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lambtotheslaughterr · 1 month

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Something Wicked This Way Comes

A Rafe Cameron Oneshot

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 13.3k

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all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

Summary: Five years after escaping the cluthes of her violent ex, reader is preparing to spend Halloween night alongside her son, but she wakes that morning feeling something amiss...

it's Halloween, after all, & things are bound to give her a fright, even if it is her past catching up for a bite.

READERS, PREPARE YOURSELVES. I GIVE YOU...THE DARKEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN.

It was like any other day. Except it wasn’t. From the moment you woke up, something was off. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a tense sensation in the air around you. It left you feeling on edge all day, but you had summed it up to be your paranoia & anxiety kicking in because it was Halloween night. After all, it was a night of spooky scares.

What didn’t help relieve your unsettled nerves, was the fact that you had woken up late. It was a little past 7:30 in the morning when you finally rolled over to see the time. The red lights flashing at you on your alarm clock shocked you awake, causing you to stumble out of bed.

“Shit!” You hissed as you raced to your closet to pull out your outfit for the day.

“Louie!” You yelled from your bedroom, listening for any sign of your son being awake. When you didn’t get a response you tripped into the hallway as you struggled to throw your dress on over your head. You were relieved you showered before bed, otherwise you would have dreaded going to work without one.

“Lou?!” You hollered again as you stumbled into his bedroom.

His bed was empty & unmade. You cursed again, knowing exactly where you’d find him next. Leaving his room, you succeeded in getting your dress on & tying the bow in the back before entering the living room. As expected, your son was on his stomach, his bent arms holding his head up as he watched cartoons. You spotted the bag of opened candy on the floor before him.

“Lou…” You sped-walk towards him as he kicked his feet.

He smiled up at you, that sweet innocent smile of his you loved so much.

“You overslept again, Mommy.” He pointed out.

You feigned surprise, “You don’t say. Maybe someone should have woken me up."

Bending at the waist, you picked your son up, cradling him on your hip as you searched for the remote to shut off the TV. Lou rested his on your shoulder, his fingers tangling into your hair as he rubbed the strands between his fingers.

“You were crying in your sleep again last night.” Lou revealed, making your heart stop. “I didn’t want to wake you up since you weren’t crying anymore.”

“Oh, hon.” You paused in the hallway to placed him on the ground, kneeling down to be eye-level with him, “I’m sorry you had to hear that again.”

Ever since you left your hometown, or rather ran away from there, you had the same nightmare. In the beginning they happened every single night, but now, almost six years later, they were few & far between. But it was Louie who suffered the most from them. You didn’t realize you were still having him until he was older & started talking. You remembered when he lied next to you in bed one morning, asking why you cried in your sleep. You never had any memories of the nightmares. But Louie remembered them for you.

“Was the bad man in your dream trying to hurt you again?” Lou bit his lip, a small bout of fear appearing in his eyes.

You tugged him into you, holding him tight against your chest as you hugged him, “All that matters is that it was just a dream.”

Lou wrapped his tiny arms over your shoulders, his hands never leaving your hair. That had been a comfort mechanism of his ever since he was an infant.

“I wish he would visit my dreams.” Lou shared softly, to which you gently pulled him away from you to stare at him bewildered.

“Baby, why would you want that?”

He lowered his eyes, “So you could sleep.”

Releasing a saddened sigh, you ran your fingers through his hair, “Mommy is fine, okay? You keep dreaming your excellent, beautiful dreams. One of us has to, right?”

Lou nodded at that but he wasn’t smiling.

Wanting to lighten the mood, you gathered his hands in yours, “I tell you what, you hurry up & go get dressed while Mommy finishes getting ready & we’ll take the long way to school so you can see the kitties, yeah?”

Louie beamed at that, “Really?!”

“Yes, really.” You kissed his forehead before standing up, “Now, hurry! We’re late as it is.”

Lou took off for his bedroom, cheers of joy left in his wake. You smiled after him before re-entering your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, resting against it momentarily as an old memory flashed before you.

You couldn’t breathe, one of his hands wrapped securely around your throat as he fucked himself into you. His pleased groans filled your ears, forcing more tears from your eyes. A chilled shiver shot up your spin when you felt his lips kiss the tops of your breasts where his teeth marks remained. The weight of his body crushed against yours & you had never felt more trapped.

“Mom!” Lou yelled from down the hallway, making you jump, “Can I wear my costume to school?!”

“Yes, baby!” You hollered back, hearing the unevenness in your voice. Shaking away the awful sensations of that memory, you finished getting ready for work.

Lou skipped ahead of you as you walked down the main street of your small town. You had moved here shortly after Louie was born, wanting him to live in a family town that had a good school system. More importantly, it was a close-knit community. Almost everyone knew everyone. That worked in your favor & made you feel safe. It meant that if anyone new ever moved to town you would know about it. Your neighbors were your last line of defense against the man you escaped from over five years ago.

“Look, Mommy, look!” Lou paused in front of the display window the cat adoption café. He had his face pressed against the glass, his ghoul makeup smearing as he did so. You laughed to yourself, knowing you would just have to re-do his makeup again before going into class with all the other ghosts & witches.

“Wow.” You mused along with your son as he meowed at the cats chasing his finger on the other side of the glass. Lou had been asking for a cat for his birthday ever since he was three years old. Whenever he saw one on the street or in a neighbor’s window, he would race towards it at lay on the ground with it as the feline in question would rub along his face & body, making him as one of their own.

But you always had to say no. A cat, or pet of any kind, would slow you down in the event you had to run again. There had never been a peep or warning from your few trusted friends back home, but you couldn’t risk it. You couldn’t live with yourself if you had to escape from your home with Lou at a moment’s notice, him crying over your shoulder as he begged for you to get his pet.

And that made you furious. That you couldn’t give your son something he truly wanted & loved because you had to be ready for when your past caught up to you.

As Lou continued aweing at the kittens behind the glass, you raised your head to peer inside the café. The elderly woman that was always there waved at you through the glass & you waved back. But as you did, you spotted another in the glass. Only they weren’t on the other side, but in the reflection. And they looked a lot like…

A panicked gasp escaped you as you spun around, staring wide-eyed across the street. But no one was there. Your heart was racing as you looked down the street every which way. But all you saw were other townspeople going about their Friday morning.

It’s in your head, _____. You calmed yourself. He’s not here. It wasn’t him. It’s just your paranoia.

Inhaling sharply, you stole Lou’s attention, grabbing his wrist softly, “C’mon, honey, we gotta go.”

Louie allowed you to drag him away from the kitty café, his arm outstretched in longing.

You saw Lou off to his kindergarten classroom before speed-walking down the hallway to the main office. It was a massive relief to you that you managed to land a job in an administrative position at Lou’s school before he even started. Before that you were waitressing while taking online classes at the local community college, & once you got your degree in business administration, you scored a front office desk job at the only elementary school in town. All you needed was to be close to Lou because you never knew when you’d have to snatch him & run.

“Hey, Miriam.” You greeted breathlessly as you raced into the office, tossing your purse on the floor under your desk.

“Hey, you.” She eyed you mischievously.

Miriam was well beyond her retirement period, but Principle Bentley couldn’t get rid of her if he tried. And tried he had. But it was all in good fun. Miriam was a staple of the school & the town itself. She was known as a hard ass but also a gossip queen. She always had all the tea o what was happening in the sleepy Northeastern town. It made your mostly mundane days more enjoyable.

“Overslept again, I see.”

“Yeah.” You sighed as you turned your computer on, “Don’t know what’s going on lately.”

“Something’s in the air.” She commented, echoing your silent thoughts from earlier that morning. “You should relax, though, hon. You’re always wound so tight.”

You raised your brows in agreement as you pulled up your morning duties, “Easier said than done.”

