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httpswritings · 3 months

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if you were my little girl: the series part 5

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

a/n: i was a little bit disgusted writing some parts of this, that's why it has taken more than usually to post it. if you feel the same way when you read it, i guess i've captured well the feeling with words. part 6 will be similar to this one.

Flour dusted your cheeks as you nervously kneaded dough with Alexia. Outside, the rumble of the vacuum cleaner announced your parents' frantic cleaning for the family reunion. Alexia, ever perceptive, noticed the tightness in your smile.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice a warm reassurance. "I'm not going anywhere."

Relief washed over you as Alexia squeezed your shoulder, a silent show of support. But then, a wave of shame crashed down. You loved having Alexia by your side, but you dreaded her witnessing the potential chaos of your family reunion. You squeezed the cookie dough in your hand a little too hard, wishing you could bake away the impending awkwardness.

An hour ticked by, the house humming with the final flourishes before the guests arrived. Relief battled with a gnawing anxiety in your gut. Family members began to trickle in, greeted warmly by your mother, who then ushered them towards Alexia. As introductions were made, Alexia couldn't help but marvel at the warmth radiating from this seemingly happy family. But a dissonant note jarred the picture. Her gaze fell on the clinking beer bottles your uncle brought, a familiar dread sparking in your eyes. Alexia's heart clenched. There you were, barely a shadow against the backdrop of the bustling room, yet the fear etched on your young face spoke volumes. A fierce protectiveness ignited within her, pushing aside the initial wonder. This loving facade, this was the "devil" you'd spoken of?

The spotlight naturally fell on Alexia during the family reunion. A constant stream of questions flowed her way, each inquiry a beat in the symphony of getting-to-know-you. Even your parents joined the chorus, their voices brimming with pride as they declared to anyone within earshot how lucky they were to have an small Alexia as their daughter.

But the facade cracked when one of your uncles, amidst the laughter, uttered a comment about women's football.

"She's good," he chuckled, "but be careful she doesn't turn..." his voice trailed off, replaced by a knowing wink, "...lesbian, you know?"

A ripple of laughter spread, leaving you and Alexia as islands of silence. The term "lesbian" was a nebulous thing, one you'd heard hurled as an insult at girls who excelled at sports, but you know ot meant a woman that loved women. You didn't understand why it was bad, just that the tone felt wrong.

Across from you, Alexia stiffened. Her jaw clenched, and a flicker of anger ignited in her eyes. Yet, she swallowed the retort, the fierce protectiveness she felt for you overriding her own indignation. This wasn't about her. In the stifling atmosphere, a silent vow solidified. She was there to shield you, even if it meant enduring veiled barbs and swallowing her own voice.

It was nearly 1PM and the barbecue started.

Alexia understood right away what you meant with the drawing.

She saw how everyone besides your grandmother was drunk, very drunk.

There was a heavy beer odor in the atmosphere, that made Alexia feel nauseous, and she remembered how upset you got when you had smelled that odor in her some weeks ago.

Everything made sense.

The clock ticked relentlessly towards 1 pm, the hands seeming to etch closer to the moment the festivities would truly begin. A plume of smoke rose from the barbecue pit, carrying with it the unmistakable, acrid scent of burning charcoal and sizzling meat. Alexia inhaled sharply, the pungent air triggering a memory. It was the same heavy beer stench that had twisted your face in disgust when you caught a whiff of it on her. A sudden understanding dawned on her. You hadn't been exaggerating in your frantic drawing. Glancing around at the scene before her, confirmation washed over her like a cold wave. Bodies swayed precariously, laughter devolved into slurred shouts, and empty beer bottles littered the once pristine picnic tables. It was clear – everyone, with the possible exception of your stoic grandmother perched primly on the edge of the scene, was demonstrably, uncomfortably drunk. The nausea that had been a mere flicker before now blossomed in her stomach, as thick and unwelcome as the oppressive atmosphere surrounding her. Everything about this picture, from the reeking air to the sloppy revelry, suddenly made even more sense, terrible sense.

Alexia watched you across the chaotic scene. Here you were, amidst the laughter and smoky haze, surprisingly relaxed. You even seemed genuinely amused, sharing jokes with your family. Could she blame you? This was your normal, the background noise you'd grown accustomed to, the beer-soaked gatherings, the boisterous laughter that teetered on the edge of aggression. Maybe you hadn't even noticed the way everyone seemed a little off-balance, their voices a touch too loud, their movements a hair too jerky. Perhaps you'd simply normalized it all, the way one gets used to the hum of a refrigerator after a while.

The thought made her stomach clench. Then, as if on cue, a beer bottle clattered to the ground, shattering with a jarring crack. You flinched, a flicker of alarm crossing your face before it was quickly masked by a strained smile. Alexia's observation sharpened. Your pupils were dilated, and your hand, reaching for a bread roll, trembled slightly.

A primal urge for safety surged through you. The boisterous laughter that had seemed amusing moments ago now felt like a cacophony, threatening to drown you out. Instinctively, you gravitated towards Alexia, seeking refuge by her side. You'd always admired her hands, strong and capable – the kind that left colorful imprints on both your canvases and your skin during your painting sessions. Back then, they'd been instruments of creativity, but now, they transformed into something more – a potential shield against the unsettling atmosphere. The unspoken promise of protection emanating from those hands offered a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.

The moment of amusement with Alexia evaporated like spilled beer on the picnic table as you got near the men of your family to get some water. Your uncle, emboldened by a few too many drinks, lurched back into his usual pattern of inappropriate comments. His voice, thick with slurred words, boomed across the gathering. "If I were you, I'd keep an eye on your little girl. She seems very content with Alexia." A forced laugh escaped his lips, but it held a nasty edge. Shame burned in your cheeks.

Relief washed over you as you realized Alexia hadn't caught the undercurrent of the conversation happening a few feet away from her. Your father, flanked by your two uncles, was fielding questions cast in slurred tones.

"Why is she here, anyway?" your eldest uncle rumbled, his voice thick with suspicion.

"Alexia's been a great help with the girl's journey on football. She's a good woman."

The youngest uncle leaned in conspiratorially, his breath reeking of stale beer. "Yeah, well, good woman or not, is she one of them?" He punctuated his question with a jerk of his thumb, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

"One of them?"

"A dyke, do you know if she's one of them?

A knot of anger tightened in your stomach. You still loved your family, even after everything they had done to you, but suddenly, the thought of being related to them, felt painful. You longed for the escape of your room, a place where the world couldn't twist your innocent friendship into something ugly. You stole a glance at Alexia, catching the way she laughed with your grandmother, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

This was uncharted territory. Usually, Alexia stood as your shield, but now, a fierce protectiveness surged through you, a need to defend the one who'd always been your rock. The conversation went over your head. Dyke. A word associated with something you didn't quite grasp, yet somehow felt ugly. Why were they calling Alexia that? You'd never heard her mention a boyfriend, but girlfriends were a blank slate too. But, what if she liked girls? Why was that a problem?

As you kept listening to them talk, your innocence felt bruised.

"She's hot. It'd be a waste if she's really a lesbian.

"God only knows if I have the chance."

A tear escaped, then another, and you bolted for the safety of your room.

Alexia, her heart echoing your pain, sprung up and followed. "Hey, little one," she called out, her voice laced with concern. "What happened?" Before you could answer, the others arrived, their presence only amplifying your tears. What was once your haven now felt tainted, the air thick with their presence. Your drawings, your toys, even your bed seemed to echo the intrusion.

Your mom reached out, but you burrowed deeper into Alexia's embrace, her familiar scent of fruit offering a sliver of comfort. "Her stomach hurts," Alexia lied gently, a shield against the storm brewing around you.

A semblance of normalcy returned, but you were a shadow by Alexia's side. When Alexia asked what had made you cry, her worried eyes met yours. A truth dawned on you - the depth of your love for her. No longer an idol, she was your fierce protector, an angel in this sudden hell, a sister.

"Just... uncomfortable," you mumbled, unable to voice the unspoken hurt. Alexia saw through it, but held her tongue. This burden was hers, a consequence of leaving you unguarded. Maybe a brief escape was possible.

"Can I take her to the park?" she asked your parents, hoping for a distraction. Your father, still wary of Alexia under his uncles' scrutiny, hesitated.

"Let them go," your grandmother unexpectedly intervened. "The child looks bored of only being surrounded by adults."

To your surprise, the park became a reality. It was your first outing with Alexia, just the two of you. She challenged you to a race, a playful glint in her eyes. Despite her victory, it was her joyous laughter that soothed you, a melody of safety.

The park itself welcomed you with open arms. You made a beeline for the slide, a picture of carefree happiness. Watching you, tears welled in Alexia's eyes.

You were feeling very happy when a gaggle of children, trailed by their parents, swarmed Alexia. Requests for selfies and football games flew through the air.

Your stomach, previously a dull ache, lurched into a full-blown protest. It wasn't just a tummy ache anymore; it was a physical manifestation of your possessiveness. You didn't want to share Alexia with other children, let alone during this hell of a day.

You were her “little one”.

It was the same feeling other kids got when they wouldn't share their toys, their parents, or their siblings. Only, for you, Alexia wasn't just anyone. She was the closest thing you had to family, along with Alba.

The park's joy felt stolen as you stalked out, hand in hand with Alexia. Barcelona's streets stretched before you, but there was no peace to be found, not with Alexia surrounded by others. Alexia, ever perceptive, caught your downturned lips. A secret smile played on her lips. "Hey," she whispered, leaning down, "you know you're still my favorite little girl, right?"

