#easy like sunday morning universe

[superblysubpar]

Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again. 

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good. 

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation. 

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you. 

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks. 

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower. 

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake. 

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love. 

But this one, this one takes the cake every time. 

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay. 

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down. 

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you. 

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat. 

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does. 

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road. 

He’s always amazed when you do that. 

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately. 

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you. 

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you. 

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it. 

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos. 

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently. 

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.  

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep. 

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow. 

The next day though, something inside of you snapped. 

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway. 

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right. 

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!” 

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention. 

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer. 

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass. 

He didn’t. 

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple. 

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table. 

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers. 

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.” 

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop. 

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other. 

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door. 

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick. 

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed. 

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again. 

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.” 

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep. 

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed. 

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck. 

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited. 

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep. 

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate. 

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious. 

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now. 

All week? Why hadn’t you told him? 

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer. 

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.  

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink. 

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour. 

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house. 

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar. 

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything? 

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up. 

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you. 

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob. 

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled. 

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened? 

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months. 

Maybe it had been. 

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours. 

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t. 

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.  

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently. 

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose. 

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that. 

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined. 

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same. 

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it. 

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day. 

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do. 

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit. 

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her. 

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” 

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you. 

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later. 

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him. 

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway. 

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could. 

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler. 

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals. 

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school. 

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised. 

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you. 

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler. 

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities. 

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned. 

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation. 

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed. 

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word. 

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?” 

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human. 

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next. 

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle. 

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door. 

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face. 

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you. 

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting. 

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word. 

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old. 

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards. 

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently. 

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you. 

“You don’t, huh?” 

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks. 

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded. 

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at. 

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again. 

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs. 

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right. 

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all. 

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer. 

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed. 

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you. 

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise. 

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged. 

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did. 

“Oh my god!” 

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling. 

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards. 

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it. 

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke. 

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly. 

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her. 

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie. 

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet. 

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets. 

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned. 

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt. 

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console. 

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you. 

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders. 

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”. 

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time. 

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed. 

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced. 

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again. 

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level. 

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face. 

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed. 

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again. 

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

[theemporium]

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends! .

Max Verstappen wasn’t really good when it came to words. He never had been. 

When Max was told to express his emotions—any of them—it was like a part of his brain switched off and everything became more difficult. It was hard for his brain to wrap around his thoughts, process them and vocalise them. It was difficult for him to say the words that flowed so easily for other people.

When his dad was yelling at him, the fear locked him down before he could even utter a word. When he was happy, the adrenaline made it easy to act instead of thinking. When he was scared or excited or angry, it never mattered. Max Verstappen just couldn’t seem to voice any of the feelings rushing through him. 

And that was the case of love—the most overwhelming and suffocating emotion of them all—Max could barely keep his head on right. 

As cheesy and cliche as it sounded, Max didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met you. He didn’t realise it was love, not really, but he knew that the tightening feeling in his chest and surprisingly pleasant twist in his stomach only urged him to close the distance between you and introduce himself. And he was right. It was love. It was so much more than love, even if it took him a few months to realise it. 

There was never a doubt in your mind that Max loved you, but he just didn’t show it the same as others did. 

You first experienced Max’s love around two months into the relationship. 

Timing for a relationship—romantic or not—was never an easy thing in the world of Formula One. Ironically enough, Max thought the universe was on his side when he met you during the summer break. It was four weeks of bliss. Four weeks of pushing every racing thought away from his brain—something that once seemed impossible—and just focusing on you. 

Even as the season returned, the few weekends away didn’t seem like such a big deal when the two of you were giddy and happy and buzzing to explore this new, bubbling connection. 

But then a triple header came around and Max, for the first time in his life, was annoyed by his job. 

He didn’t like being away from you. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t just drag you along with him, from country to country like the greedy man he wanted to be. He didn’t like that he was so wrapped up with training and racing and resting that the communication between you two was already getting difficult and you hadn’t even left the honeymoon phase.

It was odd to be so happy for the triple header to end, to cross that line on Sunday and know he had at least two weeks before he had to leave you again. It felt odd that he had found something that he adored as much as racing outside of his job. 

Except, despite feeling every single word he thought, he never said it to you.

Instead, he had wandered into your apartment after stopping by his own and simply grinned at you when you opened the door, a brown paper bag in hand as he said, “I’ve got something for you.”

It was a magnet. In fact, it was three magnets, each from the country he visited. 

And maybe to others, it wasn’t much. And maybe to others, it was a little tacky. But to you, it was everything and more. It told you that even when he was away, even when he was working, even when he had a million things on his mind, Max still thought of you. 

It was a reoccurring tradition that continued throughout your relationship. 

At the most random times on the most random days, Max would hand you a brown paper bag that held some stupidly adorable and sentimental gift that made your heart explode. He bought you other gifts, big and extravagant and expensive ones that made your head spin a little, but the ones that came in a brown paper bag were your favourite.

They were thoughtful and heartwarming and they decorated your apartment like little reminders of the man you loved. 

So, three years into your relationship with Max, it was no surprise when you found him in the kitchen one morning, two plates of french toast and a brown paper bag lying by the counter. 

“Hm, forgot to give me it last night?” You teased as you slid into a stool, grinning at him as he passed you a mug—coffee made just how you liked it—before he slid into the stool next to you.

“I was distracted,” Max retorted with a matching grin on his face as he leaned down to peck your lips. “Can’t blame me.”

“I can forgive you this once, I guess,” you said, sighing a little dramatically as you did just because hearing Max laugh was one of your favourite sounds. “Especially if it is one of those cute figurines you sent me pictures of.” 

“I think you’ll like it all the same,” Max said, and maybe if you were a little more awake you would have noticed the hint of nervousness in his voice as he reached over for the bag and slid it towards you. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” you assured the boy, because you always did. Because whatever it was, it meant he was thinking of you—of your reaction—when he bought it and that was more than enough. 

You didn’t comment on his sudden silence as you took the bag, reaching inside to feel a small box between your fingers. You looked up at him with an unsuspecting smile, not even fully realising what sat in your palm when you opened the box until your eyes flickered down and you froze. 

Because it wasn’t the figurine. It wasn’t another pair of earrings he saw at a local market. It wasn’t a funny crystal that he swore was meant to bring good fortune. It wasn’t a magnet. 

No, because the gift inside of the brown paper bag—the gift that was currently sitting in the palm of your hand—was a ring box. 

A ring box with the most perfect fucking ring staring back at you. 

“Max?” His name barely a whisper because that was all you could manage, that was all you were able to get out as you turned to look at him. Your vision was starting to blur with tears but so were his. And fuck, his blurry, smiling face was the prettiest sight you had ever fucking seen. 

“Marry me?” He asked, because he was Max. He was your Max. He didn’t do big speeches or love confessions. He didn’t do over the top celebrations or huge parties when it came to the things that mattered, the intimate moments that didn’t require an audience. 

He didn’t need anything more than a brown paper bag, a question and you. 

“I am gonna marry the shit out of you,” you managed to mutter out before you launched yourself at him, practically climbing onto his lap as he laughed and hugged you close and didn’t let go until your coffee was cold and the tears were gone and there was a pretty fucking ring on your finger. 

Max Verstappen wasn’t good with words, but he had other ways of showing he loved you and there was no doubt in your head that he did.

.

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

[pupkashi]

gojo satoru masterlist !

* fluff ^ angst

— all for my angel boy <3

main masterlist

* boyfriend!gojo hcs

* rainy evenings

in which gojo gets himself caught in the rain

* christmas cuddles

gojo finds his place in the universe

* arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

* flowers

gojo is a self-certified flower enthusiast

* periods

gojo is an angel on earth when you get your period

* sugar rush ride

gojo loves sugar, and you’re too sweet to resist

* priorities

gojo has his priorities straight: you’ll always be the most important

* rough day

gojo will always cheer you up after a rough day

* mornings

satoru loves mornings with you

* egg hunting

gojo’s never been easter egg hunting, you decide it’s time for the famous bunny to pay him a visit

* sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

* grocery shopping headcanons

*^ jealousy, jealousy

the worst part of dating gojo? how often he gets hit on

* movie night

satoru gojo has developed a new weakness: romcoms

* migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

* picnics

in which mother nature decides picnics are no good without a little rain

* after like

you and satoru say the L word

* my you

gojo learns he loves stargazing

* titles

in which gojo realizes you truly see him

* going to an observatory

* costume parties

* a scenic drive with him

* time

gojo will always make sure you’re taken care of

*^ hugs

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

* sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

* clean linen

gojo’s second favorite smell is your laundry detergent

* untitled

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

* azul

when you think of love, you think of the color blue

* oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

* pretty boy

gojo has to let you know how much you mean to him

* sick

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

* scrapbooks

satoru isn’t a sentimental person, until he is

*^ nightmares

satoru has nightmares, but also long as you’re by his side he knows he’ll be okay

* easy

loving is easy when it’s gojo satoru

*^ scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

*^ arguments

arguments are never nice, but at least they help you grow

* birthmarks

even in his past lives, satoru was always loved

* pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from ever trying again

* mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new Christmas tradition

* new year, new superstition

whoever said wearing red on new years brought love was onto something

* kisses

satoru always makes sure your lips are well kissed

* volví a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

* f1 racer!satoru hc’s

* to love is to linger

* cereal, soup and other deep questions

* “what do you think you’d be doing if we never met?”

* “you’re bleeding!” “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

* “i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!”

* “you’re my everything”

* "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

* going to the fair hcs

* collegebf!satoru

* study buddy!satoru

* birthday special <3

* satoru loves yapping [to you]

* drabble #1

* drabble #2

* drabble #3

* drabble #4

* drabble #5

* drabble #6

* drabble #7

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* drabble #31

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* drabble #44

[nariism]

the voice in my heart — i. sae

forced proximity + "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

synopsis. itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice. kinda.

wc. ~600

— for @saetoshi / @yoisagi my love 💗 | event masterlist ✉️

you didn't think it was possible, but somehow itoshi sae gets infinitely more irritable when he's cold.

he scowls more, hands permanently stuffed into his pockets, and sulks like there's no tomorrow. and he shivers, too. an embarrassing amount. (his pride is always severely injured when you ask him if he wants your help to warm up).

your grouchy roommate always found something to complain about when the weather dipped. whether it be the fact that his heater was always running, or that he has to scrape the ice off his windshield every morning, sae has never been able to see the beauty of winter.

"beauty?" he scoffed when you pointed that fact out one day. you were at the kitchen table and he was on the couch waking up from his midday nap—a typical sunday afternoon that he had long since added to his routine. "yeah, i'd rather admire it from inside. thanks."

"come on, don't be so pessimistic," you scolded, sauntering over to him to shove a pillow into his face. he knocked it away with a frown.

"i'm not pessimistic. just realistic. being cold sucks."

and that should have been the end of it. after that, you had stopped bothering him and purposefully trying to tease him with snide little comments about his disdain for the cold.

well. the universe has always had a funny way of fucking with him.

it's the coldest night of the season thus far. the snow storm raging outside has knocked out the power for the entire building and now the two of you are stuck pressed together under the warmth of your combined blankets.

"quit squirming around or i'll kick you out of my bed."

you make an undignified noise. "you wouldn't."

"i will if you don't stop that and go to sleep. i have to be up early tomorrow."

"this was your idea in the first place!"

sae had been the one to text you, after all. he hadn't even asked nicely, only sending you the word HELP in all capital letters as if he were going into cardiac arrest. you had rushed in to see what was wrong only to get dragged into his bed.

his greed for warmth was nothing new to you, of course, but he was careful to be gentle with you. to make sure he wasn't crushing you or making you uncomfortable. it was his way of being nice and somewhat apologetic that you were being treated as some sort of personal heater.

"i hate you," you tell him when he unceremoniously throws his leg over your entire body to keep you still.

"yeah, whatever. sleep before i kick you out."

"you're the one who asked me to share our blankets," you remind him again.

there's a long silence that follows that statement. it's so quiet that you assume he just ignored you and went to sleep without replying. but then he rolls over until his back is to you and he utters out, strained: "we don't speak of this, ever."

you raise a brow, shifting to face his back. "oh? are you embarrassed that i had to keep you warm?"

"i'm not embarrassed," he quickly corrects, even with the waver of his normally dead voice.

you reach around him, back of your hand resting on his cheek. you feel him tense up beside you in bed and you can't help but burst out laughing.

"your whole face is warm."

he groans, pulling the blankets closer to his side and up over his head so you can't observe him any closer. he's worried that if you did, you might have noticed how incredibly red he was growing. something so out of character would absolutely garner a new game for you and he would never hear the end of it.

for someone with an attitude problem about everything, he was surprisingly easy to shut down. maybe it was just you who had that talent, though.

itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice—

"i know you're trying to hide from me! if you just wanted to be held i'd be happy to help."

—kinda.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[lemoncrushh]

MASTERLIST

>> Learn a little about me and my writing here <<

>> Check out all my old fics on Wattpad (2015-2022) <<

*** REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN! ***

What Happens In Vegas... Your Vegas trip to celebrate your friend’s birthday turns into a night you hadn’t expected when you meet Harry Styles in the casino.

Easy Like Sunday Morning It's your last day with Harry before he leaves.

Connect Not wanting to lose their connection, Lily takes a surprise trip to see Harry.

Comfort Food Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Her Album Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it. [in Harry's POV]

Ruin the Friendship It’s Ella’s birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

You and I Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Rain Rain Lexie is on her way to visit her sister, and she’s taking Harry on the road trip with her, planning to drop him off at his friend’s house for a wedding. But the weather has other plans.

That Sunday, That Summer Kelly’s roommate Bianca talks her into participating in a celebrity charity scavenger hunt that Harry Styles surprisingly attends.

Friends Don't Harry and Gabriella have been good friends for a few years. But neither of them knows the feelings the other has.

Dressing For Revenge // Part 2 Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him.

Kiss Me Deadly The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?

Through the Wall Harry is your handsome neighbour, and you keep hearing him through the wall.

bad idea harry styles is back from uni and he looks better than you remember. problem is, he's your ex's brother.