Miriam chuckled at that. The door behind your respective desks opened & Principle Bentley stepped out.

“Morning, ladies.” He greeted as he approached the coffee maker in the corner of the office.

“Morning, Nicholas.” Miriam didn’t care for referring to him by his career name, after all, she did babysit him when he was only a child.

“Morning, Principle Bentley.” You greeted him, to which he smirked sweetly.

“How many times do I gotta tell you, _____, call me Nick.”

Principle Bentley was young for his job. Thirty one, to be exact, & he was a well-known bachelor in the community. He was easy on the eyes, with dark brown eyes reminiscent of a puppy, & dimples that only added to his boyish charm. But he was your boss. And despite his mild flirtatious advances, you only treated him as such.

If you couldn’t indulge your son by getting him a cat, you sure as shit couldn’t indulge yourself with a romantic partner. It was out of the question. Perhaps one day, when Louie was older & out of the house, but until then, you kept your mind distraction free.

“And how many times do I have to tell you, you’re my boss.” You reminded him back, though your tone was friendly.

Principle Bentley chuckled at that before pouring himself a mug of coffee, “What’s on the agenda for today?”

You glanced back at your computer, knowing Miriam really only showed up to get paid & gabber with the mom’s & dad’s that came in to pick up their children.

“There’s an assembly just before lunch, the usual ‘stay safe out there on Halloween night’ spiel followed by some games the teachers put together. And then during final hour the kids will be going from class to class as a precursor to their trick-or-treating.”

He nodded in response, “Sounds like a normal day.”

You smiled, “Pretty much.”

“Alright, well, I trust you two to hold down the fort out here while I make some calls.” He began walking towards his office before stopping in the doorway, “_____?”

“Yes?” You spun around in your chair to face him.

“Before the assembly, I’d like to speak with you.”

“O-okay.” You fumbled, your fingers clenching together.

“It’s nothing bad. Just something I wanted to run past you.”

“Of course.” You nodded sheepishly. Then he closed his door.

Turning back to your computer, you rolled your shoulders, having felt them stiffen at his proposal to talk one-on-one.

“Why is it they always say, ‘it’s nothing bad’, when it is indeed something bad?” You murmured out loud, not truly expecting an answer.

“Nick?” Miriam chuckled, “Boy couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. You’re not in trouble dear. If I had to guess…”

You rolled your eyes, recognizing that suggestive tone of your voice very well.

“Nick is finally going to put his big boy pants on & ask you on a date.”

You scoffed at that, facing her wide-eyed, “Miriam! He is not going to ask me on a date. He’s my boss!”

“Oh, pish, posh.” Miriam waved your dismissal away, “I met my husband working for him. It still happens.”

“No.” You chuckled, focusing on your computer as you read emails, “Not that. Besides, I already have a man in my life.”

“Your son, as cute as he is, doesn’t count.” Miriam told you bluntly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved her away before sarcastically responding, “Now, shut up. I have very important emails to get back to.”

Miriam left twenty minutes early for the assembly, leaving you to finish off your morning duties alone in the office. There was still five minutes to spare before the assembly started so you put your computer in sleep mode then stood up to head to Principle Bentley’s office.

Knocking gently, you waited until you heard the familiar sound of his voice, telling you to come in.

“_____!” He grinned, rising from his chair, “Please, take a seat.”

Despite what Miriam teased you about earlier, you still felt nervous. Though she was right about Principle Bentley being a good guy, you still felt like you had done something wrong.

“So, is this about my being late?” You questioned, your brows creasing.

“You were late?” He replied, clearly only hearing about it now.

“Oh…yeah.” You sighed, “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again, I prom—”

“_____, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble. Miriam bails on her duties all the time & have I spoken to her about it?”

“Well, no, but it’s Miriam. No one really wants to cross her.” You joked, trying to lighten the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“Sure, sure.” He nodded in agreement, “Look, I don’t mind if you’re late. You could be two hours late & it’d be fine. I mean, what are you gonna miss, signing kids in & out? It’s fine, really.”

“Okay.” You felt yourself relax, “If you say so.”

“I do.” He chuckled.

“So, what is that you wanted to discuss?”

Principle Bentley sucked his teeth in awkwardly before finally leaning forward on his desk, his elbows resting there with his hands raised, “I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting lunch together today.”

“Oh.” You felt your smile drop. Oh. Miriam had been right.

“No pressure, either!” He rushed out, “I know how weird it’s gotta be having your boss ask you out but I don’t know, figured I’d at least try.”

“Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly before gathering your thoughts, “The offer is nice, Nick. But—”

“Nick?” He asked incredulously but was smiling nonetheless, “Using my name? I know what that means.”

He was letting you let him down easily & you were grateful towards him for it.

“But I’m going to have to decline.”

“I understand.” He nodded, never losing his boyish smile.

“Ya know, in a perfect world, I—” You stopped yourself, unsure if you really wanted to say what you were about to say, but the look on Nick’s face encouraged you to keep going.

“In a perfect world, I’d say yes.” You admitted. Nick was a good guy. He always took care of you & Miriam. Plus he enjoyed working with the kids & all parents sung his praises. Nick Bentley was a good guy, & he’d be an excellent father. Truly, that was something you wish you could have given Lou, a father, but with your past still terrorizing you in your sleep, it just wasn’t possible.

“And what is a perfect world?” Nick asked, his voice soft.

You sighed, biting your lower lip in thought. “I love being a mother. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

For some odd reason, you were ready to tell someone your life story, or at least the nicer parts about it. Something indeed was in the air.

“But I had Lou when I was young, too young. I was nineteen. I wasn’t ready… & ya know, Lou’s father…” You inhaled sharply as those startling blue eyes of your ex flashed through your mind. “Let’s just say he wasn’t a good guy. I’m just not ready for another relationship. Or dating, even. I just want to focus on being a good mother to Lou.”

Nick eyed you with admiration in his eyes. He nodded in understanding, “Your son is very lucky to have you. I hope you know that.”

The praise made your heart falter with elation. Because you ran away from your hometown, & couldn’t risk your ex finding you, you were forced to cut off all communication with friends & family. No one had even met your son. Not your parents, not your best friend, no one. It was another aspect of your life that you were furious about. That Lou was forced to only call you family when he had so many more people out there who would love him just as much as you did. But to protect him most of all, you had to stay hidden. So, hearing those words from Nick made your heart swell.

“Thank you for saying that.” You replied almost inaudibly.

“Thank you for being transparent.” Nick responded in kind, “I can’t imagine it was easy to share.”

“No.” You chuckled openly, “It wasn’t. At all.”

“Well,” Nick stood from his chair, gesturing towards the door, “walk with me to the assembly?”

You laughed & clapped your hands as kids all over the gymnasium ran amok, your ghoulish son among them. After the usual ‘stay safe’ portion of the assembly, the kids were free to go around to booths the teachers had put together in the spirit of Halloween night. You took to the wall, your eyes following your son as he ran around with his friends, chasing one of the 3rd grade teachers dressed a ghost, playing a game they called ‘ghost hunters’.

Nick was in the midst of it all, getting tangled up with the kids as they either wrapped themselves around his legs or tried climbing his black. You hid your smile behind your hand as you watched on.

On the bleachers to your right was Miriam & a few other female staff members. They all appeared to be reacting in shock to something Miriam was saying. You were curious to what tea she was spilling so you found yourself joining them.

“Why the shocked faces?” You asked. One of the first grade teachers, Isabella, handed you a Styrofoam cup of hot apple cider. You accepted it gratefully.

“You haven’t heard?!” Sophia, one of the student teacher’s, turned to you in shock, “Someone broke into George Acosta’s barn last night & stole that ancient Chevy truck he’s been working on for ages.”

