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dcxdpdabbles · 28 days

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Are you going to make another part for the Angel and Demon Brat? If you do, please have them fumbling and Damian + Danny taking full advantage. Also, could you do something about Cujo please? I don’t think Danny would move without him

Danny will admit that he is having a little too much fun with his birth father's family. But could one blame him? They made it all too easy. Also, he was starting to see why Damian had been a bit hesitant to tell them about him.

It was not that they threatened him in any way, but he could see how hard it was for them to have a normal relationship with anyone. Just his small forms of affection made a lot of the Waynes' skin crawl.

They still gave in regardless. Danny worries it's the most hugs any of them have gotten in years. It couldn't be mentally healthy. Or could it? Some people didn't like to be touched, and that was fair.

He did have to play a careful balance.

He knew that if the League of Assians found out about Damian caring for him, Danny would go from being a Lost sibling to a Dead sibling. The Waynes on the other hand were under the impression that denying him anything would cause Time to erease him- not that Clockwork would dare. Who would try his spicy salsas then?- so they were much more careful in how they handled him.

Tim was his favorite. Danny could tell the other boy really liked being acknowledged, and unlike Dick, who thrived on being the center of attention, Tim struggled to let people know.

So Danny had small ways to give him what he desperately craved and had a little fun with it.

He carefully knocks on the boy's door room, clutching his pillow and blanket. There was a small pause where he could hear Tim scruffling around, likely trying to hide the coffee maker under his bed. Danny didn't have the heart to tell him the whole mansion but Alfred and Bruce knew about his bedroom coffee maker.

Maybe he should hint about it tomorrow at breakfast? Watch Tim sweat?

He shifts his face into an innocent expression when Tim opens the door. The other squints at him, likely catching his more mischievous expression but unwilling - or unable- to call him out on it.

"Angel Brat?" Tim says weary. The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily that one would think Tim has always called him that. Danny applauds his acting ability.

"Hi, Tim! I'm here for our bi-weekly ritual," he chirps, pushing the confused teen aside to step in. He gently rolls his heart pump behind him, mindful of the wires. It's on top of his gas tank, which he chose to wear so he could breathe some clear ectoplasm.

Gotham's ectoplasm was polluted with negative emotions, and it was giving him a headache.

None of the machines was actually doing anything—his heart rate will never be regulated due to his powers—but it was the perfect excuse for why Danny wasn't seen that often in public.

Barbara had gone back into Gotham gossip rags, publishing fake articles and small rumors on the internet that dated to the first day Damian arrived. This gave him some proof of existing before, but with the "timeline reset," it would make sense why no one could recall Danny.

As far as the Gotham citizens were concerned, Danny was an unproven rumor at best. People were asking about him but weren't daring enough to demand who Danny was.

Barbara was the best like that, and Danny should convince Damian to give her and her dad an even longer, all-expenses-paid vacation. She deserved it.

"Our bi-weekly ritual. Of course. Must have have slipped my mind." Tim carefully articulates. His words are clipped enough Danny can tell he's confused. Danny beams at him nonetheless, sitting on the ground carefully after he finishes adding his pillow and blanket to Tim's bed.

He leans his back against Tim's beg, crosses his legs underneath him, and takes a deep breath of ectoplasm.

Tim pauses for only a moment before walking over and sitting cross-leg in front of Danny. The younger boy pays him no mind while fumbling with the bag he brought along.

Danny began pulling out all his needed supplies. Five candles- each with a different color flame are left in a small circle. Five bottles sealed with wax and labeled with different named potions are carefully added to the center of the circle- he makes sure that the glitter liquid inside does not shake too much less the small surprise is noticed.

Then he pulls out a large book, with the image of a screaming skull on the cover. It's large enough that he has to set it on the ground, a thump produced from the weight.

He then carefully claps his hands four times, switching Tim's lights off so the only glow is the green, blue, pink, purple, and yellow light of the candle.

Tim looks a bit distressed. likely thinking Danny was about to start practicing the Black Magic or something. It's hard to keep a straight face as he fights off a giggle at the expression being aimed his way while he flips through the pages.

Tim carefully taps his hand against a bracelet on his wrist, which connects to the Bat's communication lines. The rest of the Bats are probably thinking that Tim is in danger even though he was supposed to be on rest duty and have tuned into the conversation. Danny isn't supposed to know that, though, since he is not "healthy" enough to be a vigilante, so he ignores it.

"Alright, should I start or you?" Danny asks when he lands on the page he was looking for. It's in Latin, which he knows Tim can read but that doesn't stop it from being creepy.

"You can start first."

"Really? You never let me go first in the bi-weekly ritual!" Danny cheers, leaning down to the page. From the corner of his eye, he can see the distress blooming more on Tim's face.

"I'm feeling...generous. I think you're old enough to start our bi-weekly ritual that requires colorful candles, a large black skull book in Latin, and five colored potions." Tim says obviously repeating the materials to the eavesdropping Bats.

"Thanks, Tim! Okay, here we go." Danny holds out his hand above the book muttering in Latin.

"Oh great, Clockwork, master of time, head my call and tell me the answer to my inquiry." Danny quickly switches to English as he grabs the potion in pink glitter. Giving it a good shake, he continues. "Does Kon-El think Tim is cute?"

The glitter shifts until a dice appears with the words- More likely than you think is visible. Danny squeals showing Tim, "Omg Tim, you have a chance!"

Tim's face falters and then turns an alarming shade of red. "What?!"

"Wait the following questions!" Danny reaches for the remaining bottles, making sure to go in the color order of the candles. Will Kon ask Tim to marry him? Yes! Where will they live? A mansion. How many kids will they have? fifteen! What will Tim's future job be? A photographer!"

Danny flips the page over to a table of data, squabbling down the answers. "Okay, you're going to get married to Kon, live in a mansion, have fifteen kids, and be a photographer. This is the third time in a row that Kon has married you. I think Clockwork is on your side for this one, Tim. It's my turn!"

Danny pretended he couldn't hear Jason laughing his ass off in Tim's earpiece or Dick's voice cry out. "No fair! I want to play spooky MASH on a bi-weekly basis."

Tim is beet red, fumbling with his hands. "Who-i-what-?"

Danny frowns. "Are you okay Tim? Should we skip Bi-boys night?"

"Bi-boy night?!" Tim squeaks.

"Yeah! I thought I would give our hang-out night a nickname, and since we mostly end up talking about cute girls and boys, I thought we could name it bi-boy night. You know since you're the only one in the family that's bi like me? I know no one will want to date me. I'm too sick...but it's nice to have a brother who gets crushes."" Danny hunches his shoulders a little ignoring the way Tim's eyes widen a bit with affection. He's touched that Danny came to him for this. Fool. "We can skip my turn. It's not like I'll have someone anyway."

Jason has stopped laughing, and Steph softly whispers. "That's so cute and sad. Who's been hurting our baby?"

Tim swallows. "No. We are not skipping your turn. We are going to play this game because anyone would be tripping over themselves for you."

"Really?" Danny smiles hopefully at Tim. Tim nods firmly, then narrows his eyes.

"No dating until you are sixteen."

"I know." Danny rolls his eyes "You've said that before."

"Good."

"But I can still have crushes right? Because I have one on Jon."

"Jon Kent?" Tim asks at the same time Bruce growls the name.

"You won't tell Dad will you?" Danny asks after nodding and blushing. Damian told him yesterday that Jon pissed him off, and with the power to heat up his ectoplasm just behind his checks, causing them to flush, he thinks he just found a good way to make the super regret upsetting his brother.

Nothing like an overprotective Bat clan to dish out vengence.

"No," Tim says, grinding his teeth. "No, I won't tell. But since I already got married to Kon maybe we can try someone else."

Danny's eyes sparkle with barely concealed glee. "Okay, let's use my second crush! He's super cooler anyway"

"Of course, what's his name?" Tim asks picking up the pink bottle.

"Your friend Bernard," Danny says, knowing Danm well, Tim had an undiscovered crush on the guy. He watches with glee as Tim chocks on his spit.

"What?!"

"Yeah, he's got muscular arms, and he can cook," Danny sighs dreamily. "Damian thinks he's hot too."

"No." Tim gasps.

"I do," Damian says over the cons to the collective shock of everyone. "Dowd has a fine physique. He's also great with animals. I approve of Daniel's involvement with him."

Danny's lower lip wobbles. "No? I can't play the game?"

Tim takes one look at him before caving. "Does Bernard Dowd think Danny is cute......it says no."

"Oh. If Clockwork doesn't think so, then I guess it's not meant to be," Danny sighs.

"Who is Clockwork?" Tim asks, placing the potion down.

Danny blinks. "You don't remember Clockwork? Lately, everyone has been forgetting important things around here. Is something wrong?"

Danny allows his body to flicker a bit with his powers, acting as if he didn't notice as Tim grows alarmed.

"I'm joking! It's a joke! Of course, I know Clockwork! Ha ha ha! Why don't we do the next thing on our Bi-Boy Night!? Want to watch a movie?!" Tim practically leaps out of his seat racing to TV. "What are you in the mood for? Comedy or horror?"

"A musical!"

"A musical!?"

However, Damian has to stop on a roof to laugh into the concrete as he listens to Drake- an active hater of musicals- try to sing along to something called High School Musical and act like he loves it as Danny sings with him. He can hear Drake's blood pressure rise with every new line

#dcxdpdabbles #Demon and Angel Brat #Part 2 #Danny is being a active menace to the Waynes #Starting with Tim #He's making everything up as he goes #He is trying to see how far he can push them by his weirdness #Fake illness #Damian is laughing at his brother #Tim is being bombarded with his crushes

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 27 days

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okay unhinged essay about ragatha probably #1 idk i don't think this is all of my thoughts but here's what i could actually put down

i think the most surprising thing for me Personally is getting a lot of my interpretations of ragatha correct ? like . the thing that almost destroyed my motivation for this blog is the fear that my unhinged overanalyzation of her mannerisms in the pilot were Wrong - i actually thought about canceling everything when i was off from canon - but now ... yeah i'm not doing that

i guess it's just that we had so little of her in the first episode that i thought i was Manifesting her issues but Nope she really is this much of a Loser

first of all ! i suspected that she has low self-esteem but Goodness Gracious !! i didn't expect it to be Actually almost non-existent ?? like i thought i was Exaggerating for this blog but no , no person with a normal amount of self-esteem would Warp an incident so much in their head that they somehow believe something going wrong is Their Fault .

like she's so focused on pomni the entire episode because she Genuinely believes that the fiasco in the first day was her fault ( even though IT WASN'T , but she's really that used to quickly blaming herself ) and wants to make it up to her . but of course pomni is still adjusting and is Overwhelmed by everything ( which is understandable ) so she's not really in the mood for ragatha's bullshit

but with how ragatha reacts and what she subsequently tells kinger - she read those more as ' i do not like you ' than ' i am too fatigued to care about anything right now ' which is such a Large leap , but considering she was the one who Apologized to pomni for giving her a stressful first day ( which was COMPLETELY out of her control , ) it makes sense that she assumes that pomni has something against her - which was not helped by how none of ragatha's attempts of starting a friendship were reciprocated

i do understand why she would Think it's her fault - as pomni's a newcomer and More Stress is the last thing she needs , especially in her first day - but ' oh she doesn't like me ' is still Such a hasty conclusion that someone who already ... Doesn't Like Themself would jump to .

of course i can't not talk about the potential history between her and kinger . through their dialogue you can tell that ragatha's one of those people that took a batshit long time to truly adjust to the circus - which has a lot of interesting implications . with how she seems to understand the process of finding an exit in episode 1 , it explains a lot . my girl was so Not well when she entered the circus .

honestly it's just nice seeing that ragatha at least has Some support despite her being the one who holds everything together - it makes the ending impactful in my opinion ; they do really care for each other and will be saddened if one of them is gone .

also of course she asked if everyone's alright despite having a cleaver to the head ...

something that also has been nagging me for a long time is how much she always gets the short end of the stick . like , literally every time she's on screen , she Has To Get Harmed in some way . i would brush this off as slapstick when her official pin doesn't have her HAVING A KNIFE TO THE CHEST ???

Maybe it's just slapstick . maybe with her having parallels to kaufmo considering how he's said to be a goofy toxic positivity type guy like ragatha and is the one that has abstracted thus far is just a coincidence and doesn't speak levels to what might become inevitable as the series goes on ,

#[ ooc ]#[ ESSAY WARNING ]#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc spoilers #the amazing digital circus spoilers #tadc ragatha #||#couldn't find a way to fit this into the post but #something about her just screams ' abandonment issues ' and i don't think i have enough evidence to prove it but . the feeling's there

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uranometrias · 15 days

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✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

"It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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magics-neptunes-things · 5 months

Text

Celebrity Crush

Hi guys!

This is a new one, but it's kind of a suit from this story. A bonus chapter, I don't know how we can call it.

I hope you will like it :)

TW : Ona Batlle being perfect as ever.(I'm so in love)

Summary : You're a worldclass singer in an interview after you left your group because your manager and staff were asshole.

Enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

After leaving your group's separation, you quickly felt better. The depression that awaited you flew away like a cloud of smoke once the stress and pressure that were constantly on your shoulders stopped existing. Even when you were on trial against your old record company, your former bosses and manager, you felt good. Because even if you ended up paying millions, it meant you were free again. And that, in your eyes, was priceless.

You must also admit that being able to be with your girlfriend on a daily basis is probably the main reason for your well-being. Ona has always been the most important person in your life and since your return to Barcelona, you have trouble being separated from her. You gladly accompany her to her training sessions and you will also happily get her when she has finished. You go to each of her games as well, even if they are on the other side of Spain or in another country. You have so much time to catch up and your wear your jersey with her name with pride.

You were afraid at first that having you around all the time would end up bothering Ona, but she seems as happy to have you back as you are. At first, you didn’t know what to do while the footballer was training, so you cleaned up your house. As the days passed, you started composing and playing music again, for fun. Your apartment may no longer shine like a mint, but it has the advantage that your housekeeper stops staring at you when you don’t put their products in the right place.

It's only two years later that you decide to release a music album, entirely produced by you. You don’t want to experience the same kind of problems as before and you’ve decided that you’re never better served than by yourself. The songs are mostly love songs related to Ona to be fair.

When you looked for musicians, you asked the guys but only Ricardo agreed. You didn’t blame the other two, even if you now use the thing to annoy them when you see them again and you start bickering like fifteen year olds.

You choose your interviews yourself and it's you who plans your concert schedules, arranging to place them at times or places that don't make you miss any match of Ona. It's sometimes more difficult for her to come see you in concert, but these being the same each time, you don't hold it against her. You have an agent, though, who is no one but your big brother, who you have complete confidence in, and who knows how to be a watchdog when it comes.

After dropping Ona off at practice today, you head to the centre of Barcelona for an interview. You initially hesitated before accepting, but when sold to you as a way to also talk about homosexuality that is forced to hide in the music world, you quickly accepted.

"Drive carefully. I will try to listen to you" Ona promised before kissing you tenderly caressing your cheek.

"All right. Be careful Onita."

Ona smiled at you and left the car, not without kissing you one more time when you whines when you saw her leaving your car.

The report that is broadcast before your interview attracts all your attention and you are happy that the subject is approached in this way. The way they educate young people on the subject also pleases you very much. During the ad page and the beginning of your interview, you send a quick message to Ona and your mother, telling them that the interview will soon begin.

The headphones on your ears, you smile at the journalist who is interviewing you. She is a well-known and respected journalist in Spain and you are happy that she is the one doing your interview.

"So Y/N, hello! How are you?"

"I’m fine thank you and you?" you answer with a smile.

"Well, I’m glad you’re here."

You smile and nod. She informed you that the interview was being filmed to be broadcast online on the radio’s website, but don’t forget that most people can’t see you. So you also thank her orally.

After discussing the report and general views, she gently guides the discussion on your own case, as agreed. You naturally asked Ona’s permission to talk about her before accepting the interview.

"And so in your case, it was your record company at the time that prohibited you from mentioning your girlfriend?"

"Yes. In truth, I was not allowed to talk about my homosexuality at all. It was the record company that started releasing subtle information to make the fans believe that something was going on between Juan and me"

"And you were already with your girlfriend when it all started?"

"We’ve been together since we were 17 and I’ve never kept the truth from them" you shrug your shoulders.

"It must have been hard for you, but also for her, I guess."

You swallow nervously, the difficult moments through which you passed coming back in memory. Playing nervously with your fingers, you quickly shift your attention to your interlocutor.

"Very. Honestly, I’m very lucky that she stayed. Many other people would have given up on me I think."

The reporter smiles at you before moving on to another question. You knew this kind of moment would come and you were prepared. But that doesn’t mean it’s nice to talk about it anyway.

"I can see people reacting to what you said and some people find it unbelievable that your former employers have not managed to separate you" she comments looking at a screen next to her.

"Oh, actually they almost succeeded. But that’s precisely when I decided to stop everything. I could see my life without music, but I couldn’t see my life without Ona" you say timidly while smiling.

The journalist smiles back at you and winks at you before grabbing a small pile of cards next to her.

"Thank you for your sincerity. Now a quick round of questions on anything and everything, all our guests come through. Are you ready?"

"Ready" you answer, a little more relaxed.

You laugh softly when she throws a jingle, before you ask the first question.

"What is your favorite season?"

"Summer" you answer. The summer break would be fairer, considering Ona’s busy schedule.

"Your favorite food?"

"The fideua of my mother-in-law, sorry Mama I love you"

"If you had to live in a city other than Barcelona, which one would it be?"

You give yourself a few seconds to think, quickly listing the places you know in your head.

"Um… Maybe Palma de Mallorca"

An hour’s flight from your families, the little island is a place you enjoy. So why not. In addition, you need the sun to live properly. Even if you enjoy London, you don't see yourself living there permanently.

"Real Madrid or FC Barcelona?"

"Barcelona, obviously" you answer with a smile.

"The first thing you do in the morning, only the answers that can be listened by our youngest ears are allowed" jokes the journalist, making you laugh.

"Turn off my girlfriend’s alarm clock I guess"

You never understood how Ona got up and got to practice on time during your absence. She never hears the sound of her alarm clock.

"Ok and last question. Who is your celebrity crush? Ban to mention Ona's name"

You laugh again and roll your eyes.

"Okay then… The Number 22 of Fc Barcelona Femini is kind of cute" you answer with malice, mentioning Ona's number.

It makes the journalist laugh and you smile while shrugging your shoulders before answering.