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored part 2 of bad idea - after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

Seven Six Five They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again. (Real Harry x Plus Size OC, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

Tattooed Heart You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion. (Tattoo artist!harry x waitress y/n, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

The Entertainer Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar. [10 parts]

The Entertainer II * Currently Ongoing * What if it wasn’t the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky’s story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

Wild Horses * Currently Ongoing* Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

Ko-fi (if you're feeling generous and would like to support me)

Inbox (for requests, feedback or general chat)

divider credit

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 3: Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together?

You and Joel come up with a plan. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 2, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Some mild diet talk, no explicit mention of reader's weight or size (beyond she is smaller than Joel but my Joels are all giant, OK? Joel is like 6'5" Joel is a big big man, big big man). Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Sir, I can’t just… Well, I understand that you say that but…” 

Amanda, the sophomore girl who worked the front desk of the English department offices, frowned, phone clutched against her head. 

“I understand that,” she said again. “But she’s a special case, Professor…” She flinched and glanced up to see you coming in, looking relieved. “Sir? Give me just one second and I can check…” She pressed the hold button and lowered the receiver. “Professor, I am so so sorry, I know we’re not supposed to send unexpected calls or emails through to you but do you know a Joel Miller? He’s insisting he’s a friend of yours and…” 

You raised your eyebrows before answering. 

“Yeah, I know Joel. Go ahead and transfer him back to my office. And if he ever gives you a hard time again, tell him to fuck off.” 

Amanda looked relieved and took Joel off hold as you went to the end of the hall and unlocked your door. You didn’t have to share an office like a few other people in your department. One of the perks, you imagined, of being a big name that got the university some attention. But you hadn’t done much with the space yet, the only thing on the wall a framed poster that the dean had waiting for you when you started there. 

Your phone rang just as you set down your bag and you picked it up, tucking it against your shoulder. 

“Yes, what do you want, I’m busy being very famous and important,” you said with a slight English accent. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize best selling authors were such a hot commodity,” Joel said. “Should I make an appointment?” 

“Probably,” you replied. He snorted. “What’s up?” 

“Did you know that you tried to put your number in my phone the other night?” Joel asked. “Note that I say ‘tried’ because what you actually did was put something in my notes that has four numbers and then seven symbols which, if you’re counting, ain’t even the right number of digits.” 

You scoffed. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t change your passcode or set an alarm for 4:30 in the morning,” you said. “Sounds like you got off easy.” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“I know,” you said, smiling a little to yourself. “So why were you looking for my number on a Monday morning?” 

“Because I was looking for your number on a Sunday morning and ended up shit outta luck,” he replied. “Figured I could catch you at work. They got you all locked down over there, huh?” 

“Trying to discourage random readers from contacting me here is all,” you said. “There was a problem with that at Brown right when the book first got popular. I don’t think it’d be as much of a problem now but still, administration thought it was smart. Speaking of which, don’t be a shit to my office aide.” 

“Makes sense, I guess,” he said, ignoring your last comment. “Think you can put me on the list of people who are allowed to talk to you? And on the list of people who are allowed to bring you food?” 

“Bring me food?” You frowned. 

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I was hoping I could do that. Like… today. In an hour or so. If you’re not shaping young minds or whatever.” 

“Don’t you have work?” You laughed. 

“New job starts tomorrow,” he said. “And I don’t exactly have a lot of time without Sarah where I’m not at work.” 

“And you want to see me?” 

“No, I figured I’d just call and annoy your secretary as a new hobby…” 

“Office aide.” 

“You free for lunch or not, Goldie?” He said, exasperated. You resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m free. I have a class gap from 11:30 to 2. I can meet you somewhere…” 

“I’ll just come to you,” he said. “Assuming that a fancy schmancy professor will still eat tamale lady tamales…” 

“OK you could have opened with tamale lady tamales,” you said. “Buried the lead there, Miller.” 

Joel laughed. 

“I’ll give you my number and you can text me where your office is,” he said. “Then I’ll have a way to contact you that isn’t fucking gibberish. See you in two hours.” 

You put his number into your phone and texted him. He responded with a screenshot of your note with the message literally none of those numbers are right which made you laugh. 

It was hard to focus as you taught your next class, checking your watch every few minutes to see just how much time had passed. You were keyed up, stomach tight, and you tried to talk yourself down as you walked half way across campus back to your office. 

It was Joel. Just Joel. Sure, before Friday, you hadn’t seen or talked to him in years but falling back into friendship with him had felt so easy so far. He was safe and comfortable. You’d spent every day with Joel once upon a time. 

But that felt so long ago now. You were different people then. Joel was a jock who pretty much just hung out with you and tried to speed run his way through every hot girl in school. You were a geek who spent her entire life either trailing along behind Joel or with her nose in a book. A lot had changed in the last decade and a half. Joel had a kid. You’d gotten married and divorced. Well, almost divorced. Nothing was finalized yet but you’d stopped wearing your wedding band when you moved to Texas even though it still sat on the ring stand on your bedside table. 

After Friday and Saturday, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to see Joel again. You hadn’t gotten his number and you remembered nothing of trying to put your number in his phone while you were drunk. You weren’t sure if it was going to be a fluke, just a blip on the radar of your lives that had gone on totally disconnected paths for more than a decade, or if this was something that would continue. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Losing him the first time had hurt. It might have been the worst thing that had ever happened to you, even worse than losing your mother, than watching your sister sister fall apart in slow motion over the last decade, than your father entirely. Was it something you could survive again? Was it something you’d need to dig back up and talk through with Joel now that you were speaking again? If that was what he needed, was that something you could handle doing? You weren’t sure about any of it. 

But you were already starting to think that you’d go along with anything Joel wanted as long as you got to keep him around this time, just like high school. He’d been the sun and you’d been caught in the gravity of him. You wondered if you’d ever escaped it at all. 

You straightened up your office a bit, not that you’d had much time for things to get too messy. Most things were submitted virtually now, though you insisted on poetry being printed to make sure formatting was maintained, and most of your personal notes were contained to planners and notebooks that were in orderly piles on your desk. You were absently checking your email when there was a knock on the frame of your door and you looked up to see Joel standing there, a foil covered plate in one hand, two glass bottles of Dr. Pepper in the other. 

“Oh my God, is that Dublin Dr. Pepper?” You gaped at him. 

“Technically no,” he said, coming in and setting a bottle down in front of you. “Stopped making it at the Dublin plant years ago but basically the same thing. Hi, by the way.” 

“Hi. And I’ll take basically the same thing,” you said, leaning forward to peer into the hall. “Do me a favor and close the door?” 

He nudged it shut with his foot and you took the bottle, popping it open on the edge of your desk. Joel sat in the chair on the other side of your desk before he followed suit, smirking as he did. 

“I didn’t want witnesses if I broke the desk I’ve had all of a month, OK?” You said. 

“Goldie, I don’t think you could break the desk if you tried,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. You did the same, humming a little in appreciation. You rolled the liquid on your tongue like you would a wine, the bubbles crackling and dancing there before you swallowed it. 

“God, that’s good,” you said. “I can’t remember the last time I had a soda that wasn’t diet…” 

“Christ you sound like a Yankee,” Joel laughed, sitting back in the chair. “That’s a Coke in your hand, darlin’, not a fuckin’ soda.” 

“Oh God,” you groaned and laughed, too. “That was such a hard habit to break! I’d ask my roommate if we had any Cokes, she said no, I’d go in the fridge later and see Diet Pepsi and have a what the fuck moment.” 

“Strange world out there,” Joel smiled slightly, turning the glass bottle that looked so small in his large hands. 

“Are these the tamales?” You asked, nodding at the plate. 

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he said, taking the foil off the plate. The corn husks glistened and you groaned a little. Joel pulled two sets of plastic wrapped silverware out of his pocket and handed you one. “How long’s it been since you had one of these?” 

“I don’t even want to own up to it,” you said, unwrapping the fork and knife. “I’ve basically been on a diet for the last decade of my life, these look incredible.” 

You wheeled your office chair around the desk and sat next to Joel before peeling back a husk and cutting the end off with your fork and taking a bite. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you slumped back in the chair with a satisfied moan. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“That good, huh?” Joel laughed.You just nodded, mouth full, and sat up to cut off another bite before you even swallowed the first one. “Diet for 10 years?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, covering your mouth with your hand until you could swallow. “There was the book tour, they wanted me to look a certain way. And… well, my husband has a type so…” 

“Fuck that guy,” Joel said, opening another tamale and taking a bite of it. You rolled your eyes a little. “Mean it, fuck that and fuck him.” 

“Oh, so you don’t have a type?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I seem to remember a very distinctive type in high school…” 

“Oh lord,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Pretty, for sure,” you said, teasing a little. “You definitely seemed to be a bit of a boobs man…” 

“If I were with someone I sure as shit wouldn’t make them fucking diet to be my type,” he cut you off. “He’s a fucking idiot, Goldie.” 

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it really is,” you waved him off. 

“No, I’m really not,” he replied. “If we’d been talkin’ I’d have fuckin’ come to Rhode Island and kicked his sorry ass.” 

“Joel,” you rolled your eyes. 

“What?” He asked. “I would’ve. And he’d fuckin’ deserve it.” 

“Anyway,” you said, cutting off another chunk of tamale. “You’ve got a new job starting tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s one that I’m actually lookin’ forward to, too. Get to be a little more creative…” 

“You don’t normally get to be creative?” You frowned. 

He scoffed. 

“Not on any of the big shit,” he said. “Owners and managers get to do that. They toss me the smaller projects here and there to plan and run, this one is some owner’s suite remodel. Doin’ the bathroom, fancy fucking closet, that kind of shit. They’re letting me run it so I’ll shut up about never getting to do the fun stuff.” 

“How long have you been working there?” You asked. 

“Since I was 20,” he said. “So… fuck, 13 years? Jesus, I’m getting old…” 

“And they’re not letting you do the creative stuff?” You asked, brows raised. 

“I’m apparently ‘too valuable’ runnin’ the crew,” he used air quotes. “They throw a few of these little jobs to me every year but mostly I just make sure shit goes right on site for bigger jobs. Get it all done on time, all that.” 

“Do you like doing that?” You asked. 

“Not really.” 

“OK,” you frowned. “So why are you still there?” 

“Well, mostly because I tried paying my mortgage once with dreams and they told me to fuck off,” he said dryly and you glared at him. 

“You know what I mean,” you said, cutting off a chunk of his tamale. 

“Hey!” 

“Shove it,” you popped it in your mouth before he could take it back. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been doing that work for a while is what I mean, I’m sure somewhere else would hire you and you could do the parts of it you liked.” 

“What I really want is to start my own company,” he said. “Well, what I really want is to play music but that ship’s sailed. Realistically, I’d like to start my own company. I think I could make some really cool shit if I had the chance.” 

“So do it,” you shrugged. 

“Oh yeah, easy for you to say,” he scoffed. “What, you just write your fuckin’ book?” 

“No,” you said. “It took a lot of work and editing and rewriting and I’m not sure I’ll ever do it again but I did it. You can do it.” 

“What do you mean you’re not sure you’ll ever do it again?” He frowned. “Thought I saw somethin’ about you writing another one.” 

You looked at him for a moment, frowning a little, fork frozen over the plate. You were contracted for another book but that wasn’t something that had made national news, just an item in some industry publications after the press release from the publisher. 

Why would Joel know that?

“What?” He asked. “Why are you starin’ at me?” 

“Oh,” you said. “Just got something on your face…” You dipped your fork into some of the drippings on the plate before smearing it on Joel’s cheek. “Just there, nothing crazy.” 

He pursed his lips and looked like he was struggling not to laugh. 

“You’re the worst person I know,” he said, wiping his face with a tissue from the box on your desk.

You smirked, sitting back in your chair and putting your legging-clad legs in his lap, the way you used to sit with him on the couch back when you were teenagers. 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious though,” he said, the hand not holding the fork going around your calf just like it always had. “What do you mean you might never do it again?” 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, peeling the husk off another tamale and cutting off a bite of it. “I don’t know that I have another story to tell. I’ve been trying to tell another one and I just… haven’t found one. I think I had one good story in me and I told it. That’s the end.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Joel said. 

“It’s really not,” you shrugged. “When I wrote the first one it just kind of flowed. At least the first draft did. I wrote it in about six months after my mom died and Gale…” 

“Brad.” 

You glared at him. 

“Gale,” you repeated. “Edited it and workshopped it with me.” 

“Oh I’m sure he was a fuckin’ natural at that,” Joel said, voice dripping in sarcasm. You glared at him. “What, you’re telling me I’m wrong? I don’t think I am…”

“He was well equipped for the job,” you allowed. “And yeah, it took a lot of edits and rewrites before it was ready to even start trying to show to agents, it was years of work… Who would I do that with now? I don’t know that I can do it by myself…” 

“Do it with your publisher and shit,” Joel said. “Come on, don’t tell me that jackass is what’s holding you back…” 

“It’s not just that. I really don’t know that I have anything else to say. And even if I did…” you took a deep breath. You’d never said this aloud, not even to your agent. “If I did, what if it’s not as good?” 

Joel waved you off. 

“Of course it’d be as good, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about the fact that everyone freaked the fuck out about the fact that my ‘debut novel,’” you put the words in air quotes, “was so brilliant and shit, what if I never write anything better? What if everything I ever make after this is a let down? What if I never do anything good again? Everyone who took a risk on me, everyone who read my first book, everyone who ever thought I could do something will be let down by it. Jesus, one reviewer said it was the best debut novel since To Kill a Mockingbird, how the fuck am I supposed to live up to that? Starting to understand why Harper Lee didn’t publish anything else for decades…” 

 “Goldie,” Joel said gently. “I’m sure you’d write something great.”

You poked at your tamale, staring at it as you did. 

“What if the only great thing I ever made was great because of him?” You asked quietly, eyes darting to Joel for a second before looking back at the plate. “What if it was just fine when it came from me and it only became what it became because of him?” 

“Anything you’d write would be great, got nothing to do with fuckin’ Brad,” he said. “Not sure you can write something that’s not great.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Joel, you read the articles I wrote for the school paper,” you said. “I don’t think you’re a fair judge.” 