You frowned at that. You knew the truck well, everyone did. But only because it made these awful metal, grinding sound as it ambled down the roads throughout town. You could hear it from two blocks away most times as it backfired, alerting anyone in the vicinity that good old Mr. Acosta was out & about.

“I’m telling ya.” Isabella commented, “Whoever stole it has to be from out of town. No one is idiotic enough to steal from George. Remember when he threatened Sheriff Kaufman with a loaded shot gun just for pulling over a reckless driving teen on his property last year? Even the Sheriff was apologizing profusely to him.”

The women cackled amongst themselves but you weren’t laughing. The strange occurrence & Isabella’s theory about it being an out of towner made your stomach shift into knots.

It not him. It can’t be. Someone would’ve contacted you if he got wind of where you were. It was just a random crime, _____. It’s not him. You’re okay. Lou is okay. Calm down. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Ex—

“_____? My god, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Isabella placed a hand on your upper back in comfort.

You nodded shakily but stood up, “I’m alright. Just feeling sick all of a sudden.”

“You don’t look good, hon.” Miriam added, peering at you with concern.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured them, “I just need to use the restroom really quick.”

Everything was okay. It was just your paranoia, you knew that, but you couldn’t deny how ever since this morning you felt like something awful was coming. But you reminded yourself that it wouldn’t be the first time you felt that way & ended up realizing eventually that it was just your nerves & traumatic responses acting up.

“Nick.” You approached him as he assisted with the gym teacher in replacing a skeleton pinata with a pumpkin one.

“Hey!” He greeted jovially but frowned when he took in your state, “Whoa, you alright?”

“I’m not feeling well, all of a sudden. I don’t know what’s happening but—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He clambered down the ladder he had been on to gently grip your upper arms, “What do you need?”

“I know I was late this morning but would it be alright if I went home for the day? I just, I don’t want to get the kids sick if it’s something contagious.”

You were lying through your teeth, something you had gotten really good at, but it was for the right reason.

“Yeah, of course, of course. Is there anything I can do?”

Your eyes searched out Lou as he gathered around one of the teachers dressed as a warlock, listening intently to a story he was reading from a book.

“Yes, but it’s too much to ask for.”

“Hey.” Nick smiled kindly at you, “There’s no such thing, what is it?”

“Would you mind bringing Lou home after school? Normally I’d take him with me but he’s having too much fun & I don’t want to ruin his day. Plus, I have no car to pick him up & I don’t want him walking home from school alone.”

“Of course, yeah, I can do that, it’ll be no problem.” He nodded.

It took a long time getting comfortable about Lou being alone with anyone who wasn’t you, but after living in the close-knit community as long as you did, you knew that Louie would be in safe hands with whomever you left him with.

“Thank you, seriously, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He stood up straight but remained watching you with concern, “What about you though? Do you need a ride home?”

“No.” You mustered a grateful smile, waving away his offer, “I’ll be okay. I just need to get home & take a cold shower or something.”

“Okay, yeah. Will you call me when you get there? Let me know you’re alive & what not.”

The two of you shared a laugh but you nodded, “Of course.”

“Alright. I’ll bring him back straight after school. You focus on feeling better.”

“Thank you, Nick.”

He gripped your shoulder in comfort before you parted from him to approach Louie. He was still listening to the warlock’s story when you appeared behind him.

“Hey, baby. Mommy’s not feeling well so I’m going home. Principle Bentley said he’d bring you home after school, okay?”

He spun around towards you, his youthful face frowning as he peered up at you, “Are you okay, Mommy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just feel sick, that’s all.”

“Is it your dreams?”

“No.” You shook your head rapidly, cupping his cheek, “I just need to lie down for a while.”

“Okay.” He gave you that soft smile of his you adored so much.

“Mommy loves you.” You hugged him, kissing him three times on the crown of his head, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, baby.”

After seeking out Lou’s teacher & asking her to walk him to the office at the end of the school day so Nick could drive him home, you were finally able to leave work. Fortunately, you only lived five blocks away, so you would be home in no time to get your head together. You hated lying to your coworkers, more so, your son, but you needed to get home to ensure that everything was still ready to go in case you & Lou had to run. Never in the five years that you had lived in your town had you ever had a nasty feeling like you did today. And although you knew it was likely just the eeriness of Halloween mixed with your paranoia, you chose to be safe rather than sorry.

But as you strolled home, your cardigan wrapped snugly around your front, you couldn’t help as your mind strayed to the past.

You were in love, maddeningly so. He was everything you could have dreamed of. And the way he looked at you always had you feeling like a schoolgirl with a silly crush. You could never have imagined that you would have found your prince. And that’s just what he was. He was your prince charming & you were his darling princess.

The two of you were inseparable. The honeymoon phase meant something new with the two of you. Your relationship was filled with laughter, friendship, trust, & most importantly, love. So much love. You never knew you could love anyone as deeply as you loved him, & you knew he felt the same.

And for the first year of your relationship it was pure bliss. Until it wasn’t.

Everything changed after you turned 18. You were ready to take your relationship to the next level. He had been ecstatic that you were ready to become intimate & finally have sex. It was how you knew he was one of the good ones, that he never pressured you or tried anything himself. He was respectful & kind & patient. Everything you dreamt about. But once you two did have sex, something changed in him. A darker energy you never knew he had emerged.

It started out small. He would become touchier. You had reasoned to yourself it was just because now that you two were having sex he was antsy for it all the time. But when the times came that you wouldn’t want, whether it was because you weren’t in the mood or weren’t feeling well, he would make snarky remarks under his breath. And then it shifted again.

He started to not want you going out with him, even if it was just to a friend’s house to watch a movie. He would text you the whole time, blow up your phone, leave you voicemails accusing you of not being where you said you were. Your friends pointed out to you that his behavior was problematic & that you should discuss it with. And so you did. Why wouldn’t you of? After all, you two had never had serious issues before. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The night you told him that he was beginning to make you feel suffocated would be a night you never forgot. He has lost his mind. You had never heard him yell before, let alone raise his voice, especially at you, but he had done it all that night. When he got to a point where you felt scared to be alone with him you had tried leaving but he wouldn’t have any that.

It was the first time he raped you. It wouldn’t be the last.

After the first time though, he had apologized profusely, swearing it would never happen again. He confessed to you that he was just scared of losing you & that you were giving him mixed signals lately. You didn’t understand that, knowing that in your own mind you were definitely not doing that, but he looked so scared, so terrified of losing you, that it had convinced you to stay with him.

You would live to regret it. His behavior didn’t change, it only got worse. But it eventually go to a point where you were practically chained to him. You stopped hanging out with your friends, quit coming out of your room to visit with your family, stopped posting about your life on social media. You became a scared little girl, & it was all because of him.

Then when you thought he couldn’t get worse, he proved you wrong.

The two of you had been attending a beach party. It was with his friends so you weren’t anticipating seeing any of your own, but one had been there. You had known Donovon your whole life, longer than any of your friends. Other than your closest girlfriend, Donovon was your next closest friend. So, when you saw him at that party, you were ecstatic to see a face you were forbidden to see.

It was your mistake putting Donovon in the devil’s path. Had you known what your boyfriend was capable of, you would have never taken him back. But that didn’t matter. When Donovon saw you, he snuck up behind you, capturing you by your waist & lifting you into the air. You had squealed in fear at first, genuinely scared due to your ex’s mental, emotional, & physical torment, but when you realized who it was, you only felt relief.

So, you hugged Donovon. Your oldest friend.

And it would be the last time you, that anyone did.

The devil had heard your screams of fear & came rushing forward furiously. You had no time to react or stop him as he tackled Donovon to the ground before beating him to a pulp. Donovon didn’t have a chance to defend himself as the devil knocked his head every which way. Others at the party managed to separate the two but the damage had been done.