"What? You saw my girlfriend? There’s no way I’d mention another name"

This is where the interview ends and you warmly thank the whole team for their kindness. After posing for a photo for their social networks, you still stay with them to talk a little bit. At this time, Ona is probably coming home, Salma having offered to bring her back for once since you were not sure to arrive on time.

When you go out, some fans are waiting for you and you take a few minutes to talk to them, sign autographs or take pictures. When you finally get to your car, you answer Ona’s message that she is home to tell her that you are coming too.

"I’m home mi Amor!"

Ona appears smiling in the entrance after a few seconds and you don't hesitate to pass your arms around her to squeeze her against you. It’s only been a few hours but it’s pretty incredible how much you missed her. You smile while feeling the comforting smell of her shampoo and smile even more when she drops kisses in the hollow of your neck.

"How was the training?" you ask her while playing with her long hair.

"Very good. Only three games left and we’re on vacation"

You smile and nod. Barcelona are already sure to win the championship and you saw their third straight victory in the Champions League a few weeks before.

"I can’t wait"

You have already planned your vacation, three weeks under the sun of Hawaii. You know how tired Ona is and you intend to do everything possible so that she can recover properly. What she doesn’t know is that you plan to propose to her there and that almost everything is already organized.

Ona turns you away from the last details you have to do by putting her lips on yours, waking the butterflies in your stomac.

"Come, I ordered food. I took sushi as I didn't know what time you would arrive"

"It’s perfect" you assure her, letting her train you in your kitchen by the hand. "Like you" you add with a smirk, lightly squeezing her bum.

Ona laughs and turns around to face you and put her arms around your neck.

"What a sweat talker and a charmer" she whispers against your lips before kissing you again, making you shiver.

"I’m so in love with you it’s disgusting" you smirk a few minutes later when you’re sitting in front of your plate.

"Oh yeah? Well it seems to me that you also appreciate the number 22 of FC Barcelona?"

Sitting in front of you, Ona has eyes that sparkle with mischief and you laugh by pointing with one of your sticks.

"You can’t blame me. She’s amazing."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine

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nebuladreamerrr · 27 days

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“Where is mom?”| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: After a day filled with the profound exertion of bringing your second child into the world, a moment of tender anticipation arrives: it's time for your eldest to meet her new sibling.

Warnings: English is not my first language

After enduring six grueling hours of labor, you finally welcomed little Jules into the world—a spitting image of his father. As the nurse reassured you of his perfect health after all the tests performed to check both his heart and hearing, your thoughts drifted to your daughter, Manon, and how she might be feeling on this momentous day.

"Are you okay, my love?" Kylian's concerned voice interrupted your reverie as he made skin-to-skin contact on the couch in the room with Jules.

"Do you think Manon is okay?" you whispered, trying not to disturb the baby sleeping in your husband's arms.

"Honey, everything will be fine. You know she's with my mother, and if she was sick or something had happened, she would have contacted us," Kylian reassured, his voice gentle and soothing.

"Yes, Kylian, but she's not used to changes, and today has been anything but routine. Could you text your mother and ask her to come today instead of waiting until tomorrow to meet the baby? And to bring Manon with her, please," you pleaded, concern evident in your tone.

"Of course, my love. But try to relax and rest. I'm sure she's fine and just eager to cuddle us," Kylian said, gently laying Jules in his cot before enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

Your concern for Manon might have seemed excessive to some, but your motherly instinct told you otherwise. You knew your daughter well, and despite the joyous occasion, something deep down told you she wasn't having a good day. It had been a challenging few months for your family, especially for her. Manon was accustomed to being the center of attention, the youngest grandchild and only daughter of doting parents. Kylian, in particular, showered her with affection, earning her the title of "daddy's girl." Even on days when he had to travel for matches, he made sure she knew she was always his little girl. They had a ritual: before each pre-match training, he recorded himself telling her a story, allowing you to play it for her at bedtime. Often, she fell asleep hugging the mobile phone that displayed her father's face.

When you found out you were pregnant again, you couldn't help but worry about Manon's reaction. However, she surprised you by being thrilled at the news. Her excitement grew when she found out she was going to have a baby brother, and her joy was more than evident at the baby shower, where she participated enthusiastically as the one who popped the balloon revealing the gender of her baby brother.

But not everything had been smooth sailing in the past few months. Manon quickly grasped the concept of becoming a big sister. You couldn't blame her; you knew you and Kylian had indulged her, but how could you resist? So it wasn't surprising when she cried inconsolably as Kylian explained that she would have to stop sleeping in your double bed because the baby would need a lot of nighttime care. If she slept with you, she wouldn't get much rest.

Similarly, there was something you hadn't told Kylian in any depth because what little he knew had broken his heart, and had ended with him clinging to you as you both wept inconsolably, apologizing to her for having to leave home. But your little girl wasn't coping well with having to leave France next year, and you couldn't blame her. She had only just started kindergarten this year and had managed to make many friends at her little school. In addition, this year she had managed to start going to a ballet academy where she felt like a real princess in every class. You completely understood her frustration and understood how everything she knew would quickly cease to exist. There would be no more afternoons in the park, no more afternoons playing with Navas' children, and even your little girl would have to get used to another teacher and other doctors. But you knew that this was the best thing for Kylian and that he deserved to fulfill his dream. So you tried to convince your little girl, assuring her that she could still talk to her friends on your mobile, and you would keep in touch with their mothers so that, as soon as you returned to France for a holiday, your little girl could see her friends.

So when Fayza got that call, she couldn't have been happier. It was customary for her granddaughter to stay at Fayza’s home, but it had been exhausting trying to distract her when her little mind was elsewhere. Fayza had done her best to make the day entertaining, but it had started on a rough note. When your water broke at five in the morning, Kylian took you to the hospital, and they had to make a quick stop at Fayza's house to drop off your daughter. Fayza had prayed that her granddaughter would fall asleep quickly, as she had on many previous occasions, but it wasn't meant to be. Manon stayed awake all day, and by seven in the morning, Fayza had given up trying to coax her to sleep.

She had tried to make the day better by preparing her granddaughter's favorite breakfast, little Mickey Mouse waffles, accompanied by a good session of her favorite cartoons, but the plan failed when she barely took a bite. No matter what Fayza tried to cheer her up, the day wasn't working: not playing princesses, not a Disney movie marathon, not an afternoon with her uncle Ethan, who decided not to go out with his friends to try to improve his niece's mood. But when the clock struck five in the afternoon, the little girl couldn't take it any longer and cried inconsolably missing her mother.

Your daughter was very attached to her father, mostly because he was the father figure she saw the least of in her day-to-day life. As long as Manon felt you were close, everything was under control, but that day you were far away from her. Ethan quickly tried to calm her crying by singing her a little song while holding her in his arms and moving around the house. That calmed her for a moment, but both Ethan and Fayza knew that if the little girl did not see her mother that day, none of the household would be able to sleep that night.

Fayza tried to encourage Kylian about her little girl's state of mind by commenting that if they needed quiet and rest, it might not be advisable to take her to the hospital. However, Kylian played it down, thinking that her mother was simply worrying too much.

With a smile, Fayza turned to Manon and said, "Honey, put your coat on, we're going to see Mommy.”

Your little girl quickly buttoned up her coat and rushed out to the car. During the car ride, Fayza tried to explain to Manon that the hospital room would contain not only her parents, but also her little brother, but she barely paid attention when she sensed that they had arrived at the hospital. Strategically, Fayza quickly sent Ethan to buy a bouquet for you, knowing that when she unbuckled her granddaughter's car seat, she would jump out regardless of whether she was carrying a gift for her mother or not.

So when they asked where the room you were in was, Manon bolted for the lift and led the group as she walked down the corridors of the hospital looking at the different room numbers until she saw it: "Room 350".

She quickly opened the door and, catching a glimpse of your figure, couldn't help but burst into tears as she threw herself onto your hospital gurney, waiting for you to take her in your arms.

"My baby girl," you said as you looked worriedly at your daughter's reaction. You knew that her behavior had nothing to do with how she had been treated at her grandmother's house, where you knew she had been treated like a princess. But even though your maternal instinct had sensed it, you didn't know it was that bad.

Manon's constant crying caused little Jules to burst into tears as she woke him up from his warm sleep, which made your daughter cry even harder.

"Kylian, I think I'm going to go outside with Manon to soothe her. You can stay here while you introduce Jules to your parents," you said, making an effort to get up.

"Honey, you've just given birth. It's not advisable to stand for too long," said Kylian as he stopped you from getting up.

"Well, you're going to explain to me how we reassure our daughter because logically she needs a moment alone," you replied sharply. You hated talking to Kylian like that, but you felt that no one understood how much pain your princess was going through. You knew that with a few sweet lullabies, you could calm Jules down, but your daughter wouldn't be soothed so quickly.

With a short sigh, Kylian exclaimed, "I'm going in the next room with Jules and my family while you try to calm her down, okay? But don't make any sudden moves, please, I beg you. I'll be right back, sweetheart," he said, placing a small kiss on your daughter's head.

When the room fell silent, you couldn't help but ask your daughter why she felt that way and what was going on in her little head. Although many might think it was jealousy, it was quite the opposite. The little girl could not understand that you would not abandon her. So many things were changing in her daily life that she could only expect more changes. When she noticed the absence of both of you, she was frightened. She was used to Kylian's absence, but you had never been gone so long. Even when you were sick, she would lie on your breast while you watched a princess movie and wait for you to recover enough until you had the energy to play again.

After a long time of cuddling and stroking her hair, your little girl managed to calm down, but she stirred restlessly in your arms when she noticed someone opening the door to the room. However, she calmed down again when she noticed it was her father.

"How is my little princess?" exclaimed Kylian before lifting her nimbly into his arms as he gave you a look that begged you to tell him what had happened.

As she gave your daughter little kisses and caresses, you told him what had happened. "She was afraid that we were gone and that we would disappear from her life.

After hearing that, your husband's heart couldn't break more. "My love, that will never happen. Dad and mom love you so much and we will always be by your side. We could never abandon you," he said as he left delicate kisses on her little head.

"You promise?" your daughter asked with teary eyes.

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied.

After an hour of cuddling and enjoying a few moments with your firstborn, you decided it was time for her to meet her baby brother.

"Manon, would you like to meet Jules?" you asked cautiously.

Surprisingly, her reaction was a huge smile as she nodded her head repeatedly. Quickly, Kylian allowed his family back into the room as they relinquished Jules so that Manon could hold him in her arms with the help of her parents.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #mbappe imagine #mbappe psg #mbappe x reader

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jo-harrington · 4 months

Text

Leave of Absence (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie has royally fucked everything up and he needs to fix it. But after an unexpected emergency back home, he steps up to be there for Reader, just like she's always there for him.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.05

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Slow burn, mutual pining, angsty, emotional, fluffy, family problems, death in the family, loss, grief, pain and comfort, road trip, avoidance of feelings, Minor religious themes, mention of Catholic Church/Reader's family is Catholic but no overarching catholicism (that's what my other story is for)

Note: Woof ok this was an uphill battle FOR A YEAR. I'm gonna say the reason that Store Manager Verse exists in its present form is because of THIS CHAPTER RIGHT HERE. Before I could bring my two silly babies here to this moment, they needed to have some serious foundations laid down. Is it the best chapter? Probably not. But I'm incredibly happy that it's here and it's done.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other Eddie stories.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

He was nervous.

"Stacey."

Of course he was nervous.

"Freak."

And what did he do when he was nervous? He talked.

"Hey now, I'm wounded," Eddie laid a hand across his chest, trying to keep the cool guy exterior. "Calling me a freak? Did I or did I not just help you with that flat tire last week?"

He was surprised when Stacey paused, a barb surely caught on the end of her tongue. She even looked a little embarrassed for a moment before her own frosty expression returned and she had the decency to look down her nose at him.

Sticking to the status quo.

"I know you're trying to put my boss under a love spell or hypnosis or something," she rolled her eyes. "So don't act like you would have helped any other time if she hadn't asked. Gotta keep her buttered up so you can get in her pants. Gag."

The typical stab of insult was welcome; the rest of it...wasn't. Not when it came to you. Not after what happened on Sunday. Not when he was nervous.

Sunday...

What started out as a normal night for the two of you had quickly become a nightmare. For him at least.

Well...it had been a dream at first. Hanging out. Food, laughter, music; it was nothing out of the norm for a Sunday night together. But then he had to go and suggest a little weed, where you had some kind of...bad reaction. To try and get your mind off the panic that had quickly taken over your body...he'd done the first thing that came to mind.

The only thing that came to mind lately when you were around.

He kissed you.

And he kept kissing you because you hadn't pushed him away. In fact, you’d kissed him harder.

For minutes or hours, he couldn't quite tell, he was overjoyed and he basked in being surrounded by you, in finding pleasure with you.

Finding pleasure. God, there was that poet's heart Mrs. Mills always told him he had. Almost fucking. Grinding one out on his couch. But yeah...finding pleasure worked too. Because it wasn't just a meaningless romp; he was kind of crazy about you, so of course it was gonna be special. Poetic.

How long had he been on the edge about confessing his feelings and ruining your friendship? He was the only one to blame when it came to keeping his mouth shut; Kyle had been telling him to just ask you out and plant one on you forever. And then Eddie did and it was perfect.

Until it wasn't. Until Wayne came home and Eddie had seen the panic and the fear and the...realization in your eyes, and he knew how badly he'd fucked up. Let alone the fact that you immediately ran away.

You’d been avoiding him for a few days. “Avoiding him,” as though school and work hadn't been putting you on opposite schedules. Still, there were no phone calls. No waiting to take your breaks with him. Only awkward glances as he passed your store on the way to start his shift, or a strained smile as you passed each other in the parking lot as he was coming and you were going.

And now Stacey was…being Stacey.

Had you told her? Complained about him? Made it known to your employees that the two of you had made a huge mistake.

No you would never…

Still, his nerves got the better of him and although he didn’t want to seem desperate, especially around Stacey of all people, he was.

"...did she say that or..." He paused and shook his head. "Where is your boss anyway? She’s supposed to close tonight right?”

Stacey looked a little unsure again and this time it made his stomach turn.

People were usually nervous around Eddie, but he had grown plenty used to that reaction from a wide array of classmates and neighbors.

Once again, when it came to you, especially given the circumstances, things were different. Maybe that's what was happening here? Maybe Stacey knew something he didn't, and you'd told her not to say anything so you could let him down easily.

Eddie was generally a level-headed guy but sometimes...sometimes...it didn't matter if he had a level head because the entire world was tipping on its side.

Who had you told? Stacey for sure...maybe Chrissy? Chrissy always avoided him at school thanks to his resident freak status, Starcourt Mall be damned. What about Mindy? Mindy was your only other confidante outside of him; what did she know? Had she convinced you to...to what? Dump him as a friend? Take the time you needed to avoid him? Somewhere between Sunday and today, had you finally come to the realization that he had been dreading all along. That he wasn't worth your time?

"Um, yeah,” Stacey finally replied and Eddie blinked himself back to reality. She picked at her cuticles and avoided his eyes. Never a good sign. “Well she was supposed to but Mindy was here when I clocked in. She's sick or something, I don't know. Mindy wouldn't say exactly...but she never calls out so..."

“Well where’s Mindy now?” he asked, almost desperately.

“She’s finishing up her break in the back,” she explained with a nod. “I can go see if she’s done.”

She disappeared into the stockroom, leaving him alone in the store.

He was unsure how to feel. Relief coursed through him; you weren’t avoiding him, you were simply not here. But on the other hand, what if you weren't here because you were avoiding him?

What if Stacey didn't know anything but Mindy did. Because no, you never called off. Ever. A fact that you had told him when he suggested playing hooky one busy Saturday when you were overwhelmed by a never-ending mid shift.

“I never leave early. I never take a sick day.”

“Well, shit, did you have perfect attendance in school too?”

“Uhm,” you hesitated, biting your lip naughtily. “I’m not at will to say.”

“Oh, you bad girl.”

"If it isn't our resident Van Halen impersonator," Mindy greeted as she walked out of the stockroom. Her usual sing-songs mom voice replaced by a gentler one as she smiled at him solemnly. "She's taking a few sick days. Should be back in time for your night out on Sunday, I hope."

"She's sick?" Eddie asked skeptically. "Wasn’t she here yesterday, she looked fi--"

"Why don't you give her a call," she insisted. She glanced over to the stock room door and as Eddie tracked her gaze, he saw Stacey eavesdropping. "Actually I was gonna stop by after work. Why don't you go? That way it's not a game of telephone.

"I'm sure she could really use a friend right now."

---

Eddie had never been inside of your apartment before.

He knew where you lived, sure; he'd dropped you off or picked you up a few times, especially once the two of you started planning dates outings outside of the usual Sundays. He'd never even rang the bell, if he was being honest. You usually watched out the window eagerly when you were expecting him to arrive.

The realization hit him as he stood there at the little residential door between the bakery and the furniture store, staring at your name on a little Dymo punch label next to the buzzer that he'd just jammed his finger into, and it filled him with doubt.

You'd been to the trailer a few times. Seen all of his favorite places, tried all of his favorite foods. Listened patiently to his insecurities and issues. Still, you seemed to keep him at arms length, if he didn't even know what your apartment looked like; did you have posters on the walls or pictures of your family? What color was your couch? Or the towels in your bathroom?

He knew so much about you but did he really know you, and did you even want him to?

The door buzzed open and Eddie took the stairs up to your landing two at a time, all the while worrying and overthinking: You weren't expecting him and he was beginning to doubt that you even wanted him here in the first place. Sure, Mindy told him to go over...but was this taking it a step too far?

He started preparing an apology as he closed the final few distance to your door and it swung open--

"I'm sorry I fucked up, I didn't mean to break your trust. I'll do anything...anything...if you'll just forgive me. If you just give me another chance."

--and he saw the sorry state you were in.

Hair and clothes mussed, eyes bloodshot and puffy, a bundle of black fabric clenched tightly in your hands; the shine of tears and snot was accentuated by the incandescent lights in the hallway.

"Eddie," you whispered in a strained, broken voice, then you dropped the fabric to cross the threshold of your apartment and bury your face into his shirt. He panicked for a moment, arms held uselessly at his sides as your tears penetrated the worn fabric at his shoulder, but he quickly engulfed you in a hug.

"I'm sorry," you both spoke over one another, then you pulled back and stared him straight in the eye. "You're sorry? I'm sorry."

"No," you shook your head. "I'm sorry. I...I should have done better, I shouldn't have--"

"I crossed a line and I ruined our friendship and--"

You both continued talking over one another, each half-listening to what the other had to say as you got your own apologies out, until you both synced back up again.