You hugged her and she picked you up.

"I know you're not going to like this but we should return to your house."

You whined in her arms and she really wished she could've bring you home with her, invite Alba and had a peaceful night.

You fell asleep on her arms and she held you tightly.

"Wake up, little one. I need you to be awake until the reunion's over so I can stay."

The boisterous reunion noises held a sinister edge. A sudden crash shattered the fragile peace, sending a jolt through you as you entered the house. Before you could even whimper, Alexia materialized beside you, her eyes wide with worry.

The air crackled with tension, fueled by the adults' increasing intoxication. Subtle cues – the way your parents forgot about your daily bath, the strained silences – painted a picture of neglect that gnawed at Alexia. She retreated to your room, a sanctuary amidst the chaos, creating a world of happy dolls to distract you from the turmoil outside.

If she couldn't make the world a better place, she would create your own one.

As the clock ticked closer to 1 am, the party raged on. Your grandmother, her face etched with concern, offered Alexia a chance to stay the night. Your parents were too drunk to even care.

The familiar comfort of Alexia sleeping beside you, like a sleepover with a best friend, offered a flicker of normalcy. Yet, sleep remained a distant dream. The sounds of arguments vibrated through the walls, a constant reminder of the day's unsettling events.

You liked having Alexia in your room, like you were with your other friends in sleepovers.

She kissed your front as a goodnight and held your hand from her bed.

"Sleep well, my princess."

Sleep eluded you both. The boisterous voices from the living room seemed to vibrate through the walls, a constant reminder of the day's events. A sudden, jarring crash shattered the tense silence. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a panicked echo of the sound. Alexia, alert in an instant, was beside you before you could even cry out.

Her arms wrapped around you, a fierce embrace that spoke volumes more than any words could. You clung to her, your body trembling with a fear she'd never witnessed in anyone else. A single, fierce whisper escaped her lips, "I've got you. I've got you."

The chaos that had been simmering all day finally erupted. Even Alexia, who thrived on boisterous family gatherings, couldn't hide the fear creeping into her eyes. Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, searching for a lifeline - the police, her family, anyone.

But before she could dial, the door creaked open revealing your grandmother, her face etched with worry. "Take her with you, Alexia," she pleaded, voice trembling. "Please, take her."

Confusion clouded your mind, but a surge of bravery prompted you to peek out from behind Alexia. The sight that greeted you was a blur of motion - your uncles locked in a furious struggle, their playful banter replaced by guttural grunts. When they noticed you, they attempted a smile, the facade crumbling as quickly as it formed.

Alexia scooped you close, shielding you from the escalating chaos. Your grandmother, a pillar of strength amidst the storm, began packing a bag with your clothes. Alexia, fear momentarily forgotten, focused solely on getting you out of that hostile environment.

"You're coming with me," she whispered fiercely. "You're safe with me."

A flicker of doubt crossed your face as you looked at your grandmother. Alexia understood. She offered your grandmother a chance to escape with them, but the refusal was swift.

"My place is here," she said, voice heavy with resignation. "They're my sons. But she," she gestured towards you, "she doesn't deserve this. I want her to have a different life, a better life."

With trembling hands, Alexia scrawled her phone number on your grandmother's wrist. "This is mine," she instructed, voice urgent. "Please, don't let anyone else see it. I don't know what's coming next, but I can't bear the thought of her losing contact with you."

A silent understanding passed between them. Your grandmother squeezed Alexia's hand, then leaned down to kiss your forehead. Her voice held a lifetime of unspoken advice, "Remember what I always tell you. Education is your key. It's your power. Never depend on anyone, especially a man," just like she depended on her sons, she wanted something different for you.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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avaf00rd · 8 months

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Australian kinda Christmas

Leah Williamson x Arnold!Reader

ava what is that shitty header photo job…

tumblr fucked up its quality

anyways I’ve been thinking about writing this one for ages now

enjoy <3

——————————

“c’mon love” you groaned at your 10th attempt to get your girlfriend up from your Power Nap. You pair were already late as it is “don’t you wanna shower before you can’t for a whole 24 hours?” You asked, her head still buried in the pillows. She stayed like that, contemplating for another second before getting up and heading to the bathroom “don’t be long” you said before tapping her ass just as she opened the bathroom door.

You got a text from your sister Mackenzie telling you that she was already at her lay over flight and would be boarding again in an hour. This year you pair didn’t get the same flight over for the Christmas break. But it was the first year you would both be bringing your girlfriends with you.

You and leah had been together 4 years now. The second year you spent Christmas with Leah’s family, last year you and mac both went with your parents overseas for Christmas. And this year you would both be bring Leah and Kirsty.

Some how an hour and a half later you were just passing security only just and were going to get some small snacks for the plane. Leah, with the food palate of a 6 year old. Got some watermelon gummies “they help with feeling sick on the plane” she tried to convince you as you glanced over the packet she said was holding.

“4 years and not once have you been sick on a flight” you said

“The headaches” she shrugged and smiled at you. Of course you were gonna grab them off her and buy them for her. You grabbed some random chip snack you found at the front counter and shorty paid before handing the bag to Leah to put in her carry on. You were both absolutely beyond excited. This would be her 5th time in Australia, so she’s been heaps. But you would be staying at your family’s new place on the Gold Coast, QLD. You both sat in the lounge near your gate as you took a photo of Leah as she threw a Lolly into her mouth while smiling. Quickly adding it to your instagram captioning ‘see you soon 🇦🇺’

———

After 26 hours of travel. And your sleepy girlfriend who was currently clinging to your bicep as she slept. It was asked to put on your seatbelts as you went for landing. You slowly woke Leah up slightly so she would be ready for it.

You held hands as Leah started giggling about her funny dream. You looked out the window and squeezed your girlfriend’s hand extra tight as you saw the coastline of Australia.You squealed like a little girl due to your excitement as Leah pressed a kiss to your lips. “Welcome home love” she said before laying back in her seat. You took photos and sent them to your dad and brother to let them know you would be at GC airport in about 45 minutes so they could you pick you both up. You also texted your mum just out of excitement before putting your phone away.

Once you and Leah had gotten off the plane, you walked your tired asses over to the baggage collection. Before you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned to find your smiling dad and brother. You quickly clung on to them both in a huge hug “oh how i missed you oh my gosh” you said into your brothers neck with a sigh of relief. You also felt small hands tug your sweat shorts, you didn’t realise one of your nieces would be here too.

“Hello beautiful girl!” You squealed pulling away from your brother as you picked up your niece and spun the giggling girl around.

“I missed you so much!” She said before quickly clinging to your neck.

“I missed you so much more” you smiled back. You hadn’t seen the small girl since the World Cup back in August.

You held her on your hip as you turned around to see your girlfriend finally hugging your dad and brother Sam with a big smile. After struggling to get both of your large suitcases off the conveyor belt while you had your mini family reunion.

“Aunty Lee!” You niece squirmed in your arms as you put her down so she could run to Leah.

“Hello you!” Your girlfriend smiled and she knelt down to give her a big hug. It melted your heart the way she was with your nieces.

Leah handed you your suitcase as you pecked her cheek before you rolled it out the airport with your smiling niece riding on top.

“Hello” you yelled out once your dad unlocked the front door to your parents home. You were met with your mum, 2 nieces, Mackenzie and Kirsty all rushing around the corner at the sound of the front door.

You and Leah gave all of them bone crushing hugs and chatted for a little while, had some of the left overs that was left from their dinner since you told them not to wait. It was already 10pm. It was convenient for your girlfriend and you so you could just get yourselves straight to bed.

——————————-

After multiple days of walks down on the beach, family dinners, more surfing lessons for Leah, lots of jet lag, swimming pools and relaxation for you and your girlfriend. It was officially Christmas Eve night and you couldn’t have been more excited if you had tried.

You, leah, Macca and Kirsty were all on the living room floor carpet wrapping presents. Everyone else was in bed. But the four girls in their twenties were not as prepared as everyone else and still had to do all their wrapping.

The holiday played on the TV in front as you had about 40 gifts to wrap for people. For everyone in your family besides the people in the room with you currently. “Stupid wrapping paper argh!” You groaned knocking your head back in frustration as the huge cut of wrapping paper you cut wasn’t large enough by a few centimetres.

“See you didn’t even need to get that gift in the first place” Leah laughed. As you were wrapping your 20th gift for your parents, you comepletely spoil them every year.

You dragged Leah around the large shopping centre to get more gifts for people. “Baby you bought your mum the same scent candle last year i remember you showed me” she grinned as you looked at the box before putting it in your trolley. “Yeah but it probs ran out. That’s the thing with candles lee” you debated back as she shook her head with laughter.

“Sorry I’m just so nice to the People i love” you said to her.

“And you absolutely are, beautiful. But I don’t think we will be able to get return flights anymore once we leave here” Leah said.

“I make alright money Leah Williamson. Plus if you think this is a lot wait till you open your presents.” You smiled at her

“There’s only just a few things I want” she grinned at you as you both walked to the car

“What would those be baby” you smirked back.

“You…and that pop corn machine thing I showed you”

“You showed me that just yersterday! How am I supposed to get that” You panicked. When it came to gifts you were amazing at giving them. Everyone knew that and got excited to receive one from you. If they weren’t perfect for them you would always worry.

“I’m only joking…” she laughed as she kissed your head “at the second one”.

