his name, surprised to find how natural it felt on your tongue, something like a hymn a past-life you must have sang with unmatched conviction.

he seemed just as surprised as you, practically tripped over his own feet before quickly recovering. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

"should only take a second," he said as he crouched down next to your car, his voice a bit rougher than before, pulling a couple of tools and bulbs from his many pockets.

"take your time," you said, sitting down nearby as he got to work, and you meant it, feeling a somewhat shameful urge to just watch him. just look at him.

you fumbled to distract yourself, settling on looking interested in your phone. in reality, it took real effort to keep your eyes down, away from him, when you felt as if he emitted some kind of magnetic force suited only to you.

it felt like an eternity, but it took all of ten minutes, a couple swift motions, and he was done, rising again to his full height and turning to face you.

you allowed yourself to meet his eyes and it felt like a heaving exhale. "all done?" you asked, rising as well, willing brightness into your voice.

he nodded in affirmation, and you could have pouted. a man of few words, it seemed, and how you wished he would give you a few more.

he wiped his hands with a rag, and you refused to let your eyes follow the motion. "so i should pay..." you started.

he nodded towards the lobby. "you can pay with bean," he said, gruff.

you grinned right at him, and anyone else would have seen his gaze soften from stone to molten rock. "bean?" you asked.

the slightest smile took over his mouth. "my cousin," he said, slowly, "at reception."

you hummed, comforted by his sudden ease. "well then," you said, "i'll go check out with your cousin bean."

"i'll walk you," he blurted out, a blush coming to tint the tops of his ears in a positively dreamy sort of way.

so you walked the several steps back to the lobby together, the silence so comfortable you could have sighed, fallen asleep wrapped up in it.

already you felt some sense of loss creeping in, knowing you were probably never going to see him again, knowing this was all you were going to get. just a couple of glances and words and blushes, that's as far as this would go. and it made a lot of sense, but logical reason grew over your hazy, momentary crush like ivy on a brick building.

he held the door open for you again, and as you walked past him this time you looked up into his eyes. stone and steel and ivy.

you thanked him again.

"quinn?" came that delightfully girlish voice from behind the desk, this time intensely confused. "what are you doing?"

he stood in the door frame, his swallow almost cartoonish. "just making sure she checks out okay," he mumbled, not quite looking anyone in the face.

the girl smiled so wide, you could see she had chosen to make her braces purple last time she visited the orthodontist. "you've never done that before, is all," she observed with all the subtlety of a volcanic eruption.

was that pink tint creeping past his ears to his neck, now?

"do it plenty," he muttered, less than convincing and more to himself than anyone else.

the girl shot you a knowing look before turning to her cousin again. "if you say so," she relented. "miss tail light is in good hands with me, now, so you're all set, mr. random acts of kindness."

quinn muttered something under his breath before making to leave, embarrassment still flushing just under his collar.

the knowledge that this was it, this was all this would ever be, that's what made you reach a hand out to lightly grasp his forearm, stopping him where he stood.

you swore some kind of divine warmth rose to meet your hand.

he looked down at where your fingers met his arm before meeting your gaze. molten, yet again. he didn't move, didn't dare to scare off your touch.

"thank you again, quinn," you said, just to him.

a pause charged by meaning sparked between you both.

maybe some minuscule fraction of your heart feared he would push you away and roll his eyes, mumble something about personal space. or maybe that disgust would flood his lovely gaze, and he would say something much meaner.

you should never have touched him, you scolded yourself, stupid, desperate, foolish girl. you began to lift your hand away when his rough voice became a whisper, just for you.

"anything, doll," he said. and then he walked away, leaving his words to rattle around in your head like the whirring noises around the garage.

you paid, laughed playfully with the young receptionist as she insisted she had never seen her cousin so embarrassed, and especially not so bashful.

"i'm sure that's not true," you said, trying in vain to force your sky-rocketing hopes back to earth.

"oh, it is," she said as you made to leave, giving you a big smile and a wave as you bid her goodbye.

as you drove back home, those tendrils of reason crept back again, began to suffocate the dreamy romance that had settled like a glittery mist in your head.

you gave a single exhale, breathing out any unrealistic expectations. you'd probably never see him again, you admitted to yourself, and you tried to convince yourself that you were fine with it.

and so you let the image of steel and stone and ivy become a phantom in the back of your mind, along with the scorching solidity of his forearm underneath your delicate palm.

you'd never see him again, you believed.

in theory, you knew you could have had one of your friends find him on social media, it probably wouldn't have been too hard. a first name, an occupation, they'd tracked down fleeting flings and past crushes with much less information to go off of before.

but you didn't like the idea of interference, much preferred the way he looked in your memory to the fear that he would be someone very different online, that he would be someone different than the person that now existed exclusively in your head.

you were never supposed to see him again, and yet you did, and just as you had almost forgotten the way his shoulders moved when he walked, too.

three weeks later, just before you went back to school, you were eating dinner outside with your family at the country club they belonged to. you had been there maybe twice in the last couple of years, as your mom worked long hours and your dad only really used his membership for golf.

now, though, sitting outside, overlooking the course, in the pleasant air of the late summer, you were glad you were here, enjoying these last few moments with your family before you began your third year.

you were laughing at a joke your mom had made when you heard someone close by call out, "that's my marker, quinn!"

something distant fluttered in your stomach as you registered the name, tried so hard to not care if it was him or not. trying so, so hard to not care, but you cared so much it felt as if you might have willed him into existence yourself, wanted him enough that even the uninterested powers were forced to relent with a bored sigh.

so, in truth, you knew it was him even before you turned and focused on the hole just below the patio.

you knew it was him, and yet you were wholly unprepared for the way your head spun when you registered his familiar figure.

as if compelled by your gaze, or by something else worth worshipping, he turned, too, and there you were, staring at each other. did he recognize you the way you did him? the way you recognize your first lover's cologne? the way you recognize what's waiting behind a door with a scalding doorknob?

but then he took a hand off of his club and gave a timid wave, and you felt your body relax as you waved back. he paused for a moment as if in thought, then motioned towards him, silently asking you to come down.

"who is that?" your mother asked, not critical, only curious.

"my mechanic," you answered, "be right back, promise."

so, even though it was probably (definitely) against the rules, you made your way down to the impeccably cut grass, holding your shoes in one shaky hand.

you waved again as you approached him at the edge of the green, his friends gathered closer to the hole, talking animatedly amongst themselves.

he tilted his head and gave you a small smile, which gave you wings. a smile, and you hadn't even done anything!

"hi, quinn," you said, getting your first good look at him up close, and this time not in coveralls. this time in a polo that brought out his eyes and shorts that had you straining not to stare at his thighs.

"doll," he greeted, that ghost of a smile still on his full lips. "thought that was you."

heavy uncertainty suddenly settled between the both of you. what were you supposed to say? what was he supposed to say? what do you do with time that feels stolen?

"didn't think i'd see you again," you landed on, then physically cringed at yourself. "not that i was thinking about you, or anything," you added, then pursed your lips in a line.

awesome save.

he let out a laugh, though, and it shook his shoulders and lit up his face in a way that made it impossible to regret your rambling.

his laugh made him look human in a way he hadn't really, before, at the garage. it stripped back all the flowery expectations your imagination had buried him in and set him down here, in front of you, a real person.

a real person, who, in this summery light, was much more unabashed and generous with his smiles. his eyes had a softness to them that you hadn't noticed before.

"i wish you had, then," he said, in that deep, low, voice with a confidence that didn't quite suit him, like he was just trying it on.

it almost made you drop your shoes, regardless.

"yeah?" you asked, tilting your head and letting your satisfaction drench your face like sunset light.

he gave a little nod.

"c'mon, huggy!" one of his friends called. what do you do with time that feels stolen?

he looked back at them and his jaw clenched, for a second.

you knew you had to be the one to walk away, or it would haunt you like some ancestral debt.

"maybe i'll see you again, then, quinn," you said, your tone not conveying the desperate hope you felt.

he looked you up and down, amusement alight in his eyes. it seemed his nervous demeanor existed only in his coveralls. "you willing to take your chances on a 'maybe,' doll?"

were you?

you silently begged those distant forces to prove your hopes were not futile, but you didn't really believe that. you were headed to school in just two days, and who knows where he was headed, this mysterious mechanic who liked to golf and had eyes like a deity.

you knew you were on stolen time, and that this, again, was as far as this would ever go.

"we're going!" his friends called.

"i hope i see you again, quinn," you amended, already feeling a sense of loss again. but you had to be the one to walk away, so you began to.

his face was unreadable, some mixture of disappointment and interest and knowing.

"think about me some more this time, yeah? until you see me again?"

your smile glowed. "if 'm honest, quinn, that'll be hard," you said, thinking about how he had been a constant in your mind for the last couple of weeks. you leaned into your flirtatious side since you were both moving apart. it was always easiest when you were on the way out.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "try extra hard for me, would you, doll?"

and for a moment, time seemed to ooze like amber. a blink felt like eternity, like you were both suspended in an hourglass.

"promise," you said. it came out like a whisper, but it felt like you screamed it across an open expanse.

and so you parted ways a second time, practically daring the universe to stop you from meeting again.

do whatever you want, universe, you seemed to say, i don't care! i'm fine with the story ending here!

oh, sweetheart, the universe seemed to say, yawning, barely looking at you, then why do you clutch at the book until your fingers bleed?

you could have scowled.

and, just as he wanted, and just as you were afraid of, he was there, in the back of your mind, for several weeks into the school year.

everything started smoothly. you were happy to see your friends again, to be living with them. classes started well. you went out when you wanted to. you began your regular job, tutoring other students in classes you had already taken. it was nice to see the students you had helped out last year, to continue helping them.

teachers referred you to help students who were struggling in their classes all the time, so it wasn't anything significant when one set up a time for you to meet at the library with someone who wasn't quite getting intro to calculus.

it was significant, however, when you opened up the reserved study room door to see quinn sitting at the table, textbooks out in front of him.

so significant, actually, that it genuinely scared you. "jesus," you muttered, exhaling and placing a calming hand over your heart.

he looked up when he heard the door open, and you were frozen in place.

this is what you wanted, right? the universe probably asked, bored. now will you leave me alone?

"i was not expecting you," you admitted, willing your heart back to beating normally.

you couldn't read him, yet again. and yet again, you felt as if you had wanted him hard enough that even the fibers of the universe were annoyed enough to comply.

ugh, they probably said to each other, just give that desperate fool what she wants! i'm tired of hearing her pleas!

but you could have sighed at how beautiful he looked, this time different again - sweatpants and a t-shirt and messy hair. soft looking and sleepy after a day of class and whatever else.

"yeah?" he asked, although he hadn't expected you either. he wasn't shocked the way you were, though. only pleasantness played across his full features. "who were you expecting?"

not you, you wanted to say. things just don't work out like this for me. "i didn't know you went here," you said, simply.

"i didn't know you were a tutor," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

i didn't know your smile gets lopsided when you're tired, you thought to yourself. you could never forget that, now.

"safe to say we know very little about each other, doll," he added, as if he could hear your thoughts.

and he was right - you hadn't asked him anything about himself the last two times you saw him, and he didn't know anything about you. how easy would it have been at the course to say you were going to the local university in a couple of days. why had you not?

why had you relinquished control so easily?

it practically pained you to think about that, just as it was practically painful to look at his face head on, eyes weary with sleep yet bright with amusement, so you decided to solve both of those problems.

"well," you said, sliding into the seat next to him at the table, excruciatingly aware of your closeness, "what do you know about derivatives?"

he gave a huff of a laugh. "probably even less," he said.

you gave him a smile and started to go over your notes with him. the more you spoke, and the deeper you got into the topic, the easier it was to be close to him.

you were still hyperaware of his warmth, his presence, his beauty, his being, but you could do this. getting lost in your purpose here instead of getting lost in him.

after about an hour of you explaining derivatives, you looking at your notes, and him looking at you, you shut your textbook.

"i think that's good for a first session, hm?" you asked, turning to face him and hugging one knee to your chest.

he held your gaze as if studying your face. it felt like being center stage, under a white hot spotlight.

he spread his legs out and reached his arms up, stretching after sitting in the same position for a while. you had to look down at your hands.

"five more minutes?" he asked like a kid begging for an extended bedtime. only now he was asking for more time with you.

you scrunched up your nose, which made him smile, a bit. "can i ask you a question, quinn?" you asked. "since we don't know anything about each other."