"I fucked up and I'm sorry."

Your shoulders and chests heaved from the cacophony of emotion and a tense laugh was shared between the two of you. Then Eddie came to a realization.

"If you're sorry..." he frowned and let his eyes rake over you again. "If you thought that you hurt or scared me--which you didn't, by the way. It was...it was me, my mistake--why are you crying?"

You worried your lip for a second and a lone tear escaped your eye and trailed down your cheek; his hand immediately came up so he could thumb it away.

"Mindy told me you were sick," he muttered, taking advantage of the proximity to be a little gentler, a little smaller than he was used to being, so you could put your trust in him again. "What happened?"

"Uhm..." you croaked. "I'm not sick. I'm just taking a few sick days. Bereavement days...actually. Little leave of absence. Just through the end of the weekend."

The word was distantly familiar to him; the memories, though, would stay with him forever. Rick picking him up from school, a phone call from Wayne to his boss. An appointment for all three of them to get suits rented...and then some flowers ordered. Shiny shoes that he could see his teary-eyed reflection in.

He swallowed painfully and watched you do the same as you prepared your confession.

"My...uh...my grandpa died last night."

And before he knew it, it was 12 hours later. 12 hours that he spent relatively quietly.

He let you fill the silence; let you talk and cry, only opening his mouth to comfort you when the realization hit again and it got to be too much.

He helped you pack your bag for the trip back home. That was when your grief finally turned into anger.

Towards your family. Towards yourself.

"I feel like it's my fault," you sighed as you showed him how to find a pair of tights that didn’t have runs in them, whatever that meant. "I was the only one who took care of him. Doctor's appointments, took him on walks, made sure he didn't have the food he wasn't supposed to. The works. And I left. It's my fault he's gone. At least, that's the way Michael made it sound on the phone."

Eddie almost didn't catch the last part, said under your breath as you stuffed a shiny pair of shoes into your duffel bag, but he did. He wasn't going to let you do this to yourself; how many times over the years had he questioned how he might have been able to keep his mom from dying? On those days where he needed her most. He knew he couldn't stop you from those thoughts, at least not now but he could do his best to fight them away until you could do it yourself.

"Michael," he spoke up, startling you with the realization that he heard. "That's your brother right?"

"Older brother," you nodded slowly.

"Sounds like a shithead."

"Yeah," you let out the briefest laugh and then fiddled with the zipper tab. "He kind of is."

You complained about perfect Michael and his perfect life until your stomach rumbled and Eddie offered to order dinner for the two of you. When you mentioned that you hadn't eaten all day, he made sure you had more than your fill of beef lo mein and garlic string beans as Monty Hall played on the television.

At a certain point, your takeout carton made it to the coffee table and you started to doze off as your head rested on his shoulder. It was a relief, but only for a second, because you startled back awake and dumped all the clothes out of your bag again.

"I didn't pack the right dress," you muttered. "Aunt Amelia's gonna say something about it. I just know."

So Eddie stayed up with you all night as you packed and unpacked and packed again, uncaring that he had school in the morning or Hellfire that night. Fuck it all. It didn’t matter. None of the doubts and self-hatred and worry that had plagued him all week since Sunday night even crossed his mind. All that he worried about was making sure you weren't alone.

When dawn came, and you tiredly tried to wave him out of your apartment so that he could get ready for class and you could hit the road, he pulled you into his arms and just...held you.

He closed his eyes and rocked you back and forth as you hummed softly and gripped the back of his t-shirt tightly beneath his jacket.

He thought of all the things that he could say in that moment...

Drive safe, call me tonight so I know you got there, I'm sorry, take it easy on yourself, it's not your fault.

...but none of them were able to fall from his lips.

"Welp," you sighed. "This is it."

But neither of you moved.

"Thank you for coming over Eddie. I really really appreciate it."

Still nothing. No forward momentum, no motivation to move on to the rest of the day without one another, no reassuring words from him to give you the strength you needed to go forth alone, and no will for him to leave you.

You'd both be ready when you were ready, it seemed.

But as you finally pulled away from him, and he thought about you getting in your car and driving for what might be one of the toughest weekends of your life, all he managed to say...

"Why don't I come with you? I know it's not a road trip or fun or anything. I know I have school and work but...fuck it. We can stop at the trailer, I'll leave a note for Wayne and grab the nicest clothes I own, and...I'll come with you. I just...I don't want you doing this all alone."

...resulted in him sitting in the passenger's seat of your car for 5 hours as you zoomed down the highway away from his whole life in Indiana to the great unknown of Chicago.

---

You talked for a majority of the drive.

Eddie already knew some things about your family—strict parents, pesky brothers, too many cousins than he could keep track of—but you seemed to want to prepare him because he would effectively meet all of them.

"Big Catholic family and a funeral," you glanced at him from the corner of your eye and shot a tense smile. “It's a lot. You sure you still want to come?”

You’d done that throughout the drive too, asked him if he was sure he wanted to come with you. He’d joked several times already that you’d have to leave him on the side of the road, which you wouldn’t, or turn back altogether if he chickened out.

Besides, he already called Jeff when you stopped at his place to let him grab some clothes, and canceled Hellfire; he wouldn’t chicken out for anything. He needed to be here for you.

If he was being honest, yes he was nervous. He hadn’t met any girlfriends' families before or anything, and this whole situation wasn’t exactly the way he’d ever imagined meeting yours. As you crossed the state border into Illinois, though, your breath got shallow and your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and Eddie wondered if you were looking for a way out because you never wanted the two parts of your life—family and friends—to clash.

“I don’t, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I know I’m not someone that…families approve of or anything, if that's why you keep asking if I want to be here.”

"It's not that--" you tried to interject.

"And I know we're not dating or anything but..." he trailed off awkwardly and then cleared his throat.

Well that was one way of sticking his foot in his mouth.

Your head was half turned towards him, jaw dropped, eyes darting back and forth from the road to him.

The thought of opening the car door and bailing as you zoomed down the highway briefly crossed his mind because he fucked up. Why would he say something like that? It was because he was a big dingus, actually, the biggest.

"Uh, Eddie listen--"

"No," he interrupted you again. "Sweetheart I'm sorry, that's...that wasn't fair of me. I didn't mean...I just..."

"No it's ok, we should ta--"

"I just thought that...I know I pretty much intruded on this trip, but I wanted to be here for you. But if me being here is gonna cause more problems for you...I mean damn, I don't mind taking a Greyhound back to Hawkins even. But more than anything, I want to make sure you're alright."

He nervously picked at the loose threads on the holes at his knees and was surprised when you took a hand off the steering wheel and grabbed his.

"Do you know," you whispered, voice barely audible. "I think I would have turned back by now if I tried to come alone. Michael on the phone...god I don't know how my dad's gonna be...or my aunt. I don't want to have to deal with all of that. But I know I need to be there...it's for my Papa, I have to be there.

"It's hard to go home when you've moved someplace else. When you've started to find home somewhere else. And I wasn't gonna say anything. I wasn't gonna ask you--it's too much to ask--but I secretly kind of hoped that you would ask to come along. And I'll never be able to really thank you, Eddie, for wanting to be here. For me.

"But thank you," you shot him a smile and squeezed his hand tightly.

He swallowed thickly and squeezed right back.

"I'll be here for as long as you need me to be, sweetheart. As long as you want me to be."

---

The weekend was a whirlwind, and honestly, Eddie knew he wasn't going to be able to make heads or tails of it until the two of you got home on Sunday night.

The first surprise, shortly after your heartfelt moment in the car, was the fact that you didn't actually live in Chicago. You'd been approaching the city on I-90, you even pointed out the Sears Tower to him. Then you got on an exit and drove for another 20 minutes down North Avenue.

"I feel like I've been lied to," he sniffed petulantly.

"I told you I'm from the suburbs before," you chuckled at his antics. "And it might as well be Chicago, it's all Cook County."

"We're not even driving North, how is this North Avenue?"

"We don't have time for a history lesson, we'll be there soon."

Still, it was exciting. Not exactly what he pictured in his head from watching shows on TV or seeing news reels about the city, but nonetheless different from what he was used to in Hawkins and that was the part he liked.

At a certain point, you reached a stretch of road that featured certain destinations that would live in Eddie's imagination until he could ask you about them--KiddieLand Amusement Park, Riviera Lanes, and Winston Plaza--and Eddie noticed your hands started to shake.

"You ok? There's plenty of places to pull over," he suggested. "I can drive the rest of the way."

"No it's ok," you said and swung a left-hand turn onto a residential street with houses that sort-of all looked the same, sort-of all looked different. "We're here."

You parked on the street in front of a house that you noted belonged to your aunt, and then led him down a narrow sidewalk to the backyard of the neighboring house, where a kid gangly enough to rival Mike Wheeler sat in a plastic lawn chair with headphones on, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes closed.

"Jimmy," you called to him and then kicked his foot. "Jimmy. James Joseph, wake up."

"I'm awake," he startled, knocked the headphones down so they sat around his neck, and stood up. Even with one hand rubbing his eye, your brother's resemblance to you was obvious, and a sense of dread washed over Eddie.

And so it began...meeting your family.

Jimmy was probably the best introduction of them all--there was an ease between the two of you, even with the snide jabs and banter back and forth--and that extended to Eddie. Especially when Jimmy realized that he and Eddie were wearing the same shirt.

"Don't let him fool you, he's a dweeb," you announced when Jimmy got excited over a shared love for Judas Priest, and Eddie hoped you meant your brother, but he couldn't be too sure you weren't referring to him.

There was a brief respite as you both rested for a minute, changed clothes, and ate a plate of some sort of casserole from the packed shelves of the avocado fridge in your grandpa's kitchen. Then it was an onslaught, a domino effect of faces and names that gradually got more important as you got back into the car to head towards the funeral home.

A sea of strange faces that smiled and hugged you and then looked over at Eddie in question, but not in an unwelcome way, and he was glad he'd pilfered a black scrunchie from your bag to tie his hair back respectfully.

You introduced him to this old coworker of your Papa and that great-aunt from Minneapolis and this cousin. He even got to meet your old store manager--a stern, short, blonde woman with victory rolls and shimmering black eyeshadow--who'd come to pay her respects after she saw your Papa's obituary in the newspaper; she honestly scared Eddie a little, but she made him laugh, which meant she was good in his book.

It was all reminiscent of meeting people after his mom died once upon a time, the only other funeral he'd ever been to. When people called and came out of the woodwork in an overwhelming number to offer their condolences. He had been young and sad then, but he was older, wiser, and tougher now. He shook hands and said "nice to meet you" and when people questioned whether he was a boyfriend, Eddie insisted he was just a friend who wanted to be here for you.

It wasn't a lie; still he got a skeptical gaze from at least two elderly women who tutted once they were out of earshot.

Eventually, you got to the front of the room, to the row of chairs that held your immediate family, and after a few tearful hugs, Eddie finally met your parents, your aunt and uncle, and your older brother.

He was surprised to hear "I've heard a lot about you" come from your mother's mouth, but was not surprised to hear the "no funny business under my roof" from your father after a clap on the shoulder. Your uncle said nothing after a short “hello”, just let your aunt do all the talking, and all she could talk about was your appearance.

"What are you doing, honey? What is this you're wearing? For Papa's wake? I hope you plan to wear something a little more modest for my father's funeral tomorrow. And your friend? A leather jacket? A little casual don't you think? What's that dear? Yes, nice to meet you too Edward. Thank you for coming."

Your brother Michael, though...Michael was a douchebag to put it in polite terms, and Eddie could tell that, unlike with Jimmy, the relationship between you was tense.

"You're late" he sniffed judgmentally instead of a greeting.

"We hit traffic and needed to change," you snarked right back.

"So you stopped off at home? Where's Jim? Why couldn't you get him here?"

"You know how he is at these things, he'll show up before they close up for the night. You remember how he was when Nana died. And now he's Mr. Tough Guy. He doesn't like to cry."

Back and forth the two of you went, Michael's accusations and your tense responses. Eddie could feel himself get more and more irritated the harsher it got, the angrier he felt you become. If it was anything other than a funeral--a wake, what was the difference--he would have started in on your brother several minutes ago to protect you.

And he was still tempted to.

But it was like a switch was flipped as someone else approached, and he watched as you changed right before his very eyes. As all the irritation and vulnerabilities left you, and in their place...was the Store Manager version of you he knew and sort of despised. Cold and stiff and everything he knew you weren't by the grace of becoming your friend.

Regardless, it was startling to see.

At the end of the night as Eddie settled into the second twin bed in what used to be Michael and Jimmy's shared room, Eddie realized that your customer service persona had been present for most of the evening, and had only slipped in the presence of those few family members that could see right past it.

Could they see past it? Or was it that you simply couldn't hide behind it with them?

For the whole time he'd known you, Eddie had often wondered what had driven you to Indiana. The job, sure, but...you'd left everything you'd known behind. And hell, for all the times that he wanted to get the hell out of Hawkins, he knew he couldn't leave Wayne or Rick for very long. In his heart he knew the day he finally left, he'd need to be back quite often to see them.

Now, though...when it came to you, he started to understand.

---

The next day, the day of the funeral, you couldn't stop shaking.

Eddie had been nervously second guessing the black jeans--the only non-ripped pair he owned--and Wayne's borrowed dress shirt when he saw you digging through your bag, trembling. It seemed like you were trying to hide it, kept your body moving and grabbing for something, but he noticed immediately,

He snatched the car keys out of your hands before you could get a solid grasp on them when it was time to go.

"It's alright," he reassured you. "Just tell me where I'm going and I'll get us there."

He thought it would be back to the funeral home, but instead you gave him directions to the church. A big old building with stained glass windows and a large statue of the Virgin Mary out in the front.

He could hear the organ music of the hymns emanating from within, and on the hour, the bells from the tower beside the chapel became deafening. For all the Catholic school girl jokes he made at your expense, he didn't realize you were Catholic Catholic.

"You sure I'm not gonna burst into flames if I set foot inside?" he joked to try and ease your nerves and his, but you just shook your head. He watched and suddenly felt helpless, as you began to shake more and worry your bottom lip with your teeth; he was supposed to be here to support you, to reassure you, and instead you looked ready to keel over. "Hey, it'll be ok."

"Yeah," you nodded tensely. "Yeah, let's just go inside."

You didn't make a move though, just rocked onto the toes of your shiny Mary Janes and looked on as tons of people filtered into the church.

Tons of people that, once again, reminded him of the people that had come to pay their respects for his mom. Eddie remembered being there, shaking in his shoes, trying to keep a straight-face, to be strong. To not be a baby because he was 10 years old.

It was just like you said about Jimmy the previous night; big tough guy, didn't want to cr--

Oh.

Realization hit Eddie. The culmination of all the other realizations that had been mounting over the past what? 48 hours? Maybe the past week? The two of you were more alike than he realized. Eddie had just noticed how you'd put up this strong front since you'd been home; the comfortable, safe Store Manager facade was starting to crack. Hadn't he just told you the story about his mom's funeral? How he'd fallen in love with metal because Rick had realized that he needed to process his grief? That he needed to lash out? To cry?

Here he was, trying to get you to laugh, when instead he should have been doing the opposite. But how was he gonna get you to cry? You didn't even cry much at the wake when you'd placed your hand on top of the shiny casket that held your Papa within.

Maybe it just hadn't hit you yet?

Alright, change of plans.

"Your Papa knew a lot of people," Eddie noted, gesturing towards the funeral-goers.

"He did," you agreed, and he watched as your shoulders lost the slightest bit of tension. "He was...I mean you met my cousin last night. The one who wants to run for Mayor."

"Yeah, he's got that yuppie thing about him."

"Well, my Papa could have been Mayor if he wanted," you said with the most conviction he'd ever heard in your voice. "He just didn't want to. Which means he deserved it even more. He was the nicest neighbor, the best friend. He went and played competitive Bocce at the civic center and fundraised for charity and canned his own peaches to give to people."

On and on, you talked about Papa's recipe for this and his idea for that and...

"And the way he fucking chain smoked god damn it Eddie," you hit his arm as he pulled his cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans.

Eddie thought that, at the very least, an emotional story would be the thing that would set you over the edge. Instead it was the pack of Marlboro Reds that he'd picked up when you had stopped for gas about halfway through the drive.

You hit his arm a few times, as you often did when you tried to playfully admonish him for this or that, then your face crumpled. Your shaking ceased as you collapsed against him and buried your face against his shoulder once again, just like you had when he first arrived at your apartment on Thursday night.

He dropped the cigarettes and folded his arms around you, pulled you into the safety of your friendship when it seemed like there wasn't anything safe out there for you right now; when you'd just lost one of the safe places you had in the world.

He whispered sweet words--comforts and reassurances--and he made you laugh once by threatening to punch your brother if he tried to make a scene.

"I'll do it," he goaded you. "I don't care if he's in mourning too. He's insufferable. Hate that guy. Never coming back to Chicago ever if he's still in town. You hear that? I might have to leave right now."

"No," you tugged him closer to you, and he reveled in the feeling. "You're staying right here. You promised."

"I did," he agreed.

The tense hold you had on him got looser and you hiccuped the last few tears you had.

A few yards away, a hearse pulled up to the curb in front of the church, and your brothers and several of your cousins went to start hauling the casket inside.

"You ready to go in?" Eddie asked. "You don't have to...but..."

"No," you shook your head and pulled back from him. "I'm ok. I'm ready."

"Good."

He waited for you to make the first move once again, but before you did, you took his hand in yours and squeezed.

"He would have been...so happy to have met you, Eddie," you looked at him earnestly. "I told him all about you. I think it hurts a little more...knowing that he didn't get the chance."

He squeezed your hand right back and smiled.

"I'm sad I didn't get the chance either. Guess I'm gonna have to work extra hard not to go to Hell so I can shake his hand in Heaven."

You snorted and pushed him away with a soft jackass then pulled him into the church with you saying he would have made the same joke.

---

The next morning, you and Eddie made a stealthy getaway.

Your father had tried to get you both to go to church with them again and you politely declined.

"We need to get on the road so we don't get back too late. I have to open tomorrow," you made the excuse.

Honestly Eddie was grateful; all the sitting and standing and kneeling...he hadn't gotten that much exercise since gym class Freshman year.

But as you soared back down North Avenue, you made a detour.

"I know this wasn't supposed to be a fun trip," you explained. "If you're up for it, we can make the drive back whenever...maybe during spring break or something? The least I can do before we head back to Hawkins, to thank you for coming, is give you a taste of good Chicago food. Especially after casseroles and funeral home sandwiches all weekend.