Donovon was in the hospital for two weeks before his family took him off life support. Your boyfriend had murdered your oldest friend. And he got away with it, too. Witnesses at the party protected the devil, saying that Donovon had started it. That it was just a fight that got out of hand. No one knew that it would come to that. And most of all, your boyfriend’s father used his influence to ensure his son would never see a sentence. Not even for manslaughter.

Your boyfriend swore to you that he didn’t mean to lose it like he did but you saw that dark fury behind his eyes. He had. He had meant every single fist brought down onto your friend’s skull, & he would do it again.

You weren’t safe with him. That much you knew, but you didn’t know how to get away from him. At the time, you were preparing yourself to be one of the women you had seen in those domestic violence movies who couldn’t find their voice to tell anyone the truth. But that all changed when you took a pregnancy test & it came back positive.

That pink plus sign was all you needed to kick your flight instinct into gear. It took a couple weeks to get everything prepared, but you made it happen. They were the scariest weeks of your life because you were required to sneak behind the devil’s back to get the plan into place. After what he did to Donovon, it took little convincing from old friends & your parents to help you get out.

But you didn’t want them to get hurt in the process. So, once you had the funds, the drive, & a bus ticket out of town, you told all of those who helped you that you wouldn’t be in contact with them, too scared that if they knew where you were that your ex would do to them as he did to Donovon just to find out where you were. You couldn’t allow that, not again.

And so you ran, & you didn’t stop running until you reached the New England states. Throughout your relationship, you had revealed to your boyfriend many times how you dreamed of living in the Pacific Northwest. It would be the first place he looked for you. And he had the funds & means to do just that. So you went to the other end of the country, counting your days until he found you again.

The backfiring of a nearby engine shocked you out of your reverie. You blinked away your memories, realizing you were then only a block away from your house. The backfiring of a nearby engine sounded near the end of the street you were on & you froze, remembering what your coworkers at work had just told you about Georga Acosta.

You felt safe enough standing there on Main Street, surrounded by townsfolk as they went about their business, but you felt a chill roll up your spine. As if eyes were watching you. As if he was watching you.

Your flight instinct from long ago kicked in & you rushed into the nearest storefront. It was a Halloween store. The man behind the counter smiled politely at you as he continued helping a customer. You backed yourself up until you couldn’t be seen from the street but could still see the street yourself. As you did, the engine grew closer. You stood behind a shelf at the end of an aisle as you waited for Acosta’s truck to appear. For him to be behind the wheel.

But when the truck finally appeared, you felt a heavy weight lift from your shoulders. It was Chevy, much like Mr. Acosta’s, but not his. Instead, the truck that ambled down the street was filled to the brim with teenagers hooting & hollering as they wore Halloween masks, playing the iconic Halloween theme song on a boombox from the bed.

You fluttered your eyes closed, your hand on your chest.

“Miss, are you alright?”

Your eyes flew open at the nearby voice. It was the man behind the counter, the customer he had been helping gone.

“Yes, sorry.” You breathed out, a relieved smile on your face.

“Did you need to purchase something?” You could tell he was curious about you but didn’t push.

Your arm brushed against the shelves you had been hiding behind. On the display shelf was a witches hat. You quickly grabbed it.

“Just this.”

After paying, you felt safe enough to leave the store, now knowing your imagination was just that. Then you finished your walk home.

Someone was calling your name. It was like a whisper, close but far away at the same time. Your name was said again, over & over, & every single time it repeated it grew closer, louder. Until nothing. Then it was quiet.

Then a pair of lips touched your cheek.

You shot forward in bed, your face coated in sweat, your chest heaving. Your mouth & throat was dry. Holding your head in your hands, you focused on calming down your breathing. You touched your cheek where you had felt the kiss. It was warm to touch.

It was just a dream. You had fallen asleep, not meaning to, just wanting to lie down for five minutes but it seems your body had other plans. Once you gathered yourself, shaking away the nerves, you stood from your bed, your muscles aching. But as you did you halted immediately.

The door to your bedroom was open. Not all the way, just cracked open. You frowned. You were sure you had shut it. But ever since getting home, your mind had been a mess. All the anxiety & paranoia you were feeling was eating you away. You were losing it!

Brushing the concern for you door away, you exited your room, heading down to your kitchen. The clock on the stove read 2:32. School would have just gotten out, Nick would be here any moment with Louie. You chugged a glass of water & opened the fridge, peering inside to get a snack ready for Lou, though you imagined he would be bringing home plenty of candy from the trick-or-treat at school.

Just as you fingered a package of sliced ham, the doorbell rang. You felt your brows crease, checking the clock once more. 2:33.

They must have left school early. You thought mindlessly, knowing it was Nick with your son at the door.

Tossing the ham onto the counter, you rounded the kitchen to the front door. You unlatched the lock & swung it open.

“That was qui—” Your words died on your tongue.

There was no one. You frowned, stepping out onto your porch. Looking into your front yard & the neighbors, you saw no one in sight. Your street was quiet & bare of any life.

So, who rang the doorbell?

The question only left you reeling. Turning back to go inside, you stopped when something in the corner of your eye stole your attention. On the bottom step of the stairs leading to your porch was a few pumpkins you & Lou hard carved out together earlier that week. They appeared relatively normal except for one.

Warily descending the stairs, you gripped the banister when you finally realized what was wrong with the single pumpkin. The handle of a knife glinted under the autumn sun as it stuck out from the top of the pumpkin. You covered your mouth with your hand, whipping around to check your surroundings once more. There was no one in sight, not even Eugenia May—the town recluse—was peeking out from her window.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You turned back to the pumpkin, kneeling down to inspect further. From what you could make out thanks to the cut-outs of the pumpkin, the knife was long, nearly piercing the other side.

Why would someone—

“Boo!”

A scream tore from your throat at the booming voice behind you.

Spinning around, you nearly toppled over before Nick managed to catch you by the elbow.

“What the fu—” Your son looked up at you with wide eyes, “—dge?!”

“Sorry.” Nick smiled uncomfortably, “It was your son’s idea.”

Your eyes danced between the two of them as your heart began to settle down. You hadn’t even heard the hum of an engine, let alone their footsteps as they came up the walkway.

“What are you doing outside, Mommy?” Louie asked, watching you curiously.

It was then that you remembered, too, why you were outside. You stepped in front of the pumpkin with the knife sticking out, grateful Lou had yet to see it.

“I was excited to you, baby.” You told him, ruffling his hair. He slapped your hands away playfully.

“Hey, why don’t you go inside & get a fruit snack, I’ll be in in a moment, I just need to talk to Principle Bentley.”

Louie charged forward. You smiled wryly, watching his small legs amble up the stairs & into the house.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Your kid is hard to say no to.” Nick apologized.

“No, that’s okay.” You waved it away, “I’m just relieved it was you & not someone else.”

“Who else would it be?” Nick asked, not realizing the dangerous ground he was treading.

“Maybe the person who stabbed my pumpkin.” You said, stepping out of the way to reveal the petty crime.

“Oh, shit.” Nick eyed the pumpkin on the bottom step, “Who’d you piss off?”

Of course you knew it was a joke but you didn’t laugh. In fact, it did the opposite. You frowned, staring at the deadly weapon.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry, I was only kidding.” Nick reached for you but you stepped away.

“It’s—it’s fine. Forget about it.” Bending over, you snatched the knife by its handle before yanking it out. “Just me being fucking paranoid again.” You mumbled but Nick had heard you.

You were climbing back up to porch when he caught up to you, blocking the way to your door with a concerned look on his face, “_____, I’m sorry, truly I am.”

You stared at him, unsure of his words.

“Are you really thinking someone did this to you on purpose?”