"only if i get one, too," he answered.

you thought carefully, flexed your hand on your knee as your gaze met his sleepy one. "it's not that late," you started, "why are you so tired?"

he laughed again, making your chest sing. "busy day," he answered, "had two classes, practice, and a lift."

and as he elaborated you added to the carefully protected vault in your mind of information you knew about him. he played hockey for the team here, he was a defensemen, he was always busy.

"my turn," he said after he was done, low like a secret.

you nodded, forced away the flush his tone alone was able to pull from you.

"did you keep your promise?" he asked.

of everything he could have said, you were least expecting that. of course you knew what promise he was referring to immediately. of course it felt like something abominable to tell him the truth.

suddenly the space between the two of you felt much too little, much too dangerous. so small that you could see each of his eyelashes, he could see the way your eyes dropped to his mouth for a second.

there was something in his eyes that surprised you, though. there was a trace of those nerves you had seen in him that first day - that instability and uncertainty. he wanted you to say yes, you realized. he wanted it so, so much.

"of course i did, quinn," you soothed, leaning forward onto your knee just a bit. it was always easiest on the way out. "did you have any doubts?"

did he let out a breath? his silence spoke for him. still, you had to be the one to walk away. you couldn't afford any more ghosts.

"same time next week?" you asked, gathering your things.

"not gonna leave it to chance this time, doll?" he asked, getting his things together too, but in a lazy sort of way. his hands moved slowly, reluctantly.

you tried not to stare at them.

you gave him a last look before you left.

"do you want to leave it to chance?" you asked, genuinely.

ugh, chance seemed to say, can't you just do it yourself?

his molten gaze dripped over you like honey. "no," he decided, "no, i wouldn't say that's at the top of my wishlist."

you didn't ask what was.

so, each tuesday night, you tutored him in calculus. and each tuesday night, you learned more about him, and he learned more about you.

you learned about how he got into auto mechanics (he never grew out of his childhood truck phase), why he liked golf (really just an excuse to talk with his friends for a couple of hours), what was so special about hockey (it felt like he could see things that others just couldn't). his favorite candy (sour skittles), his favorite color gatorade (red), his favorite t-shirt (a worn in concert shirt from high school).

but you also learned that he got shy when you complimented him, that he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek when he was about to say something that made you blush, that he got more confident as he got to know you.

his nerves only came out when he grew unsure, and you did your best to make him so, so sure.

and he did get to know you. how you got into your major (data analysis was the family business), why you applied yourself so vigorously in your classes (you didn't know any other way), all about your close friends and family. your favorite soda (cherry coke zero), your favorite frat (pike, only because a couple of your friends were dating brothers there, and they had the goofiest themes), your favorite snack (pretzel goldfish).

he was nothing if not observant, too, so he noticed that you had a special smile for when he got a question right, and that you only wore your hair up when you were extra tired, and that, towards the end of the session, when you were caught off guard, you would lean a little closer to him without realizing.

that was his favorite. when you would lean into his space, just a little more, as if you were pulled towards him by a magnetic force.

and each session, you made him a little more confident, and he made you blush a little bit more. until you both felt utterly comfortable with each other, like you had known each other for ages.

well, as comfortable as you could feel with a person who made you feel like every inch of your skin was on fire. as comfortable as you could feel with someone whose voice made your throat go dry, whose hands made you stutter, whose mannerisms made your stomach flutter.

one tuesday night, late into a session where he had told you he had passed his quiz with flying colors, he twisted his pen in his hand.

"you know, doll," he started, "you should come to a game sometime."

you looked up. "one of your games?" you asked, searching his steely eyes for meaning.

his lip quirked. "yes, one of my games."

here, he might as well have said, have a little more of me.

"unless you don't want to," he added to your silence. "which would also be fine. i don't want to force-"

you stopped him with a hand on his forearm, transporting you both back to that first day. did you imagine him relaxing into your touch, this time?

"i'd love to come," you said, looking him square in the face.

"good," he replied, content.

but nothing could have prepared you for what awaited you that friday night, standing with your friends in the student section of the rink you had never been to.

"how have we never been to a hockey game?" one of them asked, looking around at the crowd.

"basketball's just better," another said, although, to be fair, she was on the club basketball team. "what the hell is icing, anyways?"

"we never had a reason to, i guess," your best friend said in a teasing tone. you shot her a look, to which she raised her hands in surrender. "hey, no judgement," she said, and you laughed.

as soon as quinn was on the ice, though, he had your complete and undivided attention. he skated with a mesmerizing fluidity, hit with a concrete, undeniable kind of force. and he was right - he did see things no one else could see, made connections that you, nor anyone on the ice, could predict until they were already completed.

he was all over the ice, all over this space, he was everywhere. and you were transfixed.

walking back to the house with your friends, they noticed. of course they did.

"oh god, i know that look," one said.

"this is gonna be trouble," another added. was this trouble? was trouble when everything someone did felt like some great treasure you had discovered? was trouble this kind of fire, of comfort, of excitement, of rest?

you shook your head. "calm down, guys," you said. "it's not that serious."

"right," someone said. you didn't believe yourself, either.

"what did you think of the game?" he asked the following tuesday after you had covered enough material to be satisfied.

you were so close to him now, it probably would have been easier to just share a chair. so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, could all but feel his chest against your back.

"what did i think of the game?" you repeated lazily.

you could hear his smile in his voice. "yes, doll."

you hummed. how honest could you be, here? what could you get away with?

and maybe it was your closeness to him that made you bold. maybe it was the heat you saw in his eyes that had you leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. you felt his breath rumble through him and into you.

the air sparked.

"thought you were incredible, quinn," you said honestly. "like nothing i've ever seen."

his exhale was shaky as he peered down at you. "yeah?" he asked.

"mhm," you hummed, your body buzzing with his contact, the most you had ever had. something unspoken settled between you like dust.

"you would come again, then?" he asked, hopeful but drowsy.

you couldn't help but smile, a bit, gaze up at him through your lashes. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you, if 'm honest."

something like wonder misted across his heated gaze. "i like knowing you're there," he said. "like knowing you're thinking about me."

dangerous desire swirled around the two of you, melting your gaze and blurring the lines.

things don't work out like this for you, a voice said, bitter and mocking, drawing the lines up again, sturdy and menacing.

you cleared your throat, lifted your head from his shoulder. if you could look at him, you would have seen that uncertainty swimming in his eyes again, along with something like hurt.

but you couldn't look at him. at the drowsy slouch of his shoulders, the rugged line of his jaw, the glossy want that practically dripped down his face like starry tears.

i'm always thinking about you, you wanted to tell him. i'm sorry.

but you gathered your things, stood up. "i should go."

he was silent for a moment, looked you up and down, gave a small sigh. "okay, doll," he conceded. "on one condition."

you scrunched up your nose in confusion.

"you agree to come golfing with me tomorrow," he said in a completely satisfied tone. "then, you can go."

a million excuses flooded onto your tongue.

"i'm busy tomorrow," you tried, your voice coming out tight.

he waved that off lazily. "me too," he said, something like a smirk growing on his pink lips. "but we're both free at four, so let's plan on that. next?"

you sputtered.

"but i don't know how to golf," you tried.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. trouble.

"don't worry, doll," he offered. "i'll go real slow for you."

you flushed, almost walked into the doorframe, quickly decided you needed to leave immediately, if you wanted to maintain any level of mystery or dignity.

"fine," you said, already on your way out. it felt like flames were nipping at your heels, biting at your nose. "i'll come."

his smirk deepened, a different look on him. "don't put up much of a fight, do you, doll?"

"i'm leaving," you choked as you walked out, turning to face him one final time. "what if i just didn't want to come?"

he seemed to ponder this for a moment. "i think," he started, "if you really didn't want to come, it wouldn't make you blush like this to say so."

he didn't ask you to think about him, but by the look on his face, you knew he could tell he didn't have to.

so, the following day, you found yourself on the course with quinn.

a terrible, terrible idea, really.

especially considering the want that filled his gaze when he first saw you, catching on your legs before returning up to your eyes.

"showed up for me, did you, doll?" he asked, a hope you recognized tinting his voice a shimmery pink.

you rolled your eyes, but smiled. "you knew i would."

"thank you anyways," he replied, and his genuineness, his honesty, his straightforwardness, it all made you melt. made you want to know what his smile felt like against your neck, what his hands felt like in your hair.

so, as you both made to tee off, you turned to him. "can you help me with my swing, please?"

his gaze softened. liquid steel. "sure, doll," he said, then lined up next to you and explained his way through it.

you bit your lip. "i'm a hands on learner," you said, which was a lie. "i think i need you closer." that part wasn't.

he didn't adopt a cocky smirk, like so many would have. he didn't lean into your act, didn't pounce on the opportunity to show his superiority. he only approached you from behind and reached his arms around you to grip your driver with you, his hands on top of yours, warm and rough.

you could feel each breath he took in your back, felt the solid plane of his chest on your shoulder blades.

"close enough?" he all but whispered into the space between your neck and your shoulder.

something sinful must have possessed you then. "for now," you breathed out.

he went through a swing with you, slow and fluid. you weren't paying attention, not really, but how could you, when he was just so, so close? was this dazed sensation, was that what he felt when you touched him, that first day? or later, in your study room?

but, of course, the swing was soon over, and he reluctantly retreated off to the side.

"your turn, doll," he said.

you took a breath to shake the phantom of his embrace away, then teed off - beautifully straight and hard, arcing through the air like a physics textbook problem.

you looked at him to find a knowing, teasing look on his face. he ran a hand through his hair, displacing the curling ends as he gave a quick laugh.

you smiled. "call me a natural," you offered, shrugging.

"oh yeah?" he said, tilting his head. "how about i call you a liar?"

you leaned forward onto the end of your driver, grin widening. "how about i call you gullible?"

he shook his head, let out a playful scoff. "like you'd ever have to trick me into touching you."

the rest of the round went by quickly, both of your guards down, lost in conversation and high on each other. too soon, it was over.

it was this realization that urged you to act uncharacteristically - in that, you acted according to what you truly felt.

"can i see you tomorrow?" you asked him as he loaded your clubs into the trunk of your car. you didn't cringe as much as you would have a few weeks ago.

he wiped his hands on his shorts, looked at you with something that looked like relief. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you," he parroted. his ability to remember things about you warmed you from the inside out.

"meet me at the sig nu party tomorrow?" you asked hopefully. "maybe you can meet some of my friends?"

he looked truly touched. "some of the guys are going already since we don't have a morning lift on friday," he said, "so you could meet some of them, too, if you want."

you nodded, flushed with expectation. "see you then," you said, making to get in your car. "and yes, i'll think about you."

his smile as you shut your door was something of dreams.

sigma nu was not one of your favorite frats. their basement was especially dirty looking, their brothers were on the sketchier side, and the never seemed to have enough alcohol to make it through the night.

but one of your friends was talking to one of the brothers, who also played club basketball. so you and the rest of your group were going for moral support. and also because no one else was throwing. it was only a thursday.

you were nervous. you had only just begun to accept that you were really, really into quinn, and you had only just begun to accept that he might, possibly, probably, be just as into you.

it still didn't make much logical sense to you. when had it ever been so simple?

don't talk about logical sense around me, chance would say, that bitch knows what she did.

when you first saw quinn across the crowded room, chance and logical sense and all those divine powers, they all melted away.

it was just him. his hair was messy and his gaze was relaxed and the lights made it look like his face was glowing as he laughed with his friends.

but the crowd got the better of you, for a little while. you danced with your friends, politely escaped several "so, what's your major?" conversations, and actually spent a while talking to your friend's new talking stage.

as you laughed at something, you were internally surprised. this guy seemed perfect for your friend - they shared so many interests, and he was able to laugh at himself easily, which was something that was at the top of her priority list.

after a while of learning enough about him to approve of him graduating from the talking stage, you looked up. of course your gaze was immediately drawn to quinn, closer than you had seen him last.

closer, and yet farther than he had ever been, because he was leaning against the wall, talking to another girl.

you couldn't really see the girl, but it wouldn't have really mattered. it wasn't about her. she was just a girl talking to a guy at a party. a guy who was, in all technical senses, single and available.

it was more so about him, and how close he was to her, how he leaned down to hear her, meaning she could probably smell his all-but-worn-off cologne.

your grip tightened on your red cup as you swallowed.

before, quinn had only ever been yours, because even when you doubted that he could ever return your feelings, he had never given you concrete evidence that he was interested in anyone else. so even though he hadn't been yours, he had been almost yours, probably going to be yours, or something like that.

but here he was, giving you concrete proof that he existed to others, too, that other people could be interested in him and he could be interested back.

and of course that had always been the case. how could you have been so narcissistic? of course people would foster crushes on him, like you did, and of course he was bound to reciprocate eventually, to someone.

you had let yourself believe that you were the center of the world for a moment, of his world, and you hated that.

so, honestly, it was barely even about quinn. this struggle, this was about you.

but if you stripped back everything external, oh, how downright jealous you felt right then.

so jealous that you had to leave, that you couldn't watch anymore. when you got home, you shut the door and exhaled.

what did i tell you? that bitter voice said, things just don't work out that way for you.

you could have growled, now, at how lazy, how self-centered that sounded.

don't look at me, chance would have said, hands raised in surrender, this was all you.

he was just talking to another girl, logical reason would say, that doesn't mean he's not interested in you. you have what, a couple months of history?

and of course reason would be right. of course, you knew, deep down, you didn't have to let this consume you.

but now a tendril of doubt had woven its way into your heart. if you had been so misled by your own ego before, how could you tell if any of it was real? how could you trust yourself to know if this wasn't much more to you than it was to him?

time. you needed some time.

thankfully, that was doable. you went home for break on friday after class, and planned to stay there for the week.

so you stayed home, caught up with your parents, ignored his numerous texts.

it hurt to do so, but you told yourself you needed some distance.

which wasn't that hard, considering he was playing a series of games across the country. you still put on his games though, which your parents noticed.