Once you were finished you cuddled up next to Leah on the floor against the couch to watch the end of the movie. Before heading upstairs to your room “night love you” you yelled out softly to mac and Kirsty “goodnight!” They replied before shutting their door. Leah changed out of her normal clothes that she strangely got into after her shower earlier in the night.

“Please match baby” you pouted, sitting on the edge of the bed holding up the Christmas Pajamas that matched yours.

Leah laughed as she saw them, “when did you get those” she said before cupping your face and kissing the tip of your nose.

“Back in London. I forgot I had packed them. Anyways here” you shoved them into her chest with the wide smile of a toddler.

“Of course I will” Leah skipped away to her dresser to change quickly. You giggled getting under the sheets before Leah jumped on top of you just as you were leaning over to plug your phone in. You laughed as she wrapped her long arms around you and placed kisses all over you shoulder.

“I’m so excited to for tomorrow” you smiled looking down on her.

“Me too” the English girl replied as she rolled over so you could cuddle into her side. That’s how you slept every night. It was just the best way that your bodies melted into each other. “Love you baby” she whispered.

“Night beautiful” you smiled before drifting off to sleep.

——-

Christmas morning started with slow cuddles in bed with Leah before very hyper toddlers came running down the bedroom door. They had forced you to come downstairs because they weren’t allowed to “open presents until everyone is awake”.

Leah gave multiple gifts to everyone in your family. Even though she hadn’t met some of them heaps. You gifted Leah a new designer tote bag, some belt she wanted, 2 new Apple Watch bands, YSL perfume, and Tiffany earrings along with other small gifts. She spoiled you loads as well. You two spent a long phone call with her mum before lunch started.

The afternoon was still hot. As the rain cleared, you dragged Leah, your sister and everyone down to the beach.

You were putting on sunscreen in the long mirror in your room. Leah had just done up her bikini before coming up behind you “let me help” she grinned as you were reaching for your back for the sunscreen. You gladly let her as she took the bottle from you. She rubbed gentle circles into your back with the cream, you groaned when her hands made their way up to you shoulders.

“That’s nice” you breathed out as she massaged your back. She sent a grin to the mirror.

“Let’s go” she said before tapping your butt and heading out the door, sunnies on her head. You laughed to yourself as you followed her out. You carried two of your nieces the whole Walk down while talking with Leah and Kirsty. Talking about Kristy mewis’s new transfer to their club.

“I don’t want to jinx anything. But I had a dream last night I did my ACL” you blurted.

“What-“ Kirsty laughed as you said so

“That’s not funny” Leah said

“And then…I died from it. Is that possible?”

“No it’s not. And you’re not going to do your ACL alright?” Leah reassured

“Shit who’s done their ACL?” Mackenzie said catching up to all of you with your third niece on her shoulders.

“Maybe me”

“What!-“

“No!” Leah said putting her towel down in a mess on the beach. You jumped on macca’s back as she ran down to the water. Leah and Kirsty slowly following down after.

“Come here!” You yelled, arms wide open for your niece to jump into them as you took her to the deep end. Leah laughed taking a photo of you and the small girl. “Get in Lee!” You yelled out to her

“Yep soon hang on” she said typing something on her phone. You rose out of the water, putting the child in your arms down near Mackenzie as you ran up to your girlfriend. “No no no” she said backing away.

You somehow, caught up to her and threw her over her shoulder

“No no I have my phone y/n!” She yelled. You muzzled it out of her hand and slowly put in down on the sand next to you.

“Down we go” you sung. As you carried the laughing girl into the water. Before completely dumping her in fully.

“Your done” she huffed as she pushed the wet hair out of her face. You swam and hid behind your taller sister as she just grabbed you by the shoulders and placed you in front of her, right in target for Leah.

“Thanks” your girlfriend said before pushing your shoulders under. The water was actually cold for the humid weather outside.

————

It was late at Christmas night. Technically very early Boxing Day. And even though at 1am, there was light Christmas tunes playing on the radio tv.

Everyone including Leah was asleep in the house. You came down for a midnight snack. You had been for the past few nights here.

“Shockers” a soft voice was heard a long with footsteps. The presence of your older sister brought a smile to your lips. You stuffed the last bit of pavlova in your mouth. “Anymore of that?” She pointed to the dessert.

You just giggled implying you at the last bit. “Again shockers”

“Oi”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a year”

“You never got back to me about meeting back in London. And you missed last camp” you implied

“I know sorry. Promise to try more”

“Stop you do try. You were just injured” you said softly as you poured both of you a water. “Are you planning on going with Kirsty to her family next year?” You asked curious.

“Yeah most likely I haven’t been there for Christmas before. What about you?”

“Yeah I’ll probs stay in London with Leah. I told you Caitlin brought Katie and Jordan here?”

“Yes. I’m shocked about Jordan. Not Katie. Oh I love her” she said sipping her water then refilling it

“They’re just really close as a three. Caitlin said today Sam is heading back to America in 2 days to go back with Kristie”

“Damn maybe she’ll finally feel jet lag for once. And did Caitlin call you?”

“Yeah. Just to say merry Christmas and all that”

“She didn’t call me” Mackenzie said joking in a sour way. You poked your tongue out at her as she yawned.

“Ok I’ll go back to bed. I’ve been up since 5”

“5?!”

“Yeah. The girls woke us up first. Proof I’m the favourite?”

“Maybe I’m the favourite and they just respect my beauty sleep more”

“Keep dreaming. Night. Get to sleep so your not cranky” you sister said, back to her bossy self. You heard more footsteps coming back down 1 minute later.

“Love come back to bed” said your love in a croaky voice. You turned to find Leah in her short Pyjama set and her hair everywhere.

“Hello. Looks like you slept well” you said pointing to the sheet marks left from her pillow on her check las you quickly pecked her all over her face.

“Yes I did. And I would like to get back to it. With you” she tugged you slightly back up the stairs.

“I think I’m still a bit jet lagged” you said as your body stayed leaning against the bench. Eating the strawberry punnet you grabbed out of the fridge earlier before.

“Ya think” she giggled now pulling out a kitchen stool to sit with you. The faint sound of The Christmas song by Nat King Cole was played over the radio.

“C’mon dance with me, then bed I promise” you put both your hands out the help her get up and slow dance with you.

“Only cause I get to sleep” she smiled taking your hands. You slowly started dancing with her as she put her head in the crook of her neck. The dance slowed into a long hug with each other’s embrace in the middle of the kitchen.

“I love you” you mumbled slowly into her hair

“Love you most. And again thanks for bringing me” she pecked your shoulder

“Wouldn’t miss the opportunity for the world”

——————

So this was supposed to come out ages ago. And it’s shorter than I hoped. But hope it was alright. Luv u all❤️🎄

#woso #arsenal women #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #auswnt #mackenzie arnold #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson one shot #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #christmas #matildas #l

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fish-crow-star-snowman · 4 days

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LaDS Zayne Imagine

Zayne x reader/mc

angst, fluff, pregnancy and labor

You had gone into labor before you knew it. Everything was planned and carefully organized for the big day that your little one would arrive.

No one is ever really READY though. Your excitement and nervousness was getting the best of you. While Zayne whom was often on the other side of that spectrum, calm and collected as ever, was quite the nervous wreck himself.

He'd been at work all day, not too busy. Regardless, he hated leaving you at home. Prayed in hopes that he would conveniently be home by the time you went in labor. His heart dropped receiving a call from the obstetrician gynecology department of the hospital.

"Dr.Zayne, your wife is in labor."

Throughout the months of the pregnancy, there were several talks with your obgyn about this being possibly high-risk. Every possible scenario surged through Zayne's head. During the whole experience, you often were met with doctor Zayne rather than what you needed the most, your partner.

The second the call hung up, he was quick to run to your side. He'd already given notice to his colleagues prior to your arrival just in case. He was almost always prepared. Almost.

His eyes gleamed upon seeing your already exhausted but seemingly relieved look. While he's obviously glad to see you're okay, his attention turns to the doctor, another colleague.

"How is she doing, Dr.Turner?"

"Oh Dr.Zayne, it's been a while! How have you been holding up?"

Silence sweeps the room for what felt like an eternity. Zayne clearly was not in the mood for a reunion. The doctor opting to answer his question instead.

"She is one centimeter dilated. No imposing risks so far. It's been smooth sailing. However she's not progressing nearly as fast as we would like.

"How long has she been here?"

"3 hours, sir."

"Why wasn't I called earlier.."

His tone deepens, irritation seeping from his obviously overworked body. The doctor stayed quiet, knowing the words 'too busy' wouldn't have been a good enough answer.

"My love, I tried calling you first but you didn't pick up. I remembered you had a 6 hour surgery this morning. I chose to call an ambulance instead. I'm sorry."

Guilt stung his chest. Of all hours of the day, why. He walked to your side and took your hands in his, pressing your fingertips to his lips and whispered.

"You always come first. No matter what."

His words were meaningful and for a moment you had the man you had been longing to have for months. It was short-lived however.

Like the doctor predicted, it was an unusually long process. You didn't dilate your second centimeter until 6 hours after your partner's arrival at your room. It's been about 30 hours of nonstop cycles of contractions. Unbeknownst to him, Zayne hasn't been making things easier.

Both of you were completely worn out, haven't ate or slept. Zayne's surgeon mode was still on and you were about to combust. Talks with the doctors about your condition like you weren't in the room, like you were just another one of his patients. Looking over your chart and giving demands to the nurses as if he were still working.

You knew he was trying his best to keep his composure for you. Making sure you were in the best health at all times and he was doing an amazing job. It didn't change the fact it was making you feel a little alone in this. What you needed was his hands on yours, telling you that you were going to be okay. That you can do this. A kiss to your forehead every now and again for reassurance maybe?