His question unsettled you. You shifted from foot to foot as you avoided his eyes. You could feel your breathing begin to quicken, on the edge of hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey.” Nick closed the distance between the two of you, placing his hands on your shoulders gently, “Talk to me. If you’re really concerned then we should call someone about it.”

“No!” You rushed out, “No. It’s nothing. It’s just me being paranoid, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

You tried to go around him but Nick blocked you once more.

“I’ll get out of your way, I promise, but…I’ve never seen you like this before. This…scared. If something is happening, I want to help.”

“You can’t help.” You sighed defeatedly. You were just so tired, so tired of looking over your shoulder, of worrying about if & when he would find you. You just wanted to live a happy, normal life with your son.

“I can try.” Nick captured your eyes, “If you let me.”

As you stared back at him, seeing the genuine care for you, the same look you had seen once before in the last man you trusted, you felt yourself soften. Nick wasn’t him. Nick was a good person. Unlike your past, he wanted to help you. And so, for the first time in five years, you let someone in.

It was nearly 5’o’clock when Lou took off from the dinner table to go wash his hands. Nick helped you clear the table of dirty dishes. You thanked him for his help before placing the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

“So, this ex of yours.” Nick began, “You think he’s found you?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, peering out a window over your kitchen sink, “I’ve been living in fear of him finding us for so long that anything remotely out of the ordinary makes me think it’s him.”

“Well, I can almost assure you that it’s not.” Nick kept his voice low as Lou entered the main room.

“Go ahead & watch some cartoons.” You told him, to which Lou very happily obliged. Once the TV sounded from the living room, you turned to Nick.

“How can you assure me that?”

After Nick made his claim to want to help you, you had told him everything. Everything. Not a detail spared. You weren’t explicit in reciting your history with your dreaded ex, but you detailed enough to get the point across.

“I called down to the station.” Nick revealed.

Your eyes widened, immediately questioning if you were wrong to trust him, but Nick raised his hand in reassurance, already predicting your reaction, “I didn’t give any names, I promise. I just asked if they had gotten any complaints about pumpkins or the like being vandalized. You know Brenden Brennen?”

You did. No one forgot an unfortunate name like that. He was a local teenager, known to be trouble.

“Apparently Brenden & some of his friends have been going around scaring people. Throwing poppers into driveways, jumping out of bushes, prank calling. I guess even Stephanie Romero’s garage got tagged with fake blood.”

You nodded, understanding where he was going with it all.

“It’s Halloween. It’s a spooky night. Kids are just getting up to no good, that’s all. Things are bound to go bump in the night.”

It did little relieve you but you accepted the likelihood that it was Brenden who stabbed your pumpkin.

“But what about Mr. Acosta’s truck? I mean, Isabella’s right. No one in town, not even Brenden Brennen, would be stupid enough to mess with him, let alone that truck he holds near & dear to his heart.”

Nick chuckled at that but shrugged, “Nothing so far as far as I know. But Mr. Acosta is getting up there. Way, waaaay up there. I hear his daughter complain every now & then that she swears he’s got Alzheimer’s, says he’s been losing track of things a lot lately.”

“A truck is quite a big thing to lose track of.” You muttered.

“Yeah, it is.” Nick nodded in agreement, “But think of it this way. From the sounds of it, your ex has money, & lots of it. If he were here, he wouldn’t be breaking into a barn to steal a beat-up old truck. He’d probably be driving through town in one of those nice sports cars that rarely come through here. And I say ‘rarely’ because folk like that stick out like a sore thumb. So, if he were here, someone would’ve noticed him by now.”

Everything he was saying was making sense, & you knew it to be true. You sighed, smiling, feeling like a fool.

“I just want it to end.” You admitted, your voice soft as you stared at Lou on the other end of the room, “I don’t want to live in fear for the rest of my life. I want Louie to have a normal childhood, not one that he looks back on wondering why his mom was always crying in her sleep or looking over her shoulder every day.”

“Hey.” Nick approached you, his hand on your lower back in comfort, “You have done so much for him. He knows how much you love him, he sees that. And he loves you, too. It may not be the childhood you want for him but it’s better than the one he could’ve had if you hadn’t run away, isn’t it?”

“Oh, god.” You marveled horrifically at the thought. You never thought too long, if ever, about what it would have been like raising Lou back home, with him always around.

“See?” Nick consoled you, “You’re giving him the childhood he deserves. As long as that kid there has you, he’ll be alright.”

You nodded, peering up Nick, “Thank you. For everything.”

He grinned sheepishly at that, shrugging, “I’m here for you, _____. For as long as you need me.”

It had been a long time since you felt like you found someone you could trust. You were happy Nick was the first.

Surprising even yourself, you raised onto your tiptoes & placed a kiss on his cheek. You watched as Nick blushed at the affection. When you pulled away, you two stared at one another before laughing lightly.

“Are you going to be my Dad, now?”

Both of you jumped apart as Lou stared at the two of you from the other side of the kitchen.

“What was that, buddy?” Nick played off your sons question as you tucked your smile into your teeth.

“No, baby, Principle Bentley was just helping Mommy.”

Lou made a questionable face but moved on, “When are we going trick-or-treating?”

“Oh, um.” You eyed the clock on the stove. It was nearly 6. “Any moment! Go get a jacket on & we’ll head out.”’

Lou began to run down the hallway before he stopped to stare at Nick, “Are you coming with us, Principle Bentley?”

“Oh, I, uh, we haven’t discussed—”

“Yes.” You answered for him, watching as Lou broke out into a smile in response, “Now go get a jacket, mister!”

Once Lou was out of sight, you turned towards Nick, “It’s probably not the date you had in mind but if you’d like, Lou & I would love to have you join us.”

Nick grinned that dimpled boyish grin of his, “Then I’d love to.”

Kids ran amok throughout the neighborhood as you & Nick walked side by side on the sidewalk, watching as Lou raced from house to house, filling his plastic pumpkin candy bowl to the brim. Every now & then, a candy or two would spill out as your son ran happily between yards.

Lou had wanted you to dress up but you had forgotten to actually get yourself a costume. So, the witches hat you had purchased earlier that day was all you had for a costume. It was enough to satisfy Lou, though the same couldn’t be said for Nick. You ended up having to use some of your own makeup to draw a clown look onto your boss’s face. He looked ridiculous, but you supposed that was fitting.

“He’s pretty great.” Nick commented, watching your son compliment another ghoul’s costume.

“Yeah, he is.” You felt pride.

“Ya know,” Nick began, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “I obviously don’t know anything about your ex except from what you’ve told me—which is all bad, bad stuff—but I hope you know that your son is yours. He’s not his. Even if he’s made up of half of him. Who he grows up to be, that’ll be all you.”

The thought warmed you. That was all you could really ask for.

The two of you watched as Lou ran down the stairs of another house before running up to you, practically slamming into your legs.

“Oof, careful, babe.” You giggled. Lou grinned up at you, holding out a piece of candy.

“Your favorite.” A Smartie was perched between his fingers.

You accepted the candy, smiling down at you son, “Thank you, Louie.”

Then he was off again, more candy spilling out behind him.

“He has his eyes.” You shared. Nick peered at you as you continued. “At first, that terrified me, ya know, when he grew into them. So much of his father there. So much of…”

You still couldn’t say his name.

“But you’re right.” You sniffled, the chilly autumn air beginning to make your nose run, “Louie will be nothing like him, even if he resembles him. He’ll be soft, gentle, kind, so full of life & wonder & happiness. All the things he is now. All the things his father isn’t.”

The three of you crossed the street once Lou finished up at the last house on the corner.

“You’re a really good mom, _____.” Nick commented, “Louie is in good hands, your hands.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, sharing a smile with him, though his smile appeared wider thanks to the red lipstick stretched across his lips & cheeks. You giggled openly, unable to take him seriously.