"didn't even know we got this channel," you dad observed one night as you watched quinn stickhandle around a sloppy winger.

"when did you get into hockey?" you mom asked, never critical. "we could go see a game sometime, if you want."

you started to settle down a bit, really enjoyed the time at home. before you knew it, though, break was almost over.

"sweetheart," you mom called to you on your second to last day, "would you mind taking the car in?"

you were skeptical. "why?"

"they just called," she explained, "said we're due for an urgent oil change."

you thought it was weird that they would call for that, but quinn was supposedly still away, so you figured it wouldn't be that much of an issue.

"sure," you responded. "i'll bring it in now."

you knew it was a trap as soon as you opened your car door at the garage.

the young receptionist approached you quickly with a guilty smile.

"hi, miss bean," you said, trying to gauge what she was about to say.

"look," she rushed, "i didn't want to, and i'm thought the plan was stupid, and i'm sure you're ignoring him for good reason-"

you sighed, knowing what was coming. having walked right into it. "i'm not, really," you stopped her, then felt the need to clarify. "it's not really a good reason."

"what is it, then?" that low voice asked from your side, and everyone else disappeared.

just him, standing there, looking the same as you had last seen him, but so, so different.

the same, because he was just as lovely as you last recalled. was it insensitive to say that he wore his weariness beautifully?

so different, because he just looked so tired. his coveralls did little to hide the slight slouch in his shoulders. a subtle stubble now shadowed his face, making his jaw sharper. and his eyes. that steely stone that had occupied your mind all this time - it was cracking, desperate for something to hang on to.

"just needed some distance," you mustered. you were jarred by his appearance, by being close to him again, just the two of you.

"yeah?" he looked you up and down, that desperate disappointment now running down your figure. there was no malice in his tone. "why, doll? so you can say you were right?" you could have hissed. "so you can go on knowing everything went exactly as you told yourself it would?"

things like this don't work out for you. who had been telling you that, again?

you sucked on your teeth, had no idea what to say. what do you say to someone that sees right through you? the pause settled like sludge. "i thought you were away," you eventually whispered, ignoring his question.

he ran a hand through his hair, let all his grief flood into his eyes. "and i thought it would be a lot harder for you to forget me," he said, "so i guess we're both at a loss."

you took a step forward, then stopped yourself, almost dizzy. "you actually think i would forget you?" you breathed, practically choking on your words.

he scoffed. "what was i supposed to think?" he rubbed his palm against the back of his neck. "i think everything is going well when you ask me to come to this party, then you spend the whole time talking to some other guy-"

your brow furrowed before you understood. "my friend's new boyfriend," you interrupted. to his confusion, you clarified. "i was talking to my friend's boyfriend."

he blinked, registered this information, appeared a bit lighter. "regardless," he sighed, "you were supposed to be talking to me, doll."

"hold on," you said, the memory of jealousy seeping into your bloodstream, "you were talking to someone else, too, quinn." you crossed your arms, images flashing in your mind of him leaning down, his ear much too close to her lips. "and i don't think that was your friend's girlfriend, unless they're trying out an open relationship."

"i just-" he gave a frustrated gesture, looked down at his feet for a moment.

"you what?" you pressed.

he sighed, now flushed. "i just wanted you to look at me."

you both were silent for a beat as you processed his words. you exhaled, took a few steps until you were right in front of him. his eyes flickered down to your mouth, took the long way back up.

you took his face in your hands, his stubble rough under your palms. you knew you didn't imagine the way he softened into you touch.

"surely by now you know you're all i think about," you said, an offering. like some sacrifice at a long-abandoned altar, so terribly desperate, shamefully honest.

so terrible, the way he grabbed at your hip, pulled you forward, against him. so desperate, the way his other hand twisted into your hair.

so shameful, how he captured your lips with his, all brute emotion, sleepy resignation, a million pleas of "look at me" answered with "i never looked away."

so honest, how he just barely whimpered into your mouth when you tightened your grasp on his jaw, kissed him harder. he pulled so slightly on your hair, you slid a hand down to his chest, gathered the collar of his coveralls in your first, trying to get him impossibly closer.

here, you both were practically screaming, here, have some more of me.

someone whistled across the garage. you pulled away from each other with a jump, having gotten a little carried away. quinn flushed on the tips of his ears and shot the culprit a look, which made you let out a light laugh into his chest.

the little rumble made him look down at you, wrap his arms around your waist and clasp them on the small of your back.

you stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other. stone, molten.

"i have this thing next week," he said eventually, barely anything more than a rasp. "a formal for the team."

you nodded, reached up, twisted a strand of his hair around your finger.

"come with me," he asked, soft. "please."

you didn't have to think about it. "yes."

and so, about a week later, you found yourself at the hockey formal, an event you hadn't known existed a couple of months ago.

the past week had been blissful, but frustrating - you both were so busy, you with schoolwork and tutoring, him with the team. so much so that you could barely see each other outside of your scheduled tutoring session.

needless to say, you were very much looking forward to a weekend away with him. a whole night, just for the two of you.

and the whole night was wonderful. you were introduced to his teammates, saw a new side of him, heard his laugh so many times it made your head spin.

it was all just so easy. even the mess ups, the uncertainty, the silences, those were easy too, because they were with him.

when he stuttered over telling you how beautiful you looked - easy.

when you didn't know how to introduce yourself to his friends, so you just said you were "quinn's..." and then faded out, unsure - that was easy, because you weren't even really lying. your laugh was instinctual, and everyone else's was, too.

when he asked you to dance, reaching his hand out to you, there had never been an easier yes.

you danced with all the beautiful awkwardness of two people who weren't quite sure what they were yet - weren't quite sure how far they could go. there was not a question of how you both felt, but how slow were you taking this?

how slow could you bear?

every touch felt electric, like a gentle flame ignited whereever his hands had been. you felt a shiver erupt when his hand grasped your waist as you both moved together to a simple rhythm.

so up close and personal, you could smell his worn cologne, feel the warmth from his chest.

he gave you a sly smile, something close to a smirk. "okay, doll?"

you bit your lip, peered up at him through your lashes. "you just look so lovely, quinn," you told him, squeezed his hand, gave him a flushed smile. "it's distracting."

he pulled you a little closer, so that your chests were almost touching as you moved across the floor. "yeah?" he asked, his smile lazy, almost shy. "love a suit, do you?"

you tilted your head, met his gaze entirely and absolutely. oh, how much, how deeply you wanted. hadn't your want seemed to fray the fibers of the universe before?

babe, they seemed to remind you, we never cared.

then who was i praying to? you could have asked.

and they would have only shared a look, laughed like two girls at a sleepover.

well, who answered? they would have responded.

what you did do is give a slight shake of your head. "not the suit," you said. "you're distracting."

you watched his eyes become hooded, felt the underlying heat ignite between you. his grip on your waist tightened. "careful, doll," he breathed out, a warning, a plea.

"don't wanna be," you replied. there was a moment of understanding, a pause of anticipation.

"how slow do you want to take this?" almost drowsy with desire, his voice was slow, rough, only for you. "you know i'd go so slow for you, right, doll?"

you nodded. "i know," you assured him, "but i don't want you to."

you thought you heard him mutter a fuck before he was pulling you from the floor, out of the elaborate event room, upstairs to your room at the hotel. everything was a blur as his hand clasped around yours. a desperate escape, fleeing from everything, everyone except him.

and then the door was shutting and he was pushing you up against it, a hand on your hip and the other on your jaw as his lips met yours in a heated kiss that was every bit as desperate, as longing, and terrible and horrible and shameful as the first one.

you were both too far gone to hold back any longer.

you tangled your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, felt the curls between your fingers.

he tasted like mint and salt and something earthy.

kissing him felt like barbed wire made of gold, flowery rust, somehow the most violent act you had ever committed, yet also the most gentle.

like removing your heart with a cookie cutter, offering it to him on a painted porcelain plate.

you moaned into his mouth, he hissed just a bit as you pulled at his hair.

he pushed his hips up against yours, hiked your leg up around his thigh, making you gasp at the hardness you found across his front.

"more," you murmured against his lips, felt his sly smirk grow against yours.

he moved his hand from your hip to slide up your dress, glide his fingertips along your inner thigh, just barely skirt across your folds. "like this, doll? so wet for me already," he asked, his voice gravelly. "this must be enough then, yeah?"

you shook your head, moved your hips to try to get some friction.

"no?" he said, obviously teasing, "greedy girl, hm? wants even more?" he brought his other hand to your mouth, pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, smirked when you closed your lips around him without a second thought. "what do you say?"

"please," you whined around his hand, in a voice you barely recognized. "please, quinn."

he answered you by dragging his fingers through your folds once before pushing two into you, slow and deep, making you arch your back up off of the door.

"fuck, so tight," he rasped.

you whimpered against his thumb, closed your eyes as you felt his hand move from your mouth to your throat.

"open up, doll," he demanded. "look at me."

you obliged with effort, wrapped an arm around his neck for support, another one bracing the door as he increased his pace, pushing his fingers in and out of you, grazing your clit each time.

your nails dug into his neck as you lost yourself in the sensation, barely registering the way he groaned at the delicious shot of pain.

"this enough, doll?" he cooed, annoyingly smug at how audibly wet you were.

you vigorously shook your head, so desperate to get him to keep going. "no," you pleaded, "fuck, please, quinn, don't stop."

he tightened his hand around your throat just a little, only barely squeezing as he flattened his other palm against your clit, making you moan loudly. "must be ready for me then, yeah?"

you fisted his dress shirt in your hand, pushed yourself off of the door and pulled him onto the bed. "please, need more of you," you begged, nothing more than a prayer, "fuck, want you so bad."

something lovely flooded his gaze as he moved his clothes aside, pulled himself out as you further hiked up your dress.

he spat into his hand, pumped himself up and down in a way that made your mouth water.

you were practically pouting. "please, fuck me, quinn," you said, pathetic and just so fine with it, "'s all i've been thinking about."

and you knew you had said something magical when he groaned and tugged you towards him by the undersides of your thighs, his grip hot and rough, a working man's grip.

"shit," he hissed as he ran his cock up and down your folds once, twice, collecting your wetness there, "'d never say no to you."

you whined when he first pushed into you, so, so deep that you swore you could feel him in the palms of your hands, feel him rattling around in your teeth, behind your eyes.

he moaned like a sinner, clutched at the flesh of your hips so tightly you knew his fingerprints would be left behind later.

as he began to thrust in and out of you, his rhythm hard and even, both of you could barely form words, so lost in the feeling of each other, finally as physically close as you could be.