"It is Sunday, after all."

And that's how Eddie found himself having his first authentic Chicago style hot dog. Sitting on a picnic bench outside, under a red and yellow striped umbrella, the ambient sounds of cars zooming and your banter back and forth the perfect backdrop.

"No ketchup, are you kidding me right now Eddie?" you swatted his hand.

"Why do they have ketchup if they don't want it on the hot dog," he argued.

"It's for the fries and the fries only. You need to have the whole experience. A hot dog with everything, and ketchup on the fries only."

He watched as you unwrapped your hotdog and began picking through the toppings. Hypocrite.

"Wait, I thought you said you needed to have the whole experience, why are you taking the peppers off."

"I don't like the peppers."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Eddie scoffed. "Gonna have to take your Chicago Card away. Oh wait, I'm sorry. Suburb card."

"Oh my god, just eat. Before I leave you here."

He took his first bite and his tastebuds sang, as you munched on a French fry with a cheeky smile.

And Eddie was happy. Happy to be here with you. Sundays were his favorite days, hands down, and he would do everything in his power to keep them that way.

It might not have been the happiest weekend, there might still be some unanswered questions between the two of you. But you were here with him and you were still friends, and after everything that had happened, that's all Eddie could ask for.

Next Part: Closing Time

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #Eddie munson #store manager verse

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pickingupmymercedes · 3 months

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Under an Ipê tree - Lewis Hamilton

The three times your annual visit to Senna’s tomb brought something different

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Senna! Reader

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, AD 21', Lewis at Ferrari (rubbing salt into every open wound apparently)

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Not gonna lie, started this one with something in mind and it took a life of its own. I know Senna! Reader isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please, proceed with caution, because there is mention to real events and real emotions envolved with mourning. Also, AD 21', I'm sure as hell not over that, so here's another trigger warning.

a/n. 2: Those trees are how pink Ipês look in blossom, I know Brasil is not known for its colder months but those beauties come alive after the few cold weeks.

_______________________________________

Like most traditions it started without any intent on actually becoming a thing. You and Lewis would take a couple hours off on Wednesdays before the Brazilian GP every year, the destination a known one to everyone in the paddock. It was a journey you used to do by yourself until Lewis had been the brave, and first one, to ask you if he could tag along. He’d been to Senna’s tomb before, you knew that much, but the respect and adoration he held for your late father had you deciding he should be good company.

_______________________________________

“I swear I had never seen my mom angrier. Can you imagine her with the speaker at Interlagos shouting to everyone with an ear that I shouldn’t be racing and if anything happened Ayrton was to blame cause I wasn’t even old enough to be there” You told a laughing Lewis while remembering when your father faked an ID so he could sneak you to the track and teach you how to race in your brand new - Mclaren themed – kart. A Christmas gift he went out of his way to get to the famous Brazilian track circuit in time to open day.

“You know, my favorites snippets of his life are the ones you talk about, Sundays at the pool, ice cream dates, kart running without your mom knowing. Whenever someone talks about him it’s always about his wins, his hardships, his cars and battles … it’s almost as if he didn’t exist beyond formula 1, like we froze just a fraction of him and forgot all about the rest.”

You smiled at him, you liked how Lewis never questioned your feelings towards f1’s out of this world idolatry on your father, mainly because at the end of the day, to your 8 year old past self, Ayrton was first and foremost “pai”, the dude that thought you not to be afraid by throwing you into the ocean when no one was looking, the one that cooked instant noodles for dinner in spite of your mom’s pleads, the one that constantly tried to show you that love is a feeling we should act upon in the present and never wait for a so promised tomorrow.

“He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure. But as a person, he would have probably seen you as one of the good ones, pointing out bullshit, fighting fia every chance you get, protecting the guys back at the garage, focusing on racing and not talking, looking out for everyone.” You answered truthly, as he respectfully held his hands behind his back looking at the tomb stone, while you casually sat in the edge of the stone, almost too comfortable around the place from all the visits you’ve done over the years.

“I think you should meet Galisteu someday, she’ll have way more interesting stories about him to tell you than I do.” You absentmindedly noted, remembering all she’s told you about your father, this other side to him you never got the time to see.

“Nah… we’re our truest around kids, his best version was the one you got to see. Now, what was that time he sneaked a stray dog onto your apartment?” he asked while reaching for your shoulder so you both could walk along the path back to the car awaiting to take you both back.

_______________________________________

“I don’t think I really remember the sound of his voice” you sighed looking up at the Ipê tree just beside the tomb. You had shown Lewis a photo of what it looked like once in full blossom before, in the Brazilian winter, and he promised you he would eventually find the time to come see it in its full glory in late June.

The walk in the cemetery, the light hearted banter, him opening his heart on dreams and the future and the confessions you would eventually make to Lewis about Ayrton were part of the annual occurrence you had both unspokenly agreed on, but that one line seemed to have hit him hard enough he just motioned you to go on, no answers or remarks.

“I mean, I know what his voice sounds like because there’s a thousand and one interviews with him, but I don’t think I can truly remember what he sounded like in real life … how he talked to me.” You explained it further, now looking at the Briton.

He engulfed you in a hug, the kind only he knew how, your tears leaving marks on his shoulders. You would rarely cry over anything related to your father, at least not in front of people anyway, but Lewis was… well, Lewis. You and Niki were the one who pushed, like hell, to sign him to Mercedes back in 2014 against everyone’s better judgment, and while you knew he would be every bit the driver and phenomenon he was, neither of you anticipated the friendship that came out of seeing him almost every GP you attended. A relationship that had crept its own way into your hearts, slowly allowing to see each other as something more than just good friends.

“He’s proud of you, wherever he is. I know that much” He whispered, leaving a soft kiss to your temple and bringing you even closer to his body.

_______________________________________

“He would’ve crashed into Verstappen back in 2021, wouldn’t he?” He prompted out of nowhere, gazing seriously at the tomb as you observed him pondering over the possible outcomes of a race that, like a ghost, had been following him nonstop, specially with the São Paulo GP fast approaching and with it his chances of securing his 8th title, two races before the end of the season.

“Start another Senna vs. Prost ?! ” You thought out loud, trying to read into his expressions and mannerisms, a talent of his you weren’t quite as good.

“Maybe I should’ve done it”

“You’re not like that Lew. You’re you and no one, not a single person, wants someone else” Your exasperation clear in your voice, hands reaching for his chin as his eyes locked into yours and he nodded, an unspoken agreement between the two of you, one you had to hammer into his head from time to time, that he may have Ayrton as his idol but he was just as much of an icon to the sport, and to a million of kids out there.

“On Sunday you’re going to reach that top step in your red suit, fulfill Ayrton’s dream and claim a championship for Ferrari. You. Not him, nor anyone else” and come the end of the race, he did just that. Smiling down at the sea of people in a mix of old Mercedes merchs and new Ferrari ones, dedicating his trophy to all the other people who believed in the impossible with him.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #ayrton senna #Senna!reader

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idkwhattoputhereidontknow · 1 month

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Child!Yuu in Twisted Wonderland!

Here is a little link if you want to know a little more about this Yuu. https://www.tumblr.com/Little Yuu ideas! \^o^/ This is just how I think it would go when my Child!Yuu enters Twisted Wonderland!

"Yuu?"

"YUU?!"

A familiar voice snapped Yuu out of their thoughts. "Yeah?" Yuu says, lifting their head to make eye contact with the owner of the voice, Yuu's close friend, Ava, "Ya gonna eat that?" Ava is pointing at the roll on Yuu's lunch tray, "Cause if you're not, I want it."

"Oh....I'm not. Here you go." Yuu says passing the roll to Ava, only for her to turn back to they're other friends at the lunch table, ignoring Yuu once again...This was the routine that happened every day since Yuu and her friends started middle school. They wouldn't talk to Yuu unless they wanted something then once they got it, they would completely ignore Yuu like they were a ghost. No matter how many times Yuu would try to speak they would just get ignored over and over again...I can't really blame them it's not like we're in the same classes anyway, so it's probably just a bit awkward trying to talk to me. Is what Yuu would tell themselves after the cycle repeated itself.

Maybe I need a breather...? Yeah, I should go wash my face or something like that. And with that thought, Yuu excused themselves from the lunch table to use the restroom. "I'll be right back guys." As Yuu got up from the table not a single one of their so-called friends responded, they didn't even give Yuu a glance or a nod, just silence. Almost like Yuu didn't even exist in their world.

Yuu took one of the bathroom passes off an empty table and retreated to the restroom. Much to Yuu's relief, no one was in there. It was just them, all alone. They stood in front of a mirror and a sink, looking at their reflection before they splash their face with some icy cold water. Even with the freezing water against their face it still felt uncomfortably hot...Geez, Yuu. Ava just asked for some bread that you knew you weren't going to eat, so why are you so upset? Yuu couldn't quite understand why they were feeling so...yucky. The nasty warm face that they only got when they were having anxiety, not to mention the empty pit they felt in their stomach. Maybe it was from the fact that they haven't really eaten anything today or maybe it was also from this uncalled-for unease.

Well, whatever it was, Yuu knows they can't stay in the bathroom for too long or the teachers will come to check on them, and they can't have that, now can they? I guess it's time to head back. Once Yuu dries their face off with the top of their shirt, they turn to head out of the restroom.... Why is my vision so blurry? Everything Yuu sees starts to contort and blur into each other. Yuu also starts to sway from side to side slightly in a zombie like mannerism.... Ouch my head! What's happening..? Before Yuu had the chance to balance themselves everything went black........

Once Yuu opened their eyes all they could see is black...? Huh?! Did I go blind!? No, no, don't be overdramatic, Yuu. I'm sure you'll be fine. Once Yuu attempts to calm down at this weird situation, they slowly move their hands in front of them to get a feel of their surroundings. Their hands press against a wood like wall that feels cold to the touch causing Yuu to wince back. Seriously, where am I? Before Yuu could think another thought-

BANG

The sudden banging quickly made Yuu back up into the corner of this cramped place. What the hell was that?! As Yuu thought, there was another voice that was coming from outside the box Yuu is trapped in. "I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me... Urgggh... This lid weighs a ton! Try this on for a size! Mya-ha!" As soon as the voice finished speaking, blue flames engulfed the area around Yuu!

"AHHHH!!!" Yuu quickly shut their eyes tight and covered their face with their arms, "What?! You ain't supposed to be awake!" The voice says in a surprised voice. Since Yuu didn't feel any fire burn them, they slowly pecked their eyes open, still keeping their arms over their face. Yuu could now see the surrounding area outside the box. There were floating coffins running along the sides of the room with a large black mirror hovering over the floor in the middle of the room. Although, the thing that immediately caught Yuu's attention was a small grey cat standing on its hind legs in front of Yuu. The cat also had blue flames just like the ones before coming out of its ears with a pitchfork tail! Why does this seem so familiar...? Yuu glances around the bizarre room once more before it finally settles in.

"Am I in Twisted Wonderland..?"

Hope you enjoyed this little fanfic or whatever I just made is called. I don't know if I'm the best at writing, but I at least tried, right? Oh, and I'm going to start working on those requests I asked you guys for now. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

#twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x child yuu #twst x yuu #fanfic #What else to put?#Ummmm #twst yuu #child!reader #Child!Yuu #I think that's it!#Oh #Wait! I forgot #Have a great day!!! ╰(*°▽°*)╯

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blingblong55 · 10 months

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Not the only one- Alejandro Vargas

A/N: something short...and a dream that came to me not too long ago

F!Reader, angst, established relationship, cheating

Two years of marriage and 5 years of dating all equal 7 years where love grew and grew, never seeming to end. But all great things in this world have to end soon, whether you want it or not it must all end.

The downfall of your love happened exactly 2190 hours ago. It was late November when he stumbled across her, he was working with 141 looking for El Sin Nombre when he found out that the woman he titled his first love was the 'man' they were looking for. Valeria Garza is the one to blame for the tears on your face and how as of right now you are in what was once called home. He swore he had moved on years ago, that it was the reason he fell for you and why you two started to process of creating a family.

All are ruined because of one weak man and his selfish needs. How did you find out? Simple, he left his phone with you, a message appeared on the screen, 'Just come over, tell her you have to go to base or something' the sender was named, "Rudy-new number". And you knew best, Alejandro always gave you Rudy's number because, in case of an emergency, he'd be the one you should contact if need be. So of course, the suspicion grew from then, you waited and waited until he made a mistake so you could call him out on it.

But the man is smart, never did he let the mask slip, always home on time, cuddles and kisses all the same, except for one thing, the rush of love you'd feel from each touch and kiss, all gone.

"What's wrong, cariño?" his voice called you back to your senses, you had been staring at the wall for nearly an hour, trying to deny the fact you finally had enough proof he had been unfaithful. One of the men that worked with him decided to speak up about it. He is an honest man, has a wife himself and knowing a friend of his was hurting a good woman such as yourself would not go unnoticed by him.

The proof consisted of videos and photographs of him and another woman. In a video Alejandro had been bragging about how he finally started to have fun with some woman, the other men cheered him on and he proudly took the compliments. Said soldier even apologised to you, 'No man or woman should be unfaithful to the one they claim to love, so I'm sorry, miss...I really am' the message read.

"Nothing, just a little tired." you finally respond to him, eyes teary and your only excuse was you hadn't blinked for so long they just burnt a little. "If you say so," he grabbed his mug and sipped from it. He had been home for nearly 2 hours before he had a 'meeting' he must attend. You knew where he would be heading to, decided to just let it be.

He kissed your forehead and soon drove away, with enough minutes left of sun you knew he'd be in her arms. Maybe she was an old lover, but you knew best. Old or new, feelings always get the best of any weak man or woman. You sat there, looking at old memories, thinking back to the days he promised you, you are the only woman for him. A wave of anger floods through you when you saw the jewellery he had bought for her in one of the pockets of his coat.

All the sweet nothings, vows and promises what were they said if only meant to be broken? They were all empty promises to him and to you, they were oaths. Kept every single one like your life depended on them.

By now, he is probably kissing her and holding her close like how he used to hold you, but one thing is different unlike with you, he means those kisses and touches. Valeria is a tough woman, she is capable of lots of things, and one of them is, slowly killing your heart, taking your soul and crushing it in front of your eyes. She is a cruel and cold woman, knows you exist in his life and will do any and everything to ruin that life you once had. Not that she is fully aware of the damages but she knows best. Women know best.

Maybe you won't be the one for him but it would've been fun if you could've been the one he loved, truly loved.

A/N: not much arguing between you two, but I think its at least good enough :)

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vitzi9 · 11 months

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Patience is the key to success (2)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Part 1 here.

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, depressed reader(but really), suicidal thoughts

i'm trying to post this quick because I crave attention, whatever its insults, compliments, likes or repost, idc. I want ppl to know i'm existing. i have a big oral test tomorrow and im really bad at speaking before someone (hence why im writing instead) so i just need to know im not totally useless in the society and that im, at the very least, making people enjoy my things. sorry for the rant, i have a big headhache, probably gonna die ✌️😚

the smut is really bad btw but like really but im bad at writing them but i need to to improve (26/06/2023) (5226 words)

"Let's just finish watching the movie now." you say and Ethan doesn't make you repeat as he goes straight to the couch.

You felt much better after that little talk. Ethan did not say much but in his words, there was a lot more. He was planning to be with you a long time. He does not want to ruin things. It made you so happy. Every fiber in you was warm thinking of it. You were at peace.

Ethan was calm after that, albeit moving uncomfortably sometimes. (maybe because of his boner?) He was just as cuddly as when you arrived. His head laid flat on your chest, rising up and down with each one of your breath. Your fingers brush his curl slowly as you hear his breathing slacken. You were giddy thinking about him being at peace with you, too.

His arms were closed tightly around your body, never letting you go. The movie was really advanced by now, the end was coming soon. It probably was something towards 11AM. Usually, you would have gone knock at your friend's house but there was no need now as you already saw her earlier.

When the movie fatefully ended, the credits start to roll but none of you moved an inch. Ethan rubs his cheeks against your chest before sighing happily. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep ? No, certainly not. He loves horror movie. He wouldn't fall asleep when one is ongoing.

He was cute here. You were delighted to think he trusted you enough to let his guards down and sleep with you. You were his safeplace. And he was yours. Your fingers trail down on his back where you draw small patterns dreamily. You write things, that cross your mind. You simply scratch him. His sudden speaking startle you. Your hand stopping evey movements.

"Are you sleeping far from here, today ? Every movements of his jaw hitting slightly on your chest. 'today' because he knew about your frequent change of home.

Relaxing, you continue to caress his back lovingly.

-No, not really. But I don't sleep there anymore.

The hotel too was starting to worry you. Like the building was shrieking on you. You don't know what was scarier, to be alone or to never be. And now that you found such a warm place, you don't want to leave. Ever.

-Why ?

-Scare me, s'all.

-You can sleep here tonight, if you want.

-Why ? Your decision was already made; you'd sleep here. You knew it the second he offered you to stay the night. But you wanted to see his arguments to convince you.

"Let me be with you." his sentence made a shiver run down your back.

Did that stalker fucked you up so hard you had chill even thinking about them? It was just a damn sentence. Everyone can say it. For god's sake, it's Ethan saying it of all people. Even if he awoke this uneasy feeling back, you couldn't blame him. He didn't know about the sign the criminal had shown you. You didn't tell him that much detail, only saying they had indeed brought creepy signs but omitting what was written on it. And Ethan said it so prettily, too. Yes, of course you'd be with him.

He told you you never slept here before and that you'd be safe anyway since he's here and don't plan on leaving you. So you accepted. It was really early in the day but the both of you were getting sleepy because of the calm and comfort of the situation. He offered you to go to his room which you accepted. After guiding you to there, he tells you he has to go grab something and that he'd be back really quick.

And he did, in fact, came back really quick.

By then, you were already sprawled out on his bed. You had time to see the mess he had scattered everywhere. The carboard, the books, the drawings, some letters, too. And you even found out about his second phone. The lockscreen was a generic one, the one you have by default, as if he just got it recently. But the phone wasn't new, it seems in contrary really old as it was broken at some area.

Ethan arrives in the room with a small plastic blue square packaging, you don't have time to see what it was that he throws it under the bed. You don't pay it too much attention. Playing mindlessly with his other phone in hand, you take off and put back the phone case of it to entertain yourself.

"You got two phones ? you ask even though you kind of knew the answer already.

-Oh, yes. One is for games only, the other is the one I'm really using. Did you went on it ?