“What?” Nick widened his eyes in feigned offense, “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to draw a decent clown face.”

As you two laughed amongst yourselves, someone suddenly shouldered you, practically taking you off your feet.

“Hey, watch it!” Nick caught you as you stumbled into a neighbor’s yard.

You followed his line of sight, staring at the back of what you assumed to be a grown man as he stalked down the sidewalk, his hood pulled over his head. Nick grumbled in annoyance as he pulled you upright but you only remained staring after the man. But he never looked back & before you knew it, he had turned a corner & disappeared from sight.

“What is it?” Nick asked.

“N-nothing.” You faked a smile, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to him.

“Prick should watch where he’s going. Had we been one of these kids we’d’ve been flattened.”

Nick continued walking down the sidewalk, following behind as Lou continued his night of trick-or-treating. You looked over your shoulder once more & were startled by what you saw.

At the end of the block, where the man had disappeared off to, there he stood. At least, you assumed it was the same man, standing eerily still just staring at you. But you weren’t sure if it was you he was staring at. He was wearing a mask resembling a hockey mask, his face completely covered. There was no way to tell just exactly where he was looking but you felt it… you felt his eyes staring right back into your own.

“_____!” Nick hollered your name. You spun back around, realizing they had moved a couple houses down, “Coming?”

Looking back to the man, you were disheartened to find him gone, the corner barren of anyone taller than five feet.

Frowning, you caught up to Nick.

“Everything okay?”

You weren’t sure, but you reminded yourself of everything Nick had said earlier. If he was here, you would’ve known by now. And like he also said, it was Halloween, there was bound to be scares in the night.

Lou was slouched against Nick’s chest as he carried him back to your house. He was already half-way asleep, the excitement & running around having finally caught up to him. You carried his pumpkin basket full of candy, leading the way back. Once you reached the steps leading up the pathway to your porch, you peered up at you house, ensuring that nothing looked amiss.

“He’s gonna have one hell of a candy hangover.” Nick joked softly.

You smiled back him, “Thank you again for carrying him all this way.”

“It’s no problem.” He assured you, carrying your nearly asleep son up the stairs to your porch. You unlocked the door to your house, swinging it open so Nick could bring Louie inside.

“Where’s his bedroom?” Nick whispered. You pointed to your hallway, “Last door on the left.”

Locking the door behind you, you placed your keys & Louie’s basket of candy onto a counter in the kitchen before trailing down the hallway to his room. Inside, you found Nick gently tucking your son into bed. He was well asleep at that point. You smiled elatedly at the sight. It was a sight you had never seen before: a grown man putting your Lou to bed. It brought you more comfort than you thought possible.

Nick tiptoed out of the room & you pulled Lou’s door closed until only a crack was left.

Following Nick back into the main room, you grinned up at him, “You’re my hero.”

“Oh?” Nick raised a single brow, “Why’s that?”

“He adores you.” You nodded, “I remember after his first day of school he talked about how the principle came to his class to play games with the kids & get to know them. Of course, he doesn’t understand yet that you’re my boss, so he spoke about you like I had never met you before. You’ve made an impression on him ever since.”

“I could say the same thing about him.” Nick returned.

“Thank you again, for everything.”

Nick approached you, smiling down at you, “This better mean you’ll stop referring to me as Principle Bentley at work.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at that, “We’ll see.”

He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously but chuckled nonetheless, “Well, I better get outta your hair, let you get some rest.”

You nodded, seeing him to the door. When you unlocked it, Nick stepped out, but before either of you could verbalize a parting, he turned back to you, “And thanks for the date. I enjoyed it.”

“Me, too.” You admitted, unable to hide your smile.

Then Nick crossed back to you, leaning down slightly to kiss your cheek, returning your affection from earlier, “I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you.”

Closing the door as he descended your stairs, you relocked the door before finally kicking your shoes off. It had been a long day. You were looking forward to winding down in bed with your recent Kindle purchase before dozing off. Turning off the lights in the front room, you grabbed a couple pieces of candy from Lou’s basket before retreating to your room, sure to leave the door cracked this time now that Lou was home. Unlike when you closed the door for your nap earlier, you never kept your door closed as Lou slept, always wanting to hear if any sounds came from his room.

Getting undressed & into pj’s, you slipped under the covers of your bed, pulling your Kindle out from your nightstand. Settling against your pillow, you began reading the text but it wasn’t long before you felt your eyelids begin to droop. Then, before you knew it, you slipped into slumber.

A floorboard creaking somewhere in your house woke you with a start. It was dark in your bedroom as you wiped the sleep from your eyes. You moaned at your stiff muscles, having fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position for your neck. Your eyes flashed to your nightstand. The clock flashed 2:24 a.m.

Your mouth was dry again, & you had forgotten to bring a glass of water to bed. Slipping out of bed, you exited your room. You stopped in the hallway to peek into Louie’s room. He slept soundlessly still in his bed. Closing his door most of the way once more, you trailed quietly down your hallway to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, you approached the cabinets by the sink. You had pulled one open, preparing to reach for a glass, but a sight outside the window above your sink caught your eye. And when you realized what you were looking at, your breath caught in your throat. Nick’s car. It was still parked out front. But more horrifying than that was what lied just beyond it. Across the street, parked in front of your neighbor’s house, was Mr. Acosta’s beloved Chevy.

Before you had time to react, a hand fisting itself in your hair yanked you backwards. A scream about ripped from your throat, but a gloved hand quickly clamped over your mouth before it could.

Panicked tears erupted from your eyes as you felt yourself being dragged backwards, the soles of your slippers failing to catch themselves on the hardwood. You struggled against the strong grasp of the arm that was wrapped around your middle as they yanked you back down the hallway towards your bedroom.

You didn’t need to see them to know who it was. All day, your paranoia had been trying to warn you but you didn’t listen, & then when you did start to listen to it, Nick had reasoned it out of you.

The force threw you onto your bed & you bounced haphazardly atop it before the room flooded with light.

All of the nightmares you had had in the last five years were occurring before your very eyes. And the man that caused them was glaring at you through the slits of a hockey mask. The same eyes your son had.

“Boo.” If the eyes of your ex wasn’t enough of a give away as to who wore the spooky mask, the hollowed out voice behind it was.

He was here.

Rafe had found you.

It took all off your strength & will to not scream in that very instance. Lou was sleeping safe & sound less than twenty feet away from you, totally unaware of the dangers in his home, you wanted it to remain that way. But damn it all to hell if you didn’t fear for your life at that very second.

Fear racked your body & panic ensnared your heart as Rafe Cameron, the ex you had ran out on with his unborn child in your tummy, stood before you.

Tense silence filled the room, save for the sound of your shuddering breaths. Tears blurred your vision as you stared wide-eyed in horror.

Rafe was breathing heavily, his chest moving almost in perfect time with your own. Your eyes fell to his hand, the glint of a familiar looking knife catching in the light.

He had been here all along. From the beginning. The cat store, Mr. Acosta’s truck, Lou’s stabbed pumpkin, & the man in the mask who stared at you on the street. All of it Rafe. All of it your past finally catching up to you.

“Rafe…” You shakily cried.

He cocked his head, the mask only adding more fuel to your nightmare. And though the mask kept his face hidden, you knew well enough that the man behind the mask was carrying a face full of fury. It was a face you never forgot.

He raised a single gloved finger then, wiggling it slowly at you. Then he brought that same finger to the mouth of the mask. Shh, he was telling you.

Tears burst from your eyes as you bit your lip to keep from whimpering out loud.

Don’t make him angry, do as he says. Lou is depending on you.

But images of Lou sleeping in his bed just down the hallway flooded your mind. Rafe was blocking the door. You wouldn’t have a chance to slip by him & race down there, & even if you did, you’d lead him right to your son. If you did that, there was no saying what he would do next, but you knew Rafe Cameron was capable of deadly things, & you were determined to keep your son ignorant to that.