"fuck," he bit out eventually, his rhythm picking up speed, "so tight, doll. so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded, clenched around him, reached one of your hands forward to rub at your clit, increasing the pressure quickly building inside of you.

he choked out a grunt at the sight of you touching yourself, only making you squeeze him harder. "feels so good, quinn," you whined, "so deep inside me."

he moved one hand up to your calf, hoisted one of your legs up to change his angle, thrusted down into you in a way that hit a dizzying spot inside of you. he kept going, bringing you both closer every minute.

"shit, feel so perfect," he bit out at some point. "made for me, hm?" he asked as you rubbed your clit faster. "squeezing me so perfect, yeah?"

you hummed something like affirmation, your breathing becoming ragged as he hit that spot over and over, his chest rising and falling, his thrusts becoming broken and messy.

"fuck, quinn," you moaned, "fuck, 'm so close."

he groaned. "gonna cum for me, doll?" he asked, letting your calf rest on his shoulder as his hand travelled down to apply only the slightest pressure to your lower stomach.

the sensation, that unique pressure making you feel him impossibly deeper, sent you soaring right to the edge.

"feel you squeezing me," he breathed out, his own voice tight and rough, his chest and stomach flexing as he fought off his own orgasm. "cum for me, doll, yeah? wanna feel you cum on my cock." he squinted with effort. "be good for me, hm?"

and his words sent you spiraling, a wave of pleasure finally crashing, clenching and spasming around him in a way that triggered his own high.

he moaned as he came, his breathing labored as you both collapsed back onto the hotel bed.

effort and satisfaction glowed on your faces, realized desire settling along his cheekbones and on the cupid's bow of your mouth.

there were several moments of easy silence in the warm air, his hand throw lazily around your middle, one of yours resting on his chest.

"can i ask you for something?" you said eventually, looking up at him with tired eyes full of possibility.

"anything, doll," he said, and you remembered back to that first day, in the garage. how easy it was, now, to remember it fondly.

"can i have a kiss, please?" you asked, almost shy, more so gentle.

a smile already played across his mouth. "especially that," he said, eager to comply with your request.

he leaned down to press a fluttering, beautiful kiss to your lips.

well i definitely didn't see this coming, chance stage-whispered to logical reason behind her hand.

i don't really deal with this lovey-dovey kind of stuff, logical reason said, not my thing.

all the divine powers and the fibers of the universe and such, they were silent. perhaps they always had been. perhaps this was much too far out of their jurisdiction.

perhaps it was just none of their business.

fin.

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and… gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

------

------

-----

NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33

[heys0ulmate]

veneration (this faith's got me high)

pairing: sofia falcone/gigante x f!reader

summary: sofia isn't the same anymore- but you've waited too long for her to care.

warnings: uhh .. unnegotiated/dubcon, gun usage, slight bondage, passing out, im sure im missing stuff, not proofread, major abuse of italics sorry lmao

word count: 4.6K

A/N: this is the first part of what i PLAN to be a series, tho im not sure when the next part(s) will be out. i legitimately havent published a fic in over a decade so im sorry that its like. poorly structured LOL. not much smut in this one sorry yall. title from holy by zolita btw. also this was posted prematurely by accident cus it was still in my drafts but oh well

〰️

You don't recognize the room you're in, but you feel no danger. All you feel is giddiness and bliss.

There's something warm next to you. Sofia.

Her red, pretty lips are moving, corners curled up slightly, but you can't hear her. You laugh despite the fact, because it feels right. The joy in your chest overwhelming.

She's closer, now. You're laughing hysterically, to the point of tears. It's getting hard to breathe.

Sofia cups your face. She looks scared, but you still can't hear what she's saying. You can't speak- all you can do is laugh and choke for air.

The room changes.

It's crowded.

You spot Sofia from across the galley.

Something in you tells you to run to her, as fast as you can, like you'll die if you don't. It's an all-consuming type of panic, the inability to breathe slowly creeping back.

You push past the crowd, but the more progress you make, the larger the room seems to grow.

The crowd parts, and you see her. She's leaving the room, hand in hand with her father. Her lips are parted in a scream that you still can't hear.

"Sofia!" You shriek, running as fast as you can now that the people have cleared a path.

You're inches away from Sofia and the grip her father has on her when you suddenly hear her voice loud and clear from behind you.

"She's not here anymore."

You bolt up from your bed, gasping for air and flailing under your blanket, desperately trying to wrestle it off.

It takes a minute to gather your bearings.

"Shit," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes.

It shouldn't phase you. You can't remember a single night in the past ten goddamn years that you haven't woken up from a some sort of dream-turned nightmare about Sofia. But something about this one seemed to stick to you like summer heat, an uncomfortable, lingering sensation that seems to amplify the harder you try to ignore it.

"She's not here anymore."

It rings through your head like a catchy song as you stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water.

In the ten years since Sofia was taken from you, you haven't heard her voice even once. You weren't allowed visitation as a non-family member, and phone calls were prohibited for the same reason.

It was almost if the sanctions had carried over into your psyche, some form of cruel punishment that prevented you from hearing her even in your dreams.

At least you were able to see her at night.

You'd never grown used to the inevitable, debilitating dread that suffocated you each time you awoke, but you still looked forward to falling asleep each night, knowing it'd grant you a brief illusion of having Sofia by your side again.

"She's not here anymore."

You try not to think to hard about it, to instead appreciate the blessing of being graced with her voice, even if it was just subconscious. You tell yourself it's probably just a result of the weeks recent events; the flooding of Gotham city. The death of Carmine Falcone.

The impact of it all must have rattled you.

That's all.

But... you can't shake the nagging feeling that there was something more.

It's then that your phone rings on your bedside table. *BRRR*

You set your water cup down with a huff, shuffling your feet slowly towards your bedroom. You're in no rush to pick up. Who the fuck call at this time of night; and without warning?

In your experience, this meant one of two things: the call was your basic, run of the mill scam attempt, or a reporter who had found your number and was desperate for some kind of story. Not that you'd ever give them one, of course. Even when Sofia was still around, and your relationship was somewhat in the public eye, you never discussed anything with journalists of any kind.

After Sofia was sent to Arkham, the scrutiny on you had increased. You went from being the occasionally mentioned girlfriend of Carmine Falcone's daughter, to 'the woman who loved The Hangman.'

Generally, the public saw you as a pseudo-victim; someone who had been manipulated by The Hangman, paraded to maintain a false image, and used as a front to keep Sofia's cover. They didn't believe you when you claimed to have been with Sofia on three of the nights that those women were killed. "The poor girl- who knows what that woman subjected her to, to make her lie for her?"

The year following her arrest was the peak of your exposure. You were relentlessly assaulted with press whenever you went outside, and you had to change your cell phone number four times.

Everyone was dying for an inside scoop on what it was like to know The Hangman intimately.

By the second year, you were more comfortable leaving the house. You moved just outside of Gotham, and slowly, the pressure for statements and interviews died down the longer Sofia was away. You still get the occasional phone call, someone hoping that now that it's been 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years, maybe you'd be willing to share your 'story.'

You'd hang up immediately every time, until you got to the point where you just stopped picking up.

*BRRRRR*

You approach your bedside table with every intention to hit the reject button, squinting at the brightness of your screen in the dark of your room.

That's when you see the caller ID.

*000*

You pause.

So far, every telemarketer, every scammer, reporter, and journalist, were listed as either Unknown Caller, or a string of numbers.

The only time you received calls with three digit numbers was when it was Alberto.

A part of you hesitates. Alberto does this, sometimes, though it's become more sparse over the years: he goes on a bender, gets too in his feelings, and calls from a nurner phone and leaves you a barrage of voice and text messages. It's always the same, with him going on coked-up rant about how he's going to get Sofia out one day and wrong everyone who wronged her.

Outside of that, though, Alberto never called. When Sofia was sent away, Alberto had begun simultaneously spiraling and attempting to survive and thrive in the Falcone family. Between the drugs and job, Alberto became a lot more isolated than he used to be. Any attempt on your part to reach out wasn't successful. He stopped responding from the number you'd had saved, keeping communication one-sided.

Still, every week, you texted him the same thing at the same time. Sunday, 9AM, an hour before you knew Sofia had visitation hours. Tell Sofia I love her, please.

You'd never get a response, but you never really expected to, either. You had no way of confirming if he was seeing your messages. The only way you knew Alberto still even thought of you or knew your number was with the increasingly infrequent, triple digit ID calls.

Either way, the occasional drug fueled messages always left you feeling even more depressed. Knowing Alberto was suffering just as much as you didn't bring any sort of comfort; it just reminded you of your own pain.

*BRRRRR*

Between the unease from your dream and timing of the call, though, every instinct in your body is telling you to pick up the phone.

Your hands tremble as you clumsily smash the answer button with your thumb, bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You wait with baited breath as you hear Alberto on the other side of the line. "...'Berto?" There's nothing but silence for a moment.

Then, you hear him clear his throat. "I, uh-" There's a pause, and a sniff. "I'm gettin' her out, [Y/N]."

You're heart pounds almost painfully. "Y-you mean-"

"Yeah," Alberto confirms with a disbelieving laugh, as if he can't wrap his own head around it. "Yeah," he says again, more firmly this time, confirming everything you've wanted, pleaded, prayed for, for ten years. "She's comin' home."

The news breaks two days later.

Two days of silence from Alberto after he dropped that fucking bomb on you.

You aren't sure if you're in shock, or if it literally hasn't quite hit you yet. Maybe it's because, despite a part of you accepting you'd never see her again, you always had faith in your heart that she'd come back to you. That naive hope kept you alive for ten years.

You aren't sure what to do with yourself, now. You've grown so accustomed to just... existing. Holding hope, with nothing to really do with it. This sort of feels likes that, but with more anticipation knowing what's to come.

Except, it doesn't.

She comes home, yes. You watch the reports about it, read the headlines, hear the outcries. But you don't see her. You don't hear from her, or Alberto, and you're resigned to waiting for one of them to reach out.

After a few days, you grew impatient. The anxiety you'd felt from waiting around had turned into a sort of panic, an all consuming need to make any attempt to quell your nerves.

Why hadn't you heard anything? Had something gone wrong? Did they forget?

You'd gone to the Falcone residence. It was fucking packed with news casters, journalists, rioters and spectators. It had taken you a while to shove your way through the mob, and when you had, you were turned away like everyone else.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the results were the same.

And then, Alberto dies.

You think the shock will return, but all you can think is Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. Your Sofia. Your girl, who must be hurting so tremendously right now, who you can't cradle and comfort.

It seems your deep seeded need to be by Sofia's side reignites some of your more rational thinking, though, and you consider your options.

The crowds of cameras and protesters should disperse by the time the sun goes down, you'd assume, giving you more of a shot to see her.

So, you decide to return to the Falcone's late that evening, when the moon has settled and the stars are at their brightest.

Despite the time, it seems the family is well awake, as all the lights can be seen as you walk up the driveway. You hear voices, though you're too far away to tell if they're shouts from behind the walls, or conversations outside.

Soon, two of the guards notice you approaching. "Hey!" One hollars, hoisting up his gun as he stalks towards you. "What are you doin' here? You got business with Luca?"

You should probably be more concerned about the possibility of being shot by a paranoid guard, but your adrenaline is pumping too hard to care.

"Uh- no, I'm- I don't," you stutter. "I wanna see Sofia."

As the second guard approaches, you hear a soft chuckle. "Ah, yeah, I remember you," he drawls, before turning towards the other man. "Used to hang around Sofia," he explains to him, making the other relax his posture slightly.

"She's not available," the first one grunts, "probably won't be for a while."

Being turned down does little to deter you. "So she's here? Just, not available?" You ask hopefully. They don't get a chance to respond. "That's fine. I can wait."

You make a bold move to squeeze past them, speed walking over to the grand stair case in front of the house with purpose.

Behind you, the guards bicker. You don't hear what they say, outside of something about 'letting Ms. Falcone decide,' but based on the lack of pushback, you assume the one who remembered you was suggesting the other guard leave it be.

You're perfectly content to sit for as long as you need to. You've waited a decade for Sofia; you can wait a few hours- or even until the morning- to finally see her after all this time.

To your surprise, though, you only wait for about 45 minutes.

The front doors of the mansion swing open, and you hear the click of heels stomping down the steps.

"Fuckin' pricks," someone mutters, and you immediately recognize the voice.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you stand on shaky legs, and you can't turn around to face her fast enough. You almost lose you balance in the process, but catch yourself in time for Sofia to notice your presence.

She has a cigarette halfway to her lips as she stares at you, an unreadable expression on her face.

You blink.

She blinks.