Nine centimeters. Finally. You were close to the end and soon you'd be holding the proof of yours and Zayne's love. At least it's what it should have been but you were at your breaking point. Zayne had his back towards you still keeping up conversations with nurses.

"Zayne!"

He tensed hearing your strained shout. He turned to look at you with that oh so familiar concerned gaze. Everything was quiet once again. All that was heard was the sound of the monitors beeping. It was your turn to feel guilty.

You closed your eyes briefly and sucked in a deep breath before holding out your hands for him to take. Understanding your gesture, he walks to your bedside crouching slightly to your eye level.

You fought hard to keep the tears from spilling out of your water line. You spoke in the softest tone possible, in hopes to forget how you just yelled at him.

"You are an amazing doctor and I couldn't ask for a better one these past few months." You paused for a moment, letting a tear shed your cheek and huffing another breath. "But I would like to have my husband for this.. please.."

His eyes widened at the implication of your words and letting out a soft gasp of realization.

He stands up finally relieving himself of his white coat he had been wearing since yesterday and removed his glasses to set on your bedside table. It showed how disheveled he was underneath. Hair was a mess, tie crooked from his constant fidgeting and tugging, and two buttons at the top of his shirt undone.

Zayne motions you to scoot down your bed a little, sitting behind you to cradle you with his strong legs on both sides of your body. His fingers traced the back of your arms before resting them on your shoulder and giving them a tight squeeze. Small kisses made their way from your shoulder to your neck.

Your body reacted immediately, letting loose the tension you didn't know you even had.

"I'm sorry." Zayne's voice a little shaky but gentle and clear nonetheless. "I'm sorry I've left you alone in this. It was never my intention. I love you so much." He repeats those same two words over and over.

While you can feel your gown dampen from his own tears, you can't help but smile. This. This is what you needed to relax. Before you could open your mouth to respond, the obgyn breaks the moment.

"Alright, ten centimeters dilated. Are you ready to start pushing?"

Zayne drops his hands to your side, signaling for you to take them into your own as support. Placing more kisses to the top of your head, he whispers reassurances. 'You've got this' 'You can do it' 'You're so strong'.

You have a tight grip on his wrist threatening to break his arm, but he didn't seem to care. If he could take all your pain, he would. Dilation was a tiring process, everything after seemed to flow rather quickly. The head, then shoulders, and finally legs.

Within seconds of the doctors clearing your baby's nasal passage, you and Zayne hear that oh so beautiful sound you had been waiting for. Before moving on any further, the baby was placed on your now naked chest. You admired every inch of your baby, in awe. Thick black hair sat on top of their small head. Eyes glowing hues of orange and green.

You have a Zayne mini me. Speaking of which, distracted by your own emotions, you forgot to see how your husband was hanging on. And it definitely wasn't like you expected, he wasn't saying anything but he didn't have to. His expression said enough. Your baby already had him wrapped around their finger.

His hand came to rest upon yours that was cradling the back of the baby's head. "Thank you for this new chapter in life you've given me, my jasmine."

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs. Li, it's a—"

——————————————

a/n: I never intended this to be a fic, it was just meant to be an idea for a better fic writer. one who writes more. It just rolled this way. however if anyone wants to use this, please do. Just give me a little credit ❤️

#love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x you #lnds mc #love and deep space #l&ds x reader #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne #zayne fluff #zayne love and deepspace #zayne smut #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #zayne angst

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home.

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal.

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos.

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day.

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface.

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight.

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work.

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus.

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you.

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two.

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck.

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day.

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates.

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite.

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling.

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place.

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water.

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on.

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too.

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light.

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.”

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.”

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers.

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.”

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break.

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get.

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference.

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief.

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe.

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning.

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.”

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think.

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him.

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs.

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key.

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again.

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings.

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right. You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson.

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!”

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again.

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort.

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head.

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.”

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida.

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys.

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand.

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?”

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat.

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that.

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one.

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning.

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful.

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then.

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion.

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.”

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment.

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns.

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner.

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this.

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister.

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent.

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations.

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

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somevagrantchild · 9 months

Text

Missing Loustat scene discovered in Anne Rice's diaries

I HAVE SOMETHING AMAZING TO SHARE WITH YOU!!

As I was reading Anne Rice's diaries in the special collection library at Tulane University while I was in New Orleans for the Vampire Ball, I discovered this intensely sexy scene she wrote between Louis and Lestat that never made it into her books. This is Anne Rice's original writing, never before shared anywhere online.

Anne Rice wrote this scene by hand in her diary dated November 6, 2015 (which she mentions is the day before Stan's birthday. He would have been 73😭). I have deduced that it is her very first (and very rough) draft of the scene that eventually became chapter 4 in Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis, aka the scene where Louis agrees to move into the chateau and be Lestat's partner/companion again. The final version of the scene in the book reads like wedding vows, serving as the beginning of their marriage in the modern era. As you'll see, the first draft was rather different.

In Prince Lestat, Louis and Lestat's interactions are extremely brief, and they aren't able to talk beyond one stolen moment to reassure each other of their love. It would seem that in the six months between the end of Prince Lestat (when Louis thinks to himself that he will be with Lestat very soon), and the beginning of Atlantis (when that finally ends up happening), Louis and Lestat do not have any intimate conversation. They may have talked somewhat, but only briefly about superficial matters, or they may have not even spoken to each other once over those six months until Lestat asks Louis to meet him in New Orleans for chapter 4.

In an earlier diary entry, I found a note where Anne said she wanted their first reunion conversation to begin by finally addressing Louis dumping Lestat's body in the swamp after Claudia tried to kill him—something they have never once discussed. So when I came across this scene in a later diary, I could tell it was a direct follow-through on that idea.

The scene begins with Lestat speaking to Louis, and it seems they are outside on the streets of New Orleans, but someplace private where they aren't being observed by mortals. This is different from the final book version with them sitting at a sticky table at the Café Du Monde (though it is similar to how Lestat tells us they walked around the city streets together for hours after the reunion scene was over).

Anne headed this part of the diary entry with: Early on: L+L quarrel—

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there and watched. You carried my body into the swamps and dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!”

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

“I could do it because I was afraid,” he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe you. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

A torrent of words.

“Stop!” he said. “I’m here now. I love you! I thought you wanted me here! I thought you’d forgiven me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you and I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded.

“A second chance!”

I nodded.

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall and bit into his neck for the first time in two hundred years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth, I saw again—for the first time in two hundred years—his soul, his heart.

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes…

I drew back—I’d drunk too much. He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard and when he opened his eyes, I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another’s arms…

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand and helped him up.

“Kiss me,” I said. “No, really kiss me.”

Finally I let him go.

“I can’t live without you! “ he said. “I swear, you wander off on me again, I…”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence.

“He loves you too,” he said.

“Who?”

“The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.”

It was time. I could have lingered a half hour more in the old times, but the time was now.

The End

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

Above is the clean version, which I have corrected for missing punctuation, missing letters/words, and necessary dialogue tags.

Below is the original rough version as I have transcribed exactly from Anne Rice's handwritten diary.

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

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there & watched. You carried my body in the swamps & dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

I could do it because I was afraid, he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

—A torrent of words.

“Stop! I’m here now. I love you! I thought you ’d wanted me here! I thought you’d forgive me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you & I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded—

“A second chance!”

I nodded—

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall & bit into his neck for the first time in 200 years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth I saw again—for the first time in 200 years—his soul, his heart—

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes — (more)

I drew back—I’d drunk too much He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard & when he opened his eyes I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another arms — (more)

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand & helped him up.

Kiss me. No really kiss me.

Finally I let him go.

I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I … I ”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence —

He loves you too

Who

The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.

It was time. I could have linger a half hour more in the old times, but was now —

The End

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

The spots where she wrote (more) are clearly areas where she intended to expound upon all Lestat was seeing and feeling in Louis's mind, soul, and blood, and then what he felt and saw as Louis was drinking from him. How I wish we could know what she would have written there! Also the lines that start or end with a — make me wonder if she intended to add more to those bits as well. Would she have actually written out Lestat's torrent of words?

Lestat's line "Kiss me. No really kiss me." isn't in quotation marks in Anne's diary. I chose to add them, because there were many other obviously spoken-aloud dialogue lines also without quotes. But it is possible that Lestat only thinks these words as he and Louis are kissing each other. It reminds me of in Queen of the Damned, when Daniel thinks, "I like kissing. And suggling with dead things, yes, hold me." The narration doesn't tell us Armand actually starts holding him, but Anne's style of using internal monologue makes it clear that's what happens in the action. So the "Kiss me." could be similar in this instance as well. And in that case it might mean Louis is the one who initiates the kiss, and this is Lestat’s internal “yes, yes!!” reaction to it. But I do suspect he is actually meant to be saying it aloud.

With the em dash at the end of it, the very last line could have been meant to continue: "but was now ______" was now...something. But considering she wrote "The End" after it, it seems like it was meant to be a final statement, so that is why I added the missing words I chose in my edited clean version.

Although this conversation is very different from the one we get in the final version of Atlantis, I do still see elements of it in the book's scene:

Louis's line "I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I …" became "so I'll come. And when you tire of me and want me gone, I'll hate you of course."

They still kiss, really kiss. In the book, it is moved to before their conversation, when Lestat first sees Louis in their Rue Royal flat, wearing the new clothes he ordered for him and Louis says, "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" and Lestat is so shocked, he's unable to respond.