“And your lit mag stuff,” he said defensively. “Look, I’m not a genius or anything but I’m smart enough to know when something’s great and you’re great, alright?” 

“Yeah, well…” you nudged his leg with your knee. “So are you.” 

He just looked at you for a moment until you frowned. 

“What?” 

He leaned forward with his fork, smearing some tamale drippings on the tip of your nose.

“Got something right… there.” 

You laughed and he squeezed your calf and you cleaned your face before you went back to focusing on the food and life outside of your broader ambitions. Before what felt like too long there was a knock on your door and Alyssa poked her head in. 

“Sorry, didn’t realize you had company,” she smiled, her eyes drifting to where your legs were still in Joel’s lap. “I was just going to put a note on your desk, I figured you’d be at your next class already. Have you written your midterm yet?” 

“Not yet,” you said, looking at your watch and you realized it was far later than you realized and you had less than 10 minutes to walk to your next class. “Shit, I have to go!” 

Joel released your leg from his hold and you scrambled to collect your things as Joel cleaned up the remains of lunch. 

“If you wanted to write midterms together,” Alyssa said as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe next week?” 

“Sure,” you said, looking around at your desk and grabbing your gold notebook before standing next to Joel. “Email me?” 

“Yup,” she smiled, looking Joel up and down. “Absolutely will. Hi.” 

“Hi,” he said, smiling a little. You looked between them and fought the urge to groan. She was just Joel’s type. 

“Alright, some of us have to go teach,” you said. “Out of my office so I can lock up.” 

You ushered them both into the hall. 

“Have fun teaching,” Alyssa waved, giving Joel a last look before heading to her office a few doors down from yours. 

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you said, taking Joel’s hand and pulling him along behind you before he could start gawking at her and then you were really late for school. “See you later…” 

“What was that about?” Joel laughed as you spilled out into the hall that was tight with the press of students. 

“I know your type,” you said. “And I don’t have time to wait for you to be done doing your thing…” 

“My ‘thing?’ And you know my type?” He asked, brows raised. “Really? Well, in that case…” 

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed. 

“I came by to see you, for the record,” he said. “And apparently feed you properly since you aren’t gonna do it yourself…” 

“Thank you,” you said, sincerely. “That was really good. And it was really nice, hanging out with you.” 

“It was good to hang out with you, too,” he said, smiling a little, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Should let you get to class though. Those minds aren’t gonna shape themselves. And I have your actual number now, not the fuckin’ hieroglyphics you tried to leave me Friday…” 

“And I have yours,” you smiled back. “But I do have to go…” 

“Right,” he said, leaning in and pulling you into a hug and holding you close for a second. He was warm and his chest was firm and there was something about the way his arms fit around you that was so all encompassing you were certain that you belonged there with him. That, somewhere in the universe, the root of you both had grown together and separated just to find each other again. He pulled back. “Don’t let those college kids give you too much trouble.” 

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t let Sarah give you shit.” 

“Oh, I will,” he said. “Can’t help it. Bye, Goldie.” 

You smiled.

“Bye, Joel.” 

You were three minutes late to class. You didn’t care. 

When you got home, you went to one of the boxes you hadn’t unpacked yet, one that sat in the  extra bedroom that you hadn’t found a use for yet. You knew exactly which box, the one filled with things you only looked at when you were feeling especially strong or particularly weak. You sifted through old notebooks, past one of Joel’s faded band t-shirts that you’d swiped at his house when Tommy had knocked a cup of Kool-aid over when you were wearing a white shirt and Mrs. Miller and scrambled to get your top in the wash to get the stain out and then you’d never given it back, down to the shoebox of photos. You pulled it out and looked through them. Joel at 16, a confused look on his face as he lay on the wheeled contraption he used for sliding easily under his truck and you surprised him with camera, a splotch of grease on his cheek. You, 17, in Joel’s letterman that was big on him so it was massive on you, sleeves shoved up around your forearms as you stuck your tongue out at the camera. The two of you, 16, sitting on opposite sides of a restaurant booth, your legs stretched out on the benches, a basket of fries and a milkshake between you. You were flashing a peace sign at the camera and Joel was looking at you, a soft smile on his face. 

It was easy to remember what friendship with Joel had been. It would be so easy to fall back into it. It felt like you were always supposed to be this way, lives so intertwined they were built on the same foundation. It had seemed an impossible thing, to blow it all apart. You’d loved it then. You missed it now. But it had blown apart and you weren’t sure you could survive losing it again. 

You sighed, flipping to the back of the box to the photos from prom night. Your mom had sent them to you after you’d moved to Rhode Island and they’d languished at the photo lab for weeks. There was a simple note: “Thought you might want these,” a little heart drawn at the end. 

You found the picture of the two of you together, your hand on his chest, his arm around your waist. You were looking up into his eyes and he was looking into yours, a small smile on his face, just enough for the beginnings of his dimple to show. You looked at it for a while before you signed, packing everything else away and moving to your office, propping the photo against your computer as you sat down to write. 

***

Sarah had been in rare form that night. Very skeptical about why she needed to do homework at all and trying to logic her way out of needing to do it for as long as she possibly could. 

“Kiddo, if you just sat down and did it, you’d be done by now,” Joel had groaned at one point. 

“But if I just didn’t do it, I’d be done by now, too,” she replied. 

He took a deep breath. Sometimes, this girl… 

“Not on the table, Baby Girl,” he said. “You can either do your homework now and have time to watch TV before bed or you can not do your homework and fight me on it, not watch TV and get up early tomorrow to finish your homework. Up to you.” 

She groaned, picking up her pencil, bouncing her leg impatiently under the dinner table. Joel wasn’t sure who was happier when the damn worksheets were done, him or his daughter.

Once Joel was certain Sarah was asleep, he went to the back of his closet and found the box that he kept stashed away. He didn’t have to look far, the two copies of your book right on top. One was signed. He didn’t open that one, just looked at it now and then, held it when he wanted to touch something you’d touched once. 

The other had a worn spot on the spine, where the structure of the book had cracked and bent enough times because he’d tried to read it dozens of times but could never bring himself to go past the first page. 

He liked the cover of it, certain that you’d had a hand in picking it. It was simple, an orange sun with a gilded flower in front of it, the title, Halcyon, in bold letters below the abstract image. Joel flipped past the pages of praise, the title page, the table of contents, the forward written by fucking Brad. He turned until he got to the words that were yours. He knew they were yours, he recognized the voice of you, even on paper. No matter what you said, there wasn’t an ounce of Brad there. At least, not on that page.

“The sun in Texas was hot in summer,” you’d written, “melting ice cream and asphalt in equal measure. But it was the heat of his palm that made my cheeks burn…” 

He closed the book, looking at the back cover with your picture on it. Your arms were folded so that one was in front of you, the other vertical alongside your face. Your gaze was intense, a knowing smile on your lips, as though you were staring at him, teasing him, tempting him. “The answers are all here, Joel,” your picture said. “If you could just make yourself read it, you’d know.” 

He put the book down and got his phone out of his pocket, finding your number in his contacts. 

You answered on the second ring. 

“Oh my God, you’re so demanding,” you sighed in faux exasperation. 

Joel laughed. 

“I know, I’m so fucking needy, don’t know how you stand me.” 

You laughed back. 

“What’s up?” 

“Been thinking,” he began. 

“You?” You said. “Really?” 

“Shut up.”

You giggled. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “Feel free to tell me to kick rocks but… Sounds like neither of our lives have exactly gone the way we’ve wanted them to.” 

“You mean you didn’t plan on being a single dad and I didn’t plan on being divorced at 32?” You gasped. “Color me shocked!” 

“We were always good at holding each other accountable,” he said, ignoring you. “Hell, you’re the only reason I graduated high school…” 

“And you’re the only reason I started at the school paper,” you said. Joel smiled at that, the memory of standing outside the newspaper office while you talked to the teacher so you couldn’t back out. 

“Right,” he said. “Well… what if we did that now?” 

“Now?” He could hear you frowning through the phone. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” he said. “Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together? You make me better, always have…” 

“You, too,” you said quietly but you at least sounded serious now. 

“When are you supposed to have your next book done?” He asked. “Assuming there’s a contract with a deadline for that shit, right?” 

“End of next year,” you sighed. 

“Great,” Joel said. “Alright, let’s give ourselves to the end of next year to set ourselves straight. You finish your book, whatever else you want to get done…” 

“Finalize my divorce,” you said. 

“That’s a good one,” Joel said. “I’ll see about starting my own business…” 

“And having a stable relationship?” You asked. 

“Sounds like a good goal,” he answered, his stomach twisting a bit at that. “What do you say? We come up with a list of shit and go from there? You know we’re better when we’re on a team than when we’re not.” 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you said eventually. “Yeah, let’s do it.” 

Joel smiled a little, looking down at the box, the cover of your book looking back at him. 

“It’s a deal,” he said. “We’ve got this, Goldie.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Hell yeah we do.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the long wait on this! Should be weekly updates from here out for a while, promise <3

Thank you thank you thank you for reading! I'm so excited for what's coming up for these two, I just love how they love each other and yes. I can't wait to explore it all with you.

Thank you for being here! Love you!

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 6

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning:  As always minor get out.  Little angst, lots of fluff, handholding,kissing, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

I think I may have an ending now. Posts will continue to be 2-3k long. Every other day more than likely. The whole fic will be around 30k words.

Thank you all again and again for taking the time to read the stories I put out.

***

Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing, your head is a little fuzzy but not nearly as bad as you’d experienced. Opening your eyes you flip the phone over to see it’s nearly twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Blinking a few times you make yourself sit up in bed flipping your phone on to see a deluge of text messages. Groaning you turn your phone off and stretch. Before any messages were answered you need coffee and maybe a shower. 

Showered and suitably caffeinated you finally flip open the text messages. 

Trevor: 

9 am: So what happened?

9:1 5:Hello?

9:30: Look do I need to call the police?

10:30: It’s been hours….

10:32: You never texted me when you got home

11:01: Okay it’s after eleven. You never sleep in. 

12:45: I am coming over in thirty minutes if I don’t hear from you. 

You reply:

I am fine, I just got home super late. I hope you’re not coming over

Trevor:

You scared me! 

Why didn’t you text me back?

How late were you out

Wait did you go back to his place?????

You groan squeezing your eyes close and drinking a healthy swig of coffee.

You: 

We went for sushi, then went down to the beach. 

Trevor:

That’s all you're giving me! What kinda 1950s dating scene is this?

You chuckle replying:

We stayed at the beach until 3 am. 

Trevor: Wait did you have sex on the beach

You:

TREVOR! 

Trevor:

It’s an important question. Don’t want to find out on the gossip train.

You:

why can’t I have nice things TREVOR. No there was no sex in PUBLIC, we kissed and held hands. Can I not do that????

Trevor: Are you secretly asexual? There is nothing wrong with that. I think it’s romantic. 

You:

I am going to become asexual if it means you stop asking me these questions. 

You could almost hear him laughing at you. 

Trevor:

You like it! 

You snorted and switched messages.

Walton: 

10 am: Hey beautiful, wanted to check in. See how you’re doing this morning. 

11 am: I was wondering about maybe going out to bar a city over next Friday? 

11:10 am: Promise I am not trying to kidnap you.

12:20 pm:  Thought you never slept in?

You:

Hey handsome, sorry I actually slept in. Kept me out past my bedtime.

I would love to go out with you next Friday, fingers crossed they don’t keep us late

You set your phone down, pondering if you still trusted the milk in the fridge to make pancakes. Getting up you get a refill of coffee, phone buzzing. 

Walton: 

If they do we can always go out saturday? Can’t be keeping you up so late. Got make sure you can keep up with this old man. 

You:

Oh I am sure I can keep up with you 😉

Walton:

Careful little lady, I might have to come by and test that theory.

Your face goes bright red and that heat coils low in your belly. 

You: Promises, promises, 

Walton:

If I didn’t have a zoom meeting in ten minutes 😠

You:

Maybe next Friday. 

You’re not sure why you’ve become a tease, but you’re enjoying winding him up. 

Walton:

Monday will be more like it.

You:

😜 Your trailer or mine.

Walton: 

Yours just so Trevor will stop texting me.

You let out a laugh, seemed like Trevor was also enjoying winding him up. You spend the rest of the day chatting with both of them. Sunday is a bit quieter, more zoom calls for Walt and Trevor had gone to Decon’s. 

*** Monday goes by in a blur, Walton keeps his hands to himself when others are around. But it doesn’t stop him from following you behind the food tent to steal kisses. You are now sporting a permanent flush and some of your co-workers are raising eyebrows. You are ever grateful that Trevor has kept his mouth shut. Liz is as pissy as ever but seems to be letting it lay. Katie has slowly warmed up to you again, why you weren’t sure. 

The rest of the week is pretty similar. Early mornings bleed into later evenings, the endless weeks have worn on you. Then Walton slides into your chair with his latest story and you feel like a weight is lifted off of you. The man once more touches you gently and gives you lingering cheek kisses as he goes over to set or costumes.   

Friday night rolls around and it’s going to be a long one. You fiddle with a few of your brushes when the door opens quickly. 

“We are being released. There was a fire on stage, and it looks like we are out at least until Monday,” Liz rolls in looking flustered, her normal perfect facade gone. She looks haggard and frazzled. 

“There was a fire on set?” You ask sitting up and feeling much more awake. Panic shoots down the back of your neck.

“Yep, green sparky left a light on too close to set.” Liz sat in the chair grabbing cleaner. You had stayed in the trailer to start tucking things away as Walton was off-screen for the first three setups. You are out the door before she has time to say more. You stop at costumes knocking at the door. 

Rebeccas opens it and looks down at you, she looks flustered but still has a smile on. “Hey, I am guessing you heard about the fire?”

“Yes, I did,” You say trying not to sound panicked, even though your mind is racing. The thought of him being hurt makes you nauseous. “Umm -is.”

Rebecca looks into the trailer, “Walt. You almost done in there?” There is a bunch of commotion going on in the trailer, with people moving back and forth, and different actors in various stages of undress.

You looked at her puzzled at how she knew you were looking for him. 