"You're..." her voice sounds empty for a moment. Then she shakes her head a little, blinking hard a few times and huffing. "What are you doing here, [Y/N]?"

You open your mouth, but your brain is moving a mile a minute. Nothing comes out, and you just gape at her like a fish for a few moments. "Uhhhh..." you trail off dumbly, but you're too frozen to even feel stupid about it.

Sofia rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says as she resumes her walk past you, lighting up her cigarette as she does. "I'm not staying too far from here at the moment."

You practically trip over yourself in your rush to follow Sofia. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up with her pace, but you manage. The car is parked at the end of the driveway. A burly man is propped against the hood, and he moves around to the back door when he sees Sofia quickly approaching. He opens it for her with a quick acknowledgment as she slides in smoothly, and remains silent as you clumsily follow suit.

Sofia keeps her eyes fixed out the window as the man gets into the drivers seat. You can't help but stare at her, though, something akin to awe making it impossible to look away.

A few minutes into the drive, you see Sofia tentatively shift her eyes towards you. She looks on guard, as though unnerved by your eyes on her.

Still, she says nothing. Her gaze stays trained on the passing scenery for the remainder of the ride, like she's stubbornly making an effort to ignore your blatant staring.

Sofia hardly waits until the car is parked to unbuckle and hastily exist the vehicle once it's pulled in front of her building. You rush to get your door open, jogging a little to catch up to her.

You're paid no mind as Sofia struts inside and walks to the kitchen. It's almost like you're invisible, a silent, unseen witness.

Sofia moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, retrieving a glass and wine bottle that she pops open, pouring a sizeable amount. She takes a long, long sip, her head tilting back until the contents of her glass are almost completely gone.

Then, she sighs, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she embraces the warmth of the alcohol.

Finally, she looks at you, indifference written all over her face. "You didn't give me an answer earlier," she states simply.

You take a small step forward. "Sofia..." You blink hard, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

Sofia is looking at you. You see her. You hear her.

You take another step, and another, until your knees buckle in front of her. "Sofia," it's an almost reverant sound that makes Sofia inhale sharply.

She's so close.

You wrap your arms around her legs as you kneel before her, nuzzling against her thighs.

"Sofia," you say again, just as softly.

You can breathe again. After ten long, dreadful years, you finally feel like the air in your lungs is pure and real.

Sofia freezes. She's unsure of how to process this.

You're here. In front of her- willingly.

It feels wrong; you bowing before her when you have no idea who she is anymore.

"Cut it out," she mutters, lightly pushing your head away and taking a small step back.

You remain on your knees, looking up at her with half lidded eyes.

The adoration in them makes Sofia uncomfortable.

"Get off the floor," Sofia says, her tone indescribable. "You aren't an animal." She turns to top off her wine glass, takes a sip, and leaves the room.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, but you slowly move towards the direction she headed in. You find her in a room down the hall, an open, office-adjacent space. She's sitting on a loveseat in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead as she sips away.

You pause in the doorway to observe her for a minute, wondering if she's aware that you've followed. You decide to let your presence be known, taking a few confident steps forward.

Sofia doesn't look at you when she speaks.

"Whatever you're here for," she starts, "you won't find."

"No," you find yourself saying. "No, Sofia, I..." you trail off as you come closer. "I... I just want you."

Sofia's jaw clenches. "You don't know what that means anymore," she spits, before taking another sip of her wine, attempting to grow the irrational anger brewing inside her.

There's a certain, panicked heat that comes over you then, feeling unheard and misunderstood. "No, no," you say hastily. "No, Sofia, please," you drop in front of her again. "Please, Sofia. I don't care what that- what that means. All I care about is you."

Sofia scoffs, her temper getting the best of her. She grips your hair without thinking, pulling your head off her lap to look up at her. "You want me to show you what it means?" She hisses, eyes wide and manic. "Okay. Take your clothes off."

You're momentarily stunned, not expecting Sofia's request. "What? Ah-!" Sofia yanks your hair again, gritting her teeth as she speaks. "Take off your fucking clothes," she repeats.

Her tone sends you into motion, and you scramble to remove your top. Sofia settles back against the couch as she watches you undress for her, keeping her features schooled.

Once you're bare, you shift on your knees a bit, unsure of what to do. Being naked in front of Sofia certainly isn't new, but, it's also been ten years since you've last been intimate with her. You never anticipated it happening again like... this. Sofia never acted this way with you in the last. Usually, she undressed you herself, slowly and with kisses on each inch of skin she revealed. She had been teasing, sure, but never so stern.

It stirred something in you that you couldn't place your finger on. All you know is, you certainly aren't complaining.

So, you stay still, not wanting to do anything without instruction lest Sofia decide she's no longer willing to entertain you. You bask in Sofia's predatory gaze, letting her drink in your exposed body.

Soon, though, you start to squrim a bit. It's not cold, per say, but the air was just brisk enough on your bare skin that you couldn't ignore the slight chill.

You shiver a little, and Sofia smirks.

"You cold?" She asks knowingly. Sofia keeps her eyes on you as she reaches for her wine glass, standing as she does.

You tense a little as she begins to stalk closer to you, a small sneer on her face.

She's behind you, now, but you don't dare to move your head, not even when you hear the clink of her wine glass on the ground. Instead, you stay still and complacent as Sofia picks up your discarded shirt and begins to wrap it around your wrists. You moan inadvertently at the feeling of her skin on yours, but Sofia takes a deep breath. She ignores the sound, instead making quick work of restraining your hands behind your back.

When she's done, Sofia picks her glass back up as she towers over you. There's a dark, empty look in her eye that sends a chill down your spine.

Sofia, of course, notices this.

She smirks. "Is that it? You chilly, sweetheart?" Her voice is patronizing and full of faux concern.

You're not sure if she wants an answer or not, but aren't given a chance to respond either way, Sofia suddenly splashing the remenants of the wine from her glass onto you.

You flinch, and gasp loudly at the cold sensation. You're hands instinctively move to rub at eyes in an attempt to clear your vision, but you find yourself tugging fruitlessly at the shirt Sofia had binded your wrists. The wine soaking your face and dampening your hair ends trickles down your body, erupting goosebumps in it's wake.

You're still blinking heavily in an attempt to normalize your seeing when hear a breathy cackle. You feel her pinch your jaw, a strong grip on you as she licks a filthy stripe up your face, lapping up the spilt wine. She releases you, the sound of footsteps echoing through the room as Sofia struts past you and towards the desk by the window. You can't see what she's retrieving, your eyesight blurry and unfocused.

By the time Sofia circles back, you've mostly regainedy your vision. You don't have any time to visually process what she has in her hand, though, as she wastes no time in forcing the barrel of her handgun past your parted, panting lips, and into your mouth.

"It's a terrible feeling. Isn't it?" The gun presses a little harder, and you cringe at the feeling of rough metal pressing against your tongue. "Nothing left to hide behind," Sofia drawls, her voice is surprisingly even, though her words feel weighted.

You blink up at her with an unnerving lack of fear.

Sofia bares on with a tilt of her head. "The guards at Arkham stripped us bare every morning," she states, and your heart clenches at the thought. "It was humiliating," Sofia continues, a subtle anger brewing in her voice with each punctuated annunciation, "being turned into a thing."

Sofia shoves the gun hard enough to make you gag, and presses forward until you're bending backwards. Sofia straddles you, her grip on the gun directing your movements. She has you sprawled on your back, hands twisted painfully under you, pressed between your spine and the hardwood floor.

Sofia lowers her face, her wild eyes inches from yours. "You think," she growls, "that I'm still who you knew?" She smiles, though there's no joy in it. "That I'm not just a thing?"

Apparently, it wasn't a rhetorically question, as Sofia yanks the gun out of your mouth.

You sputter for a second, before rushing to respond, "no," you gasp. "I- I don't expect you to- to be the same, Sofia, I don't." Your voice cracks a bit, and you pray that your eyes convey your earnesty. "I don't care that you- you don't feel like yourself, Sofia, if you feel different, now. I love you. I love you. I love you, Sofia," you insist, your voice soft.

Sofia regards you for a long minute, and you wait with abated breath to see how she'd react.

For a moment, you think she's heard you. Really heard, and believed you- believed in your unconditional love and devotion for her. There's a hopeful, but guarded look in her eye, something akin to a skittish street cat assessing if it should trust the hand reaching out to pet it. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it's gone.

Sofia's features go hard again, and she moves her face away, straightening her back and kneeling over you.

"You don't get it," she says- simply, quietly, almost as if to herself.

You part your lips to protest, but Sofia is quicker, and slaps her hand over your mouth. "Don't," she warns.

Sofia hates it. The way you don't even struggle under her; the way you just take it, like you understand what this means.

Why don't you get it? Do you really not understand what kind of horrors she was exposed to? What they did to her; what they turned her into?

It pisses her off.

How dare you, how dare you, prance back into her life, expecting her to be untouched by the hell that was Arkham?

Do you think she's naive? That she'd truly believe, after all this time, you'd still want her? Want her for who she actually is now?

You don't even fucking know her anymore.

Fuck.

It infuriates her for so many reasons that she refuses to acknowledge right now.

Instead, she let's herself embrace the unbridled rage that's always threatening to erupt inside her.

"Alright!" She exclaims, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across her face. "You love me?" She taunts. "You think you want me?"

She shoves herself off of you to pull her underwear down her legs. You're heart thuds as she slips off her fur coat and hikes up her dress. Sofia easily drops back down, straddling your face and gripping your hair with one hand. "Show me, then." With that, she lowers herself completely, smothering your face in her cunt.

Your primal instincts kick in, then, and you press forward, your tongue eagerly swiping through her folds.

Jesus fuck, you think somewhere in the back of your mind. Finally, finally, finally.

You hadn't realized how much you craved the taste of Sofia until this very moment. It feels like you're starving, like you haven't eaten in ten goddamn years, and Sofia is the first meal you've been granted.

Your ministrations are messy and desperate. You can hardly think straight, overwhelmed by the taste and scent and feel of Sofia. All you do is lick and suck and moan, embracing the pure bliss you feel. The rapidly decreasing supply of oxygen in your lungs is easy to ignore when you finally have the privilege of pleasuring Sofia again.

Sofia's eyebrows furrow. You won't struggle under her. You won't look up with panicked eyes, even as she deprives you of air, even as she suffocates you.

You don't get it.

Sofia narrows her eyes and her hips buck forward. It's almost violent, the way she fucks your face, riding harder and harder. She grunts softly, losing inhibition as she watches her slickness spread all over your face.

Still, you only whine as though you're the one being pleasured.

Why don't you fucking get it.

Sofia tightens her grip in your hair, pushing your face impossibly closer against her cunt as she feels her climax approaching. She's panting harshly through her noise, controlling the means threatening to spill out of her.

Just then, your eyes slugglishly blink open and lock with hers. It's clear that you're moments away from passing out, and Sofia can only stare down at the dazed look in your eyes.

Still, there's no fear there. There's nothing but adoration.

Your eyes roll back, and your eyelids flutter shut. Sofia's breath hitches as your body goes limp under her.

It's then that she cums, her body tensing and jerking. A ragged moan escapes her as she grinds and grinds against you, using your unconscious body to draw the waves of pleasure out.

Sofia slumps off of you, sitting by your side as she recovers from the exertion. She just sits for a while, until her breathing regulates, and she gathers the courage to look over at you.

You're still passed out, but the slight rise and fall of your chest tells Sofia you are, in fact, alive.

It doesn't do much to relieve Sofia- not when there's a sick, familiar feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

No.

Sofia squeezes her eyes shut.

This isn't supposed to matter.

This doesn't mean anything.

Sofia stands, and smooths out her dress. She can't afford to have regrets; to have... things that make her question herself.

That's not her anymore.

Sofia takes a deep breath.

She squares her shoulders, and doesn't spare you a second glance as she forces herself to leave the room.

[bam-bi-buck]

9-1-1 Lonestar SPOILERS

Aw Jonah and TK 🥺

Mama “I bet that car costs the same house in some places”

Owen and Enzo are this close to acting like school yard boys 🙄

Poor Judd trying to do business stuff and Owen going off

Owen offering to break bread and TK does not believe him but he’s still hopeful and then Owen turns to Judd and was like I’ll show TK and rub it in Enzo face

Weren’t you just it saying that TK and Gwyn fell for it when Enzo was manipulative???