They do still discuss Amel in the book version, in much more depth than he is mentioned here. Louis having never heard Amel's voice in his own head remains consistent.

They do still go walking around the streets of the Garden District, though it happens after the conversation, not during it. Lestat does say they talked for hours during that walk, but about Amel and what's been happening to Lestat as Prince. Not about themselves or their past.

MY THOUGHTS!

The confirmation here that Lestat never tasted Louis's blood before their new marriage begins in Atlantis is one of the most amazing parts to me, when combined with the offhand way that Lestat mentions what Louis's vampire blood tastes like in Blood Communion. Even though the final version of Atlantis never shows us Lestat drinking Louis's blood (either forcefully like this scene, or consensually in other ways), the mention in Blood Communion does confirm that it DOES happen off the page at some point during the years between Atlantis chapter 4 and the beginning of Blood Communion.

We know that Louis drank much of Lestat's blood at the end of Merrick, and this was his first time doing it because we were told in previous books how much he resisted his powers being increased by drinking ANY other vampire's blood. It is nice to have it confirmed that Lestat never bit Louis or drank any of his blood in return either before or after Merrick. But now, after Lestat becomes Prince, this is now a new element to their relationship. It makes me consider more strongly that Anne perhaps meant to imply that they then for the first time began to engage in blood sharing the same romantic way Lestat did with Akasha in Queen of the Damned, and then in the even more explicit way she shows us with Rhoshamandes and Benedict in Prince Lestat.

I don't take all Anne wrote in her diaries as canon. It is clear that much of what she wrote there were spitball ideas that she later chose to absolutely reject (as opposed to deciding they were true but she just didn't mention them in the books). But I do not see anything in this scene that the final versions of the books contradict. So even though this scene didn't actually happen in canon, we can believe that the feelings and emotions that drive this scene are still canon. And I love that for us 🥰

I have cross-posted this on ao3 to give us a good place to talk back and forth to each other about it in the comments section there. Reblog and reply to this post as much as you like, but if you want to have some conversations and share your own thoughts on what she wrote, ao3 will give us a much more organized place to do it, where other people will be able to easily find and read your meta as well.

#anne rice #anne rice diaries #tulane #vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire #prince lestat and the realms of atlantis #loustat #louis/lestat #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac

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goldenhypen · 1 year

Text

; ⎯ imy .

synopsis. jungwon misses you. lucky for him, you’re here for a little surprise.

pairing. jungwon x reader ⋅ genres. fluff ⋅ wc. 0.6k ⋅ warnings. lots of kissing at the end-

prompts 3. traveling long distances just to see them ; 49. giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath ⋅ requested ⋅ dark blood event

“i miss you,” jungwon sadly voiced through the phone.

you had gone on a small trip with your friends for a few days, and the absence of your presence was taking a bigger toll on jungwon than he had expected. but he did his best to convince himself that he only had two more days to survive without you, which would pass in no time, and before he would know it, you’d be back in his arms.

literally, before he would know it, because little did he know, you were planning on coming back a day early to surprise him.

so with a final goodbye for the night and a quick exchange of ‘i love you’s, you hung up the phone, and got into bed excitedly anticipating the next day when you’d get to see him again, because even though you didn’t show it as much as he did, you missed him more than you could possibly imagine.

as you laid in bed, you pictured how he would react when he’d see you for the first time in a week, the smile that would light up his face at the sight of you, the pure joy that would radiate from him… you couldn’t wait.

eventually, you opened your eyes, and it was already the next morning. you were surprised you were even able to fall asleep last night, considering all of the overwhelming exhilarating feelings inside of you. but you got up quickly, ready to start the day and to see your boyfriend again as soon as possible.

and many hours and pit stops later, there you were, standing in front of jungwon’s door.

you took a deep breath in, and let it out with a smile on your face. you knocked.

you could imagine the confused look washing over jungwon’s features, likely wondering who would be here at this hour, but before you could think about what would come next, the sound of the door unlocking snapped you back to reality.

the door swung open, and there stood your boyfriend, rubbing his eyes awake from what you assumed was a nap.

you stood there waiting for him to actually glance at the person outside his door, and when he finally looked up, his eyes widened to the size of golf balls.

“what!” he exclaimed as he brought you in for the tightest, warmest hug, it literally took your breath away. “what are you doing here?! wait what time is it—what day is it? did i miss picking you up from the airport?!”

with panic filling his voice, you pulled away, “first of all, hi, it’s nice to see you too. and second of all, don’t worry, it’s 6 pm and still friday. i came back early!”

“what, why?!”

“nice surprise?” you asked with a smile as you peered at him.

“of course,” he sighed happily.

you pulled him back into an embrace, but that didn’t last for long as he quickly pulled away. and not even allowing you time to be confused, his hands travelled to the sides of your face before immediately and roughly pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that screamed ‘you were gone for too long.’

melting into his touch, your hands subconsciously wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss as your lips moved in sync and perfectly moulded against each other.

breathless, he pulled away just slightly, eyes on your lips.

“i missed you so much.”

a/n. dk bout y’all but omg reunion fics make me soft :’>

event masterlist.

taglist (open). @raimbows4u @beibybtch @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @beans-and-jeanes @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @liikno @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @yeosayang @koishua @4ri-ki @sunoksunny @jaeyunjakesim @tnyhees @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @clarakyunisageek @annoyingbitch83 @4vonly @wonswondrland @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @ktttwwn @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @mnsnts @chacottone @yeseoist @azurez @milisabunny @wonniestars @rikislady @kazmura

#jungwon #enhypen #jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #jungwon reactions #jungwon imagines #jungwon scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon drabbles #enhypen oneshots #enhypen jungwon #jungwon enhypen

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mvrkieboo · 5 days

Text

Old Bloodhounds

P18 | not tonight please 🩷

You walked to where Jaehyun was standing and when he finally saw you, walking toward him, he started to gather his bags. He looked a little startled when he saw your face. After you got to him, you tried to take his baggage but he quickly snatched it away before you could even touch it. As if he couldn't bear watching you touch his belongings.

Back then, he really was touchy when you would take his stuff without asking him first. But this time, he made it as if your hands were too dirty to be touching his belongings.

“I can carry it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, and you can't help but think he looked ridiculous with one duffel bag on one shoulder and two more on the other while pulling on his baggage.

He hated you so much, he was willing to carry all of that by himself? If you weren't so hurt, you would've laughed at his stubborn ass. A security guard—whom you were very familiar with—walked up to you and Jaehyun, wearing a pleasant smile.

“Good evening, Ms. y/n. Does your friend need some help?” You wiped away any downcast expression you were wearing and put on a pleasant smile that matched his.

“Good evening, Sungwoo. Can you take two of his duffel bags?” He nodded, the smile still painted across his face.

You felt your smile and whole body freezing when Jaehyun gladly gave two duffel bags to Sungwoo. You coached yourself and controlled your feelings as you swiped your card at the elevator buttons.

The ride up was awkward, to say the least. It was leaning more to tense. Jaehyun was obviously tired from his day and you were still feeling the effects of downing 6 bottles of hard liquor and crying your eyes out from yesterday—the headache was still there. Sungwoo, knowing the lines he shouldn't cross, placed the the duffel bags at the entrance and said his farewells to you before taking off.

You closed the door with a click and turned around to see Jaehyun was already back with his bullshit, carrying all four bags by himself. You gritted your teeth and walked past him.

“Follow me.” You spoke to him, leading him to where his room was.

You opened the door for him and turned on the lights. Jaehyun's room was just opposite of yours, and his room had a wall of sightseeing windows facing the city like your room does too. Jaehyun entered the room quickly and thoughtlessly threw his duffel bags on the queen bed. You walked into the room and clicked on the button of his closet wall to open it.

“This condo rarely has power outages, so don't worry about not being able to open your closet if the power goes out. There's a plug right next to your nightstand to charge your phone, and I don't really mind if you wanna plug in an extension. The bathroom is on your left once you get out of this room, and there's a wall of shelves in there, so place your toiletries nicely. Also, there's a door right next to the fridge in the kitchen area that'll lead to the laundry room, equipped with a washing machine and a dryer. There's an installed ironing board right next to your closet, you can figure that out.” You spoke robotically, beating down your overwhelming emotions after you took in the sight of your estranged older brother under your roof.

“And—and here's your access card, make sure you have it with you at all times. There'll be some nights where I take late night shifts for my job, so I won't be here to open the door for you if you forget your access card and come home at ass o'clock in the dead of the night. Do you have any questions?” Crossing your arms, you made it seem like you were totally unaffected with this sudden sibling reunion.

“How’s the security here?” Jaehyun asked quietly, then rubbing his eyes at the exhaustion taking over his body.

“24-hour security with shift rotations.”

He nodded and quietly muttered his thanks as he started to unpack. You nodded back, after he was already not looking at you anymore. You went to exit his room, but once you got to his doorway, you paused for a second and looked back at him. His back was to you, bent over the bed as he unzipped his duffel bags one by one.

Yuno looked so far away from you.

Once you wholly exited his room, you quietly closed the door. When he was certain you were out of his room and he was out of your sight, Jaehyun stopped what he was doing and stood straight up again, running his hand through his hair before it went to rubbing his face, a sigh exiting his mouth.