Rebecca turns back to you, “He never shuts up about you, so figured that’s why you are here,” She replies, and you immediately feel flustered, clearly rumors are moving again. 

“Oh- umm- Yeah. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Walton pops his head above Rebecca his fingers nimbly button up his shirt. “Be right out.”

You blush and look away, “Sorry, I should probably go.”

Rebeca waved her hand at you, “Your secret is safe with me,” she winked. You wonder not for the first time if you were the only one who was never included in the rumor mill. 

Walton pops down the stairs, and has on grey button-up sleeves rolled up, navy wash jeans. He tilts his head when he looks at you. You let out a sigh seeing him unscathed. 

“You okay?” He asks, his hand touching your shoulder. You nod your head, turning to walk back towards the makeup trailer. You really don’t want to make a scene right now, there were way too many eyes on you both right now. 

“I know I said we should go to the bar tonight,” Walton says, his fingers brushing against yours. You try not to grab his hands, just to know he is still there. “But maybe we should get take out at my place?”

You get to the trailer, unable to stop looking around. He looks right at you, the way he could focus on you was both flattering and unnerving. Especially as you are trying to keep things under wraps. 

“Have to stop and grab a few things first.” You say trying to keep your voice from carrying. “Have you pick me up again?”

He smiles, “I would pick you up any day.”

You are bright red, as you open the door and follow the man into the trailer. 

***

A large paper bag of Chinese food was acquired, along with a couple of bottles of wine. You both devest at the door, slipping off your shoes, and placing the wine on the counter. You watch him move around the kitchen. Practice ease, you watch his muscles move under his shirt. You were tired as anything but being in his kitchen, waiting to eat greasy Chinese food couldn’t have been more perfect. 

You grab plates from him, laying out the smorgasbord board of different food. The two of you scooped a little of everything, before sitting down at the table and pouring some wine. 

“I feel like I should apologize for having you over instead of going out somewhere,” Walton says taking a sip of wine. “I don’t want you to think I am taking advantage of you being here.”

You chuckle, “Don’t know what you mean Mr. Goggins. I thought you invited me to your place to play some chess and listen to swing jazz.”

Walton nearly loses his food at the comment, his hand covering his mouth. “Swing jazz? How old do you think I am?”

“Oh you got to be at least in your seventies,” You tease back taking a bite out of your spring roll. 

Walton coughs, “I didn’t realize you where into grandfathers.”

You choke a little, “Well to be fair,” You wave your hand, “I am usually good with trying anything once.” 

Walton sips on his wine eyebrows raised, “Anything?”

You nod your head, a smile spreading across your face. “Can’t say I don’t like it unless I try it.”

He puts his glass down, watching you carefully as you finish your cup. “I could make some coffee while we clean up.”

You grab his plate stacking it with your own as he grabs the glasses. You two make it over to the kitchen, there is tension in the air as you clean things up. He grabs a French press out of the cupboards aswell as some coffee and cups.

You slide over to the counter and sit on top of it. Feet kicking back and forth as you watch the man ready things.  Flicking the kettle on to heat the water. He comes over and moves himself in between your legs.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers, placing hands on either side of your hips. Face inches from you.

You wrap your hands lazily over his shoulders, opening your legs to let him in closer. 

“No, you haven't today.” You lean in to kiss him, kissing him will never get old.

“You are stunning.” He whispers against your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. The kettle clicks and he's moving away from you. You watch him pour grinds and then water into the press. 

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” You inquire, moving your feet back and forth. Letting yourself briefly wonder if maybe the question was too forward.  

He turned to look at you, bottom lip caught in his teeth. “Umm-”  

Leaving the coffee he came over to you. Cheeks slightly pink, he tucked his hair behind his ear. 

“I - ahh. I didn't think you'd want to go out with me.” 

Your mouth falls open, “Are you serious?”

He shrugs, fingers fiddling with the outer seam of your jeans. You take his hand in yours using the moment to drag him back between your legs. Once he is there, you tip Walton’s head up to look right at you.

“You're so dumb,” You grin leaning in to kiss him. He chuckles and leans into the kiss, strong arms wrapping around you. “I am also dumb, 'cause I thought the same thing about you.”

Walton pulls back looking at you, eyebrows scrunched. “Didn't you just call me dumb? Seems like we both may have missed the sign somewhere along the way.”

You grin one hand finding its way to rub along his jawline. “Took us long enough.”

He smiled, “Trevor is never going to let us live this down.”

You let out a groan, “He is beyond impossible. I am gonna have a small textbook of text messages.”

Walton’s eyes glint, and he pulls his phone out. “Why don't we give him an update.”

You can't help but laugh, “Oh absolutely!” 

Walton flips his phone on turning on the camera he flips it to the two of you. You lean in and kiss him deeply as he clicks the button. The phone is placed on the counter as you wrap your legs around his waist. You pull out a deep moan that rumbles out of his chest when you bite at his bottom lip. It doesn't stop you from pushing your tongue in. Rocking your hips a little, the room feels hot. 

Walton pulls away, breathless, “If you keep doing that, I am liable to forget about our coffee.”

You let out a sigh, “I suppose a little coffee couldn't won't hurt.” You unwrap yourself from him. 

He moves down the counter as you slide off it. He mixes your coffee just the way you like it, handing you the cup as he fixes his own. You wait, watching him work, he turns and gestures toward the living room. You make your way over to the couch.  

Folding yourself up on the end of the sofa, tucking one leg underneath the other. You sip on the coffee, it is delicious and beats any store bought. Walton comes over and sits beside you, taking a long sip of his drink. Looking out the windows you can see part of downtown and the north shore. The lights still dazzling, as the evening wore on. 

“I know, before, I said I wasn’t sure you would want to go out with me,” He said looking out at the window as he spoke. “I tried, unsuccessfully to give you space. But the further I got away the more I missed being near you. Then when we went out for sushi, it all just kinda clicked. This isn’t conventional.” He gestures between the two of you. You hold your cup listening intently. 

“I am, ahh, older than you. And my life is not exactly straightforward. I don’t take relationships lightly, not that this is that. Or.” You can’t suppress the smile as he tries to explain himself. “I am terrible at this. I don’t want to move too fast, but also. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You put your cup down, and gesture for him to come closer. He places his cup down beside yours and moves over. Patting your lap, he slips down and lays his head on your lap. You run your hands through his hair, his eyes close and he hums softly against your legs. 

“I can’t tell you what's going to happen,” You say softly, “I am also not good at this, but I am willing to try. However fast or slow you want to go. As for the age thing, I don’t care, it’s never bothered me.” 

Walton’s breath slows and his hand slips under your thigh holding you close. You sit there a while longer, letting him just relax against you. Again you are struck by how simple it is, to just sit here with a warm cup of coffee and the city lights. You could get used to weekends like this. But as always he is moving sitting up and smoothing out his hair, grabbing his cup of coffee and taking a sip. 

“Would you like to come to bed with me?” He asks, you turn away from the lights. His eyes fixed on you, not hungry but curious. 

“I would like that a lot,” You say licking your lips and heart pounding in your chest. 

Walton stands up offering you a hand, which you take, pulling yourself to your feet. The coffee is left on the table as you follow him. Fingers laced together like they are two puzzle pieces. You pass by the guest room and there is a door at the end of the hallway. He opens it and you walk into the large room. There are floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the sea, a large king-sized bed on a wooden platform. The room is sparse, with two side tables with lamps. A large walk-in closet to your left along with a bathroom beside it. You wonder for a moment how often he has brought others back here. The thought lingers in the back of your mind as you wander over to sit on the edge of the bed. Walton has disappeared into the bathroom.

“I think I have another toothbrush in here,” He calls out, poking his head around the corner. 

You smile and move towards him, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He’s blushing again and handing you the unopened toothbrush, “I–I umm. Just figure I’d offer.” 

You move into the bathroom grabbing some toothpaste off the counter and leaning against it, “I appreciate it, besides don’t want to have coffee breath. Would you happen to have makeup wipes?”

Walton thinks for a moment before he scoots you out of the way, as you brush your teeth. He pops up with a bottle of cleanser and a fresh hand towel. “I knew I had it here somewhere.”

You grin and thank him, he brushes his teeth before disappearing again. You take the moment to clean off your face and neck. Looking into the mirror you got a permanent smile on your face. Letting out a happy sigh you finish up, telling yourself not to put the cart in front of the horses. You walk out and Walton is standing there shirtless, blinds drawn. He slips into a grey cotton t-shirt, that you currently hate, and black sweatpants. Sensing you staring he turns around to see you. 

Chapter seven

*tiny cliffhanger. I always need at least one 😜*

*As always if you'd like to be tagged let me know! *

*reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated! *

[dinsdjrn]

the parts we rearrange | f. morales | 1.5k

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

summary: Frankie is a father first, and this past year has been anything but easy. [wc: 1.5k]

tags: 18+, mature themes, fluff, maternal abandonment, brief mention of infertility, FLUFFFFFF, just frankie being a dad, not edited

a/n: first frankie fic! for a fluffy frankie friday! pls be kind, comments and rbs are SOOOOOO appreciated.

my masterlist

You and Frankie had been together for about a year and a half now. You understood his worst parts and forgave him for the invisible scars he carried. It wasn’t an easy love, but it was well worth it at the end of the day. 

Eight months ago, everything changed. On a Sunday morning, just like today, a knock at Frankie’s door flipped his world upside down. His ex Gabrielle, was there to drop off their daughter Ana for a week with Frankie. You would make yourself sparse because it was what Gabi wanted, and next Sunday, Ana would go back with Gabi for two weeks. Except this time Gabi never came back.

All she left little five year old Ana with was an apology letter to Frankie. The details didn’t matter, but Gabi couldn’t do it anymore. She was done being a parent, leaving Frankie to completely change his life around. 

At first, you didn’t know if he was going to be able to do it. Frankie completely broke down, terrified of being a full time parent. He had spent the last four years co-parenting as a single father, and even that wore him down on good days. He loved Ana more than anything, she was the centre of his universe. He knew he had to step up to the plate, and with the support of you Pope and the Miller brothers, he got his shit together. 

It delayed a lot of plans you had with one another, and put a strain on your relationship. At the end of the day you knew Ana came first and you didn’t blame her, but you did find it hard to cancel vacations and delay moving in together. 

What made up for all the cancelled plans, was the light Ana brought into your life.

The way she would get excited when you promised you’d sleepover at Frankie’s. How she would fall asleep on the couch tucked between you and her father. The mornings where she’d have endless energy for a kitchen dance party. It was the relationship you wanted that Gabi was too insecure to let you have. 

You weren’t sure you ever wanted kids, infertility ran in your family and you didn’t want to set yourself up for heartbreak. Somehow, you found something so much better though, you found Frankie and Ana. And that was enough. 

You knew this would be hard weekend for the two of them. It would be their first Mother’s day without Gabi. Ana knew she wasn’t around anymore but she still didn’t completely understand why. 

“Dad when is mom coming back? I want her to play dress up with me!”

“Mi bebe,” he would sigh. “Mama just needs to be alone for a while, why don’t we play tea party instead?” 

Sometimes redirecting her would work, sometimes she would thrash and cry and ask for her mom. It would break Frankie’s heart and all you could do was watch. 

You woke up Sunday to soft kisses being placed over your shoulder. You hadn’t planned on staying the night last night, but after Frankie put Ana to bed he needed you. 

He needed you to be there for him, to make him forget the heartbreak the morning would bring. To love him, hold him, and make sure he would feel supported the next morning. 

You were in just his t-shirt as he lavished you in soft kisses as the morning light streamed through the curtains.

“Thank you for staying last night, hermosa.” 

“Mm, of course Frankie,” you turned to face him in bed, intertwining your legs, and gently kissing him. 

You kissed him soft and slow, as you lips moved against one another you felt him physically relax. 

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he whispered, “She made a craft at school, and yet has no one to give it to.” 

You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed him delicately on the forehead. 

“It’ll be okay Frankie, let’s just make her pancakes and take things as they come. She’s a smart kid and she’ll be okay.” 

“Mi amor,” he kissed you gently. “Gracias.” 

As if on cue you heard Ana get up and go to the bathroom, signalling it was time to start the day. It’s likely today will be long and emotionally exhausting but you will get through it together. 

As you went to the bathroom, you heard a shriek of joy from down the hall. As you walked into the kitchen you smiled at the scene; Ana was on Frankies hip and they were singing their favourite song from Moana while they collected all the pancake ingredients. 

“You ready for Morales world famous pancakes, kiddo?” You asked.

She sang your name along side a “Good morning!” And ran to give you a hug. 

“Good morning to you!” You sang back, Frankie smiling at the two of you from the kitchen. 

It warmed his heart to see how Ana took to you. You had endless conversations around whether or not Gabi would eventually be okay with you being in her life. Most of which would end with a “She will warm up to the idea eventually!” From Frankie. 

“Dad, is Mama coming today?” Ana asked. 

Frankie looked at her sadly, longing in his eyes for the day she would understand. 

“No angel, Mama still needs to be alone?” 

“Do you think she’s ever coming back?” Ana looked up and asked you with the world in her eyes. 

You looked at Frankie for guidance, not sure how to proceed. 

He came over to the two of you and crouched to her level. 

“I don’t know, mi amor, but you’ve got us,” He said softly. 

You crouched too, to wrap her in a hug. She would probably never fully understand why her mom left, not for a long time at least. In that moment you vowed to be there for her, help her on her hardest days, and be the person she needed when Frankie wouldn’t understand. 

“I made something for you at school,” She smiled up at you. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” You smiled at her. 

“Mama would have been mad if I had given it to you, but I want you to have it,” You could see the conflict she was facing. 

“Go grab it! It’s alright,” Frankie said, tickling her sides as she went earning another big squeal from Ana. 

She ran to her backpack at the door, you looked at Frankie and he just shrugged. This was a surprise for both of you. 

Ana came running back with a craft that was mess of pink yellow and orange construction paper. 

She held it out to you. You took it in. 

It was a Mother’s Day Card, made for you. Your name on it and everything. 

‘Happy Mother’s Day! I love you!!’ 