Wyatt using his story to save her life 😭😭😭

Nancy with Tommy at the appointment 😭

Dang girl

My mama “dang she don’t mess around”

I like that Izzy seems comfortable with Nancy which implies that maybe Nancy (and hopefully TK) hang out with Tommy & the girls

Tommy that’s too much pressure

On yourself and Nancy

Mom got a kick out of Enzo knowing Owen’s rent

TK and Jonah having a contest 🥹

I love TK, he’s such a sweetheart, especially with kids

My Mama never watches the sneak peeks and as soon as they started talking about the arm wrestling contest and then TK was like let’s just let it go my mama goes I dont think they’re gonna let it go lol

Bleh 🤢

That’s a nasty break

$350, 000 car

My mama “DAMN we could buy condo for that”

Carlos really still wants to be on Owen’s good side lol

TK snapping at Owen 😭

To be fair though, Owen needed to hear that

Nancy trying to help get Tommy rest days 😭

And Tommy not wanting Nancy and TK to get stuck with an awful temp-boss 😭

Tommy snapping at Nancy 💔

Aaaahhh 😭😭😭

“Nancy WALK”

Mama “She is STUBBORN”

Did TK just appear? Did he run ahead of the others?

Aww for that guy and his future stepdaughter

Oooh god, I really thought we were gonna have another burst gut (911 last week)

And mom was like dang why is that getting popular because apparently it also happened on Chicago Med or Fire recently

I wonder the whys on that

TK’s party is really cute

I love Carlos calling TK out and bringing him on stage with his baseball song

Omgod TK bringing Enzo and Owen together

Them singing together 🥺

Oh gosh darn it

At the PARTY?

Booooo 😭

Also Owen reassuring TK that even if Enzo is bad for the things he’s done to others he’s still good for raising TK right and I think that’s really important for him to hear

Oooh, Carlos really wants to get him that car doesn’t he, lol

Owen and Carlos are so gonna come together to buy a RED mclaren next year lol

Also how many parties/get togethers has that been that’s been runined/tragic for them all now?

Tommy stop, please

You’re gonna hurt yourself

And that’s exactly what happened

Tommy!!!

Oh poor Izzy and Evie

They’re doing so well and Wyatt is coaching them so well 🥺

I’m not sure they know they’re talking to Wyatt so being told “my dads gonna meet you at the hospital” is probably really out of the blue lol

Tommy telling Judd to call Nancy 🥺

I’m sorry, this is so silly but why did she give Judd her purse? Is she not allowed to have it?

The girls being asleep on the hospital waiting chairs and Judd watching them

The Ryders and Vegas are an extended family unit fr

Tommy 😭

Nancy trying to reassure Tommy 😭

“You’re wise and patient, which is more than I can say for myself right now”

My mama “that’s for sure”

I love Tommy wanting Nancy being interim paramedic captain

Promo:

I know people have been calling it for a while but I really wasn’t expecting them to go down the adopting Jonah route

The ceiling is bleeding?

Soup man got shot?

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 34

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 33

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @bloodibambiidoll @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, alcohol use, mentions of smut, mentions of cheating, mentions of drug use, crying, arguing, jealousy, breakup

Word Count: 6.5k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 34: Twilight Zone

Saturday, September 23rd, 1989

"Hurry up, Eds! They're gonna be here in less than an hour! And we still have to get dressed!" You shout to Eddie as you both scramble to get your apartment tidied up before your guests arrive.

"I'm going as fast as I can, angel! I still don't get why we have to clean up the bedroom. It's not like we're having the party in there. Unless it's an extra fun kind of party you didn't tell me about." He jokes, picking up all his dirty clothes from the floor of the bedroom and tossing them in the laundry basket. He fixes the bedspread, putting it just the way you want it to be.

"They might take a peek out of curiosity, Eddie. And if they do, I don't want anyone to think we live like pigs!" You retort, wiping down the coffee table with some lemon Pledge. "Did you get the litter box already?" You call to him from down the hall.

"Yes, Y/N. For the millionth time, yes!" He groans, wiping his palms down his face. You're being particularly anal-retentive tonight, so eager to impress your friends with your new apartment. He'd find it cute if it wasn't so goddamn annoying.

"I'm sorry. I just want everything to be perfect. It's our first time having people over." You say as you get up off the floor and rush to the kitchen and empty the dishwasher. "Can you take the trash out, babe?" You ask, the last thing you need to do before getting dressed.

"You got it, sweetheart. But if this is how it's gonna be any time we have people over, I'm gonna avoid it like the fuckin' plague." He grumbles, pulling the very full bag out of the can to take it to the trash chute.

"We wouldn't be rushing if somebody hadn't kept us in bed all day." You sing-song, putting the blame on him.

"Says the woman who couldn't stop riding my face." Eddie scoffs, heading out the front door for a moment to take the garbage away. You sigh, waiting for him to come back so you can put an end to the bickering. Tonight is supposed to be fun, and relaxing. To spend time with your friends. You finish putting the dishes away, and hear him open the door again, much gentler this time. You smile when you recognize his slow steps, he's coming over to you to apologize. "I'm sorry, babydoll. I know you wanna be a good hostess." Eddie coos, pressing a kiss to your neck as his hands find your hips.

"I'm sorry, too. I don't need to be riding your ass so much. You've been really helpful." You sigh blissfully, more than happy to end this little tiff.

"Mmm, very true. You ride my ass enough as it is." He chuckles darkly, nipping on your throat.

"You know you love it, Eds." You reply, holding back a moan at his teeth worrying your skin into a light bruise. "We'd better get ready, baby. We don't have a lot of time." You say softly, your eyes fallen closed from his insatiable touch.

"I s'pose you're right. I'd hate for our friends to find you bent over this counter while I'm fucking you into next week." He gives you one last little bite, before pulling away entirely. He clears his throat, adjusting himself uncomfortably in his jeans.

"Naughty boy." You giggle impishly, heading down the hallway to change into a cute dress for tonight. Something black, and revealing. A garment that will drive Eddie wild all night, forcing him to keep his hands to himself until everybody leaves.

"You're wearing that?" Eddie asks, pointing at the silk, spaghetti strap dress you're holding on its hanger.

"Mhm. Just for you, baby." You tease, biting your lip.

"Ugh, you're killin' me already, sweetheart. Do you have any idea how hard it's gonna be to behave myself?" He groans, his pants growing tighter at the idea of your sinful body in that little number. The skirt barely goes past your ass, and the front shows off every ounce of cleavage imaginable.

"I’m highly aware of the challenge. I only hope you're up for it." You give him a cheeky wink, turning away to undress.

"What should I wear, princess?" Eddie asks, somewhat distracted by your jeans rolling down your legs, leaving your supple skin exposed.

"Uh, I dunno. A nicer shirt, and jeans with no holes in them at least." You answer, sensing his eyes on you. You take off your shirt, and switch out your current bra for a far more sexy one. You also remove your panties, neglecting to put on a fresh pair altogether. Eddie definitely takes notice while he exchanges his own clothes, smiling to himself with all the little ways he can tease you tonight.

"How do I look?" He asks as you turn around. He looks exactly as you were expecting, wearing a dark blue button-up with rolled sleeves and the top buttons left open to show off his chest a bit. You've seen him dressed this way so many times, but it never, ever gets old. He of course can't be bothered to wear nicer pants, but he at least listened about 'no holes'.

"You look good enough to eat, baby." You say lowly, walking over to him, your hands meeting his chest. You guide his back to the wall, unable to help yourself. You give him a hungry kiss, slipping your hand inside the opening of his shirt. Eddie hums against you, grabbing your ass as your tongues come out to play.

"So do you, sweetheart. You have no idea." He says with a smirk between kisses. He squeezes your rounds of flesh roughly, making you moan as arousal spreads through your bare folds. Eddie pulls away, the both of you left out of breath. "You'd better finish gettin' ready. I sense a group of freaks and weirdos quickly approaching." He jokes, giving your butt a light smack to dismiss you.

"Eddie Munson, showing some self-control. I'd better alert the press." You bully, leaving him to go do your makeup in the bathroom. You keep it light, mostly lipstick and eyeliner. Eddie insists that's all you ever need. He's such a sweetheart, always showering you with compliments. You'll never get over feeling so loved by him every second of the day.

"Keep crackin' the jokes, love. See how well that works out for you." He calls to you in warning, before following you. He sits across from you on the edge of the bathtub. He watches as you meticulously circle your eyes in thin black lines, and drag a cherry red lipstick across your mouth into a blowjob-worthy pout. Just when you set the stick down and give yourself a final once-over, you hear a knock on the door.

"Shit! They're here!" You run back to the bedroom, scrambling to put your heels on. "Get the door!" You command, and Eddie goes to greet your guests. You hear the voices of Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Chrissy as they step inside your home. You immediately feel giddy, pulling the back strap over your heel to get your other shoe on. You leave the bedroom, joining the party before they wonder where you are.

"Y/N! You look totally smokin'!" Robin exclaims, handing off the bags of chips she brought to Steve so she can give you a hug. She throws her arms around you, squeezing a little too tight.

"Hey, now. Don't be makin' moves on my woman." Eddie scolds playfully, waiting for his turn. "How are you, Rob?" He asks as they embrace.

"I'm doing great. I've actually started seeing someone." She says happily.

"And who's the lucky guy?" He asks, and the room falls quiet. "What?" He questions, confused. Everyone gives him awkward looks, clearly he's missed something.

"The lucky girl is named Vickie." Robin replies, almost flinching as she speaks. Everyone waits for his reaction, and he just smiles wide.

"Oh! Well, that's great! Can't wait to meet her." Eddie says a little too loud, growing red in the face.

"Sorry, I thought you knew." Robin sucks through her teeth.

"Nope. I really was kidding before. God, I'm a dumbass." He smacks his forehead, clearing his throat to force the feeling of idiocy away.

"Don't feel bad, Eddie. I didn't know right away, either. I spent almost an entire summer pining after her." Steve says, hoping to alleviate the tension in the room.

"And that was seriously painful to watch, Stevie." Robin says, taking the chips from him once again and bringing them to the kitchen.

"Alright, enough! Who needs a drink?" Nancy asks, rolling her eyes. Everyone answers in some form of 'yes', and she takes it upon herself to pour the girls some wine and get beers for the boys. You finish giving your hugs and take a seat. Robin, Nancy, and Chrissy sit on the couch, while Steve and Eddie take the armchairs, with you in Eddie's lap.

"I guess I'll be the first to congratulate you on your victory yesterday." Chrissy says, speaking up the first time this evening.

"Thank you, Chris. We're extremely relieved it went our way." Eddie replies for the both of you, squeezing you a little with his arms that rest around your waist.

"I wish I would've been there to see it. But I couldn't get off work." She says, somewhat sadly.

"It's okay, really. It's not like you were involved or anything. And you've got your own trial to worry about." You reassure her.

"Shit, I don't even want to think about that right now." She laughs dryly, taking a large gulp from her glass.

"No problem. We'll move on to somethin' else. How's JJ?" Eddie asks, changing the subject.

"He's doing great! He's been adjusting really well to us living with my aunt." Chrissy smiles, reminded of her pride and joy. She misses him every second she's away, but she appreciates having the chance to get out of the house on her own tonight.

"That's great. I'm glad you're both doing so well." You respond, taking a large sip of your wine.

"Thank you. This place looks great, by the way." She says kindly.

"Yeah, it really does. No offense, but I always took Munson for a slob." Steve chimes in.

"Believe me, Y/N won't stand for my messiness. She really cracked the whip to get me to help clean up before you guys came over." Eddie replies with a chuckle, pinching your side teasingly.

"Knowing Y/N, I doubt it was that bad to begin with." Nancy adds, giving you a reassuring nod. She knows full well how much the boys like to tease, even if they go a bit too far.

"What can I say? I can't stand clutter, it drives me crazy." You shrug, polishing off your first drink of the evening. "Anyone need a refill?" You ask, getting out of Eddie's lap to stand up.

"I'll take another beer, sweetheart." Eddie answers, chugging the rest of his half-drunk one and handing you the empty bottle as he swallows. He lets out a low belch, covering his mouth with his fist. "S'cuse me."

"Charming as always, Eds." You roll your eyes, taking the bottle and tossing it away in the kitchen trash. You get a fresh one from the fridge, and pour yourself another glass of dry red. You return to his lap a moment later, giving him his beer.