When he saw you at the lobby, he had noted that you looked really sick, and how swollen your eyes were.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : THAT'S RIGHT, SURPRISE DOUBLE UPDATE Y'ALL 😜

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [OPEN]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @nessaassen02 @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess

#nct fanfic #nct smau #nct scenarios #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader

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frantic-fiction · 8 months

Text

Reunions

(Pic: lovelybluebirdie) I cropped it a bit

Astarion x gn!reader, Astarion x reincarnated!Tav

Summary: A few months after reconnecting to your past life as Tav, a party is set to meet the rest of the group. You're nervous, worried about not living up to who you once were. Will you be enough?

This is a little part 2 of I'll Find My Way Back to You

Notes/ Warning: Pretty much just fluff. Reader is insecure. Astarion is a supportive partner. I kept all 6 origin characters alive because it's my story and I don't want to imagine any of them dead. Also, Halsin's here cause druids live to be like a thousand or whatever.

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

You're not panicking. Why would you be? It's not like you're meeting a group of people you've only met in dreams—a group of strangers you've painted for the better part of your existence- a family forged through hardship from a past life you're still trying to remember fully.

No, you're not panicking. You're not scared that the people who are so excited to see you will not like what they see. You're not terrified the family Astarion has helped you remember will look at you disappointed once they realize you are no longer the Tav they once knew. You're not worried at all. Not. One. Bit.

You spent the afternoon cleaning the house from top to bottom. It was sparkling, and your fingers ached from the hours of scrubbing you filled in the restless day with. No surface was left untouched. Bookshelves were dusted, baseboards were spotless, and even the top of the cupboards, where no one would ever see, were wiped down. The floors were swept and mopped three times now, but you keep finding spots you missed. Astarion even physically stopped you from scaling the roof to clean the chimney when you ran out of things to occupy yourself with.

There's a roast in the oven, potatoes, and veggies cooking alongside it, and a pie cooling on the counter. You wanted to cook more, but you were worried that not everyone would like blueberries or that someone had turned to a plant-based diet. Astarion quickly reminded you that they used to eat food out of dusty barrels and mildewed chests.

Currently, you stand in front of your floor-length mirror. Astarion is out on a quick hunt before the party arrives, leaving you to obsess over your thoughts of inadequacy. The majority of your closet littered the floor. You're scrutinizing a simple tunic and legging combo. Was it too simple? Should you wear something more eye-catching?

You're trying to remember what Tav would have worn. All you can recall is blood-stained armor and simple camp clothes. But this occasion garners something more. Fuck. Stripping off the current outfit, you replace it with an almost identical one and look at yourself in the mirror again. You weren't sure what you expected, maybe to magically love this pair of pants and old tunic. But in reality, you were just as frustrated and worried.

The clothes weren't the problem, you knew that, but it was easier to be pissed at a blouse than to accept that you were scared. You were frightened to face Astarion and Tav's friends. You have Tav's memories and feel an odd kinship with these people. But you weren't Tav, and you would never be them, at least not entirely.

You felt like an imposter to try and convince anyone otherwise. Tears of frustration and disappointment in yourself began to trail down your cheeks. How could a silly artist hold a candle to the kind and heroic savior of Baldur's Gate? You glared at yourself, wishing things could have been different.

You jump when you feel cold arms wrap around your torso and a warm kiss at the nape of your neck. Astarion loved to use his lack of reflection to sneak up on you. You, on the other hand, hated it. Still, you found yourself leaning back into his firm chest.

"Hello, my love,"

You try to stop the pathetic sniffle, but it's useless. Astarion turns you in his arms and cups your jaw. "Darling," is all he says because he knows. Of course, he knows.

That simple pet name causes the floodgates to open, and you crumple into Astarion's chest, nuzzling his neck. He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body. Astarion lets you cry, knowing how nervous you've been for this meetup.

He rubs soft circles on the small of your back and peppers kisses to the crown of your head. "You can talk to me,"

"W-what if they don't li-like me?"

Astarion moves you both to the bed, skirting around the mess you made. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap to look you in the eyes better. "Why wouldn't they love you?" He prompts, not wanting to push you.

"Star, you know why. I'm not Tav," you hiccup, and you're positive the words you're speaking are incoherent. "I have their memories and some of their mannerisms and…and I'm also allergic to bees, but I'm not them. What if they hate me because I'm not Tav."

Astarion pecks your lips to halt your panicked words. He wipes the tears from your damp face. "No, you are not Tav, but they are part of you. They live in your art, laugh, and kind heart."

"But wha-"

"Let me finish, my love," Astarion smiles, brushing some hair behind your ear. "No one expects you to be Tav. We all love them deeply, but Tav's gone." He swallows hard, the words still hard to voice for him.

Astarion kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and continues to pepper kisses over your face, catching stray tears. "They just want to get to know the beautiful artist I fell in love with. Gale's big mouth might have let them know more about our history than I would have liked, but that doesn't change anything."

"And if they don't like the person you fell in love with?" You ask softly.

"Then fuck all of them. I love you, and if they don't love you as well, then they have no place in my life." His eyes pierce deep into yours, and there's no denying the truth of his words. You are overcome with a wave of love for your vampire and kiss him softly once more. "Now come, my love, by the smell, your roast is done."

"Shit!" You jump off his lap and rush out of the room, self-doubt pushed to the side.

The roast is fine if slightly burnt on the top. It looked juicy and smelled amazing. The vegetables are mush, but the potatoes are tender and seasoned well. It's not your best meal, but there's nothing you can do to fix it now. You left it on the counter to rest and found Astarion in the living room.

He was rehanging one of your paintings- the one you drew late last year after waking up in a cold sweat. It was a complete picture of the party standing on a dock overlooking the Grey Harbor just as the sun rose above the horizon. Astarion helps you fill in the gaps, telling you that this followed the fall of the Absolute.

"What are you doing?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the wall. You had hidden away most of your art, too embarrassed by the sheer number of canvases depicting the guest due here any minute.

Astarion finishes hanging the painting above the fireplace and turns to you. "I liked this one and thought I'd put it back."

Before you could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Your stomach instantly dropped, and your heart beat hard in your chest. As if sensing your rising anxiety, Astarion moved to your side, his large palm finding the small of your back.

He swiftly kisses your cheek. "One word and I'll throw them all out."

Astarion leaves you and walks to answer the door. Your palms are sweating, and you rub them down your thighs. You take a few deep breaths and pace the room. Not knowing what else to do, you idly fluff up the decorative pillows of the couch and stall.

"Pull yourself together." You mumbled under your breath. You hear the sounds of multiple footsteps, and you know they're all here.

Why did Astarion request for them to arrive all at once? You're still not sure. But you're suddenly very pissed at him for his decision. Having all of them looking upon you like an art exhibit terrifies you.

"My dear," Astarion pokes his head into the room, a warm smile adorning his sharp features. "Would you like to meet our guest?"

You swallowed hard and nodded. Putting on a brave smile, you rounded the couch and reached for Astarion's hand. Threading his fingers with yours, you curled around his arm like a lifeline.

Moving out into the foyer, you shyly look at the group before you. Gale, given the circumstances of your and Astarion's meeting, you had already met. He had relentlessly bothered Astarion until an introduction was made between you and the wizard. But you've only seen the others in the paintings you've made and the dreams you've seen.

Karlach bounced on her feet, Wyll smiling brightly behind her left shoulder. Haslin stood by the door, a beautifully sculpted wooden bear in his arms. Shadowheart stood beside him, her face passive but relaxed and almost pleased. Lae'zel was the farthest from the group, brooding in the corner, looking at you suspiciously. Still, she even loosened her tense shoulders and stepped forward upon your entry.

"Um, hi." You waved meekly, giving them your name, cringing when your voice cracked.

It's quiet for a moment too long, and you're a step away from fleeing when Karlach skips over to you.

"Can I hug you?!" She almost yells, shaking her fists excitedly.

"Karlach!" Astarion scolds. The Tiefling had, by the looks of it, broken a rule he had set for your comfort.

"Sorry, sorry." Karlach's smile fades, and she moves to retreat. Your heart clenches, and it's like your body moves on instinct. You detach from Astarion before you can think, and then your arms are around her waist. Her scalding heat seeps into your bones and listen to the cranks of her engine.

"Hi Karlach," you whispered into her torso. The wind squeezed from your body, and your feet were off the ground.

"It's nice to finally meet you! The letters fangs write didn't do you justice."

Quickly, the group connects like magnets. Wyll crowds in and hugs you from behind, pressing you closer to Karlach. Gale piles on after, then Halsin. Shadowheart nudges her way between the men and apologizes on behalf of everyone but gives you an equally tight squeeze. The group even wrangles Astarion and Lae'zel into this group hug.

These people are supposed to be strangers, but having them close, seeing this family you've watched through someone else's memories for most of your life right before you. It fills you with familiar warmth and affection and has tears of joy in your eyes. You might not be Tav, not entirely, but you still have a place in this little family.

"Um…excuse me, I can't breathe." You squeak out after a moment of suffocation, and the group is quick to disperse.

Wiping away the lingering dampness from your cheek, you take a moment to compose yourself, clearing your throat with a subtle grace. Your hand instinctively finds its way back, and Astarion swiftly recovers it, his touch reassuring. Soft circles dance on the back of your hand, a silent question lingering in his gaze, seeking affirmation that you're all right. You respond with a nod and a comforting squeeze of his hand.

"Ah, well…" you chuckle with a hint of self-awareness. "I have a roast with everyone's names on it. And a blueberry pie; Astarion found a wild patch on one of his hunts."