-No, don't worry, I won't frisk into your secret criminal life."

He smiles before taking the phone out of your hand. He places it in the drawer of his nightstand. Ethan falls on top of you, taking your breath away for a moment. You laugh and hit his back for him to get away from you and he just laugh heartly before letting himself fall beside you.

He lays down, setting his head on his arm, looking up at you with stars in eyes. Sometimes, he's so pretty it hurt physically to look at him. Starting to get embarrassed by his insistent look, you find something to say.

-Why do you have so much pieces of cardboard anyway ?

-I make placards out of them.

With a fond smile, Ethan stares straight at your eyes. As if waiting for you to say something. You would have ask questions about his 'placards ' if not for the sudden interest he was displaying in you, which, instead, made you change subject without really noticing it. A nervous laugh escaping you.

-Why are you looking at me like that ? Is there an undertone ? Am I supposed to understand something ?"

He shakes his head negatively, displaying a small mischievous smile. He could be such a goblin at times ! Wanting to make him swallow his pride, you lean towards him and kiss his lips. Ethan smiles and moves his lips with yours.

Your arm set down on his waist and soon the kiss get heated. Ethan's body is burning, his breath is too. You don't let each other breath, as soon as you separate from each other, you plunge back in. Physically needing the contact.

You rise on your knee, arching your back to kiss him still laying flat on the bed. Soon, he joins you by rising as well. Both of you on your knees, face to face, eating each other's face. Ethan's hand are mahandling you to sit on his thights. Then, with his surprising strenght, he starts sliding you on them. Your heating pussy rubbing directly on the fabric of his pant. Your hand instinctivly goes to rub the growing tent in his trousers. The area was hot, when you slide your fingers on it, it would budge.

Ethan whimpers, thrusting his hips against yours. You straddle him completly, framing his his body with your legs. You rub his tent against your clit for some frictions. It was aching and growing more desperate by seconds.

"I... I wanna have sex with you." Ethan says softly.

You kiss his cheek, going for his neck. You answer with a meek 'me too' before sucking the skin of his neck. Ethan backs his head, already out of breath. He gives you full access to his body, still rutting desperatly his hips into yours.

But you were growing impatient. You lift your body from him, making him whine at the contact loss, before sliding your fingers behind the elastic of his pants. You slip it down to his knees before you start salivating at the sight of his hard cock already drooling for you.

He didn't have any underwear. That's why you could feel him so close to your core.

Your hand touch his thight, caressing gently his body. Making sure to avoid the area he need you the most. Ethan try to touch himself, tired of your teasing, but you slap his hand away. He whines and looks up at you with teary eyes. Silently begging you to do something. It was impossible for you to resist him.

Your hand grabs his cock in one motion, you could feel it pulse and its warmth propagate in your hand. It was already so so wet because of all his precum, your hand was sliding so easily you could have thought he came multiple times already. Gently, you start to move your hand on all its lenght slowly. The boy props himself on his elbows and look at the scene before him. Ethan sighs happily, eyes closing and head backing. He's in heaven, he thinks. But not entirely, as he looks at you still clothed.

"Want to... Want to finger you..." he pleas.

In front of a boy so desperate, and being incredibly horny, you slide your pant down, making sure your underwear went with it. Ethan lose every one of his braincells when he sees your bare pussy glistening with your love juice. He wanted to lick it bad. That's the only one fanstam he ever had that help him getting off so hard he can't move for a whole minute. He wants to drown himself in your juice. But you have others projects.

You guide his pointer finger to your lips. Ethan starts caressing it and smear your juice everywhere. His lift up another finger and start passing both of them on your lips.

"Here, you have to touch here." you say, pointing to your clit.

You move briefly to bring your genitals closer. You could feel each other's warmth emanating from your core. Seeing him try to touch you was so hot. He was listening to everything you said.

Soon getting the hang of it, he starts circling your clit, applying different pressure on it to see which one were you reacting the most to. Slowly, you quicken your pace on his hard cock. As if to reward him for being such a good boy. He was in a trance, eyes closing and opening. And when they opened, they were staring with a utmost care at your moving breast throught your shirt. Your nipples were hard and were poking through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to it. Understanding his want, you lift your shirt above your collarbone with your free hand. Ethan can't seem to take off his eyes of you. They're probably the first pair of breasts he sees in real life after all.

"Fuck... You're so pretty, love." you speed up on his shaft at his praise. "Fuck, fuck...

-You can touch baby.

-I can?"

He stops all movements to your pussy, your frown but let him discover his needs. It was his first time, you needed to let him have a little fun. His free hand touch one of your breast, massaging it then weighten it in the palm of his hand. He smiles like an idiot, an idiot so cute you let him do what he wants with you. His other, wet, hand pinch lightly your sensitive bud.

Your free hand slap his arm to make him understand he did it too hard. He sends you an apologatic smile.

"They're like stress ball."

Amused by the weird comparison, your chuckle. Still impatient to come, you guide your hand higher on his cock to caress his tip and rub it. His face contorts in pleasure, browns frows and mouth ajar. His forehead fall on your shoulder while his fingers go back down near your entrance. His hips were thrusting into nothing but your hand. Obscene wet noises were resulted. You were hot, terrribly hot but so was he.

Ethan's small puff of breath sends chill in your body. His whimpers couldn't be replaced with anyone else. Your hand was all wet and sticky, as was his. Ethan decides to enter once again two of his digits in you. Your head falls back and you sigh happily at finally scratching that itch in you.

"Curl your fingers, E." you whisper.

He hums and do as told. Curling his fingers in you, he starts to thrust them in and out at a slow pace, adopting the same sensuality you used to jerk him off. You accelerate, your hand no longer lingering on the entire shaft. Sometimes, you'd stop completly to hear him whine. Your thumb caressing his cock's veins.

"Baby please..." he pleas.

Ethan starts kissing sloppily your shoulder, your neck. You, on the other hand, take his hand to guide the thrust of his fingers, angling them correctly for them to touch that spongy spot inside. His fingers were long and thin, that was a part of him you absolutly loved. You always had a thing for pretty hands and his were beautiful.

"What do you want, love? you ask tenderly.

-Tell me you love me..."

You nudge his hair with your nose and he looks up. Staring at his eyes, you see them wet with tears. You kiss him instantly. Playing with his tongue with yours, your hand moving faster and faster. You stop the kiss to tell him you love him and he bites his lips, eyes closing.

His breath is jerky, uneven. You press his palm against your clit, rubbing it while you push his fingers inside you again. You feel a knot tighten. You won't last long.

"Tell me you love me.

-I love you E, you're doing so good.

-Again..."

You said it as many times as he needed to feel better. His hips stuttters, his cock quivers. His words are slurred to each other, resulting in incomprehensible blabbering. You don't lose the rythm, keeping the same pace until he'd eventually come.

-Love you so..." he whines.

His body tense, his breath stops. You can only hear the wet sounds your hand is producing. He doesn't utter a sound until spurts of cum smear on your hand and belly. Feeling at ease, he moans a last time from relief and breath again.

You're not far behind. Ethan being pratically knocked out, you grind on his hand. You close your thighs around it, ensuring it stay inside. Your legs are shaking, wave of hot and cold invade you. You plunge his fingers inside but, to your surprise, Ethan regains control and start pounding into you to get you to your end.

He kisses your neck while you finally come on his fingers, sweaty and disvesheled. You swear one last time when he withdraws his fingers. You stay here for a while, just hugging , breathing and basking in each other's presence.

After some minutes, you decide to go shower together. You end up finally getting a good night of sleep, cuddled in his strong arms.

The next day, Ethan and you had a stupid satisfied smile on your face. Both happy to be here. You kissed and confessed your love to each other all morning until eventually he had to leave for work. Sadly, you had things to do, too. Ethan offered you to stay and sleep here for a few nights because he wanted to stay close to you.

You liked this idea. Of course you liked it, you love Ethan. And to convince you further, he told you his roomate wouldn't mind. So naturally you accepted. You were embarassed at the idea of bothering his roomate but you decided you would just sleep here, and the day, you'd let the apartment free. It was his too, after all. Not only Ethan's. There is no way you'd let someone feel excluded in their own house.

Grabbing your phone, you click on your friend's number. You call her, the ringing echoes three times and no one answer. Somehow begrudgingly, you resume yourself at simply sending a text. Just for you to instantly forgetting your sorrow as she answers. The discussion was quite simple, she was telling you she was at her grandma right now. She was bored and wanted to know how you were doing.

'I'm going back to my dear haunted apartment, probably gonna die. Wish me luck.' you texted. She put a little more time answering this one. It's possible it triggered something in her. After everything she endured. 'nobody will hurt you as long as i'm alive' she said. She simply changed subjects after that. Asking you about the cute guy you told her about in the letters. And so you explained everything. Every time you tried to offer to call her, she'd decline. You were still sad she didn't want to talk to you but you were telling yourself you needed to be patient.

On a happier note, you decided to leave the place to go to your own apartment.

To one point, you should have known better than be too happy about your improving situation. Of course, it was well too soon for you to consider everything better. But you were probably stupid because the fall hit you much harder than you could've prepared yourself for. Oh, the pain you felt when reality had finally caught you. You thought you were going to die when you came back home to simply grab some clothes. (Ethan told you to do so.)

Your door was ajar. But it wasn't your doing. No, of course it wasn't you. Your apartement terrified you, why would you come here more ofthen than needed ? You felt your body freeze but you quickly overcame the feeling. That's it. You needed it to end. This fucking stalker had ruined you. You and your life. You sent a text to Ethan, telling him that if you do not call him after twenty minutes, he needed to call the cops. He didn't answer. He was at work. It was well past eleven by now.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to collapse on the ground, and you with it. Slowly, aware of every sound around you, you push the door. Your livingroom was as messy as you had left it. At one difference, the wall. Every frame you had put up on the walls were thrown away. Most of them on the ground and broken, with shattered glasses everywhere.

Why would the creep empty the walls ? To write on it. Of course they would write on it. You laugh bitterly for yourself. You couldn't see their stupids fucking signs anymore, so they had to improve. To force you to read their creepy obsessive text. You hear the crushing of a broken piece of glass, as if someone had stepped on it. But it wasn't you.

You're on alert. Every one of your senses on crisis. Was your mind playing tricks on you ? It was possible in this hellish house who did nothing but give you nightmares recently. You don't realize how you stopped breathing. Only calming when three long minutes had gone without another sound to be heard.

Nothing is here. You're alone, you think. Everything is good. You'll just grab your stuff and leave. Regaining your breath, you bring your attention back on the wall. Words were written on it in deep crimson red. Is that blood ? No, it can't be. Probably paint to give a creepy look that'll catch your attention. You approach the wall to better understand the message.

'She's not here anymore'

The need to throw up almost won. A dark feeling in your guts was telling you 'she' was your friend. But you didn't know. She responded to you, after all. You talked to her. So she had to be okay. She had to. You put your hand on your belly to soothe that want to vomit. You take big breath before finally leaving the livingroom. You quickly make your way to your room where you meet your bare bed. Where are your sheets ? What the hell ? But you don't want to stay longer so you throw clothes in your bag in a hurry.

The front door slam shut. And you know it's the end.

You already feel the tears drowning your sight. Trying to stay silent, you hide in your closet almost empty with how many times you came here to grab clothes. Your hand clasp against your mouth to avoid doing any noise.

Slow footsteps can be heard in the empty apartment. With your shaky hands, you fail to unlock your phone. Your vision is blurry, you can't touch the correct keys. The worst is that you can't see where the creep is. If they stay silent, they can enter the room you're in without you even noticing. And this idea is horrifying. But on another side, you'd preferred them to kill you by surprise so you don't have to affront them.

Your cries intensify, in your despair, you drop your phone straight on the ground. The footsteps stops abrutly. Three distincts knocks are echoing on the corridor's wall. They are coming toward you. You're fucked. They're coming ! What do you do ? What did you do ? Why is this happening ?

Kneeling like you could in the closed space, you reach your hand to grab your phone. As soon as your finger grazes it, the phone vibrate and your ringtone start playing for the whole building to hear. No, no, no, no, no ! Ethan. Ethan is calling you. You pick up despite everything but as soon as you do so, the call is cut short. Fuck E, why would you do that !

The criminal's footsteps are louder, quicker, heavier. They're running. They're running here ! You hold the closet door shut with your both hands, praying for your life. You only have knives in your kitchen, but it's too late now. If you go out, they'll see you. You realized at that moment that whatever you were doing, you couldn't win. That you never even stood a chance against them.

Everything was illusion.

Nothing was improving, you knew it, in fact. You were lying to yourself, searching comfort in a man that don't even understand the dept of the problem. Of your problem. And your friend ? You don't want to talk about her. You don't want to open your eyes just yet. You just want to live in your nice little lies you made up for yourself. You're nice with them, in fact, you like them. Nobody wanted to help you anyway. They could have saved you, you and her, but nobody listened.

Now, it's too late.

The closet start to shake. Widening your eyes, you realize that the creep had start to punch it with their bare fist. You don't give a fuck about being heard anymore, you're bailing your eyes out. Begging for them to let you go, screaming, yelling, calling for help. Holding the door for dear life as if it was going to save you, because in your head it was. But the door didn't last long.

A hole is quickly created in the door. You thought you'd see someone's face, wether it be a man, a woman, whatever. But you saw a white plastic mask instead.

Ghostface.

Why was a damn Ghostface chasing after you? Was it all a sick joke from the start ? You swear you were seeing his eyes boring into yours through the mask. You swore you already saw them somewhere. Ghostface tilts their face to the side, as if mocking you. They were telling you that you were stuck, that it was the end. You hoped they'd kill you.

You couldn't live like this anymore.

In the hole of the closet, Ghostface pass his gloved hand. The latter lay on your shaky face, on your cheek to be exact. You feel the fabric against your skin and think of biting his fingers off. No, you'll angry him. If he's going to kill you, that it be in the least painful way.

"Ethan, right ? Does he treat you so well you forgot about me?" his changed voice said. A weird and creepy robotic voice, one you knew you'd never forget.

You were moving your head left to right. You didn't know why. Probably to tell you didn't want to die, probably to avoid looking into his eyes. He laughs, sounding like a rumbling.

"Ending things right now would be such a waste."

No ! You thought you were finally free ! Why would he chases you down for so long without acting on it !? His gloved hand retract and the door slowly open in an acute creaking. The man is finally revealed before you. He was wearing the whole outfit, the big black robe and the hood.

"It was fun. I give you a gift to reward you for these beautiful screams."

And the knife.

He had a knife in hand. And it was tinged red. Something in you told you it was her. Suddenly, the red writings on your wall had a different meaning.

"I hope you like it, I worked extra hard for it."

Out of nowhere, Ghostface takes your hand, force it open, and lay in it something before forcing it closed. He laughs deeply. One of his hand pat your head mockingly before moving up.

"See you later." he said, swinging his knife in a playful manner.

You were absolutely paralyzed. You didn't know what happened. You stayed up without moving for whoever say how long. When your legs finally stopped shaking, you decided to look what the killer had gave you. Slowly opening your hand, your knee buckle and you fall to the ground crying silently at the sight of a nip of your friend's hair.

You curled up on yourself before completly laying down on the ground, tightening the hairs in your hand close to your heart. She was not here anymore. You wanted to fucking die.

Ever since, Ethan was forgotten. He had tried to call you so many times you had blocked his number. You spent the rest of the day crying in your hotel's room. You resented him. So hard. He didn't answer, he was the one calling and giving your position to a fucking criminal, to a murderer! And he didn't answer. He didn't help, like everyone else.

One day later, neighbors complained about a smell coming from an apartment. You didn't cry when they found your friend's dead body. You didn't cry when cops came to interrogate you. The caretaker having told them about you. Your eyes contained so much hatred in them when looking at him the cops had to let him leave to get him away from you. You didn't cry telling the cops how many times you went to see them to ask for help, nor how many times did they reject you. You didn't cry when they told you she was dead for at least a week, and that her boyfriend was missing. You had no tears left in you. It had simply ended you.

All your lies, every single one of them, destroyed. But you needed them. Of course you weren't talking to her by text, you never did. And fuck, you don't even want to know who was answering instead of her. It was so obvious how she never wanted to call, how she was never leaving her house. But the eye you saw at the peephole. The fucking eye...

You don't want to think about it.

Ethan tried to talk to you. He went to your hotel and found you. You didn't bother to move this time as you were done with your life. He fell to his knee and started begging and crying for your forgivness. Did you even love him ? Or were you, are you, just lonely ? Unfortunately, you decided to forgot the anger you had against him when you realized he was the only thing you had. Your only support. The only one knowing you were a victim. You spent the days crying in his arms.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, love. It's okay." he reassured you, again.

It was a routine, now. You'd sleep the days away and when you'd wake up, you'd find yourself crying inconsolably. Everything was your fault, you kept repeating in your head. She's fucking dead because of you.

You wanted to end it all but Ethan wanted you alive at every cost. He was brushing your hair, feeding, washing and changing you. You were a lifeless doll. Sometimes, his roomate would come and talk to you. Most of the times, you don't even realize he's talking to you, too lost in your thought to proceed his presence.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Ethan hugs you firmly. Kissing your hairline. His t-shirt was damped. Your eyes were burning. Every time you closed them, the picture of your friend would come and haunt you, a new nightmare coming. You weren't able to think about something else anymore. But it was your fault. You put her in danger, you got her killed. It was you Ghostface wanted, not her. You got her killed.

"I want to leave..." you whispered in a voice so hoarse, so weak, it didn't sound like yours. His hand goes on the back of your head to pull you towards him.

"No, no my love. It's okay. I'll protect you. You won't be alone anymore." his leg goes over yours and crushes them to prevents you from moving.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone in your life ? No, he was here all along. He was watching you all along. You never were truly alone. He had your adress, your friend's adress, your number and even Ethan's name. No, he's always here. Lurking.

"Just... Stay with me, I'll protect you. Please, don't leave me." he begs.

He looked calm, surprisingly calm being given the situation. But you needed it, in a way. If he doesn't freak out, you don't need to. (you coudn't, even if you wanted to) He probably know what to do. It was too late for you but he could do something. Maybe. His behaviour was slightly comforting. It was dangerous, mostly for him. He probably didn't even know what he was doing, he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into, in fact.

But once, just for once, you wanted to be helped. You wanted someone to listen to your pleas. He was going to die, it was a fact. And yeah, maybe you were selfish, you were condamning him after all.

"I feel like I'm using you. Like I manipulated you. you say, mostly for your own conscience than for his safety.