She had hand drawn a flower and a picture of you two holding hands on the inside. Your heart melted in your chest and you brought your free hand to your eyes to wipe away your tears. 

“Is it okay?” She asked the world in her eyes. 

“It is more than okay,” you crouched to meet her. “I love it and I love you.”

You grabbed and pulled her into a large bear hug and rocking her back and forth. You didn’t see it but you knew Frankie had the biggest smile on his face, and was probably also a bit teary eyed. 

When you pulled away she ran over to her father. 

“Well, I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a long time,” you said. 

“Me either, Mama,” Frankie smiled at you. 

“Can we have pancakes now?” Ana groaned, the moment coming and going as quickly as possible. 

“Well, if we are going to have Mother’s Day breakfast, we are going to do it right!” Frankie announced. 

“You,” he pointed at you, “Back to bed! And you,” pointing to Ana, “And I are going to make the best breakfast in bed you’ve ever seen!” 

So you took your card and went back into bed. You snapped a quick photo and texted it to Pope. He was thrilled that Ana had taken such a big step in your relationship. 

You settled into bed reading a bit of your book as you listened to pans rattling in the kitchen, Disney songs on full blast. Not long after you heard someone running down the hall. The door swung open and Ana jumped onto the bed next to you. 

“Happy Mother’s Day!” She said giving you the biggest hug she could muster. 

Frankie walked in shortly after carrying a breakfast tray; it had pancakes, yogurt, granola, orange juice and coffee. 

“Thank you!” You exclaimed. 

The flowers you had bought earlier that week were wrapped in newspaper on the tray. You smiled at the “present” sure that Ana said you needed one and Frankie grabbed the first thing he could find. 

You all sat together eating breakfast in bed, stealing kisses from Frankie while Ana would cringe. The day you were so anxious about ended up being one of the best days in your relationship, finally feeling like you and Frankie were a family. It was a beautiful thing to be loved, and Frankie and Ana made sure you never forgot it. 

no tags bc its not a joel one :) but if you want to be on my main taglist for all the things let me know!

[superblysubpar]

dad eddie x reader maybe coming home from the hospital for the first time. i picture poor eddie not knowing what he’s doing but trying so hard, being nervous, etc.

We're not gonna talk about how I asked for these back in March okay? Okay. Thank you for your patience lovely, I hope this tiny blurb is what you had in mind many, many months ago 💛

We Just Go Home?

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: Eddie brings his first baby girl, Caroline, home from the hospital. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

943 words

Autumn, 1993:

Eddie stares at the sleeping child, baby, newborn - like tiny human fresh out of you new - in the car seat, to you where you blink sleepily in the wheelchair, to his own reflection in the now closed sliding glass doors. He frowns and starts again, “Baby, I-”

Your laugh is quiet, but enough to stop him when it turns to a small groan as you lift yourself from the chair. He’s quick to place his hand on your lower back, eyes dancing over you for signs of pain as you speak. “Eddie, it’s just a ten minute drive home.”

He nods once, but then shakes his head no, fingers itching to move, to do something. “Sweetheart, this can’t be right. I mean, we just…” he stares back at where the nurse had left through the doors and then back at the car, “We just go home?”

Your shoulder shrug is unconvincing and his brows furrow deeper. He opens his mouth to protest further and you place a finger over his plump bottom lip. Brown eyes melting as you replace your finger with your lips. A soft and over too soon press to his, before you shrug again. “Yeah, we just go home.”

“Aren’t you scared?” He glances down at the sleeping baby again, worried he shouldn’t have asked, worried you’re going to think he can’t handle it, that he’s going to be a bad dad, that-

“Fucking terrified,” you admit. Leaning your head against his shoulder, your pinky reaches forward and brushes your daughter’s nose. She scrunches her face, lips parted in a tiny ‘O’. You look up at Eddie again who’s now watching her with a look you’ve never seen on his face, a different kind of love, and you smile. 

That was hours ago, almost a full twenty four, and now your palm rests flat on his back, soothing up and down his spine. He’s curled in an upright position, forehead pressed to one side of the crib, curls spilling around the front of his face. He’s got spit up stains all over his favorite Metallica shirt, sweats on and tucked into his tube socks. The room and him barely lit by a shimmering lamp that projects tiny constellations on the wall, Caroline asleep in her pale yellow swaddle in his eyeline. 

“Eddie? Honey, come to bed please.” Crouching down next to him, you wince at the pain of getting down on his level as you try to sit quietly. 

He hums as you brush the hair from his face. Eddie rubs his eyes, blinking at you. Frowning as his eyelids flutter rapidly, his face scrunches like he’s fighting off making a loud noise to accompany the yawn he swallows. He reaches forward and cups your jaw, rough skin of his thumb brushing over your cheek gently as he whispers, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you in bed?”

Turning your head, you place a soft kiss to his palm before reaching up and removing his hand, lacing your fingers together in your lap. “Funny, I came in here to ask you the same thi-”

A small hiccup of noise has you both holding your breath. Your heads turn in unison to peek through the slats of the crib. 

He waits and when no more noise happens, he squeezes your fingers. “She was crying so loud last time and I-”

“Eddie, that's just what’s going to happen right now,” you try to reassure him.

He nods once and your chest aches from how his eyes look a little glossy, how he sniffs once and clears his throat. “I just don’t…” He shakes his head and reaches for your face. He kisses you softly, forehead pressing to yours as he keeps his eyes closed. His voice is filled with admiration, “You’re just a great mom already and it’s been like literally a day and I’m a shit dad who doesn’t know what his daughter needs when she cries.”

“Who called you a shit dad? I’ll kick their ass,” you try to joke and when your cheek feels wet you pull away to see the tear that dropped down his. Swiping it away, your voice turns serious, “Eddie, look at me.”

When his eyes open, you try to focus on conveying how truthful these words are to him, to make him see clearly, instead of crying yourself. “Eddie, I have no clue what she needs either. Sometimes she’s hungry, or tired, or filling a diaper, and sometimes it’s none of that and she’s just gonna cry. You’re not a shit dad. You’re literally-”

She makes another, louder, cry, and without hesitation Eddie reaches his hand through the slates, fingers finding hers and he holds his breath. 

Once she settles again, you lean forward and kiss his jaw, scratchy with stubble. “I need,” a kiss to his cheek, “To hear,” a kiss on his neck, “You say,” a kiss to his forehead, “You’re a good dad.”

“Baby-”

Your mouth finds his, kissing him roughly and then mumbling into his lips, “I swear to god Eddie-”

He smiles against your moving mouth, free hand reaching up and cupping your jaw again. He moves his lips over yours gently, filling your stomach with butterflies at how tender he is. Sighing as he pulls away too quickly but happy when he whispers, “I’m a good dad.”

“Damn straight.” You kiss him again and then look at where your daughter's fingers curl around his pinky tightly and huff, “You’re not coming to bed anytime soon are you?”

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing his eyes again before looking at her fondly, “Nah, I’m good right here. This is my new home now.”

[lotstradamus]

inspired by the manchester anon haha but do you have any tips and suggestions for visiting leeds? 🩷

I've lived here for 2 years now (!!!) but somehow I still don't really know my way around and just go to the same 5 places and use google maps to get anywhere else. it's sad. but here's some shit I love:

Grindhouse - cheap drinks, loads and loads of seats, never too full, music a reasonable volume, and they project 80s movies on the back wall. we once sat in here for 2 hours cos Stand By Me was on. one time we watched the bar staff earnestly tell a group of women on a hen do that the bar was closed and they weren't serving any more drinks, at 7:45pm. 10/10.

Rudy's - only 9 cities* in this fair nation have a Rudy's, so I'm going to keep reccing it for everyone else. perfect Neapolitan pizza. *Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham, Durham, London, York, Liverpool - if you live in one of these places and haven't been to Rudy's yet, sort it out.

Neon Cactus - go here on a Wednesday and order wings, and you'll get half price margs. lots of great Mexican scran. don't take anyone too picky or over 50, because the price for the great food and vibes is that at least one thing you order will be incorrect. but roll with it. half price margs, man.

Empire Cafe - book in advance if you want to sample the delights of Empire Cafe, cos there's like 6 tables max. everything is seasonal, changes on the daily, and is insanely delicious. if you want to experience heaven, order the steak and chips with salsa verde. there is NOTHING like it.

Stuzzi - another seasonal, small plate sort of place, but Italian. amazing food and a gorgeous restaurant. go with a big group and order one of everything.

Eat Your Greens - ANOTHER seasonal restaurant! this one is farm-to-fork and organic. I can’t speak to the quality as I haven’t actually been, but I am a frequenter of their GREENGROCER, which is MEGA. last time I think I left with natty wine, pâté, some insane tinned fish, a jar of harissa and a bag of sunset potatoes. if you like food, go here.

SARTO - fresh, handmade pasta and picky bits. another great place to go with a group and order all the starters. I had a celeriac pasta there last year that I think about on a fairly regular basis; I picked it cos it was the weirdest sounding thing on the menu and it was fucking mouthwatering. good quality and good people! and it's next door to The Wardrobe, so perfect for a pre-gig tea.

Santiago Bar - like Grindhouse (alternative, casual) but the music is louder and you'll find yourself doing tequila shots at 1am and screaming along to, like, Don Broco. it's the best.

Blue Collar Boys - as a rule I hate 'vintage' clothes shops (overpriced, ugly, everything is XXS), but this place seems to specialise solely in American t-shirts and sweatshirts from the 90s in exactly my size, and everything is £10. this is amazing and a huge bargain if you find something like vintage Wranglers and a Playboy bomber jacket (£20, my wife) but not so amazing or a bargain if you find 3 t-shirts with holes in (£30, me). we've never been without finding shit we love. they only open on random weekends, and they always seem to have more stuff than they could possibly ever sell. it's a freaky vintage alternate universe.

The Corn Exchange - a big gorgeous ol' building full of little businesses. vintage, handmade, tattoos, coffee, jewellery, independent brands, yarn, shoes, a barbers, a bookshop, they've got it all. very easy to spend £100 and 6 hours. every so often they have a market on the bottom floor. perfect tiny representation of Leeds: quirky, independent, delicious, cool.

Silver's Deli - this is a 9-minute train ride away in Bramley (my ends!) but has become THEE buzzy foodie spot recently. go on a sunny saturday morning (cos you will probably have to sit outside) and order the everything sandwich. thank me later. if they have scotch eggs or sausage rolls on, I beseech you, order both. and if you want the sunday special prepare to get there at 11 and fight.

Against the Grain - if you've come to Bramley for Silver's, you may as well trundle 10 minutes up the road and visit the best bar in Leeds. cosy, casual, full of locals, hidden in Swinnow Mills. it's a sit-around-and-chat-to-people sort of place, with bonus charcuterie boards AND a pizza van on weekends. we are here A LOT, because Gray's Salon and Rose and Thorn Tattoo are both in the Mill, and we give them all our money. oh! and dog friendly. sooo many dogs.

Project House/Galleria - if you've gotten the train out to Bramley for Silver's and ATG, jump on the 72 back to town and get off at Project House to eat MORE food. Galleria is a great place to get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Project House has EVERYTHING (depending on the day). yoga! gigs! vintage fairs! a bi-annual tattoo convention meets makers market with food vendors called Hand of Glory! check what's on and head on down to support local!

Kirkstall Bridge Inn - another one local(ish) to me, but worth travelling out of town for; a PROPER pub (i.e. no tv, no sports, no shite) that does roasts upstairs and lets dogs in downstairs. outdoor seating right by the canal, and every so often they put something on and the car park turns into a tiny festival. Kirkstallpalooza is a highlight. great place to finish a nice canal walk (who am I?!).

tl;dr sorry that this is obnoxiously long, I love Leeds

[babsvibes]

Boblin Fic Recs

Fics centered around Bob and Linda from Bob’s Burgers. This is by no means a comprehensive list, so please feel free to add your faves in the replies!

Canon Compliant

I'm in love with every song you've ever heard by @jimmypesto When Linda has one too many Pesto Coladas, Jimmy calls Bob to come collect her

I like the way you sound in the morning by @jimmypesto Six "morning afters" over the course of Bob and Linda's relationship

What's That Song? It Goes Pike... by @babsvibes Linda has a song stuck in her head, and now it's everyone's problem

gonna make love last forever by @neopetting soft otp prompts with boblin

After Date Night With the Belchers by @thestarstho A look into Bob and Linda's alone time after a date

Mixed Collections

you're in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing by @jimmyjrsmusoems A few important moments in Bob and Linda's relationship, as seen through the eyes of others

Boblin Week 2023, Day Extras: Unused Prompts by @sailoreuterpe Collection of ficlets using the prompts not selected for Boblin Week 2023

Bob's Burgers Drabbles by @aimmyarrowshigh Collection of Bob's Burgers drabbles

Sips From Your Lips by Gaynin Linda and Bob have always enjoyed wine and spirits, almost as much as they've enjoyed each other (mature)

Things You Said... by @daddygrandpaandthebeaver A collection of Bob's Burgers ficlets based on "things you said..." prompts

Pre-Canon

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace by @jimmypesto Bob and Linda break up for approximately twelve hours; wallowing ensues

not while I'm around by @jimmypesto Bob picks Linda up after a girls’ night just in time to find her being bothered by a creep

i think we do this love thing right by @br1ghtestlight Bob and Linda try to cuddle without waking up Louise

Through a Child’s Eyes by YAJJ There was romance and love in the world, and Teeny Tina knew it for a fact. All she had to do was look at her parents, after all.

just lay entwined here, undiscovered by @tully-blue Tonight, it goes: shelf, doorknob, nightstand, undressing with three stumbles and several muffled curses, vanity, and finally, Linda climbs over him and into bed. Well, if he wasn’t awake already, that would’ve done it

Canon Divergent

still my patron saint by @jimmypesto A Boblin Ghost AU (explicit)

I belong with you, you belong with me (you're my sweetheart) by @daddygrandpaandthebeaver Five universes where Bob and Linda Belcher are soulmates, plus one where they chose to be together anyway

clair de lune by @weatheredlaw Five things that didn't happen, couldn't happen, wouldn't happen

Of Pregnancies and Bumped Heads by @burgerspeople Linda's second pregnancy puts her on her ass.