"Thank the gods, I'm famished," Wyll sighs, his appetite evident as he sniffs the air dreamily. A nudged Karlach sets the communal movement toward the dining room in motion.

Astarion emerges with the wine, gracefully pouring glasses of red for everyone. Gale, the sole visitor to your home beforehand, takes charge of the table settings. With a flick of his fingers and a whispered incantation, plates and silverware align harmoniously. The stage set, the food emerges, and the night takes flight.

It feels like a cinematic scene picking up where it had once paused, a seamless continuation. Laughter weaves through the air, stories unfold, and even the occasional argument dissolves into a chorus of joyous laughter. Though new and fresh, the conversation flows as naturally as breathing. Strangers evolve into friends, and amidst the clinking of glasses, a familial bond begins to sprout. Tav was indeed fortunate to have these beautiful souls around.

As the night bids farewell and everyone departs, you find solace curled up against Astarion. His voice, a gentle undercurrent, softly reads from his newest book, and you gaze up, fixated on the beautiful man before you. A silent expression of gratitude graces your lips, an unspoken acknowledgment directed at Tav. Thanks for giving you a family and the love of your life.

Astarion's fingers scratch your scalp, tenderly coaxing your eyes closed. "What are you thinking about, little love?"

"Just how lucky I am."

"I would argue I'm the lucky one, but I suppose we can share," he smiles; he continues to read to you and massage your scalp until you're puddy against his body, sleep having all but consumed you. The night settles into a tranquil symphony, the warmth of shared love lingering in the serenity.

Okay I know it was a bit cheesy, but I needed so fluffy shit today. Anyway, tell me what you thought I love talking with y'all.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna, marina-and-the-memes

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #reader insert #fanfic #writing #frantic fiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 x tav

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villain-crown · 6 months

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forbid | @jegulus-microfic | words: 657

critical care, part 3 (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

The thing about calling a code blue was that it could quickly turn into social hour if you weren’t careful. Mates that you hadn’t seen in awhile came out of the woodwork from all over the hospital to get in on the action, leading to a sort of impromptu reunion over the patient you were working to snatch from the claws of death.

“Lily! Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in ages—“

“Dorcas! What unit are you on these days?”

“Oi, Barty, I thought they fired you!”

Like now, apparently, as every person James had ever fucking met decided to grab a front row seat to spectate as he tried to make small talk with Regulus Black.

“It was a lovely day yesterday,” James began when they’d finished delivering a second shock to their patient. “The sun was out. Do you get out much, Regulus?”

James could feel Sirius’s suspicious gaze as Regulus glanced incredulously away from the new rhythm tracing itself on the cardiac monitor.

Still v. fib.

“…No. Sirius locks me in my bedroom and just lets me out four days a week when it’s time for me to be here—what the fuck kind of question is that, Potter!?”

Bloody hell, but Dorcas had clearly lied to Marlene about Regulus’s personality.

Sweet, Dorcas had called him.

No. This was a feral devil cat with a mouth full of knives and Merlin save him but James was so fucking into it.

“I wouldn’t rule that out,” Barty Crouch Jr. butted in unnecessary, watching Regulus’s vitriol land with an entertained expression. “One time I asked Reg if he wanted to check out my new apartment and Black threatened to peel my face off and put it on the CPR mannequin. I still haven’t gotten a proper answer.”

“There’s no need for him to go anywhere with you unsupervised, Crouch,” Sirius scowled, turning up the energy level of the defibrillator for their next attempt. “Just describe it to him.”

“Describe it? Well, okay. Picture it, Reg. You and Evan, in my bed—“

“Stop messing with him, idiot,” Regulus rolled his eyes, finally shoving Crouch’s arm off his delicate shoulders as Sirius picked up a spare saline flush and squirted it right in the blond’s face. To Sirius, he added, “he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, you know.”

“I’m calling HR you fucking asshole!”

“Fine, if you want to play that game. I’m sure they’d love to hear about you taking it from Lupin in the supply room last month.”

“Reggie! You can’t say dirty things like that! I forbid it!”

“I say a lot worse under the right circumstances, Sirius.”

James felt a flash of lightning race down his spine as Regulus maintained unwavering eye contact with him as he said so, ignoring Sirius’s outraged sputtering.

“I told you not to let Sirius catch you looking at his baby brother,” Marlene pointed out in an undertone, sidling up to James in the already crowded room.

“He’s bloody perfect.” James replied, unrepentant. “I’m going to marry him.”

“Dorcas called him sweet. I’m not getting that vibe.”

“Maybe he just needs a little… persuading.”

Marlene rolled her eyes, opening the airway drawer of the crash cart at Dorcas’s behest. “He’s mean, James.”

“He’s pretty, Marlene.”

“…You aren’t going to see reason, are you?”

“Absolutely not. Regulus Black is going to have my children.”

She looked back at the petite man with obvious misgivings. “If he doesn’t kill you first.”

“He could carve his initials into me with a scalpel and I’d thank him.”

“…You’re fucking crazy.”

#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #sirius black #starchaser #sirius and regulus #james loves regulus #jegulus microfic #protective sirius black

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magicfootballstuff · 9 months

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Dirty Little Secret - part 6 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 6/?

Read other parts here.

———

You’re a European Champion.

You don’t really know what to do with that information.

To be honest, after the first twenty four hours that pass in a hungover blur, you end up on a bit of a downer. You should be delighted, riding the high of being the first England team to win a major trophy in fifty-six years, but after two glorious months in camp with a group of girls you’re now bonded with for life, returning to your hometown for a couple of weeks before pre-season is a dose of reality that’s just a little bit too big to swallow.

You’re happy to see your family, of course. You’ve spent most of the summer away from them with only limited visits while you were in camp. But after the best summer of your life with a football at your feet, it takes all of about three days for you to be itching to get back on the football pitch again.

A few days into your two weeks off, a few of the girls get together for what is part post-Euro reunion and part farewell dinner for Georgia, who departs for Munich the next day. It’s a mixed group - a few Lionesses and some of the girls from Manchester City - but it’s the familiar dark hair at the end of the table that catches your eye, deep in conversation with somebody else you don’t know.

You’re surprised to see Leila who, apart from having her own Euro hopes dashed by Georgia’s extra time winner, has no reason to know Georgia.

You take a seat next to Lauren, who notices you looking at the two girls at the far end of the table.

“Oh, that’s Laia and Leila,” she explains. “I invited them. They’re still settling into the team and there’s so many City girls here, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know people a bit better.”

Leila must feel your eyes on her because it’s at that exact moment that she looks up and her dark gaze meets yours. There’s no change to her expression, no giveaway to anybody else that you know each other except for the fact that her eyes linger on you for longer than they would if you were just strangers who happened to make eye contact, until she finally turns back to her conversation with Laia.

You feel a rush of giddiness go straight to your head, blocking out all the sounds around you as you continue to look at Leila, admiring the sharp angles of her side profile. It almost feels like the Arnold Clark Cup all over again, having this secret that nobody else around you knows. You enjoyed your time in Barcelona with Leila and getting to be all coupley with her in front of her old teammates, but you’d forgotten how much of a turn-on the thrill of secrecy could be.

———

As the evening goes on, you don’t forget about Leila - how could you, when she is right there and looks so damn good - but you get a little distracted by everything else. There are enough Lionesses present that means you spend a lot of time talking about the Euros, reminiscing over the best summer of your life, then because tonight is about Georgia leaving, you end up talking about old times at City. It’s been years since you played for them, a scrawny teenager playing alongside Keira and Georgia, all three of you with big dreams and no idea that you would one day become European Champions together. But even as you reminisce, there’s always a part of you that’s aware of Leila’s presence at the other end of the table and you can’t help but glancing at her throughout the night.

“All us OG City girls are gradually leaving the nest,” Georgia says, smiling fondly at you and Keira. “I wonder who’ll be next.”

You notice that Keira is suspiciously quiet and has suddenly taken a deep interest in the ice cubes at the bottom of her empty glass. With the performances she’s just put on at the Euros, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got interest from other clubs too.

“City’s got some new blood now though,” you say, your eyes wandering to Leila once more. “Not that it’ll matter, Arsenal will still beat City this season.”

Predictably in a room full of mostly City players, your comment causes outrage. Arsenal and City are due to play each other soon for the first fixture of the new season and you always enjoy the rivalry against your old club. And with Leila on the other team, you’ve got extra incentive to go out there and put on a show this time.

You let them banter with you for a moment. Even Georgia, technically no longer a City player, takes great joy in slandering Arsenal.

When the conversation finally moves on, your eyes wander back to Leila, and you tune out the voices around you as you stare, mentally trying to figure out if there’s a way you can subtly change seats to be closer to her without alerting the entire group to your motives.

There isn’t, and Leila chooses that exact moment to meet your gaze while her lips are still wrapped around the straw in her drink. She lets the straw slip out of her mouth but you still get a glimpse of the pink tip of her tongue and there’s no way in hell you can pay attention to whatever conversation is going on around you now.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, anything to give yourself a chance to get away and recompose yourself, and thankfully they’re all too busy laughing at something Georgia is saying to pay any attention to the flush of your cheeks, nor the way that Leila’s gaze follows you as you go.

You hear somebody else enter the bathroom as you flush the toilet and when you exit the cubicle Leila is standing at the sinks checking her appearance in the mirror. Her dark eyes find yours in the reflection, and her mouth twitches in a smirk of recognition.

“Hi,” she says.

You glance around the bathroom, checking that all three stalls are empty, before you approach the sink to wash your hands and reply, “Hi yourself. How are you finding Manchester?”