It took every amount of restraint you could muster up not to run for your son, to shield him from the devil that snuck into your home. You kept a baseball bat hidden beneath your pillows. It had always been there, & only on rare occasions in the past did you feel the need to bring it out when something went bump in the night. But those bumps always turned out to be nothing. This wasn’t nothing. It was time to really use it.

Rafe only remained standing before you, his tall & solid frame filling the space of your room like a sleep paralysis dream. Though he wore a thick jacket to keep warm, you could see that he had grown over the years. He had always been tall, towering over you, but he was slender as well. Not anymore, though. It was obvious that he had gotten into the habit of working, adding muscles to his already destructive strength.

Swallowing the scream that desperately wanted to erupt from you, you kept your voice hush as you spoke, needing to distract him with your words as you very slowly, very subtly inched your fingers towards your pillows.

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, you, especially as well as he, both knew why he was there. But you didn’t care. Just keep his mind distracted.

But he said nothing, just shook his head once.

You breathed heavily & sharply, your fingers managing to have slid under your pillow without drawing his attention, desperately seeking out the cool, metal touch of the bat.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Your voice shook as you spoke, “You should’ve let me go.”

But Rafe exhaled heavily at that.

A relieved, quiet gasp parted your lips when your fingers finally found the bat, fiercely gripping the handle of the weapon.

Dropping your eyes to the open door behind him, you frowned, “Lou?”

Rafe turned around at that, expecting to see your son standing in the doorway, but it was only a fake-out.

Gritting your teeth, you yanked the baseball bat & raised it above you, quickly rushing to your feet to stand atop your bed.

You let out a war cry as you swung the bat downwards, aiming straight for Rafe’s skull. But he spun around in time to duck. The full weight of your swing made you stumble & one of your feet slipped off the bed. You clambered harshly to the wooden floor, your grip on the bat still tight, but Rafe snatched you by the back of your neck, ripping you upwards. You blindly swung the bat a second time but you felt a force catch the other end before tearing it from your grasp.

“No!” You cried out as Rafe threw against your dresser, a picture of you & Lou toppling over in the impact.

You threw yourself back, crab-crawling backwards as Rafe marched towards you, now your bat in one hand, his knife in the other.

“Rafe, don’t!” You screeched once you felt the wall against your back. But he only continued moving towards you. As he did, he tucked his knife away & raised the bat.

Fear choked you as you watched your own weapon of defense prepared to be used on you. You raised your arms, readying yourself to protect your face & head from the blow. Your eyes were squeezed shut, waiting for the whisper of air as the bat swung before reaching you…but it never came.

Breathing fearfully, you fluttered your eyes open.

The room was empty. Rafe was nowhere in sight.

“Lou.” Your voice shook with the realization.

You threw yourself forward onto your feet, getting ready to race after Rafe, but just before you reached the doorway, Rafe appeared again filling the space with his large frame. But he wasn’t alone.

To your horror, he had another before him, on their knees.

Duct tape was wrapped securely around Nick’s face, his mouth & most of his nose covered to suppress his grunts. His forehead was swollen & bleeding, evident of him having been attacked by a deadly force. Nick was unable to fight back, as his hands too were securely taped before him.

A shocked gasp left you as you backed up, taking in the nightmarish sight.

Rafe entered the room, pushing Nick forward until he fell face-down onto your floor. Nick groaned on impact before struggling to roll himself over onto his back. It was then that you noticed his legs were taped at the ankle.

Fresh tears breached your eyes as you peered at one of your only friends in the neighborhood. You made to move closer, to shield Nick from Rafe but as you did, you felt the cool touch of your bat catch the underside of your chin. Your eyes trailed the length of it until it led you to Rafe’s hand & arm, thus his face.

He shook his head once.

Shaking, you backed away as Rafe stepped closer.

Nick, the whole time, trying to speak but his words were unable to be made out behind the tape. His flashing between you & your ex with a mixture of fear & anger.

“Don’t hurt him.” You begged, “He has nothing to do with this. Please, just let him go, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Rafe sighed at that, his head cocking at your plea.

“Please, Rafe.” You whimpered, snot running from your nose, “I’ll do anything.”

His silence only added to your terror. He wanted you to suffer.

“You’ll watch.” Was all he said. And before you could absorb what he had said, Rafe moved to stand over Nick & raised the bat.

“No!” But your scream died in your throat as Rafe brought the bat down on Nick’s skull.

Cries & choked sobs erupted from you as you watched on in horror as Rafe repeatedly bashed Nick’s face & skull in. You were forced to look away when blood spurted across your face & chest as Nick quickly became unrecognizable.

You covered your mouth as hot tears fell from your eyes & over your hands. Your room was filled with the gruesome sounds of the bat repeatedly making impact with what was once Nick. Squelching of brain matter & the crushing of bones filled your years & you felt bile rise in your throat. A pool of blood threatened to cake the soles of your feet as it grew bigger, forcing you to pull your knees to your chest.

The ghastly sounds stopped after another minute & by then you were numb to everything that was happening. Your body still shook, your mouth hung open in a silent scream, but you were no longer crying. Just staring dizzily at your headboard.

A metallic thud sounded & your eyes betrayed you as you sought the sound out. Your bat rolled towards you, all of it covered in a deep, thick red color, chunks of brain, flesh, & bone texturizing it.

A gag forced it’s way from your mouth & you crawled away from the monstrous sight, unable to look at what Rafe had done. But as you did, you felt Rafe eyeing you from the opposite side of your room. Before you could react, Rafe climbed on top of your, ensnaring you by the back of your head as he dragged you back over the bed. You thought he would’ve stopped there, but your horrors were only reignited when you dropped to the floor & were dragged into the hallway. Towards Louie’s room.

“No!” You yelped but Rafe quickly swung you around to his front, covering your mouth. You smelled the scent of blood on his glove as he kept you quiet, knowing good & well that Nick’s blood was now caking your face.

You fought against Rafe as he yanked you closer to your sons room, terrified that he would do to him what he had just done to Nick. At this point, you didn’t care if Louie woke up, if he woke to the sight & sound of you crying & screaming & fighting against the man from your dreams, thus shattering his childhood. You just needed him to run. Run as far as he could as you once did.

Once in the room, Rafe forced you to face your sleeping son, none the wiser to the danger approaching. You whimpered & thrashed against Rafe, trying every which way to elbow him or knock your head back into his but his strength greatly outmatched yours. It always had.

Rafe paused in the center of the room, crushing your back against your front as he secured you around the waist. He removed his hand from your mouth, but before you could scream a blood-curdling cry to alert your son, Rafe had swiftly produced the knife he carried & pressed the briny edge of it to your throat.

The plastic of the mask moved against your ear, “Don’t scream. Or he’ll scream.”

The threat was apparent. Your horrors were coming true. Everything you had fought for for so long were crumbling around you.

“Don’t.” You gasped, desperately reaching to cling to Rafe’s arm.

Your plea only forced the Rafe to press the knife harsher against your throat. Even you could feel your heartbeat pulsing against it. One swipe & Rafe would end your life before surely ending that of your sons. In a last ditch effort to save your sons life, you revealed the truth that Rafe needed to know.

“He’s your son.” Sobs racked your body as the words parted your lips. “Our son.”

Rafe stiffened behind you.

“Are you going to tell him?” Your mother asked you as she helped you pack one of your go-bags for the great escape.

“No.” You responded despondently, “If he knows I’m on the run with his unborn kid, he’ll stop at nothing, he’ll hurt anyone I love just to get to me.” You knew good & well that he would still do that, but he wouldn’t be in as such a rush otherwise.