"Thank you, babydoll." Eddie coos, giving you a gentle kiss.

"So, Rob? What do we need to know about this mysterious 'Vickie'?" You ask, looking at her. You're very happy to hear that she's found somebody, you were becoming a little worried that she'd be subtly pining after you forever. It's flattering, sure. But one-sided crushes aren't exactly a pleasant experience. And more than anything, you wouldn't want any romantic feelings to get in the way of your friendship. Robin is a really amazing person in every way, and you hope to know her for the rest of your days.

"Well, she's a redhead. She keeps it real short, very Molly Ringwald. And she's got these beautiful eyes I could get lost in for hours. And she likes all the same movies I do, our first date was actually watching Dr. Zhivago in her apartment. She has great taste in everything, really. Food, music, fashion..." Robin speaks dreamily about Vickie, which makes your heart fill with happiness on her behalf. The way you can see her visualizing this girl as she describes her, eyes twinkling with pure admiration. It reminds you of the way you and Eddie feel about each other. Totally, completely, helplessly in love. Robin eventually stops talking, realizing she's gone on a rather impassioned rant. "Sorry, I'm talking too much." She blushes, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"No, you're not. Vickie sounds awesome, Robin. And I'm sure she'd happily talk her friends' ears off about you, too." You say with a laugh, and her expression brightens in response.

"I appreciate that, Y/N. I'll have to bring her along next time." Robin can't help beaming at that idea, bringing her first real girlfriend around to meet all of her friends. It sounds so perfect, so...normal. She doesn't really get a whole lot of that in this less-than-open-minded town.

"You'd better." You affirm. "What about you, Steve? Any luck in the dating pool?" You change the subject a little, noticing Steve has grown a little quiet now. You suppose his past crush on Robin, as well as her new relationship, has reminded him of his bad luck in love.

"Nah, not really. I've kinda tapped it out at this point." Steve says dryly, taking a swig of his beer.

"I'm sorry to hear that. You really are a great guy, Steve." You reply apologetically, recognizing that this may not have been the right route to take.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'The right girl is out there somewhere'." He mocks, rolling his eyes at the constant reassurance that he will find 'the one' someday. He's become less and less convinced that this is true, and watching the rest of you be so damn happy certainly isn't helping his case. Eddie Munson of all people can find a smokin' hot chick that's the love of his life, and Steve 'the King' Harrington can't? He may as well give up altogether.

"Don't be an ass, man. It may be annoying and cliche, but it's true. Maybe if you stopped tryin' so hard, it would happen for you." Eddie cuts in, speaking honestly. He feels for Steve's plight, truly, he does. Hell, he never thought he'd be so lucky to find a girl even half as amazing as you are. But before you came along, he went looking for affection in all the wrong places. It wasn't until he took a minute to step back and let shit fall where it may, that you happened to come crashing into his life. Well, more like he crashed into yours, if he's honest about it. Steve gives him a slight glare, but Eddie doesn't let up. "Look, all I'm sayin' is that I've been where you are. We all have." Eddie gestures around the room, and everyone nods in agreement. "You can't force true love or connection, Steve. You just have to let it happen."

"I know. I just..." Steve trails off, sighing as he doesn't want to say what he's really thinking. You'll all laugh and call him a weenie. He picks at the label on his beer, before flicking his eyes up to gaze around the room. And what he finds surprises him. You're all looking at him intently, with loving, supportive expressions on your faces. "I just want to get my life started so badly. I want a partner, a home, and lots of kids. It's all I've ever wanted." His breath catches, heat building behind his eyes. "I wanna build a family, to shower them with all this love I have inside of me. Because I never got that from my parents. Ever." His voice breaks, and he realizes that he's crying. Way to ruin the mood, dingus, he mentally scolds himself.

"Aw, Stevie. C'mere." Robin says, standing up to go to him. He meets her in the middle, and she captures him in a tight hug. "It'll happen, Steve. I promise. And you're gonna make a great husband, and a great dad. Whoever your spouse and kids turn out to be will be so lucky to have you." She says tearfully, wishing she could conjure up someone perfect for her best friend. It's too bad things don't work that way.

The rest of you stand up too, forming a warm group hug around Steve. He takes notice of the additional weight surrounding him, laughing through a sob. "Jesus, I'm sorry, guys. I'm being a total dork right now."

"No you're not, Steve. We love you, and we're here for you. That's what friends are for." Nancy says, resting her head on Steve's shoulder. He sighs happily at the contact, so grateful to have all of you as his friends. The six of you stay standing like this for a minute, radiating kindness and empathy.

"Okay, I think I'm good now." Steve dries his eyes, smiling wide. "Who's up for a game of Trivial Pursuit?"

Your huddle disperses at Steve's suggestion for a more cheerful activity, taking your places once more. Steve pulls out the game, and everyone picks their color to play. You spend the next hour or so answering various trivia questions and filling in the little plastic pie slices. The lot of you get rather competitive, though, on the edge of your seats as you try to get as many answers right as possible. There's lots of laughing, and shouting, and cheers of victory. It's all a very good time among friends, the energy in the room happy and comfortable. You've missed doing things like this with these wonderful people. The last thing you can remember that would even come close to this was karaoke at the Hideaway, which was months ago.

"Fuck, yes! I win!" Eddie surprises everyone by taking the win, forcing you off of his lap to do a goofy victory dance. He pulls you in for a celebratory kiss afterwards, very nearly sweeping you off your feet. This earns some rather lewd noises from the others, and you have to push him away to get it to stop.

"Looks like I need another refill." You say once the ruckus dies off, picking up your empty glass. Nancy and Robin follow behind to fill up their own glasses again, too.

"Hey, where's your bathroom?" Steve asks, getting up from his spot.

"Down the hall and to the left, Stevie. Don't get lost." You answer with a giggle, opening the fridge to get out the opened wine bottle. You fill up your glass, as well as Nancy's and Robin's. You make very light conversation, hearing Eddie get out of his chair to sit with Chrissy on the couch for a minute while you all take a break.

"I haven't had the chance to thank you, Eddie." Chrissy says on the other side of the wall.

"For what?" He replies.

"For saving my life." Chrissy clarifies.

"Oh, please. That was all Y/N." Eddie says humbly.

"But you helped. And before I left Jason, you were there for me when I needed you." She says sweetly, which makes you smile a little.

"I was selling you drugs, Chris. That's hardly 'being there' for someone." He snorts, undoubtedly rolling his eyes.

"We both know you did more than that. You listened to me, when no one else would." She insists.

You don't hear them say anything else for a moment, which feels odd. You expected to hear Eddie give some kind of response to that, he's not one to freeze up mid-conversation. Something doesn't feel right. You take your glass, ignoring whatever the hell Robin and Nancy have been talking about. Not that you were particularly paying attention to begin with. They give you an odd look, following your quick footsteps. You come around the corner, returning to the living room. And you find something you'd never expect to in a million years. You see Chrissy kissing your boyfriend, hands cupping his face, while his own hands sit frozen in his lap.

"What the fuck?" You gasp, your stomach dropping at the sight before you. Your wine glass falls from your hand, shattering on the floor and spilling a trail of dark red in the debris.

Eddie pushes Chrissy away, practically leaping off the couch to distance himself from her. His eyes meet yours, his mouth open in shock. "Y/N, it's not what it looks like." He puts a defensive hand up, hoping you'll let him explain.

"And what does it look like, Eds?" You snip, crossing your arms. "Because to me, it looks like you're kissing someone who isn't your girlfriend!" You say angrily, giving Chrissy a sour look.

"I-I didn't! She kissed me!" Eddie splutters, gesturing at the blushing woman still sitting on your sofa.

"And why would she do that, Eddie? Are you sleeping with her?" You retort, growing angrier by the second. You were all having such a nice night, and it's quickly turned into a nightmare.

"What?! No! Jesus, Y/N! When would I even have time to do that?" He asks, making you scoff.

"Dude, that is not the way to answer that." Steve interjects, coming back down the hall from his bathroom break. He's heard everything else so far, you aren't exactly keeping things quiet.

"Seriously." You add, shaking your head. "But you didn't answer my question. Are you sleeping with her?" You ask again, stepping closer to Eddie. Your body is coursing with adrenaline, and you're trying not to break down crying right now. Your stomach is doing flips, and you really hope this night doesn't end the way you think it will.

"No, Y/N. I swear to you, I am not cheating on you. Not with Chrissy, not with anyone." Eddie explains as calmly as he can, though on the inside he feels like the world is falling apart. The fury in your eyes, your trembling body, he senses a blow-out on the horizon.

"Alright. Fine." You say flatly, turning away from him to face Chrissy again. "Why did you kiss my boyfriend?" You ask her viciously. She raises her bowed head, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Have you slept with Eddie before, Chrissy?" She doesn't even have to say anything, her shifting eyes and continued tears tell you everything you need to know. "Fuck's sake." You chuckle angrily, turning away from the entire party and storming down the hallway. You don't even know what you're doing, you're just following your bodily instincts. You go to your closet, finding a small suitcase. You yank it out and plop it on the bed. You hear footsteps approaching, four sets of them. You ignore them, far too upset to do anything besides pack your things and get the fuck out of here.

"Y/N, what the hell are you doing?" Eddie asks fearfully once he and the others enter the room.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" You shoot back, still avoiding his gaze.

"Y/N, please, just let me explain." He says, stepping forward to put his hand on your arm.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You shriek, yanking your arm away and pointing an accusing finger at him. "Tell me the truth. All of it." You jab at his chest.

"Alright, alright. Can you just stop for a minute?" Eddie pleads, holding back tears as he fears losing you. He looks to the others gathered in the doorway. "You mind giving us some privacy?" He asks rudely, shooing everyone else away. They scurry back down the hall, leaving you and Eddie alone. He goes to shut the bedroom door, and turns to you again. "Can you sit with me? Please?" He sits on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to join him. You do, but you sit as far away on the other side as you possibly can. You're still boiling with rage, shaking terribly as you begin to feel a bit sick.

"Go on." You say with an expectant glare, crossing your arms even tighter.

"Alright." Eddie sighs. "Chrissy and I hooked up once back in high school when she and Jason had been broken up for about a week. We were drunk, and at a party. But a little bit later, she got back with him and she ended up pregnant." He explains, and your eyes widen.

"Is JJ yours?" You blurt, and his face scrunches.

"What! Fuck no! I had enough sense to wear a fucking condom, Y/N." He rolls his eyes at your accusation.

"Okay, fine. So, you hooked up in high school. Why would she have any reason to kiss you now, three years after the fact?" You're not buying for a single second that they've only had sex once. Women don't kiss guys they had a one-night stand with like that. They do that due to something more, when they think there's still something left. "Did you sleep with her after she was married? Before we got together?" You question, regretting every word as it slips from your pursed lips. You don't want it to be true. But why else would Chrissy deem it at all appropriate to kiss your fucking boyfriend?

"Sweetheart, I一" He starts, trying to come up with an excuse, some kind of explanation that doesn't mean that he's lied to you. But he can't. He shakes his head, looking away in shame.

"Eddie. Please...tell me you didn't." You say tearfully, your lip beginning to tremble as your worst fear about this whole situation comes to fruition.

"I'm sorry. I can't." Eddie practically whispers, his voice laced with sorrow and guilt. You get off the bed again, resuming your task of packing your shit while burning tears fall from your eyes. "Baby, please. Don't do this." He begs, unsure what to do or say to convince you to stay. He knows he's so unbelievably in the wrong here, but he can't lose you.

"Why did you lie to me?" You sob, stuffing some of your shirts into the suitcase. You go for some pants next, your vision blurry and distorted. "You promised me you'd never do that." You slam the dresser drawer shut after retrieving a couple pairs of jeans. Eddie flinches at the sound. You can't stop picturing them together. Eddie's lips on hers, or between her legs, making her cum on his face. His hands all over her body, his voice moaning her name instead of yours. The two of them going at it on that damned kitchen table, or in her fucking bed, while JJ sleeps in the other room. The images make you want to vomit, or punch a hole in the wall.

"I really didn't mean to, princess. When I started dealing to Chrissy, we were both lonely people. It just...happened. We made a mistake, but we put an end to it. I'm not proud of it, Y/N. I didn't want to think about it anymore." Eddie says, his own tears falling in warm drips onto his jeans. He doesn't stand up to stop you, or beg and plead with you to forgive him.