“I like it. It’s a nice city.”

“At least the weather’s been nice since you got here. Just wait until it rains every day.”

You walk over to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands and Leila turns around, leaning back against the sink to look at you.

“Everything is always about the weather to you English people,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Too hot, too cold.”

“What can I say - we like to complain.”

“Are you going to complain right now?” Leila asks.

The air in the bathroom suddenly feels a lot thicker, the way that Leila is watching you as you dispose of the balled up paper towel, coupled with the teasing lilt to her tone, reminding you of just how attracted you are to her.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Actually, there is one thing I want to complain about,” you say, taking a couple of steps closer to Leila.

“What‘s that?” Leila asks, her eyebrows crinkling together in a frown.

“I want to complain about the fact that we’re alone in this completely deserted bathroom and you haven’t kissed me yet.”

“You haven’t kissed me either,” Leila points out.

“Is that an invitation?” you challenge her.

Your words have the desired effect of provoking a reaction from Leila, because her eyes flash in defiance and she retaliates, “I want to complain about how annoying-”

You don’t give Leila the chance to finish her complaint, because you grab her by the lapels of her jacket and pull her in for a kiss. She lets out a surprised little grunt when your lips collide with hers, but melts into the kiss quickly, her hands finding your hips as her lips settle into a familiar movement against your own.

You only realise now that you’re here, kissing Leila in a secluded bathroom like your life depends on it, that it’s actually been months since you last did this. In all your focus for the Euros, the hard work and the euphoria, you’d sort of forgotten that you hadn’t actually kissed Leila since you bid your goodbyes to each other in the departure lounge of the Barcelona airport after your brief visit at the end of last season. Not even after your game against each other during the tournament did you kiss.

And with the way Leila kisses you, stealing the air from your mouth with such hunger, you vow never to go another three months without kissing her again.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against her mouth, when you have to draw back for breath, to save yourself from passing out from sheer lack of oxygen caused by Leila’s kiss. “I’ve missed this.”

Leila’s hand finds the back of your head and she uses it to pull you closer, not for another kiss, but to rest your head against her shoulder as she wraps her other arm around your back. You snake your own arms around her waist, burying your face into her neck and savouring the feeling of her arms around you, not wanting this moment to end.

“I’ve missed this too,” Leila murmurs, her fingers stroking through your hair.

She’s right, it’s this that you’ve been craving. Not the kissing or the sex, though you’ve spent more time thinking about that in the nearly three months since you last slept together than you’d care to admit, but everything else too. The intimacy of being held, of having somebody to share the little moments with, the ability to go from teasing each other about the weather to making out against a sink to cuddling like this, with each of those things feeling just as natural as the last.

And maybe, just maybe, all of that will be easier to facilitate than it was when you lived in different countries.

“Stay with me tonight?” Leila asks, feeling her voice rumble beneath your cheek as much as you hear the words.

You’d been planning on getting a taxi back to your parents’ house on the outskirts of Manchester, or maybe crashing with Lauren or Keira if it ends up being a late one tonight, but that was before you knew that you’d see Leila tonight. Now that this offer is on the table, there’s nowhere else you want to spend the night.

“Of course.”

———

Waking up the next morning, there are two things that you feel. The first is comfort, Leila’s warm body wrapped around your own with your hips nestled back against her own, feeling happy and well-rested after a night of good sleep in her arms.

The second is the desperate urge to pee.

You try to extract yourself from Leila’s embrace without disturbing her, but Leila only tightens her arms around you to stop you from leaving and mumbles words that you don’t understand in sleepy Spanish.

“Leila,” you murmur, trying to wriggle free. “Leila, I need to pee. Where’s your bathroom?”

Leila reluctantly lets you leave her arms and mutters in Spanish again, before she says in English, “Left.”

You slip out of bed and leave Leila’s bedroom, following her directions by finding the bathroom through the next door to the left.

When you’ve been to the toilet and freshened up a little with some cold water to your face and running your fingers through your mussed hair, you exit the bathroom and immediately stop in your tracks when you see somebody sitting at the dining table eating breakfast and drinking coffee. You think you recognise her as one of Leila’s new City teammates, though her name slips your mind, but you wonder if you really walked right past her without noticing her on your way to the bathroom.

“Hi,” she greets you, an amused smile gracing her lips. “I’m Deyna.”

You glance at Leila’s bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar as you left it, then introduce yourself to Deyna.

“Arsenal, right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “And you’re at City with Leila?”

“Teammates. Roommates.” Deyna pauses, then adds, “Just regular mates.”

“Cool,” you say, unsure whether you’re supposed to continue to make smalltalk with Deyna out of politeness, or if it’s acceptable to make your excuses and return to Leila’s room.

Luckily you’re saved at that exact moment by Leila herself, who emerges from her bedroom with sleep-tousled hair to investigate what’s going on.

“Oh,” she says, when she sees Deyna. From the expression on her face, she’s as surprised to see Deyna as you are. She turns to you, then says, “This is Deyna.”

“She knows that already,” Deyna grins. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Coffee?” Leila asks you, as she walks over to the kitchen units and grabs a couple of mugs out of a cupboard.

“Yes please,” you reply. At the table, Deyna’s attention is now on her phone as she eats, and you say to Leila, “You didn’t mention that you had a roommate.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper,” Deyna interjects, glancing up from the screen of her phone with a smirk gracing her lips.

Your cheeks burn red and Leila retaliates with what you can only assume is a string of Spanish expletives.

Deyna apologises, mostly directing it at you, before she asks, “So how did you two meet?”

“Champions League,” Leila answers, busying herself over the coffee again.

“We played each other twice in the group stage last season,” you elaborate.

“I beat her twice,” Leila says, glancing across at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Leila got a yellow card for trying to break my legs.”

“I didn’t … it was an accident,” Leila insists. “It was passion.”

“Strange way to flirt, but okay,” Deyna teases Leila.

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim in agreement.

Leila wanders over with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which she offers out to you, and she leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips as she mumbles, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

You thank her for the coffee, bringing it to your lips and taking the tiniest sip from the mug, letting out a satisfied hum.

The only other time Leila has made you coffee was when you went to visit her in Barcelona, but the coffee is perfect, like heaven touching your tongue.

“You remembered how I take my coffee?” you ask.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

The domesticity of it is nice, as if you’re existing in a bubble where only you and Leila matter.

Until Deyna interrupts your moment.

“Go and be cute in your room,” she tells Leila, dismissing you both with a wave and a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to eat.”

Leila nudges you back towards her bedroom and you soon find yourself nestled against Leila’s side again, propped up against the headboard with steaming mugs of coffee cradled in your hands.

“You promised me a tour?” she says.

“Of Manchester?”

Leila nods eagerly.

“You’re gonna have to wait a bit longer,” you tell Leila apologetically. “I can’t hang out today.”

The disappointment that flashes across Leila’s face is almost enough to have you reaching for your phone to call your agent to cancel your plans for the day.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be going back to my old junior club today. Helping out with some training, taking photos with the kids, letting them see my medal. Inspiring the next generation and all that crap.”

“It’s not crap,” Leila assures you. “Well, maybe for me if it means we can’t hang out.”

“Didn’t know you were so clingy,” you tease her.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” Leila replies flirtatiously.

You smile across at her.

“And I can’t wait to find out.”

———

You return to London a couple of days later, regretfully without having seen Leila again since that morning at her flat, but you start to message each other more often. Not quite every day, but a few times a week, little things like talking about your days. It’s more familiar than it’s ever been before, with most of your conversations prior to the Euros being laced with flirtatious pictures and suggestive messages. But this is different - you talk about mundane things like training, or what you’re having for dinner, or the latest English slang words that Leila has learned from her new City teammates.

But that doesn’t mean your relationship has lost any of its spark. It’s still flirty, especially because Arsenal’s first fixture of the new season is away at City. It reminds you a little bit of those first couple of encounters in the Champions League last season, bantering about the upcoming contest in a way you hope leads to sparks on and off the pitch.

And then the game gets cancelled.

All that build-up, the jokes about yellow cards, the promises that you’d let Leila do whatever she wants to you if she let you score past her, falls away into nothing the moment that the game is called off.

You feel empty. And not just because football is your life and you’d been looking forward to the league starting up again, but because once the season starts you don’t know when you and Leila will both get time off at the same time. It might be months before you get to see each other again.

———

Two things happen when the season finally begins and September morphs into October.

The first is that you pick up a hamstring injury. It shouldn’t surprise you too much, given that you pretty much went straight from last season into the Euros, straight into pre-season. You’re in your prime as an athlete, but you’re not invincible. You work hard on your recovery, even if you’re a little bummed to be spending so much time in the gym and staying on the sidelines as the Champions League group stage begins.

The second thing that happens is that fifteen Spanish players, including Leila, step back from their national team in protest of their working conditions. You don’t know the details but you remember Leila alluding to some problems during the Euros, when she pointed out that talent alone doesn’t win Championships.

You don’t really know what you can do to support Leila, especially from London. The story blows up in the football media world and you imagine it must be particularly hard for Leila, being so far from Spain and away from most of the other girls involved, but you don’t know if there’s anything you can do or say to make it easier.

You eventually settle on messaging her a few hours after the story hits the headlines.

You Proud of you for standing up for the right thing! Always here if you want to talk about it or if you want a distraction instead?

Leila likes your message after a few hours but doesn’t reply.

The red heart that taunts you from the screen of your phone is something you’ll come to realise is probably the beginning of the end.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader #dirty little secret

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