-Use me, love. I don't care. Manipulate me, whatever. I swore I'd help you. And if I have to risk my life doing it, I'll do it. I love you. You don't know the things I'd do for you.

-Now, you're the one manipulating me...

It was true. He was forcing you to think you had a chance in getting out of this situation when you knew there were none.

-Oh baby, you have no idea how manipulative I can be to obtain what I want.

-If you say so." you whisper, drifting to sleep once again, knowing you'd wake up hours later in the same position, in the same problem and knowing you killed your friend.

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #yandere ethan landry #ethan landry x gn reader #yandere imagine #yandere ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x reader #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #vitzi9writings

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uzis-dopeaf-hat · 2 months

Text

Analysis of Episode 7

[MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW]

So I wanted to talk about the latest episode of MD and it's really hard to find people to talk about this with (surprisingly?) and the one discord I joined was a bit of a mess so I'm just gonna come here and try to word vomit cohesively.

Wanna start by saying that yes, even though V is no longer in the intro, I HIGHLY doubt she's dead or gone for good. I think the new intro is likely just the start of a new arc or progression of the story. We aren't supposed to know what happens to her, so they're taking any signs of normalcy of her being present away. They could have also just wanted a new intro in general (which I love!).

I would be incredibly surprised if she was permanently gone. I guarantee she has a clone like it's stated J (stated in episode 6) and N (mentioned in this episode by Cyn herself) have.

What I can see happening, however, is V not being the same as before. If the V from the last episode is damaged beyond repair, Cyn will need to get a new clone out for her. Cyn states in this episode that she keeps their personalities. So I doubt V would act like herself from before her DD days (though I did play around with the thought). I can see something happening where Cyn tries to delete the memory files of V interacting with Uzi and the events leading up to here and now. I'm not sure how practical this would be depending on how long they're planning on making the season finale be. I feel it would be easier to just have someone retrieve her or try fixing her (unless she is fighting this entire time, which again we don't know, anything is possible). If it is the case of attempted memory deletion, I don't think Cyn will be successful. I'll come back to this later.

It's revealed that the one chained up in the trailers is in fact Nori, who seems to be taken over by the Absolute Solver, or Cyn. It seems that the company is actually trying to remedy the mistakes of their former colleagues on Earth. They have created a patch that is located in a USB drive inside what looks to be a crucifix.

There seems to be a huge religious aspect, though it is not apparent why. Our researcher Ridley here seems to be wearing a Mitre Hat typically worn by bishops. I'm not sure if they're meant to be wearing a specific type of miter, but it resembles an auriphrygiata worn during celebrations of the sacraments. If we were to put whatever is happening here under one of those sacraments, I'd say the closest would be an Anointing of the Sick (meant to help various states of sickness in religious ways such as prayer). I think a big part of the religious aspect may be superstition on JCJenson's part, but considering what we see of Cyn being a seemingly eldritch being, I can't blame them.

"LAB SPACE FOR RENT LEASED RSCH012 - 'CABIN FEVER' PRIME CATHEDRAL REAL ESTATE"

So obviously this is partly a joke, with a cathedral underground being for rent and all.

But a catholic church is where some sacraments are held. Once again I'm not sure why they believe they need this space, but I doubt Glitch would pick this setting "just because." (or maybe they would, you tell me)

Alice refers to Uzi as a "witch" in episode 6, saying she's dealt with them before, and then immediately stating that "she hasn't seen 002 since she's left us to die."

Cathedral churches had many reasons for existing, but one small purpose they served was to ward off evil, specifically witches.

A pentangle was one of many symbols used to deter witches or anything thought to be an evil entity. The candles surrounding them are likely meant to be Votive Candles, meant to seek help from the saints.

Of course, it also seems to be a giant magnet which may have helped them more than the candles in this situation. This is about all I have for this episode regarding the huge religious themes (aside from the episode literally being called "Mass Destruction.")

Our intern Mitchell seems to realize something is wrong after grabbing Yeva (aka 048). I am unsure if these revelations make a huge difference in the outcome of events. It seems that when Yeva does save Nori from The Absolute Solver with the USB drive, they are intimately aware of how dangerous it is, as Nori seems to want her to chop her arm off when they realize the solver is going out of control. These events explain what happens to Copper-9 as the planet's core implodes in on itself, creating a huge crater in the planet. The rest we know: the planet freezes over and only the drones remain.

We cut to who we now know is Nori, in her - as I'll call it -her "Heart" form. It seems she is searching for the correct cross shown with the USB and has been all this time, only supposedly finding it in this episode. We can presume she finds it after running into N since she tosses a cross away after inspecting it and not seeing any resemblances to the crucifix in the video. She has the correct one later when she runs into N, so the only time she could have found it was between her leaving to enter the mineshafts and her actually finding the DD.

I won't be going too much into the dynamics of all the relationships in this post, but I definitely will make a separate post for those (feel free to ask for some as well) -- so I won't focus on any in-depth character analysis here unless I believe it needs to be mentioned for this post to make sense.

After "Tessa" and unfortunately N scare off Uzi, N is trapped inside the collapsed mineshaft with his human counterpart nowhere to be found. Likely because of the list she needs to find and confronting Doll.

It is also revealed shortly after that Thad and Lizzie seem to be looking for someone, most likely the person being V. I've seen some points where it could be possible V sent out a signal, which may explain why this just suddenly happens. I wouldn't be surprised either if she found a way to send a signal to Khan as well -- unless he suddenly decided to be a good father and look for Uzi (who apparently seemed to be last on his list of reasons for disliking DD's) I think he got some sort of clue as to what was happening from V or another outside source. We already know he went through Nori's closet along with Uzi's blueprints for her railgun to get information.

Back to N, Cyn reveals that she lets his team keep their personalities because of him. Whether or not this is true is unclear, as she manipulates N and many others to sway things in her favor. It's almost as if she sees them as playthings for her entertainment.

When she shows N a memory from before, seemingly right after or around Earth's destruction, we can see a symbol come across his face.

"ACCESS DENIED CONTACT ADMIN 'DARKXWOLF17'"

I know many people have already seen this, but I believe that Uzi has either intentionally put a safety guard on both N and V from episode 5, or that she has unintentionally done this.

It would make sense if she made the active decision to do this, to prevent The Absolute Solver from trying to hijack V or N again. This is why I believe if Cyn were to try to erase or tamper V's memories, she'd run into Uzi's failsafe. I don't think she'd exclude V from her protection, but we really don't know V's fate for sure until episode 8.

N finally runs into Nori, and as previously mentioned she now has the correct cross. She mentions he looks familiar. It's not because he's a Disassembly Drone, she already mentions this fact a few lines prior. I still believe there is huge potential for N to have killed Nori. It seems to be long ago since neither seem to really recognize each other beyond Nori's statement.

DDs don't vary too much in model, aside from 'female' versus 'male' models. Along with that, the two had much more important events happening in their lives, and N looks vastly different in his "murder" state as opposed to his normal one.

We don't know what exactly happened to Nori that had her ending up down here. I have a speculation that she likely wasn't down in the research labs the entire time, or else she likely would have found the Patch much sooner.

Something I want to point out about Heart Nori is her attire.

She is seen wearing something akin to a mourning hat (aka a widow's cap). Clearly, she is alive (and she seems to be confident of Khan's state), so why exactly is she wearing this? The veil is meant for privacy for a woman's emotions while grieving, so what is she grieving?.

It could be Nori is grieving the life she once had or the life she could have had before Cyn came and destroyed it. She is mourning herself and her losses while trying to remedy them. I think the veil also symbolizes that she will likely be closed off to others, hence why she is so crass and straight to the point. Perhaps in the next episode, it will be removed when she potentially confronts Uzi.

It's clear Nori believes all the bad things in her daughter's life are because of her, as she states "I caused every horror in her life." But she doesn't just sit and wallow in her sorrows, she decides to remain pragmatic and address the situation as best as she can with her knowledge.

Back with Cyn, or "Tessa" as she claims to be, she is seen walking through the same area shown before where Yeva resided. It seems the drones experimented on were chained up for precautions, as we also see several magnets on each drone's head. One of the drones even seems to have its teeth out and oil-coated on them.

We see her entering into JCJenson's "Project Cabin-Fever Database" to find the list she had previously mentioned.

I won't lie, this part perplexes me. Cyn apparently wants to take these drones (and presumably any connected drones) down. I'm unsure if it means just the top two or the entire list. Does "corrupted" infer that the specific drone didn't survive The Solver? Or that The Solver actually worked on them? I'm assuming "No Effect" means exactly that: The Solver had no effect on them when trying to "infect" them with it.

Cyn purges the list after viewing this, perhaps because it says "PATCH.2.1.8" next to Yeva. She doesn't want anyone to find out about the patch. She presumes that both Yeva and Nori are dead, so this not being true doesn't contribute to the fact she purges this list.

Purging the list also seems to purge the entire room, as shortly after confirming the process the area explodes to pieces.

We have an interesting encounter with Cyn and Doll here. Doll obviously believes she is talking to a human, and she asks about the patch. Presumably, she knew about this patch for a long while, just needing the key bug that Uzi found in episode 4 to obtain it since it was located somewhere underneath Cabin Fever Labs. Apparently, Cyn also needed this key bug, as it seems she couldn't gain access with just Tessa's skin suit. She knew about the patch from her previous encounters with Nori and Yeva, so her goal was to destroy it.

She tells Doll she essentially doesn't need her to go through with her plans, insinuating it's already too late to stop Cyn. Of course, Doll doesn't know this and is attacked by Cyn's true form after this short altercation.

This is startling (not referring to the jump scare, though it did its job), as Cyn knows that she's close to completing her goal. She doesn't need Doll at all, she is just another obstacle to eliminate (which she does so gleefully).

We see the results of Cyn's attack on Doll. "Tessa" shows up quickly after, and uses that as a guise to kill Uzi. I don't think this is purposeful, as N and Uzi are already separated and unless Cyn knows N is approaching doesn't need to use Doll's death as an excuse to blame and kill Uzi.

Perhaps this bought Cyn more time if N showed, but I find it more likely as a happy accident, as N finds "Tessa" before she's about to pierce Uzi's core.

Although, I don't think Cyn actually expected N to kill "Tessa." I believe she thought that N and Tessa's relationship was too sturdy to have N ever consider hurting her, let alone beheading her. Along with the fact that Cyn no longer knows N as well as she previously did, especially since he met Uzi, she seems to have miscalculated N's priorities.

The following fight deserves a post of its own, along with the analysis of N and Uzi's relationship, so I won't go too deep into it now.

So skipping that entire section (for now) let's jump back to Cyn. After Uzi and N's hug session, we see Cyn take Doll's body, proceeding to eat the girl's heart (which is seen writhing before being consumed). We can assume that the host is not necessarily dead until their heart is destroyed -- likely a big reason Cyn gave the Disassembly Drones so many offensive tools and the capability to consume Worker Drones: she wanted to create as many opportunities as possible to prevent a heart from surviving.

This may also explain why Nori survived, and why Yeva is presumed to be dead. Unfortunately, this means Doll is gone for good.

Cyn is labeled as what looks to be 001 (or 1001). We know she's not labeled as one of the experiments on Copper-9, but what was she the first model of? A normal worker drone? She was at the very bottom of a huge trash pile in episode 5, so this plays out if she was one of the very first models, especially one that may have been disposed of improperly early on.

It's obvious that the Absolute Solver existed before Cyn, but was this the first time it was able to successfully claim a host? It seems that The Absolute Solver and Cyn are one, and always have been since Cyn reawakened. Humans must have had evidence of The Solver existing beforehand though, since Cyn was marked with an armband here.

Something else to note about episode five...

Other drones in this scene were also labeled 001 (or 1001) So I am assuming it's more of a batch number if anything.

Back to episode 7, it seems that Cyn had been in Tessa's skin for a long time. She likely died with the rest of the humans in the manor. It is intriguing how the skin hadn't rotted off, but let's assume that Cyn's Solver helps create flesh to keep up appearances and keep Tessa's skin... fresh. This can help explain the blood coming from "Tessa" in episode 6 when she's bitten by a Sentinel.

It seems that Cyn intends to consume both N and Uzi after revealing herself. She states that she's "Honestly starving," before disappearing down the flesh chasm made long ago.

We see Uzi after her sacrifice... somewhere seemingly in space. Let's assume that this isn't some sort of vision/dream/hallucination she's seeing and that Cyn isn't manipulating Uzi's surroundings.

What she's seeing is Copper-9 from outside the planet... this isn't a flashback, nor is it the planet exploding. Remember Copper-9's core imploded on itself and sent bits of the planet out, hence why everything there is frozen over. I think she's seeing the core of (or supposedly the lack-there-of-one) Copper-9 here.

What is the core supposed to be here then? I'm not sure if it's meant to be similar to Earth where the core is made up of extremely hot metals. But with it exposed there's less pressure to help keep the core from melting (again, assuming it has a similar structure to Earth).

Copper-9 is no longer habitable for humans, so the existence of these metals in the core doesn't make sense.

Let's take a look at the scene before this.

Me and a few others played with the idea that Uzi fell into a black hole at the bottom. While I think a fun theory, I don't think that makes sense. The yellow sparks likely have something to do with The Absolute Solver, and Uzi ending up hundreds (thousands?) miles away from Copper-9 and her loved ones.

The way the light sparks reminds me of when Doll would teleport from place to place. I think Uzi may have been teleported away by Cyn since it seems Cyn was planning on consuming both her and N. It may have been a fluke on Cyn's part, though of course, we won't know for a while. Maybe Nori was able to manipulate The Solver in some way to prevent Uzi's death. Or perhaps Nori is also going to be in space scavenging or trying to determine a way back to Copper-9.

That's all I have for now. I'm planning on making a separate post for N and Uzi in this episode specifically at some point, along with some other character analysis and some final moments for others.

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cbs-scorpion-coffee-shop · 5 months

Text

Ok, hear me out:

Kratos, after the events of the Valhalla DLC, is sleeping peacefully in his home, until someone knocks on his door.

"I didn't know who else to go to." says Thor.

Thor, who had ascended to a higher existence after being killed by his father, rejected that existence and decided to live another live. He wanted to be better for his family, but he didn't want to return to them the way he was. He wanted to change first. So he went to the one person who knew how.

Kratos tells Thor about his past and he realizes that if Kratos can change then so can he.

"You kid is lucky." Thor says. "I hope mine can be as lucky as yours one day."

Kratos decides to take him to Valhalla as a start. An opportunity provided to Thor by Odin's betrayal.

Kratos goes to Lunda in the realm between realms and gets a mace and shield for Thor like the ones Modi had. On his way out of the house, Ratatoskr asks Kratos for a favor and says he'll reward him with materials. Kratos asks for another reward instead. For bitter squirrel to be Thor's partner in Valhalla. Kratos believed the similarities between them would make Thor feel at ease.

Kratos, Mimir and Thor, with much conversation between the three on the boat, go to the same shore and after much trouble, convince Freya to help them and not tell anyone. Especially Sif and Thrud.

"Well, at least with Odin gone, there's no one for him to serve. We could make good use of-" Freya says

"No." Kratos cuts her off. "He is Odin's monster no longer, and he will not be ours. To help us or not is your choice."

Freya sighs "I'm only doing it for you, you know."

"Thank you, Freya."

"Of course."

Thor, with bitter as a partner, tackles Valhalla.

Many obstacles stand in his way: The fact that he simply isn't a disciplined warrior, but a fat dude swinging a hammer, and the new weapons are something he isn't used to. The years of trauma inflicted on him by Odin. The death of his mother which he blames himself for. His refusal to embrace the Johtunar part of himself. His refusal to think and feel.

He tries and fails for many months. He lives with Kratos and Mimir and they get to know eachother better. He has Kratos train him, and eventually, with the help of Kratos, Mimir, Tyr, Freya and surprisingly bitter who turned out to be a better companion for Thor than Kratos could ever for, Thor manages to come to terms with his past, and finally battles Tyr and wins.

However, as soon as he peeks at what's behind the door, he quits. He decides that he doesn't wanna try anymore. Everyone else is wondering why, but Kratos knows why. He knows what's behind that door, or rather who.

Modi.

Killing his son. Thor could could never come to terms with that. It took Kratos over a hundred years to heal from that.

He goes to the spot where Modi died to remember his son. He looks above, and he is caught by the last thing he wished to be caught by.

Jormungandur.

He battles it, but due to not having his hammer, and the poison being his weakness, he loses and is knocked unconscious.

He wakes up a bed, wrapped in bandages. It wasn't Kratos's home, or any he'd ever known. The little boy sitting on the edge of the bed greets him. He has red hair darker than his and doesn't look older than three winters. His mother, a dwarf woman, tends to Thor and tells him that her husband saved him and to rest while her husband hunts for food. He tries to decline and just leave, but he can barely walk two steps.

Thor complies, and stays in bed.

He finds out that he is in a magical forest. Those unwanted and shunned by their own people come here to escape. Some dwarves, some giants, some Aseir, Vanir and many others, and that the forest is hidden by her husband's magic, and that he insisted on bringing him here.

Bedridden Thor occasionally talks to the boy and bonds with him. He finds out that the boy has giant blood in him, and works out that his father is a giant or at least has giant blood. No wonder his father never wanted to meet him.

The GiantSlayer he was would strike fear in any giant. He was nowhere near being better. His progress didn't matter to these people. but then why did he save him? That didn't matter as well. As soon as he gets better, he's leaving. It's better this way.

One day, he woke up at sunrise and found that no one was home. He found that he could walk and decided to just leave. He made his way through the forest, but it was a labyrinth. He found himself lost. It must be the father's magic. The excited laughter of the boy playing with his father and mother echoed through the forest. He wanted to thank them and say goodbye to the boy. He followed their voices. The boy was playing hide and seek with his father. It sounded like the boy was the seeker and his father was winning.

The father's voice was familiar. His heart grew heavy as he got closer to the source of the voice.

"It can't be." He whispered to himself.

He reached them, and the sight of the father struck him like a thousand lightning bolts.

Modi.

-Think I should continue this fic?

#god of war ragnorak #god of war ragnarok #god of war #gow ragnarok #kratos #gowr #god of war ragnarok valhalla #Thor #Modi #Mimir #Freya #Gow fanfic #Thor odinson #Odin

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party-hearses · 11 months

Text

i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 1

i'll bury us both, fed to the night as ghosts

series masterlist | next chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, ex!Tommy Miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before.