"But you went out of your way to tell me nothing went on between you two! You lied to me! You claimed you couldn't go to the police to help her! But you were more than capable of sticking your dick in her!" You can't help shouting at him, frantically stuffing underwear and socks on top of everything else in the suitcase. You put your uniform in last, closing the main compartment. You'll retrieve your toiletries on the way out and shove them in the front pocket. You have one last thing to ask him, something that's been gnawing at you for a good few minutes. You pull your luggage down to the floor, rolling it along so you can stand before Eddie again. He meets your eyes, his own red and watery. "Do you have feelings for her?" You ask coldly.

"I did, for a little while. But not anymore. I only care about you, Y/N." He says honestly, taking your free hand in his. You pull it away, making him break down entirely. "Y/N, please! I'm sorry! I don't want to lose you!" He cries, slipping off the bed and falling to his knees. Your heart breaks at seeing him so distraught. But you can't let this go so easily. He lied about something pretty fucking important, he could be lying about anything else. Anyone else. You have to be alone to think this over, to decide if this is enough to destroy the foundation of your relationship.

"I just need some time, Eddie. Regardless of how awful Jason is, you slept with a married woman. Multiple times. And then you lied to me about it at the start of our relationship, and continued to keep the truth from me. I have to figure out if I can really trust you, because right now...I don't." You explain through your gut-wrenching sobs. You're not even all that angry anymore. You're sad, heartbroken, and betrayed. You can't even look at him right now without seeing all the things you imagine he did with Chrissy. Distance is what you need. To think things over rationally, without Eddie whispering sweet nothings in your ear to convince you to forgive and forget.

You turn away from him, going for the door. You open it, causing the others to fall into the room as they've been eavesdropping. Except Chrissy. You're guessing she had the good sense to get to hell out of dodge, before you dragged her by the hair to throw her out. You sigh loudly at their pained expressions, rolling your eyes at their nosiness. You don't say anything to any of them, stepping over their entangled bodies to get your toothbrush and shampoo from the bathroom.

"Do you need a ride home, Y/N?" Steve asks, groaning as Robin's foot is lodged against his shin.

"Yes. Please." You whimper, failing miserably to keep any semblance of control over yourself. You shove all the toiletries your frazzled mind can remember into the little pocket, only managing to zip it halfway closed. You go back to the hall, giving Eddie one last glance before you leave. You reach up to the back of your neck, removing the guitar pick necklace he made for you. You toss it back over to him, and he regretfully catches it in his hand. "Don't forget to feed Arwen." You say with total finality. He nods, not saying anything else. Not a damn word out of his mouth could convince you to take back your decision, so it's no use to open his mouth at all. He just continues sobbing on the floor, wondering how the hell he's going to survive a single day without you.

Robin, Nancy, and Steve manage to get themselves up off the floor. They say their awkward goodbyes to an inconsolable Eddie, and walk with you out of the apartment. Robin grabs your purse and textbooks on the way out, and helps you load everything up into Steve's trunk once you make it outside.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I hope you two can work this out." Robin says, giving you a heartfelt hug.

"Do you want us to stay with you tonight? So you don't have to be alone?" Nancy offers, not wanting to let you stew all by yourself right now. Break-ups call for girlfriends staying over and lots of ice cream. At least, they do for her.

"No. I just want to go home. Maybe another time." You force a small smile for her kind idea, though it falls away to let another flood of tears come crashing down your cheeks.

"That's alright. Don't hesitate to call us, okay? We're always here for you." She says, giving you a hug of her own.

"Thanks. I'll see you later." You pull away from her, going with Steve now who has the car running. You get into the passenger seat, collapsing into your own lap as he pulls out of the parking lot. Steve does his best to console you as he drives, but it's no use. Part of you feels like you've made a horrible mistake, that you should beg him to turn around and take you back to Eddie. But the other part feels like there's no coming back from this. That it's all ruined, that it's over. You're completely spiraling. You're tipsy and exhausted from entertaining guests all night, and then finding out this terrible, awful thing. You just need to get home. And you need your mom.

Steve pulls into the driveway in front of your house, leaving the engine running as he doesn't expect to stay long. You get out of the car, going to the trunk to gather your things. Steve helps you out, and you hear the front door open. Mom comes outside, wondering what you're doing here so late.

"Sugarpuff? What's going on?" She asks with sleepy concern. You look at her, still quietly sobbing. She sees your splotchy face, eyeliner forming thick lines all over. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Mom一" You only manage to squeak out this one word, before falling apart all over again. She rushes over to you, capturing you in her arms. You wrap yourself around her so tight, crying so hard you could throw up.

"Shhh, it's okay. It's okay." She coos, stroking your hair as you wail into her shoulder. "Let's get you inside, alright? I'll make you some tea, and you can tell me what happened." She says sweetly, pulling back from your embrace and taking your hand. Steve brings your belongings in for you, and Mom thanks him and tells him goodnight. She sits you down on the couch, and goes to the kitchen to make some tea to help you calm down. "Okay, here you go. Now, tell mama what's wrong." She says as she hands you your tea, taking a seat right next to you.

"O-okay." You stutter, almost gasping for air from all your sobbing. You proceed to tell her everything that happened tonight. Chrissy kissing Eddie, finding out about their past relationship, packing up and leaving, giving his necklace back. She calmly listens to you speak, but she can't help getting a little angry on your behalf on the inside. She'll ream that little fucker for lying to you, for hurting you. No one messes with her baby girl, not even the man she loves.

"I'm so sorry, sugarpuff. Do you know what you're gonna do?" She asks, putting her hand over yours.

"I don't know. I love him, Mom. I really do. I think I just have to sleep on it...for a while. I don't want to give up on us. But I'm worried that I can't trust him now." You sigh, wishing you could solve this right now. But your mind and body have other ideas. Your eyelids are drooping as you sit here, and you feel so heavy, like you're made out of bricks.

"I understand, and I think it's a good idea to think it over. You can stay here as long as you need to, okay? And whatever you decide to do, I'll always support you, sweetie." Mom replies.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you." You give her another hug, much shorter and gentler this time. "I'd better let you get to bed. I'm sorry for waking you." You add as you pull away.

"Oh, no hour is too late for my babies when they need me." She chuckles. "I think you could benefit from some rest, too, kiddo." She cups your cheek, once again noting the obvious evidence of exhaustion on your face.

"I know. I'll try my best." You give her a small smile, standing up with her to head to bed. You walk down the hall, turning to her before entering your old bedroom. "Goodnight, Mom." You say, fighting back a yawn.

"Goodnight, sugarpuff. I love you." She replies. She goes into her own room, closing the door behind her. You do the same, finding your old bed waiting for you. The blankets and pillows are arranged nice and neat, the bedding pink and juvenile. But all it reminds you of is the times you and Eddie shared in it.

Your first night, after you sat in on one of Hellfire's campaigns, the two of you turning each other on under everybody's noses. On your birthday, when he gave you the little book of sex positions he'd made. After your father's funeral, when he got you high and snuggled with you for what felt like hours. And countless, unforgettable others. So many memories made in one room, all of which have come back to haunt you now.

You can hear Eddie's infectious laugh mingling with your own as he tickles you on the floor. You can smell his cigarettes and cheap cologne wafting past your nose. You can taste your own arousal transferred from his mouth to yours in a hungry, post-oral kiss. You can feel his large hands caressing your body to admire every last inch of you, the rings on his fingers shocking you with a welcome cold. And all of these only break your heart even more.

"Fuck." You mutter, sensing another bout of uncontrollable sadness coming on. But at least you can be alone, in your own bed, and not have to answer any more questions. For tonight, at least, you get the solitude you've found yourself craving for the last hour. You step out of your heels, just now noticing how much your feet have been killing you all night. You slip off your dress, and toss it and the bra you had on underneath in the corner. You don't bother to put any other clothes on, it's not like you've never slept alone in the nude before.

You crawl under the covers, realizing just how cold this bed is now. Without Eddie, without his warmth and cuddles and kisses. You don't even have Arwen to keep you company, you left her at the apartment. But you know Eddie will take good care of her. You force the oncoming memory of you two cuddling the cat away from your mind. You can't keep reminiscing over your entire relationship right now. It's not over yet. At least, you sure as shit hope it won't be. But that's not to be decided tonight, perhaps not for a good while.

To be continued...

[thbcway]

songs that gives hualian vibes + lyrics 2

Eric Chou - Me And You

I like it when it's just me and you

I think by now you know it too

Not sorry if we ditch the crew

Just hope you feel the same way too

About me and you

There's not a thing that I wouldn't do

Ooh right now just to be here with you

I like you here in my arms

I like you here in my arms, ooh

Eric Chou - Something About You

And if you do just tell me you do

'Cause I can't live a day without you

There's something about you, I am addicted

There are some days we will be blue

But I will always love you

George Washington - Just The Two Of Us

I hear the crystal raindrops fall

On the window down the hall

And it becomes the morning dew

And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you

Maggie Rogers - Love You For A Long Time

And in the mornin' when you wrap me up

I know that forever could never be enough

I feel it in my body, know it in my mind, oh, I

I'm gonna love you for a long time

I'm gonna love you for a long time

I'm gonna love you for a long time

Mitski - Heaven

Hear the storm dances outside

Something set free is running through the night

And the dark awaits us all around the corner

But here in our place, we have for the day

Can we stay a while and listen for heaven?

Heaven

Elvis Presley - Can't Help Falling in Love

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

The Neighbourhood - Heaven

I would die for your heaven

I could lie here forever

Every night we're together

If you'd like, I'll do whatever

Sydney Rose - Turning Page

I've waited a hundred years

And I'd wait a million more for you

Nothing prepared me for

What the privilege of being yours would do

If I had only felt the warmth within your touch

If I had only seen how you smile when you blush

Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough

Well, I would have known what I've been living for all along

What I've been living for

Your love is my turning page

Where only the sweetest words remain

Every kiss is a cursive line

Every touch is a redefining phrase

----

Part 1

https://www.tumblr.com/thbcway/761146403324133376/well-then-i-recommend-you-to-listen-to-the-other?source=share

[iheartgirlalmighty]

the priest thinks it’s the devil 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 my mom thinks it’s the flu 🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈 but GIRL 🤨🤨🤨 it’s only you ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[cent-scratchnsniff]

here together

[pardonmydelays]

ok, so i just listened to "loom" by imagine dragons, and i'm sorry but i only like three and a half song

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

fire and the thud came on my spotify shuffle while me and my sister were listening to music this afternoon, and at the end of it she turns to me and goes “who was that? the lyrics sound like the kind of thing you’d write” and honestly i think it’s one of my favourite unintentional compliments i’ve ever received

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[woosh-floosh]

"Which is worse? This mediocre pop song or that mediocre pop song?" BOTH WRONG its the versus theme from Sonic Eraser

[koka-mi]

I wish my sister would stop making fun of my music taste :[

"your music taste is so basic"

"this song sucks/this is boring"

"ofc you would like this song"(/neg)

"why do you like *genre/general songs* they're not even good"

"hmm I think this is one of *music artist*'s more weaker songs"

"turn this trash off oh my god I'm tired of it"

GIRL. just let me listen to songs I like in peace. I don't talk about your music taste!! I never judge you for what you listen to and I never tell you your music taste is bad. So why do you keep treating my music taste as inferior??

It's just.frustrating. It's gotten to the point where I don't wanna listen to songs I like near her anymore. Anytime I hear her coming upstairs or I feel like she's going to come in the room, I immediately stop the music I'm listening to because I know once she hears it she'll start saying a buncha negative stuff about it. LIKE BESTIE. IT'S NOT THAT DEEP IT'S A THREE MINUTE SOUNDWAVE. JUST LET ME ENJOY IT :(

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i could draw anything but i decided to draw this. carlo and rocco in 1932 aka my headache

[thegetdownrebooter]

t*yl*r sw*ft getting dragged every 5 business days... i used to pray for times like these.

[bluewinnerangel]

top 9 albums you listened to this year? totally random question 🤪

Unlike last year I did listen to a lot of new music this year so 2022 albums this time weee it was even hard to pick a top 9 but in order of release (probably):

Nilüfer Yanya - PAINLESS

ROSALÍA - MOTOMAMI

Kendrick Lamar - Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers

Harry Styles - Harry's House

Steve Lacy - Gemini Rights

Joost - Fryslân

The Snuts - Burn The Empire

Louis Tomlinson - Faith In The Future

Little Simz - NO THANK YOU

ramble in the tags