Had Me at Hello by @golden--doodler Bob and Linda's big day has finally arrived after what feels like forever.

Explicit

brought purpose to your hips by @jimmypesto Linda wakes up in the middle of the night

falling for you is easy (like sunday morning) by @thisaliennerd Maybe there’s no such thing as fate, but one chance meeting is about to change the course of two people’s lives forever. Bob and Linda are falling in love fast, but can they balance their feelings with the practical realities of dating? (explicit)

Cheesus the Meatsiah by @babsvibes The night Bob almost gets the Meatsiah right

know that body like it's mine by @jimmypesto Bob and Linda always use hotel rooms as opportunities to experiment

our love's the only thing that could matter (must be signed in to view) 31 days of my favorite married couple doing sexy things. Sometimes kinky and sometimes vanilla, but they’re always very in love

[blainesebastian]

you fit right here (ccg universe)

words: 4,059 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (combined requests): anon requested: "first red carpet with Austin, anxiety and panic attack" + @aloversblog requested "paps accidently hurt the reader and austin is protective"  notes: tweaked the prompt here and there but the general premise is the same! ccg universe but for the most part, could be read alone warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted, @rairaielv

Sometimes on lazy Sunday mornings, when the sun hasn’t even pushed through the curtains yet, you find yourself thinking a lot about what’s happened to you in a short period of time and how you have to convince yourself that you’re not dreaming. No one wrote a how-to guide about what it was going to be like to date a celebrity and admittedly you’re figuring it out one step at a time. It’s definitely not always easy or what you expected but you find you wouldn’t trade it for anything either, even when you’re not quite sure how you fit into Austin’s world.

That isn’t to say that he hasn’t carved out space for you, because he has, but you worry that it won’t always make a difference. There are plenty of places in which you stick out, requesting that sense of belonging that is automatically given to others who have already earned it. It’ll take time, you know that, but it doesn’t remove the anxiety and waves of frustration as much as you’d like.

“You’re aware of how much that’s in your head?” Jillian, one of your best friends, had told you once. “Austin clearly doesn’t care and neither should you.”

And she’s right, you know she’s right. Austin doesn’t want you to be an actress, or the kid of a famous producer, a model, wrapped up in a celebrity story or Hollywood cautionary tale—he simply wants you to be you. No changes, no strings attached.

You let out a soft sigh as you press your cheek into your pillow, turning onto your one side.

You’re still working on accepting that.

Reaching over onto your nightstand, you turn your alarm off before it can interrupt the morning stillness. The mattress shifts underneath you as Austin turns, a soft shiver running down your spine as he wraps an arm around your torso. He shifts closer, letting out a long breath from his nose that flutters against the back of your neck. You can’t stop the smile from tugging the corners of your mouth as warmth pools in your stomach, working its way down to your knees.

This has to be one of your favorite morning routines, the slow morning wake-up, the way Austin’s body feels against your own, solid weight and soft skin. He presses a few kisses into your shoulder, mapping across until his nose and lips dip into a crevice near your neck—

You squirm a little, a soft huff leaving your mouth, “Stop—I’m ticklish there.” Though there’s really no indication in your voice that you actually want him to stop.

Austin smirks lightly but backs off, “I know.”

His hand slips down along your side, arm muscles flexing a little as he pulls you closer. Your head tips back, fitting perfectly against his shoulder, shifting so that your nose and lips brush along his jawline. You plant a kiss there, your hand settling along his own, tracing his fingers with your thumb.

“You got in late last night.”

He nods, brushing his lips on your temple, “Had a few drinks with some castmates after the late night talk show. I was gonna call you but—already knew what your answer would be.”

You chuckle lightly, amused—he definitely knows you. It was probably at least eleven, maybe even midnight. You were wrapped up in a burrito blanket by then. “Was it a good time?”

“Would have been better with you,” He squeezes you briefly, “I didn’t wake you when I came in, did I?”

You shake your head, turning so that you can face him. His touch slips down along your back and a pleasant noise leaves your lips as your hand moves up and under his shirt, “Barely, just remember you gettin’ into bed. Definitely not like that one time where you tripped over the comforter.”

Austin groans, tipping his head back a little in an eyeroll that makes you laugh, “Never gonna live that one down.”

“You knocked over the nightstand, almost squished my cat.”

“He was perfectly fine,” He attempts to kiss you but you playfully move your head in the opposite direction a few times. He grins before he finally clasps your chin between his fingers, keeping you still, and leans down to press his lips against yours.

“You want breakfast?” You ask, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his full lower lip.

He plants a kiss to the pad of your thumb before shaking his head, “Gonna sleep a bit more, got that fashion event tonight and that always comes with an after party.”

There’s a slight eyeroll before he lifts his hand to run it over his face, a yawn slipping out of his mouth. God, that’s right. You completely forgot about that fashion thing that Austin invited you to as his guest, and a small pit begins to build in your stomach. While you’ve gone with him to plenty Elvis red carpet events, this is the first one you’ll be attending that has nothing to do with his film. There’s a certain comfort that’s automatically gone—at least with Elvis events, you felt like people knew you, maybe there was even some less judgement given that you were on the same set as everyone else through filming.

This though is completely different—your first outside event as a couple. Nerve-wracking for a bunch of reasons you can name and even more that you can’t.

Austin tilts his head a little, looking down at you, his hand trailing up and down your arm, “You’re shaking.”

You swallow, pushing those thoughts away as you give him a soft smile, “Just cold.”

He hums lightly, holding your gaze as he tugs the blanket up to cover you a bit more. He doesn’t quite look like he believes you but he doesn’t press either. Instead, he continues to rub your arm, creating small, patterned circles with his fingers.

Austin’s quiet for a few moments, both of you lingering in touches and shared breathing. You’re almost convinced he’s fallen back asleep but you know he’s just giving you time to consider words in your mouth.

“I have no idea what to do with myself for tonight.”

There’s a soft smile on his lips, as if he might have considered you’d say something like that, “I asked one of my stylists to come over, she’s worked with me on a few past events. You’ll like her,” He brushes hair over your shoulder, “She’s nice.”

You offer him a small nod, the twinge of your lips tugging up into a tired smile. You appreciate the gesture, you know he’s trying his best to make you feel comfortable but you can’t help but feel as if you’re beating down waves of imposter syndrome. Maybe a bit more sleep for yourself wouldn’t hurt either, time to approach this event head on.

You deserve to attend it as Austin’s guest, not only that, but you deserve how happy Austin makes you as his girlfriend.

“C’mere,” He whispers, encouraging you to lean against him as he turns to lie on his back. Letting out a soft sigh, you drape your arm across his waist, molding yourself along his chest. You fit directly under his chin, like a puzzle piece slipping into place.

Your eyes flutter closed as you memorize the sound of his breathing, the thumping of his heartbeat lulling you back to sleep.

--

Penny, as it turns out, is definitely one of the nicest people you’ve met in the industry. You suppose you shouldn’t have suspected any less when Austin said he’d worked with her in the past. She’s not pushy or judgmental when she arrives, which maybe you were a little bit afraid of. You’ve experienced stylists on set that can offer crude feedback as if they’re doing you the favor of being critical.

This lovely older woman is the exact opposite—she brings a selection of dresses that match what Austin’s going to wear, which is a navy pin-stripe suit, and then tells you to pick whatever shade of makeup you think your skin tone wears best and she’ll provide a series of options for ‘looks’. When you choose a silver dress, she suggests brown shades for eyeshadow and lipstick with a hint of sparkle just to tie everything together.

You really appreciate her attention to detail.

“Austin is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever worked with,” Penny tells you as she takes your hair out of a heated curler, “He listens and speaks with intention, you know? Doesn’t matter who you are.”

You hum lightly, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Not a lot has changed, not some big movie reveal or something like that. Just you with your hair curled and makeup professionally done, a mix of soft neutrals and silver highlights.

“Yeah, he’s wonderful,” You agree, smiling at her through the mirror, “It’s one of the things I love about him.”

She smiles, taking another curler out. She then reaches for a big round brush, slipping the prongs through your locks to give the waves body. A bit of hairspray…then all done.

“You should know, he talks quite a bit about you too.” Penny takes a step back, giving you a onceover. “Nothing but proud of you.”

You can’t stop your cheeks from kissing pink, shaking your head because you’re still working on accepting sentiments like that. That you do, in fact, deserve them. Taking a breath, you stand from the chair and move to go put your dress on—you’ve got about a half n hour before you have to get going to make the event on time. Which is apparently the fashionable ‘ten minutes late’ sort of thing.

“Well thank you,” You smile as Penny reaches for your hands to squeeze, “I really appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do too much,” She laughs, “You’re beautiful darling—I just added some sparkle.”

You swallow, holding her gaze for a long moment and suddenly you feel compelled to tell her this fear that’s been sitting in your chest like a flurry of moths, gnawing holes into your ribs.

“This is the first event that I’m going to as Austin’s girlfriend outside of Elvis and…” You hesitate, wondering if it sounds silly or foolish. “I’m just not sure how I fit.” And then you realize that…probably requires some sort of explanation or…evidence of support?

You shake your head, getting ready to take the whole conversation back when Penny moves a step forward with a somewhat knowing smile. She places a hand on your chest, right over your heart,

“For Austin, you fit right here—okay?” You hold Penny’s gaze for a long moment and nod because…even though you know that? For some reason, you really needed to hear it. It doesn’t completely remove all your apprehension, but it does help. “That’s all that matters.”

Hoping to keep as much comfort as this conversation provides in your back pocket, you move to get finished for tonight’s event.

--

Despite the fact that Austin isn’t on social media very much, when you move to get into the SUV to leave, he snaps a candid of you to put on his Instagram story.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” He says, pocketing his phone.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you approach him, resting your hand on his chest. “Stop.”

He’s really one to talk—he looks perfect, like straight out of a GQ magazine or something. The suit hugs him attractively, making your stomach swoop down to your knees, heat settling between your legs.

He hums, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you close, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Really nothin’ compared to what you had on last night before bed, but—”

You playfully push on his chest to get him to stop talking, a pretty flush resting on your cheeks.

Austin smiles, pulling the SUV door open for you to slip inside. The ride to the event is quiet, traffic a bit busy which…just ends up making your anxiety worse, the entire thing lengthened every time you stop at a red light. Running one of your hands nervously along your dress, you play with the soft fabric between your fingers, swallowing over your heartbeat in your ears as you look out the window.

You know it’s ridiculous to be scared about this red-carpet event—you know how Austin feels about you, you deserve to be there by his side, and even though others might see it differently? It doesn’t matter. The last thing you want to do is have Austin think that you can’t handle this.

“Y/N.”

You blink, turning your head to look at Austin who…seems like he’s been talking to you and you hadn’t even heard him. “What?”

His eyebrows crinkle together, his one hand moving across the middle of the backseat to rest over yours, “You alright?”

“Yeah, m’fine.” You give him a soft smile.

He holds your gaze for a long moment but doesn’t press, you’re sure he doesn’t believe you. “You know, we don’t have to stay at this thing for very long. I pretty much just need to be seen, talk to a few cameras, answer some questions, mingle after a few drinks.”

There’s a way out there, you can sense it but…really, you’re sure you’ll be fine after you have a glass or two of wine yourself. Just need to settle the nerves, take some deep breaths, follow Austin’s lead. It’ll be fine.

And you completely believe that until you begin to pull up, a block away, and see the massive crowd of people. Not just celebrities exiting their cars and walking onto the carpet, but a sea of fans embanked on both sides, lines upon lines of photographers and interviewers and—

Your heart begins pounding in your ears louder than before as the SUV pulls out of traffic to let you out and suddenly you feel utterly naked underneath this dress, a fraud, and it seems like something so obvious, tattooed on your forehead for everyone to see. You gulp down a breath, reaching a shaking hand for Austin’s forearm as he begins to open the door,

“Wait,” You choke out, “I can’t do this.”

Austin draws himself back into the SUV, frowning as he reaches to touch your shoulder, “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

A harsh laugh leaves your lips and you straighten your shoulders, almost wanting to get out of the car because it doesn’t feel like oxygen is circulating into your lungs. Like the dress is too tight and you just want to tear it right off your skin, or move, something to stop your hands from shaking.

“No, it’s not—I can’t breathe.”

“Hey,” Both of Austin’s hands settle firmly on your shoulders, squeezing, preventing you from pulling away, “You’re okay, shh, just breathe.”

“I c-can’t,” Your hand falls to your chest, taking in a pathetic breath, your head spinning. Your eyes begin to fill with tears as you panic and Austin shakes his head gently, inching closer to you in the back seat.

“Yes you can,” He assures, voice gentle, smooth like honey, “Look at me, you’re okay. Take a slow breath, try and hold it in your lungs.”

Your eyes seek out Austin’s gaze, calm and collected, and somehow that helps you do exactly as he asks. You draw a deep breath in your lungs, hold it, and then let it out. It’s shaky at first but it does the trick, the next breath easier than the last.

“There you go,” He whispers, bringing his hand up to stroke through your hair, settling along your neck as you calm down.

You sniffle, running your fingers along the underside of your one eye, trying so carefully not to mess up any makeup even though you feel like a splotched mess. Shaking your head, you allow Austin’s hand to slip around the back of your neck and pull you into his chest. You feel relief flood through your system, your eyes closing as you rest against him, face tucked into his neck.

He strokes a hand up and down your back, letting you take some time to breathe easier for a few minutes before,

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were feelin’ uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look at him. You can’t imagine how much of a mess you must look like now, all of Penny’s work gone to waste. “Because I was bein’ ridiculous.”

Austin shakes his head, lacing your fingers with his, “Don’t do that,” He says gently, “Your feelings are not ridiculous.”

You sniffle again, glancing down at the silver accent jewelry he has on, the cool metal of his rings pressing against your skin. “I just—I’ve been to events with you before, I don’t understand why this one has me so wigged out.”

Austin leans his shoulder against the backseat, glancing out the back window at the event down the street. Flashes of cameras, the roar of the crowd, the brightness of the lights. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand for a few moments,

“I understand more than anyone how overwhelming it can be, there’s no shame in that.” He offers you a soft smile, picking your hand up and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “There’s no timeline on this thing, you can take as much or as little as you need.”