Series Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, language, infidelity, eventual smut, age difference, soft!joel, AU - no cordyceps outbreak, Sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), Tommy stans don’t come for me

Wordcount: 5.8 k

A/N: I’ll be honest — I have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t written a fic in damn near 20 years, so I’m just kind of throwing this out into the void to see what happens. I'm playing fast and loose with years and ages; it's 2023 and there's no outbreak. Also, not a personal fan of the ‘brothers’ trope, but…here we are.

…I can’t wait until your next business trip…

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Who even uses email to have an affair, anymore?

…miss your hands…

The words are hot against your eyelids, seared into your line of vision, despite the dull ache from your own hands. It had been a week, and the wound still feels gaping — all consuming, bitter pain licking at your insides what feels like every minute of the day.

“Dammit, peach. I’ve barely seen you in a week and a half, and this is the bullshit you start?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you’re having an affair?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Tommy’s eyes wild, hands on his hips, southern drawl like syrup over each syllable.

“You’re always workin’. In meetings. Pourin’ yourself into spreadsheets and budgets. What am I s’posed to do?”

His hands in the air, desperate, shoulders hunched.

“Still sounds a lot like you’re blaming me.”

You can feel the tears well up, and you swallow hard to stop them. Do not cry at work. Do NOT cry at work. You breathe deep, the burning in your lungs waning, but not extinguishing. The usual busy noises of your office are absent today, save the soft purr of the air conditioning and the receptionist’s furious clicking at her keyboard. Even the phones are silent; no frantic calls from upstairs to divert your attention from the constant replay of that night.

Finally feeling steady enough to remove your hands from your eyes, you lock your fingers together and lay your cheek on top of them. Everything feels heavy — your workload, your personal life, your head. Your gaze slowly flickers to the office window, the sunlight streaming through, the heat scorching. It seems to call out to your blood, making you feel restless, agitated, but also so fucking tired.

Sleep had eluded you since Tommy had left, and you’d barely been able to steal moments here and there, between dinner for one on the couch and the canned laughs of late-night talk shows. How different your life had been even two weeks ago.

“Did you bring lunch?”

Abruptly brought back to earth, your eyes snap up to the face of your colleague, Ava.

“Um, yeah. Just some veggie sticks and hummus. I, uh, haven’t been feeling terribly hungry.” You smile weakly, the attempt at a joke feeling like a weight around your neck.

Ava nods in understanding, her eyes sympathetic. She had been the second person you’d called the next morning, after your older sister. Kit, five years your senior, had answered, already sounding distracted by her two young children.

“Well, girl, I can’t say I didn’t tell you so. Getting involved with a man seventeen years older than you…”

While Kit had been hard and borderline disinterested, Ava had served as a warm landing for your sobbing, rushing to the empty apartment on a Saturday morning to soothe you.

“It’s Friday. We can duck out early, grab a drink? You could use one, and Jackson isn’t back from his meeting upstairs.” Ava checks her watch, confirming. “It’s not like anyone will even miss us.”

Ava is dependable, fun, beautiful. Her cool California attitude compliments her chic New York style, but she had called Austin home since college. She could wrap anyone around her finger with ease, and her insistence on being your friend made your heart clench.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” You nod solemnly, tears now pricking at your eyes from the tenderness you feel towards her.

She meets the tenderness with a wide grin. “Knew you would, doll.”

As you turn to gather your bag, a sudden lightning bolt of fear strikes you.

“Av, what if he’s there? What if we see him?”

She swallows down a laugh. “Tommy Miller? Downtown?” She leans closer to you, raising her eyebrows. “He wouldn’t be caught dead at Taquero Mucho. Not willingly, at least.”

Ava is right, as always. The lush pink floral interior and neon signage on the walls of the restaurant do not, and would not, mesh with Tommy Miller’s bearish sensibilities. You instantly feel more at ease, letting Ava order pink, fruity drinks for the both of you.

One cocktail turns into two turns into three, and the warm buzz in your veins settles your mind for the time being. Ava sits across from you, happily munching on tortilla chips and chattering away.

“I couldn’t believe Belinda said that! Like, retire already, grandma.” She grins, rolling her eyes.

You chuckle, only half hearing the story she’s been telling. Noticing, she gently shifts in her seat, drawing closer to you.

“Doll, I’m sorry to have been chatting your ear off. You know how I get. Let’s hear- ah, wait!” She notices your empty glass, and as if she had snapped her fingers, the server materializes.

“Two more, please.” She nods toward the server, who rushes away to put the order in, lest they keep Ava waiting. “Okay. So… what are you going to do? We need to get you out of that apartment. And since you refuse to stay with me…”

Your gaze drops to your hands in your lap. If you thought crying at work was bad, crying at lunch was worse. You clear your throat, eyes catching your chipped fingernail polish.

“I don’t know, Av. He- it’s his apartment. It’s not like I don’t make enough to get something on my own, but… I don’t know. It all feels so empty.”

Ava nods as the server places two more pink cocktails on the table. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to him, she reaches for it before responding.

“Where’s he staying? And for how long?”

“His brother’s. Said he’ll give me as much time as I need…but I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t feel like I can be. Maybe I should get out of Austin?”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. You can’t let him run you out of town! That’s outrageous. He’s not even worth that.” She rolls her eyes again.

You reach for your drink, sipping it slowly, willing it to quiet the bitter fire in your blood.

“Peach, come on. I- I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything. You’re gonna throw two years away over a one time thing? A-a mistake?”

“It should have never happened, Tommy! Fucking a client? And I know it wasn’t just once! What the fuck were you thinking?”

Tommy’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t speak. His hand goes to the back of his neck, kneading.

“Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.”

Tommy had shattered you. Betrayed you. Split you open and cut your insides out. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that he wasn’t a good man. Complicated? Yes. Hard to read? Yes. Prone to making colossal fucking mistakes? Absolutely. But you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t bad.

You shake your head at Ava slowly, sadly. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Av. Two years. I don’t know what happened.”

Your eyes well up, and this time you can’t stop the tears. You sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as Ava puts her hand on your forearm.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, doll. He’s the one who fucked up. He’s the one who ruined everything.”

“H-he said I work too much. I’m ‘not there’ enough. And…and…the worst p-part is, I don’t think he’s wrong!” It takes everything in you not to wail. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus on the in-out in-out of your breathing.

Ava signals for the check, another of her magic abilities. You can feel the server’s eyes on you as he brings it, quietly clicking his tongue against his teeth. Another sad drunk girl. Tsk, tsk. It’s barely 3 o’clock. Ava hums softly, scribbling her signature on the receipt.

“There’s not a justification in the world for what he chose to do. You worked hard for your career, busted your ass to be where you’re at. It’s no excuse for him to have a full-blown affair with a client.” She closes the receipt inside the booklet and stands. “Now let’s get you home, so you can cry it out in peace.”

Unlocking the door of the apartment fills you with dread. The key feels unwieldy in your hand, and you consider for a split second whether it will feel daunting or freeing to give it back to Tommy. You let yourself in, the apartment hauntingly empty — just as you had left it, just as it had been for the past seven nights.

You’ve only spoken to Tommy sparingly over the course of the week. A few short texts here and there, mostly about the logistics of the arrangement you are both now navigating. He had left for Joel’s late the night it happened, a duffel bag slung low over his shoulder, slamming the door on his way out.

“This it, peach?”

…miss your hands…

Dropping your bag next to the front door, the tears don’t stop once they start.

Ava had offered to come up, but you knew you couldn’t let her. She didn’t deserve to have to wallow with you, no matter how much she wanted to be there for you.

It had been a good distraction, lunch with her, but you still didn’t know what your plan was. Where you’d be going, where you’d be living.

Hugging yourself, you shuffle into the guest bathroom to wash your face. After Tommy had left, you’d moved everything you needed out of the main bedroom and bathroom, suddenly feeling like a trespasser there.

Had he brought her here? Did she sleep in this bed? Did they talk about the future together? What does Joel think?

The last question to run through your mind catches you by surprise, a small gasp escaping your lips. What does Joel think?

If Tommy was stoic and gruff, Joel was downright intimidating. You’ve only seen him smile a few times, and you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard him laugh. He wasn’t, however, unkind, taking to calling you by the same nickname Tommy had, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. Like he couldn’t form his mouth around the languid, round letters - p e a c h. Angular as he was, he had always made you feel welcome, in his own, quiet way, teasing Tommy about you being out of his league. The familial resemblance was strong between the brothers, with their dark waves and warm eyes. But something about Joel made your soul clench, as if he had curved his fingers around your ribs and impressed himself upon your heart. He was comfortable, in a cloudy way — never revealing himself, but not pressuring you to, either. Amicable silence, as it were.

Thinking about Joel calling you out of Tommy’s league makes you scoff, now.

“The rich client with the kitchen remodel isn’t too out of his league, is she?” You mumble to yourself, cold water pooling between your palms.

“I don’t want it to end this way, peach.”

“I didn’t want it to end at all, Tommy.”

You bring the water to your face, scrubbing away the salt of dried tears and sting of betrayal.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when you wake up later on the couch. Fumbling for your phone with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other. As you check the time, your phone alerts you to two new text messages, delivered two hours ago.

Tommy Miller: Will you be home tonight? Tommy Miller: I need to stop by to get a few things.

Your hands tremble as you read and reread the messages. You rub your eyes again, unsure if you’re understanding the text in front of you clearly. It doesn’t change. Panic rises in your throat, searing and sour.

A vicious cross between fury and complete despair surges through you, and you drop your phone into your lap. Tears pinch at the backs of your eyes. Forget figuring out where to live, you hadn’t even considered how you’d next face Tommy.

I don’t want to see you, Tommy. Do you want to talk? I’ll be out, feel free to drop by. Please come home.

You weigh your options, constructing and dismantling multiple messages. Retrieving the phone, you pray he can’t see that abhorrent blue bubble that indicates you’re typing. That shows him you’re there.

As if he’d read your mind, your phone vibrates, his name and picture flashing on the screen. The picture gives you pause — a day you had spent on Lake Austin, the wind whipping through his hair, a broad smile on both of your faces. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Focusing on your breathing, clenching your teeth, you accept the call.

“Hey, Tommy.” Your voice is small. So small. You feel your cheeks burn at how stupid you feel. You should be screaming at him — biting back the venom he instilled in you — but all you can manage is barely a whisper.

He sounds relieved. “Hey, peach. Didn’t know if I’d catch ya.”

You hum discontentedly. How can he be so cool about this?

“Uhhh, well, I, uh, need to stop by the apartment tonight to grab some things. Would that be okay?”

You don’t know what to say. Would it be okay?

“It’s your apartment.”

The response surprises you, that same venom bubbling over without your permission.

Tommy sighs.

“I don’t want it to be like this, darlin’. Can we talk? Please?”

“Can you make it here without sleeping with a client?”

Tommy laughs hollowly. “Guess I deserve that. Sassy today, huh?”

You picture him then, on Joel’s couch, fidgeting with the hem of his button down with his free hand. Pressed against the cushions, eyes to the ceiling. Gently annoyed with you for ignoring his texts. Football would be switched on in the background, and your heart thrums when you think of Joel being there, watching him. What does Joel think?

You clear your throat, refocusing your attention.

“Let’s get this over with, Tommy.”

Sassy, indeed.

It was easier to be hard over the phone, joined by nothing more than wires somewhere in space. But as Tommy stands in front of you now, elbows on the kitchen island, hands stretching towards you, all you feel is the velvety pull of attraction. The soft lull of two years spent shrouded in each other.

His voice is low, but soft — practically a purr.

“Baby. How do we move past this?”

You don’t meet his gaze, wrapping your arms around yourself. Looking at anything but him, anything but those warm eyes. You know that if you do, it will be over.

“Tommy…I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s that easy. You had an affair. You didn’t forget to take the trash out, or-or-or make a shitty comment about my friends. You slept with someone! You had a relationship with her.” Your voice is measured, eyes dragging from the floor to the ceiling. Avoiding.

“What can I do, peach? Please, just tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“It doesn’t change what happened.” You cross your arms over your chest, defiant now. “It won’t change what happened.”

Exasperated, Tommy slams his hand on the counter, drawing his body to its full height. He’s broad — so broad — his shoulders squared.

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. You’ve made it clear. Joel has made it clear. I fuckin’ get it!” He clenches his fists, bringing them up to his face. “I fuckin’ get it.”

You drop your eyes instantly as your pulse quickens. “What do you mean, Joel made it clear?”

Tommy sighs, deeply, not removing his hands from his face. “Joel will barely fuckin’ talk to me. Can’t get more’n two words out of him. Said he doesn’t blame you for bein’ done with me. Said I know better. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right. I do. Can’t even argue with’m.”

You hum cooly in agreement, your pulse thrumming in your ears. There is a sudden acute awareness of the change taking place in your perception of Tommy following his words; he’s been wrenched open and put on display for you, and the need to step back from the jarring offering is nearly suffocating.

“Okay. Okay.” Hands falling to his waist, revealing his eyes. Bloodshot, tired. Surrendering, but sharp. His voice, softer now, velvet dipped in whiskey. “I’m sorry, peach. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could take it all back. I…I know I really fucked up.”

You hold his desperate gaze for a moment before lowering your eyes to the floor again.

“Tommy… ” His name splintering across your lips. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” That small voice again, cracking. Shattering. Sparkling pieces scattered across the kitchen floor around your feet. Meeting his offering with outstretched, empty palms. Nothing left to give.

He drops his head, tucking his chin to his chest, and exhales a shaky breath. “Okay, peach. I hear ya.”

You can see his eyes bright with unshed tears. This is the softness that you know, that you’ve craved. The hushed tenderness that you’d shared beneath bed sheets, woven between fingertips brushed against silk skin, delicate whispers in the dark of a once shared bedroom.

As good as strangers, now.

The silence settles between you, mourning both what once was and could have been.

When the door closes with Tommy on the other side of it, it feels final. An unfamiliar liquid sense of relief floods your veins, and you breathe deeply. For the first time in a week, you feel like you can suck in enough air to actually fill your lungs. You hadn’t recognized the somber, weepy creature you’d become, and you were sure no one else had, either. Ava had treated you like you were made of glass, afraid you would shatter at any moment. And as much as you had needed that, your stomach twisted into knots at feeling so helpless. Ending things with Tommy — officially — felt like giving yourself permission to dig out the shards and stitch the wound.

You take in the room around you - a blanket strewn across the arm of the couch, wine glasses littering the coffee table, bottles lined up on the floor in front of it. You shake your head, in something that feels a little like disbelief. The reality of leaving this apartment - your home - had begun to truly set in, but the question of where you would land hung heavy in the air.

Of course Kit would take you in, if she wasn’t multiple states and thousands of miles away. Ava was an option, having offered her couch to you almost the moment she found out, but you had leaned so heavily on her already that taking more would have made you feel too guilty. A hotel would be too expensive for an open-ended move out date, though the prospect of not having to make your own bed or wash your own sheets was tempting.

Dropping yourself onto the couch with a heavy sigh, you begin to aimlessly scroll through the contact list in your phone. You know, deep down, that it’s for show, though you don’t know for who. You know, too, that you’ll end up at Ava’s, despite your unwillingness to do so.

You lean back, pulling your legs up and stretching them across the cushions. Reaching across the empty wine glasses for the television remote, you click it on before throwing your arm over your eyes. You don’t care what’s on, you just need the sounds. Of people. Of laughing. Of life. Resigning yourself to calling Ava in the morning, you slip into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The Saturday morning sun finds you still curled up on the couch, your legs pulled close to your core. Without opening your eyes, you drop your hand to the floor, feeling for your phone. Finding it nestled partially beneath the frame of the couch, you bring it up to your face, cracking your eyes as little as possible to check the time. There’s a missed call, and when it catches your attention, your eyes fly open completely.

Joel Miller - 1 Missed Call & Voicemail

“What the fuuuuck… ” you mumble, swiping to your calls app and bringing the phone to your ear.

“Uh, hey peach. It’s Joel. Gimme a call back when you get this.”

You can’t quite place his tone of voice, and your hands tremble as your brain rolls through all the reasons he might be calling you. Did something happen? Is he angry that Tommy is still at his place? Is he angry that you ended it with Tommy? Is he going to try to convince you to take him back? You play the voicemail again, to see if you can catch any stormy inflections in his deep voice - though you glean nothing more than a hazy awareness of the hunger coursing through your blood when he speaks.

Finally sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you, you stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity. It’s not that Joel scares you, but you don’t know of any time that he’s called you for any reason. Worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth, you finally press the little image of a phone next to his name and wait for the call to connect.

“Yeah?” Joel’s tone is curt, and you can tell he’s at work based on the construction noises you hear in the background. It sets your teeth on edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself. Steeling your nerves.

“Heyjoelit’s-” you manage to squeak, before you recognize the quiet way his breath hitches.

“Peach.” and he’s soft. So soft. Softer than you’ve ever known him to be. And it’s your name on his tongue; honeyed and heavenly. You could drown in it.

“Hi,” you whisper. “I’m just…returning your call.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but you hear the opening and closing of a door, the groan of an office chair, and then silence. You would think he’d hung up if you couldn’t hear his deep, even breathing.

“Peach,” he finally says again, and your skin flares. He clears his throat. “I—there’s— you doin’ okay?” His words are rushed, clumsy, as if he’s trying to get them all out at once. The thought that Joel Miller has anything to say to you, much less too much to say to you, clouds your mind. “Could kill Tommy. Fuckin’ bastard.”

You laugh once, idly. “I’m holdin’ it together, Joel.”

“Attagirl.”

Your skin prickles, and you draw in a surprised gasp.

He continues, unaware of the change in your breathing. “Look, I, uh, know you’re busy, so I’ll get t’the point. I’ve got an extra room. For you. If ya want it, I mean. I know you’re tryin’ to get out of Tommy’s place, and I’m not lookin’ to rush you or anythin’, just..wanted to offer it up. Rent free, ‘n all that.” You imagine him running his hands through his hair as he stumbles through his speech, clenching his teeth. “Least I could do, with my brother bein’ the dickhead he is.��

Oh. It’s pity — he feels sorry for you. You bite your tongue, sink your fingernails into your palm, force yourself to focus through the haze in your eyes. Stupid. Stupid girl.

“Joel, I—”

“I know ya probably have friends you can stay with. I’m not tryin’ t’be weir — peach, is this weird?” He’s lost in his own thoughts, but stops abruptly when the question escapes. He sounds just as surprised by it as you are.

It hangs in the air between you for a moment, and you relish just slightly in the idea that he’s floundering.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” you reply, gently. “I’m okay to figure something out on my own. I’m a big girl.”