His words plant seeds of comfort in your chest and it does make you feel better to know where his head is at with this whole thing. There’s a slight bit of foolishness heating the back of your neck because…a lot of this probably could have been avoided if you just would have talked to him in the first place. You replay his words a few times over in your mind and he’s right. There’s no blueprint to this thing, you gotta figure it out for yourself.

And what better way to do it than with Austin by your side?

Giving him a genuine smile, you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.”

Austin smiles back, squeezing your hand in his before motioning towards the event with a slight head nod, “Want to try again?”

And you know if you asked, you could skip this event with Austin altogether. But that’s the last thing you want to do. So you draw a soft breath into your chest and nod, pulling out a small compact to check your makeup, wipe away any smudges, and reapply a bit of lipstick. Turning in your seat, you open the SUV door and climb out, meeting Austin halfway.

He takes your hand into his again, easily lacing your fingers. Austin had once told you—the only opinions that matter are here in this trailer. You and me.

With that thought settling warmly in your chest, you straighten your shoulders, squeeze Austin’s hand and walk towards the red-carpet.  

--

All in all, the event itself goes pretty smoothly. You don’t let yourself worry about how you're perceived by others, about what people might think about your relationship with Austin, whether they might ‘speculate’ about where you belong, where you fit. But it's right there, right next to Austin, your hands joined together as you walk down the carpet towards the event.

There's pausing every so often for photographs and interviews, but Austin always makes sure to include you. You hope he understands that it's not necessary, that you understand that you're still dipping your toes into this world, that Austin's place is a bit more etched out. After photos of him are taken, he opens his arm out towards you, inviting you to stand right next to him. When questions are thrown his way, he draws you into talking, or brings up the script you're writing.

Penny was right, he is proud of you—you can see it as plain as day on his face, the way his eyes kinda light up when you speak. It means more to you than you can put into words.

The event itself is fun—you mingle, have drinks, meet people in the industry that aren't just interested in you being Austin's girlfriend. You’re pleasantly surprised and feel a warm glow about the entire night wrap around you as you leave with Austin after a few hours. He shrugs off his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders as he takes a look down the carpet for his usual driver.

There's a few lingering paps, getting photographs and attempting to ask questions about where you’re going for the night, if there's any other after parties that you’re interested in going to. You kinda let out a soft laugh because—you're interested in going home, maybe grabbing a large pizza and a bottle of wine.

Austin shares a look with you, giving you a smile—he knows you well.

You've learned, for the most part, that paps keep their distance while asking questions and taking photos but you also know that there's a select few that don't care about personal space. They want that one shot, that one question that'll set them apart from others, and unfortunately you can feel someone come up from behind you as you and Austin walk towards the curb to cross the street to where the SUV is parked.

It's a bad combination of not enough space and you looking over your shoulder instead of where you're stepping and you misjudge the curb, twisting your ankle. A sharp noise leaves your lips and you grab onto Austin's arm to steady yourself so you don't hit the pavement. And you think it'd be enough for the pap to back off but he keeps coming, shoving the camera in your face, reaching out his hand to...help maybe? You're not sure. Either way, Austin isn't having it.

"Don't touch her," He puts an arm out to create a barrier between you and the pap.

"Was an accident Austin," The pap replies, lowering his camera. You frown, lifting your ankle to briefly rub at the bone before putting your foot back on the ground again. Not terrible, you can walk on it.

"I don't care if it was an accident or not, you need to put some distance between yourself and my girlfriend, man. There's a certain respect that goes a long way."

You gently squeeze onto his forearm to assure him it's fine, but the pap at least seems to understand that, nodding before he backs up. Austin helps you cross the street, opening the door for you to get in, a breath of relief leaving your lips as the SUV pulls out into traffic and you head back home.

--

You sigh gently from the corner of your couch, in your pjs, with fuzzy socks absolutely needed. Your ankle is propped up on a small pillow, Austin coming over and shaking an ice pack before wrapping it in a dish towel. He gently lifts the pillow and slides underneath so that he’s sitting next to you, your ankle on his lap.

“Think it’ll need amputated or are you gonna make it?” He teases, the warm palm of his hand resting along your leg as he gently positions the ice pack.

A short laugh leaves your lips, “Are you calling me dramatic?” You crinkle your nose at him but you’re smiling, “I’m not the one who was yelling at the pap.”

Austin rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. He’s got these large curls near his forehead today—literally unfair how beautiful he is. “Yeah, well, should be no surprise at this point that I’m protective of you.”

Giving your boyfriend a soft smile, something warm blooming in your chest, you reposition yourself to lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. Austin hums lightly, turning chin to rest his lips along your forehead, a ghost of a kiss too.

Despite how the day started out, the nerves threatening to spill over, and now the swollen ankle—not a bad way to end the night. You certainly wouldn’t trade it for anything else. This, after all, is exactly where you fit. Right against Austin, perfectly.

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold II {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

or- the one where scout falls for Frankie before she falls for rooster.

word count- 2400+

read part 1 here

When Rooster allows himself a couple of rare moments to reflect on Sunday morning, it’s easy to feel blue about the state of all things. But then Frankie will tell him a joke she heard at school:

-What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?

I haven’t the faintest idea, Frankie.

-Thunderpants!

Or she’ll hand him a photo she drew of him in his… F/A-18? Or she’ll curl into his side in front of the television and fall asleep. And he'll know then, without a doubt, that he is the luckiest man in the world. He’s reminded of this fact as he rolls to a halt in front of Penny’s house. The beautiful sound of Frankie’s laughter floats in on the breeze through the Bronco’s open windows and makes him smile. He watches sheer joy bloom on her face as Maverick plays with her in the front yard, and something heavy tugs on his heartstrings.  

You should be here, dad.

Rooster exits the car to lean against the passenger door, not wanting to ruin their moment just yet.

“Papa!”

Frankie catches sight of her father and bolts from Maverick’s embrace to run into Rooster’s outstretched arms, and he reckons there’s no better feeling in the universe. He holds her to him, peppering the top of her head with dozens of kisses.

“Hi papa,” Frankie’s cheeks are rosy and she’s breathless from play.

“Hi Frankie. Did you miss me?”

She nods fervently, circling her tiny arms tighter around him.

“But you had fun with Mav and Penny, right?”

Frankie nods again.

“Well, well, well. You certainly look like you had a good weekend.” Maverick surveys the sight of Rooster with a wry smile.

The younger pilot laughs sheepishly and scratches at the back of his head. “There’s a reason I never really go out with those guys anymore.”

Maverick’s laughter is booming. “You deserved it, kid.” His gaze drifts to Frankie’s and he bends down to her level. “Go see Pen about some cookies before you leave, Frank. She just made a batch of fresh ones.”

Frankie squeezes Rooster’s hand and dashes off in the direction of the front door.

“You bringing her down to the beach?” Maverick asks.

Rooster nods. “Dogfight football Sundays are her favourite. Will we see you there?”

“Penny and I wouldn’t miss it.” Maverick affirms.

His expression is unreadable; Rooster gets the feeling he’s about to ask him something, when Frankie bursts from the house, her tiny hands laden with two bulging Ziploc bags of homemade chocolate chunk cookies.

“Looks like you won the jackpot, Frank.” Rooster muses and watches her place the cookies carefully into her green dinosaur backpack. “Well, we should probably head out sweetheart. Did you thank Mav and Penny for hanging out with you this weekend?”

The elder pilot bends down so that Frankie can wrap her arms around his neck. “We had a good time didn’t we, Frank?”

“Yeah Mav!” She grins and plants a sloppy kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Don’t get too carried away with your goodbyes, Frank. Mav and Penny are meeting us at the beach in a little bit.”

Rooster watches her beautiful blue eyes widen in sheer delight.

“Dogfight football!” She squeals and doesn’t waste a second before jumping into the back of the waiting Bronco.

~

“You’re late, Bradshaw!” Jake yells an hour later and is about to rib him some more, but he falters when he notices Frankie in tow behind him. “Well, if it ain't Frank the Tank!” He jogs to where they’re standing and gathering her into his arms, spins her around in dizzying cirlces. The girlish trill of her laughter fills the humid saltwater air around them.

Rooster marvels at how well Jake does with children and reckons with a wry smile, that perhaps there’s still hope for the elder pilot yet.

“I’m wearing the boots you got me!” Frankie exclaims, excitedly.

Jake bends down to get a good look at the fire-engine red cowboy boots he had picked up for her on his last trip home to Austin.

“So you are, and might I add that they have never looked more stunning on anyone else before.”

Frankie’s cheeks glow pink- she’s about to say something else when she notices Scout a little way beyond the crowd and her eyes widen in delighted surprise.

“Miss Wallis!”

Scout’s eyes light up when she catches sight of her, and she raises a hand in greeting. “Hi Frankie!”

Rooster hadn’t considered her being there; figures that if he had known, he might have thought twice about coming. Especially with Frankie.

“What on Earth are you doing at dogfight football, Miss Wallis?” Frankie’s chest heaves from running through the sand to get to her.

Scout catches Rooster’s gaze for a second and he remembers instantly, the feeling of her hand in his two nights ago and how it felt like he’d known her for years instead of a mere couple of hours, and it’s all he can do not to gather Frankie in his arms and take her back home.

To spare them both heartache that would ensue sooner or later.

“Well, a little birdie flew by and told me that there was going to be a football game on the beach today, and I figured maybe I should drop by to cheer everyone on. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Miss Wallis. Can we do it together?”

“I’d like that, Frankie.” Scout beams widely and holds out her hand for Frankie to take, which she accepts happily.

Despite the girls' enthusiastic cheering, a grueling hour passes beneath the relentless San Diego sun, and Rooster (out of breath and embarrassingly sunburnt) is the first to admit that he’s played better games. Jake and Coyote take turns teasing him mercilessly about it, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off Scout and Frankie gallivanting up and down the beach like a couple of old friends. Frankie picks out shells and rocks that strike her fancy, and Scout drops them into the pockets of her sundress for safe keeping.

When Frankie catches up with Rooster and Penny a mile down the beach, she’s breathless with triumph. “You’ll never guess how many shells I found, Papa. Look at this one,” She whispers and opens her tiny palm to reveal a miniscule, speckled cowrie shell.

“That’s a pretty cool one, Frank. You'll have to add it it to your collection." Rooster eyes Scout’s dress, which had been knee-length thirty minutes ago, and was now hanging around her ankles, the hem of it damp from sand and saltwater. "Did you thank Miss Wallis for hanging onto them for you?”

“I did, Papa. Can I go show some of my shells to Bob and Phoenix?” Rooster nods and watches Frankie bound away, her red boots kicking up a sandstorm as she disappears down the beach.

Scout clears her throat. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s why they make these dresses with such deep pockets.”

Rooster turns to her then; wishes for a moment that fate had intervened seven years earlier, instead of two days ago.

There’s no such thing as ‘right person, wrong time’ Bradley. The right person will never come along at the wrong time.

He hears his mother’s voice so clearly some days, it’s as if she’s still around somewhere.

“I never got to thank you for Friday night.” Scout finally offers.

Rooster frowns. “What for?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a fantastic rendition of a Jerry Lee Lewis song. It’s like you were born to play it.”

Rooster muses at how close she came to the mark. “I don’t have very many memories of childhood before the age of six, but my old man used to love that song.” They wander back to the group of pilots and significant others that had elected to stay after the game for the bonfire.

Jake's busy tossing the football back and forth to Coyote, but when he notices Scout, he winks and asks, "How'd I look out there, Wallis?"

She’s about to respond but Phoenix beats her to it, her tone deapan. “Like a magnet for melanoma, Bagman.”

A chorus of laughter erupts, and all Jake can do is roll his eyes and say, “It seems we have a comedian in our midst, friends.”

“You looked a picture of unbridled athleticism, honey.” Scout giggles by way of putting the flames out, and drops into a seat next to Maverick.

Rooster takes this opportunity to introduce the two. “Maverick, this is Scout Wallis. She just so happens to be Frankie's teacher."

The delicate creases next to the elder pilot’s eyes deepen as he offers her a wide beam. “So, it’s you we have to thank for the plethora of silly jokes Frankie likes to tell us.”

Scout’s cheeks redden before she offers a sheepish shrug. “It turns out that in the state of California, bad jokes are a prerequisite for primary schoolteachers.”

Maverick’s laugh is hearty and booming, but when it subsides, his expression is thoughtful. “In all seriousness though, you’re doing a wonderful job with her.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain. Frankie is a dream to have in the classroom.”

If Maverick wonders how Scout knew to refer to him by his naval rank, he makes no mention of it. Rooster, however, does wonder. He's about to ask her about it when Penny leans over and says, “You were at the Hard Deck on Friday night, weren’t you?”

Oh shit.

Maverick’s eyebrows rise in mild amusement.

“I was yeah,” Scout admits. “I had the pleasure of a very special performance.” She winks at Rooster who fights the urge to drop his gaze.

“Let me guess, he hit you with the old tried and true, Great Balls of Fire?”

“He sure did,” Penny laughs. “Had the whole bar in a tizzy.”

“His dad used to play that song on the piano like his life depended on it.” Maverick murmurs, by way of explanation.  

Rooster could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes of hers again, and where he had never easily shared any part of himself with Frankie’s mother, he was struck suddenly by the want to share every part of himself with Scout. This notion made him uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons; least not of which was because his best friend, who seemed just as crazy about her as he was, was only a couple of feet away.

“I take it there’s history between the two of you?” Scout's voice shatters the muddled silence.

Rooster laughs and glances sideways at the surrogate-father figure before him. “Yeah, something like that.”

The night unfolds the way in which Sunday nights often do for Rooster and Frankie: with an abundance of friends and family, the warm salty air a salve for their souls. Frankie and Scout take a couple of turns throwing the football back and forth; Rooster notices the spiral Scout has on her and grows even more bewitched by the woman before him. When she’s had enough for the night, she drops into a seat next to Penny, their quiet chatter a soothing comparison to the hoots and hollers of the pilots around them.