“Oh, peach, no. No.” His response is quick, and firm; without any hesitancy, or a second thought. “Don’t for a minute think I don’t know how capable y’are. I know you can, I just don’t want you to have to.”

His words sizzle across your flesh, urgent and pleading. They leave you feeling dazed, unsure of the reality of the conversation. Your eyes flick to the furnishings of the apartment, desperate for something to ground you. Trepidation clutches at your throat, rendering you speechless.

Joel shifts in his chair, and you hear him let out a long breath. “I- I know we don’t know each other. I feel like I’m scarin’ you, darlin’.”

You shake your head, grasping for what to say. Chest tightening at the thought of his worry, the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. “What would Tommy say?”

It feels like a condemnation; speaking it aloud, between the two of you. As if it would make Joel suddenly realize how wrong it was, to ask this of you. To offer this to you.

“Tommy doesn’t get to say anythin’.” His whisper-soft tone now a growl, clawing at your insides. It covers you from head to toe, and you feel, for the first time in a very long time, shielded from the hurt. A hurt that exceeded the past week, or Tommy entirely. A hurt that was buried so far inside yourself that the aching reminder it even existed left you reeling. Tears prick at the back of your eyes, and you silently scold yourself for crying again.

The silence on the phone is comfortable, as if Joel knows that you’re digesting everything he’s saying. True to his word, he’s not rushing you — just sharing the space with you, allowing you to take it all in.

A loud knocking sounds from his end, and it snaps you out of your trance.

“Shit, sorry peach. I gotta go.” He sounds further away, muffled; the intimacy of the conversation shattered, as if you had imagined it altogether.

Then, abruptly, his warm, inviting timbre restored: “Please think about it. Bye, darlin’.”

“I mean, are you thinking about it?” Ava questions, her eyes on the shirt she’s folding. She’s cross legged on the floor, while you stack books in the cardboard box at your feet.

It hadn’t occurred to you how little you had to call your own, until you had to put it all in boxes.

You don’t respond to Ava’s question immediately, instead chewing on your bottom lip gently. Turning it over and over in your mind, formulating the most diplomatic response.

“How bad would it be if I was?” You avoid her eyes, which you know have turned to daggers at your back.

It’s her turn to mull the question over, bobbing her head side to side as she considers.

“Tommy’d be pissed.” It’s pointed, but not malicious. Honest. “But…we don’t care what Tommy thinks anymore, do we?”

You drop your head, smiling mildly behind the curtain of your hair. No, we in fact, do not.

“Plus, he’s very…handsome.” Ava chooses her words carefully, but you know to read between the lines: Joel is fuckin’ hot. “The whole ‘older man’ thing really works for you, babe.”

“Kit would be more upset than Tommy, I guarantee it.” You laugh softly, unable to help yourself. You get cheated on by someone more than fifteen years older than you, and immediately move in with someone even older? You imagine your sister tutting at you, ever the mother-figure.

“No doubt.” Ava rolls her eyes affectionately as you turn to her. You plant your hands on your hips and survey the bedroom around you. “Seriously, though, how would the…logistics of living with Joel work? Would you, like, have dinner together? Hang out? Be friends?”

You laugh, despite the anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t know, Av. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m kind of hung up on the whole ‘moving in with my ex-boyfriend’s brother’ part of it all.”

Now it’s her turn to plant her hands at her hips. “Are we still harboring some feelings about Tommy Miller, doll?” Her eyebrow quirks.

“Av! Come on. We spent two years together! I’m not just gonna get over it like that.” You snap your fingers before bending down to close the now-full box below you.

“You know what they say…the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Ava waggles her eyebrows, and you laugh, full-bellied, at her levity. “You’re a fox, girl. Believe it or not.”

You roll your eyes, shoving the box out of the door of the bedroom, into the hallway.

“And he’ll be helping you move all this, right? To his house?”

“Nope!” you chirp brightly, “that would be you, babe!”

Kit, as you had anticipated, is not thrilled about the idea of you moving in with Joel. You call her from your office phone on Monday morning, gripping the receiver so hard your knuckles are white.

“Are you kidding? How are you even entertaining the idea?” Her voice is unflinching, and you tap the fingers of your free hand against your desktop, mildly annoyed.

“I’m 28, Kit.” You remind her, as you always do. “I’m the one who would deal with the fallout. Not you. Besides, it’s not like I have a ton of options.”

She scoffs, and you can imagine her rolling her eyes. “So you’ve told him yes, then?”

“No! That’s why I’m…taking a survey. Feeling it out.” You mumble, “You’re obviously not on board.”

Kit sighs, drawn out and heavy. “I know you don’t care what I think. I know you’re an adult. I just…worry about you. I’m so far away, and if anything happened…”

You cut her off. “I appreciate that. A lot. But at some point, I have to take care of myself.”

“I don’t think moving in with a 50 year old man qualifies as taking care of yourself.” She’s trying to be delicate, you can tell, but her remark is biting.

Twirling the phone cord around your fingers, you purse your lips.

“Why don’t you come stay with us for a bit? Maybe an extended vacation?” You can picture the sticky countertops, loud toys, an uncomfortable pullout couch. And Kit’s husband, awkward and gangly, never shutting up about ‘the economy’. Kit sounds somewhat hopeful, though, and it makes your heart quiver.

“Kit…I can’t leave my job. The one stable thing I have going for me.”

“They have finance jobs here.”

“I’m not letting Tommy run me out of Austin.” You echo Ava’s words, an indignant feeling rising in your chest. “I’ve got a whole career here. This is…a minor setback. If I do move in with Joel, it won’t be for forever.”

She laughs softly, but you clock the reluctance.

“I promise. I’m okay. I am okay. I will be okay.”

Kit pauses. “You’ll tell me if you’re not?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

“Well,” she clicks her tongue against her teeth, “best of luck, peach. It sounds like you have your mind made up.”

You shove the last box into the back of your Subaru, and dust your hands off on your leggings.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this, Joel?”

“Yes. Stop askin’ me.”

“If I’m too much, at all, I don’t have to stay.”

“Peach.” It’s a warning. “It’s Tommy that I need out of my space.”

Calling Joel back to accept his offer had been harder than every other aspect of moving out of Tommy’s apartment. Once you and Ava had packed all of your belongings, you stood back to observe — and it was like you had never lived there in the first place. The only thing that truly felt different about the space was that you knew you didn’t live there anymore. You feel a pang in your chest thinking about how Tommy would feel without you there — you didn’t know if him missing you or not missing you would be worse.

“Anything left?” Silas, Ava’s boyfriend-du-jour asks, from your elbow.

You shake your head, pulling down the hatch to close the back of the car. “Just the key. Which you don’t have to stick around for.” You give him a watery smile, feeling the weight of the day through every muscle in your body.

He nods. “Cool, cool. I’ll grab Ava. We can meet you over there?”

You hum in agreement before turning back to the building. Going up the steps to the second floor feels mechanical, a recreation of the thousands of times you’ve done it before, and your legs carry you automatically. The last time, now. Pulling in a large breath, you exhale through your nose, centering yourself while you click the door open.

Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the late afternoon light. You glaze your eyes over the room, not searching for anything forgotten, but committing it to memory one final time. You recognize that it feels less like a chapter closing and more like a freefall into something entirely unknown — into the mouth of something that lurks beneath the surface, teeth gnashing, ready to consume.

Leaving the key on the kitchen island feels like an offering to that dark entity, but you’re ready — willing — to tumble headfirst into it. So you do, with no grandeur, and no looking back, just a deep breath out and the millstone around your neck lifted.

Joel’s truck isn’t in the driveway when you arrive at his house. Ava is posted up against her car, Silas still in the driver’s seat, arm out the window at her waist. You wave as you pull up, masking the fear radiating through your extremities.

You throw the Subaru into park, and Ava jogs over to meet you. Her eyes are wide, but kind, as you close the door behind you.

“Okay?” She asks, her hand gentle on your arm.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Feels kinda surreal, Av. But I’m good.”

Brushing her off, you make your way to the front door. There’s an envelope clipped to the mailbox, ‘peach’ scribbled on the front of it, and your hands shake as you grasp it.

‘I wanted to give you some space while you got settled. Your key is in the envelope. Make yourself at home — I’ll check on you in the morning. —Joel’

Your heart flutters as you pull out a house key, with a keychain in the shape of a peach threaded through the top of it. Your breath catches in your chest as you run the metal through your fingers, tightening them around it. If Tommy’s key had been an anchor, Joel’s feels like a lifesaver.

Blinking back tears, hands still shaking, you slide the key into the lock and twist.

Eat your heart out, Tommy Miller.

#my therapist would be so proud of me for actually posting this #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal fanfic #tommy x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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mvltisstuff · 10 months

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Hi hun!!! can I do a request for Evan Buckley where reader is getting really stressed at work (she works in fast food or a restaurant, yes I'm projecting lol) and he visits her at work and helps home her down and get her less stressed? just a really fluffy comfort fic, I've had such a terrible day at work I need comfort lol 🫶🫶

this love - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: i’m so sorry about your day at work ml. i wanted to prioritize this so hopefully it makes your day a little better. <33 sending you the best wishes

y/n could already tell the day wasn’t going to be kind to her. working at a restaurant where the customers think they own the place can be hell, especially when the managers do nothing about it. she tried to walk in with a smile on her face, but some days it was near impossible.

it didn’t help that buck had to leave for work early today, her not being able to spend time with him before. it killed her not being able to see him or just talk to him. he always made her worries disappear and he was the reason good days were good. he knew all she dealt with, almost being grateful that he ran into fires and didn’t deal with snobby people.

y/n just tried to force herself through her long shift thinking about buck waiting for her when she got home. she so badly just wanted him to be there with her. but, he wasn’t there. so, she dealt with it like always and pushed through people complaining.

it wasn’t until one family walked in, four loud kids and parents who pretended they weren’t there. y/n was, of course, blessed with being their waitress for the night. she could visibly see the discomfort of the people around that table, their faces scrunching up after one of the children yelled once again. it came time for them to order drinks, and the smile plastered on y/n’s face was close to breaking.

“hi guys!” she said sweetly. “i’m gonna be helping you today, any drinks i can get you started with?” the kids didn’t even notice her existence, the dad ordering a large beer and the mother trying to order a drink. y/n could barely hear her over her children speaking way too loud. “and for the kids?”

“oh, yeah,” the mom turned to look at her kids. “hey! tell her what you want.”

“uh…” the boy looked at the menu, trying to pick something to drink as y/n tried to be patient with all of them. she should be in the back right now, getting them their beverages but she’s waiting on people who she can’t even hear. “dr. pepper, please.”

“no,” the mom spoke next. “we didn’t come her for soda, get something else.”

the kid rolled his eyes, giving y/n the same stare like it was her fault. she didn’t blame the kid, clearly the parents didn’t teach their children proper manners in a restaurant. “why?” he complained.

“listen to your mother, cameron,” the dad chimed in, snapping back into reality. “he’ll have a water.”

“alright,” y/n replied, keeping her cool still. she painfully takes the rest of the orders. “i’ll be back with those.”

she lines up all the drinks on the tray, walking back out and passing them to the family. she takes an order for any appetizers, and the kids dig in instantly when they come out. when y/n starts walking away, this old woman pulls her away to her table.

“hello, darling,” she begins, and y/n can already sense what she’s saying. “i’m sorry to bother you, i know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but could you maybe ask them to quiet down?” she questions, motioning to the family.

y/n wants to say yes, appreciating the kindness from the woman. however, the thing holding her back is that the family doesn’t look willing to lower their volume. “i’ll try, ma’am. i’m very sorry about all this.”

“no worries,” she smiles and y/n walks away. she figures she has time to form her question to the family incase they twist her words. when she comes back out to get their dinner orders, she decides to ask them.

“ok, are we ready for entrees?”

“yes, finally,” the mom says, adjusting herself in the seat and beginning. “i’ll do just a chicken breast, like, just the breast, and then a side of avocado.”

y/n looks at her confused, knowing that’s not an option on the menu but attempting to continue anyway. “i’m not sure that’s on the menu, is there anything specifically on there that interests you?”

“well, you have chicken and avocado because it’s in the other dishes,” she sighs. “so i can’t just do that?”

“most of our dishes are prepared ahead of time, so the ingredients are for those spec-“

“alright, can’t you just ask the chef?”

“i have had similar requests, and he’s not allowed to switch things up like that,” y/n starts to get more irritated, wishing she could just order a simple thing on the menu and be done with it.

“fine, whatever,” she rolls her eyes just like her child did. “come back to me.”

“ok, and for you?” she moves to the kids, asking them despite their lack of attention to her. the father is still gandering at the menu, neither of them focusing on their kids. her social battery is running out quickly, being physically drained from this family. she desperately looked at the clock, seeing that the time she was done wasn’t any where near. she sighed, looking back at the kids, hoping maybe they’d notice her now. maybe it was just her, but y/n felt like the kids were getting louder and louder by the second, acting like animals in the middle of the restaurant. their voices were ringing in her ears, completely overwhelming her as she said something to the parents. “i’m sorry, can you guys just get your kids to settle down? we’ve had more complaints from other tables and i just need to take your order to get the food for you.”

“i’m sorry,” y/n could tell by the tone in her voice that it was nothing but sarcasm. “isn’t this a family friendly restaurant? i mean, seriously, first it takes forever to order, and once we do, it’s not allowed to be made! like, who is in charge here?”

“miss, i’m sorry it’s been slow, but i’m just trying to make things as smooth as possible,” y/n says. “and family friendly does not mean this is somewhere to shout and mess around.”

“i’m just,” she chuckles, keeping the scrutinizing tone. “i cant believe the treatment we’ve gotten today, it’s completely ridiculous. how you have a job here still is beyond me. this whole place i’m surprised us still in business.”

y/n can feel the anger bubbling up, watching this woman degrade her and her job in front of everyone. it’s part humiliation, trying to figure out why she’s screaming at y/n in front of the other tables. “alright, listen,” y/n breaks. “i cant stop you from being upset, but if you let me try and help you, maybe we can fix it?”

“this is completely unacceptable,” the woman places her napkin on the table. “get me the person who’s running this.”

y/n turns away, going to find her incompetent boss to deal with them. once she looks all over for her, finding her at the entrance, she starts to talk. “hey, i’m sorry, i have a family here, the one with the super loud kids, the mom wants to talk to you. she’s not happy with me because i told her-“

“i don’t need the story, y/n,” her boss groans, looking at her. “i thought you could handle this.”

“she’s refusing to listen, i don’t know what to tell you,” y/n tells as if it’s not completely different as to how both of them are acting.

“go work downstairs at the bar if you can’t handle doing this,” her boss moves out of the way, just making y/n feel even more embarrassed and exhausted. she feels the families eyes burning into the back of her, trying to cover up the burning in her own eyes. the tears sizzle up on her waterline, but refusing to let them fall. she moves downstairs, hoping the people at the bar are more compliant down there. really, she just wants to go home and see buck.

he knows how hard it is. he’s had his fair share of difficult people, and he always knows how to bring y/n down. she imagines he’s here now, but he only is in her head.

she painstakingly takes drink orders from old dudes who think she’s cute, and orders from people who barely look 21. she pushes through anyway, the clock moving slow as ever. someone must be punishing her, screwing up the time and making it turn distinctly sluggish.

the next time the bell on the door rings, she just turns away, not wanting to handle another person today. she just wants her paycheck and to be done with the day, going home to lay with buck and feel his hands on her skin. some angel from above must’ve heard her, because she saw buck and his team walking into the bar. he normally goes to the other bars, but something told him be bad to see y/n.

normally, she answers a few texts in between waiting, sending him a sweet text or replying to one of his. he’s sent her several, apologizing for leaving so early and how excited he is to see her. no response or anything, just a quick read receipt alarmed him.

she looks at him and makes eye contact, letting her shoulders droop at he sits in front of her. “hi, baby.”

“hey,” she replies. “how was work?”

“it was pretty good, you?” he looks into her eyes, small and tired and he can immediately feel somethings wrong. the rest of the team turns away like they’re not listening, but secretly worried for their friends. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” she shakes her head. “what do you guys want tonight?”

“club soda for bobby, old fashioned for me,” she starts to turn away before getting the rest of the drinks, but buck won’t let her. “hey, you ok?”

“i’m fine,” she fake grins. “just let me get started with those.”

“there’s no rush, y/n, don’t worry about it,” buck tries to put his hand on hers, as she just looks down at it. he can see the light sparkling in her eyes, the certain one he never wants to see. “alright, come here.” he leads her behind the counter, pulling her away into the single bathrooms. when the door is finally locked behind them, the tears break in her eyes and they start flowing out. “no, baby, hey,” he swipes a few away, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his chest. “what happened?”

“i’m just doing the best i can and it’s not enough,” she says quietly, muffled by bucks jacket. his heart breaks to hear her sad voice, but he lets her continue. “i’m just trying to pay for my place and for school and it feels impossible right now. like there’s no purpose for me besides letting people get pissed at me at work.”

“listen to me, y/n,” bucks gentle voice starts. he picks his hands up and placed them on the sides of her face. “look at me. you’re always enough. those people aren’t worth any of these tears. i know it’s hard, but i’m here with you no matter what. your best right now is enough. those people are so blind that they can’t see that, and they don’t deserve you one bit.”

his words honestly just make her cry more, relieved to hear his sweet voice and loveliness. “no,” he smiles a bit. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you cry more.”

“no, no, thank you,” she looks back up at him and his beautiful face, and he looks at hers. even when she cries and looks broken, her beauty isn’t concealed and he’s here to save her. “i really needed you tonight.”

“if you ever, ever need me,” he gets closer to make sure she gets every word. “im here. always.”

“i love you,” she smiles, and he lands his lips on hers. the sweet taste of him on her lips brings her back down, letting herself relax into his hold. she brings down all her senses, allowing it to just be her and buck for now. all of her thoughts from earlier fade away, just knowing that buck thinks she’s enough.

“so fuck whoever made you feel this way,” he jokes, but not really joking. “say it, c’mon!”

“fuck them,” she smiles.

“there’s that smile,” he grins. “you ready? everyone really wanted to see you.”

“just a minute, tell them i’ll be out.” he nods, moving out of the bathroom to let her collect herself.

“she doing ok?” hen asks, curling her lips with a bit of pity.

“she’ll be ok,” he sits. “people just suck.”

“we’re all here for her,” bobby adds. buck nods, seeing her come out of the corner and going behind the counter.

“y/n!” chim excitedly says. buck loves to see the alluring smile on her face as she greets everyone, happy to make her day shine a little more.

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