A little while later, Frankie (exhausted from the day’s events, and with a stomach full of sparkling water and hotdogs) wanders over to where Scout’s seated, climbs onto her lap, and promptly falls asleep. Rooster watches Scout’s arms instinctively circle his daughter’s slumbering figure, and a chunk of ice the size of texas chips away from his heart. With a slight pang, he knows their time to leave has arrived.

“You’ll be hard-pressed to pry them apart, Bradshaw.” Jake’s Southern drawl is thicker under the weight of the couple of beers he had under his belt.

“Don’t I know it.” Rooster sighs and pushes himself from his seat to wander over to where Frankie and Scout are. He drops down into the sand in front of Frankie to rub the flat of his palm over her small back.

“Is it time to go?” Scout whispers.

Rooster nods and waits a second for Frankie to stir. “Come on Frank, it’s time to go home to bed.”

His daughter opens her eyes, her expression stupefied from the weight of sleep. “I don’t want to, Papa.” She pleads.

Rooster kisses the top of her head. “I know, sweetheart, but it's time.” She lets him lift her into his arms without any more fuss. It only takes a second before he feels the steady rise and fall of her chest against his shoulder to know that she’s back to sleep. He turns to Scout, not wanting to say goodbye but accepting the inevitable. “It was a pleasure seeing you again today.”

Scout gazes up at him. “The pleasure was all mine, Rooster. She’s a great kid.”

It’s only after they’ve returned home for the evening, Frankie tucked into bed, and his own eyelids fighting the lulling tug of sleep that he remembers Frankie’s precious shells. He makes a mental note to text Jake about them tomorrow. He lets his mind drift back to that wondrous woman before sleep settles in for good; wonders again how she knew Maverick’s rank, and how she possesses an ease to military life that most civilians don’t usually have.

Maverick stops by the next morning for coffee before Frankie’s awake for the day.

“There’s something going on between you and Frankie’s teacher.” His tone is mild and lacks any accusation.

“Well you certainly are direct this morning, aren’t you?” Rooster takes a deep sip from his mug, savoring the slightly bitter taste of the roasted beans on his tongue, before he answers no.

Maverick shifts in his chair. “But you’d like there to be?”

Rooster hesitates before nodding.

“You have to tread carefully here, kid. Frankie’s crazy about her.”

And so is Jake Seresin.

“Yeah well, Jake beat me to it, so there isn’t much else to say.”

Maverick’s viridian gaze twinkles knowingly in the light pouring in through the kitchen window, giving his head an almost imperceptible half-shake. “The feeling was mutual, Rooster. Everyone knew it.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Rooster asks, “Did you wonder how she knew to call you Captain? You weren’t wearing anything that gave you away.”

Maverick finishes the rest of his coffee and sets the mug down against the wooden tabletop. “What did you say her last name was?”

“Wallis.”

“She teaches at Mason elementary?”

Rooster nods.

Maverick shifts again in his seat and closes his eyes as if he were sifting through a mental rolodex of memories. “I believe her husband was top of his class at NAS Fallon in 2016. A truly great fighter pilot.”

Rooster blanches. “She's married?”

Maverick grows somber. “He died in enemy combat almost five years ago now.”

[kebriones]

Let's say you have a hypothetical friend like that, where are you taking them? Doesn't have to be a specific place, I'm more curious what you'd show to a foreigner looking for some not-tourist-traps-and-not-that-one-temple-everyone-goes-to?

HERE ARE A FEW EXAMPLES HEHE:

Mount Hymettus. I can milk so much content out of that mountain if you like nature and easy hikes.

The various hidden and run-down neoclassical, art deco etc buildings one can find around areas like kypseli etc. Plaka is fine but everyone knows of it.

University campuses. Don't you want to see what the athenian university campus looks like. I'd even take a foreign friend to my art school fo show them around all the workshops and stuff.

The planetarium, the goulandri natural history museum, the natural history museum of the university of athens and a bunch of other lesser known ones, or those with modern folk art like the benaki museum and some others hidden around in athens.

Peiraius. Most tourists only see a tiny portion of peiraius, only when they get on or off a boat. The port and peiraius in general has so much more to see.

Random neighborhoods. Richer ones, industrial ones, i think each neighborhood in athens has its own character.

The first cemetery. Graves that are literal works of art, also many famous people's graves and a chance for historical discussions.

Plato's academy. The lyceum of Aristotle. People completely overlook these ones.

The diomedes botanical garden.

Parks tour. Metro stations tour. My dad and I used to do metro stations tours.

Mount parnitha . A bit of a car trip but it's gorgeous.

Any ongoing festival or exhibition or event meant for locals rather than tourists.

Visit non-tourist stores for souvenirs. Maybe they won't say "i love athens" or have a korinthian helmet on them, but you can find everything from second hand books and clothes to antiques to locally handmade art, comics by greek people that exist only in the 3-4 Athenian comic stores and nowhere else, there's scavenger's markets, there's incredible local jewelry stores etc etc.

Visit a very big supermarket, and visit a big jumbo store. These are essential experiences. When I was in Germany, I had a blast visiting a big supermarket. It's so interesting to see these common things in other countries.

Take them to a nice church to see the Sunday morning service. It might be interesting for someone who hasn't experienced an Orthodox service before. I'll pick one with epic chanters.

Bring them to some of the best pizza shops around athens. Greek pizza is the best pizza please don't kill me italians.

Just show them around my neighborhood. I know all the interesting spots, the best places to eat, and if they're a cat fan I can do the epic cat tour. I think one can get a very good idea of common daily life in Athens in my neighborhood.

[wheels-of-despair]

The Case of the Missing Eddie Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie disappears, and you freak the hell out. Contains: Panic, unhealthy coping mechanisms, murderous thoughts, Uncle Wayne, comfort, cheeseburgers. Word Count: 1.7k-ish Notes: Takes place near the end of the 1984-85 school year. Reader is a junior, Eddie is in Senior Year: Take 2. This was originally written for an event by newlips, but I picked at it for two weeks and still didn't like it enough to submit it, so now it's just a random entry in my Evil Woman universe. (As with all of those, can be read as a standalone.)

This features the prompt "If I believe in anything, it's you." from the 'A Quiet Love' list by soulprompts.

Eddie Munson was nowhere to be found.

You knew he had an appointment with Miss Kelley during 4th period that he'd pretended not to be nervous about. When the bell rang at the end of the day, you'd gone to meet him in the parking lot and find out how it went, but his van was gone. Did he go home sick? Did they find out what he did to the boys' locker room? Had the contents of his lunchbox been discovered? Your mind went wild with worry.

He probably just had errands to run, Gareth had said. It was Friday night, he'd definitely be back in time for Hellfire, Jeff had assured you. And yet, he was not. After waiting half an hour for their Dungeon Master to appear, the Hellfire Club finally packed up and went home.

You went to Eddie's.

Lights off, door locked, no van in sight.

Wedging a note that read "EDWARD. CALL ME." into the crack of the trailer door, you went home and continued worrying.

The next morning, when you knew Wayne would be getting home, you called.

"H'lo?"

"Hey, Wayne. Is Eddie there?"

"Hang on, I just walked in." You heard him put the phone down, walk away, and come back a few seconds later. "He's not here, darlin."

"Do you know if he came home at all last night?"

"Nope… anything I should know?"

"I haven't seen him since lunch yesterday... he was nervous about a meeting with Miss Kelley during 4th period."

"Aw, hell," Wayne grumbled. "If he shows up, I'll get him to call you."

"Thanks, Wayne."

He hummed in acknowledgment and hung up.

You hung up your own phone and banged your head against the wall next to it. What the hell, Eddie?

You waited.

And you waited.

And then you started cleaning.

The kind of cleaning that only happens when you're trying to take your mind off something that's worrying you.

Or someone you're going to kill for causing all this worry.

You hardly slept that night. You hadn't slept the night before either. You'd left your bedroom window cracked, even though it wasn't exactly sleeping-with-the-windows-open weather, hoping that it would summon him.

It did not.

On Sunday morning, approximately 30 seconds after you'd finally drifted off, the phone began to ring.

You leaped out of bed and tried to grab it, but you were so jittery and sleep-deprived, you fumbled it. When you finally got it to your ear, you heard Wayne.

"You alright, darlin'?"

"Yeah, just dropped the phone. Did you find him?"

"He's here, but it looks like he's sleepin' one off. I'd give him a while. Just wanted you to quit worryin'."

You breathed a sigh of relief, still feeling shaky.

"Thanks, Wayne. Can I come by and murder him in a few hours?"

He chuckled. "Go easy, sweetheart. Last time he disappeared like this was when he found out he'd failed."

Shit.

"Alright, Wayne. I'll spare him this time. Thanks again for calling."

"Sure thing. I'll leave the door unlocked for you." Wayne hung up.

Well, he's alive. For now, you think bitterly.

You managed to wait until 11:27 before heading out. You stopped by the only drive-thru in town and ordered Eddie's favorite burger combo, and one for Wayne too. Eddie's was to be used for either bribery or comfort. Wayne's was a thank-you.

You pulled into your usual spot and turned off the car, taking a moment to compose yourself. Breathe. You're not here to kill him for worrying you to death. You're here to find out what's wrong, and show him that you love him. There will be no murder today.

You entered quietly. Wayne, as promised, had left the door unlocked for you. At least one Munson Man can be counted on, said the devil on one shoulder. Go easy on him, he's having a hard time, said the angel on the other. Both of you need to shut the hell up, the annoyed brain in the middle thought. Wayne was sleeping, so you left the food on the table and approached Eddie's room cautiously.

Slipping in and easing the door shut behind you, you take a minute just to watch him breathe. He's alive. He's okay. He's face-down and sprawled out in nothing but his boxers, and you can smell the sweat and booze from the door.

You tiptoe through the mess of dirty clothes on the floor and sit on the edge of the bed. You rub a hand across his back, just grateful to be close to him again. Even if he does smell like a farm animal.

He begins to stir, turning his head in your direction and inching closer to your warmth. All of your anger begins to dissipate. Damn your soft spot for Sleepy Eddie. You reach up and gently brush his hair out of his face. He slowly opens his eyes, and smiles when he sees you.

And then he scrunches his eyes shut again, reaching for his head with a groan, and buries his face in the pillow. You smile, at his adorableness and not his misery, and exit the room. You return a minute later with a tall glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. Shaking out two pills into your palm as quietly as you can, you hold them out to him. You say his name softly, and once he realizes what you want, he sits up and pops them in his mouth, then drains the glass and hands it back to you.

"Another?" He shakes his head, and you place the glass on his bedside table. You want to give him time, and to tell him you love him, and to take it easy on him like Wayne asked you to. However, what comes out of your mouth is:

"What the fuck, Eddie?"

He looks at you quizzically, and his face clouds over when realizes what you're talking about. He sinks back down into the bed, flops onto his stomach, and hides his face in the pillow again. Maybe try a softer approach?

"I'm glad you're okay. But you scared the shit out of me. What the hell happened?"

He mumbles something that you can't quite make out.

"Wanna try that again?" you ask, raising an eyebrow that he can't see.

He turns his head in away from you and speaks to the wall.

"I failed," he croaks, "AGAIN."

As usual, Wayne was right. You wish you'd spent a little less time cleaning and a little more time figuring out how to handle this potential scenario. You take a deep breath.

"Go ahead and leave me, we both know it's coming."

"What?" you ask with an incredulous chuckle.

"You can do better than the dumb-ass Super Senior. Everybody knows it."

"Okay. So I should leave you because you suck at chemistry?"

"I suck at everything."

"Eddie, I say this with love… but shut the fuck up."

For once in his life, he does.

"You are good at so many things. It's not your fault that they're not things you get graded on." He doesn't respond, so you continue. "It's high school. It's not the end of the world."

"I'm gonna be the oldest fucking senior in the history of Indiana."

"Think they'll give you a trophy?"

He scoffs. Too soon, noted.

"You'll get there next year."

"Why bother? I'll just drop out like my old man did, let the cycle continue, everyone expects it anyway."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'll beat your ass if you drop out, and then Wayne will probably want a turn, and if there's anything left of you, maybe we'll let Hellfire have a go."

You see his body twitch like he's fighting back either a sob or a chuckle, but he doesn't make a sound.

"Plus, you'll have an advantage next year that you didn't have this time."

"What?" he asks miserably.

"Me, doofus. I'll be a senior too. And I'm going to bully Miss Kelley into putting us in the same classes, so I can ride your ass and make sure you pass this time."

"All I heard was ride my ass."

You give the aforementioned ass a sharp smack, and he jumps from the impact.

"You're gonna get there next year. You're gonna walk that stage, flip Higgins the bird, and be free of Hawkins High forever."

"You seriously believe that?"

"If I believe in anything, it's you."

He's silent for a moment, then heaves a sigh and turns over to face you.

"That was extremely cheesy."

"So's the burger I brought you," you tease through the blush rising in your cheeks. It may have been a cheesy line, but it got the job done. "Get your ass up, wash this dead animal stench off, and maybe I'll let you eat it."

He smiles and extends a hand, as if he's going to let you pull him up. You stand up and reach for him, and he pulls you down. Into the bed. Where it smells like a drunk pig has been wallowing. Then he crawls on top of you. Rubbing his stupid face all over you. Spreading his stench with a wicked grin on his face. And you can't even yell at him, because you'll wake Wayne. He knows this. The rotten bastard.

"You're lucky I love you," you hiss through gritted teeth. He stills.

"I know," he says softly, looking up at you with those big sad eyes of his. You feel your heart break a little, and lean in for a kiss.

"Jesus Christ, can you get secondhand drunk? Is that a thing?" You wipe your mouth and shove him off you, and he laughs. You roll out of his bed and start pulling clean clothes out of the dresser, throwing them at him one garment at a time. A t-shirt hits him in the face before he realizes what you're doing, and he catches the rest. He gathers his clothes and heads for the door, stopping in front of you.

"Thank you," he whispers with a lingering kiss to your forehead. You pull back and look up at him with pure adoration in your eyes. And then that mischievous twinkle returns to his. "Jesus, you smell like you've been dumpster diving. When's the last time you bathed? You should probably come get in the shower with me." You laugh and give his smart ass a shove toward the bathroom.

God, you love him.