Your mother nodded in understanding. But her hands shook fearfully as she folded your clothes before handing them to you.

“Are you going to go through with the pregnancy?” It was a question you asked yourself every day. “I love you, baby, I only want you safe. A kid will slow you down.”

“I know.” You muttered in agreement, “I haven’t decided yet. I just need to get away first before I do anything.”

“You’d deliver the baby alone.” She commented. Another thought that kept you awake at night. “We wouldn’t be there to hold your hand.”

You nodded, tears threatening to fall. Though you were still on the fence about whether or not you’d fulfill the pregnancy, you were leaning towards terminating it. Being on the run was no life for a child. And, your mother was right, the kid would only slow you down if Rafe ever caught up to you.

Your mother’s quiet sobs drew your attention. She had a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her cries.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” She peered at you through her tears, “We never wanted this life for you.”

You hugged your mother, & she you. Tightly, lovingly. You burrowed your face into her neck, savoring the form of affection. You didn’t know how long it would be until you ever felt it again, if ever.

“There’s always adoption.”

Rafe had tucked the knife away, but kept you quiet by grasping the column of your throat, your air restricted. He continued holding you just like that as he slowly approached your son, his son. He stood just beside Louie’s bed, his knees pressed against the bedframe as he leaned over to peer at the child’s serene, sleeping face.

You felt as Rafe shuddered before you, his arm outstretched with you on the other end as he kept you at distance from your son.

“My son…” Rafe’s voice was filled with wonder.

Tears continued to fall from your eyes, dripping onto Rafe’s wrist where the skin was exposed between the glove & sleeve of his jacket.

“Our son.” He whispered, but as he did, the grip on your throat tightened. Black dots filled your vision. Rafe turned away from Lou then, facing you head on, his eyes blazing behind the mask.

You kept him from me.

His fury was palpable. You tried to breathe, to speak, but Rafe only continued to claw his fingers into your throat.

Then he began to back you out of the room fast. Your were unable to catch your grounding as your feet tangled beneath you. Before you knew it, you were back in the hallway, your back pressed harshly against a wall as Rafe used the wall to lift you off the floor, your toes wiggling.

You latched your hands onto his arm, using every bit of strength you had left to try & fight him off.

Rafe glared at you hard through the slits of his mask, his eyes red, watering, filled with betrayal, contempt, & murderous intent.

“We could have been a family.” Rafe breathed out harshly, his grip tightening more than you thought possible. Your vision swayed.

“You took that from me.” Rafe spit from behind the mask.

“Plea—” You choked, the lining of your vision beginning to darken. Your muscles were loosening. Death awaited you. But Lou needed you.

Then Rafe brought his other hand to your throat & squeezed. You thrashed weakly until you felt your consciousness begin to slip. Rafe’s hands around your neck were the last thing you felt before you stopped fighting, your body going limp.

“He’s my family now.”

A cry tore from your throat as doctors & nurses alike rushed around you. A stinging, hot pain shot up your spine as you felt your insides contort & cramp within you. Your legs were splayed open, blood staining the white sheets that kept you from seeing what happening down below.

“She’s losing blood!” A voice yelled.

“Get the baby out!” Another responded.

“We’re gonna lose both!”

Tears erupted from your eyes, blurring your vision as you clung to the sheets of the hospital bed, your throat raw from screaming.

Another pinch & you screamed again, sweat coating your face.

And then cries filled the room, Lively cries of a baby having been born. You collapsed against the mattress, your body weak.

“Baby’s out, we got him, he’s okay!”

You felt your vision go in & out, but you reached your hand out blindly in search of your child.

“It’s a boy.” A soft voice neared you. Cries continued to fill the room, but they grew closer to you.

“It’s your boy.” A nurse appeared in your vision as it swayed.

In her arms, she held something small as it wriggled about in her arms. A single hand stuck out in search of something.

Then your fingers touched, & the small yet mighty grip of the child clung to your index finger.

A weak smile crossed your lips, “Louie.”

But your hand fell as you felt your heart rate slow.

“We’re losing her!”

“Louie.” You whispered, his name like a dream on your tongue.

A gasp choked you awake & you shot forward. Tears coated your cheeks & you were breathing heavily. You winced at the burning, raw sensation within your throat.

The room, your room, was filled with morning sunlight. Your eyes flashed fearfully around the room. You were still in your home.

Lou!

Launching yourself forward, you halted to peer at the floor near the foot of your bed. It was empty. No body, no blood, no bat.

You frowned. It wasn’t a dream, though. You touched your fingers to your neck, the skin tender as you did.

He had been here, he had!

Racing out of your room, you stumbled down the hallway to your son’s room, “Louie!” You screeched, despite the pain it caused you as you did, your throat burning in response.

But your fears were instilled as you charged into your son’s room to find his bed empty.

“Louie, baby!” You cried, retreating from his room & tumbling down the hallway, “Baby, where are you?!”

At the mouth of the hallway, you halted, eyeing your son at the counter bar. His back was to you as he ate pieces of candy from his pumpkin basket.

“Louie!” You released a relieved cry & approached him. But before you could reach him, another figure appeared in the corner of your eye.

Rafe rested against a counter opposite your son, a mug of coffee in his hands. He was barren of any mask or clothes from the night prior. He grinned wryly at you, challenging you to attempt anything.

You eyed him warily, furiously as you continued moving slowly towards your son.

Lou looked back at you then, a chocolatey smile gracing his youthful features.

“Morning, Mommy!” He greeted in his cheerful tune.

Dropping your gaze from Rafe, you peered at your son. Closing the distance, you hugged him to your chest, crying into his hair as you kissed him repeatedly.

“Don’t be mad. Daddy said I could have candy for breakfast.”

You shook against your son as you raised your eyes to that of your ex’s.

“That’s right.” Rafe smirked, crossing the kitchen to where the two of you were. You pressed Lou closer against you, your hands gripping him tightly, ready to shield him from Rafe.

“And you can have it for lunch & dinner & dessert.” Rafe grinned down at your son, his son.

“What the fuck do you want?” You sneered, uncaring if Lou heard the fear in your voice.

Rafe eyed you then, “What we all should want.”

He peered at your son then, “To be a family.”

The thought unnerved you.

“If you don’t get out of my house, I’ll—”

“Careful.” Rafe cut you off firmly, before casting his eyes to an object on the counter only inches away from his fingers. The knife.

“Sorry, buddy. Mommy had a bad night.”

You felt as Louie stared up at you then, “Was it the bad man from your dreams again?”

Rafe’s eyes stared coldly into your own.

“Yes, baby.” You replied, your voice shaky.

“But you’re okay now.” Louie attempting to soothe you as he fingered your hair, “Daddy is here to protect you.”

His innocence, still intact as grateful as you were, only made you fearful of when Rafe would surely snuff it out.

“That’s right, Louie.” Rafe peered between the two of you, “Daddy’s home, & we have a lot of catching up to do.”

this is 7/10 requests from my 500 followers celebration request opening!

fuck. that's all i have to say.

big thank you to @namelesslosers for making this fucking AWESOME request, i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it, please be sure to share your thoughts w me.

as always! drop a comment, reblog w reviews, or talk to me in my ask box. this is one doozy of a dark fic that has me on edge just waiting for your feedback. so please provide some.

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

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to be added to a taglist read rule 11 here. requests will be dismissed otherwise.

#dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction #non con fic #outer banks fanfiction #dark!outer banks #something wicked this way comes

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megalony · 11 days

Text

Sleep No More

This is a new Tommy Kinard imagine, based on Lou's movie Nightshade, which I am in love with.

*(I am thinking of writing this idea for Buck and Eddie too if anyone would be interested)

Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth

Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is having a hard time battling insomnia, but things get worse when she starts to sleepwalk.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Beautiful Gif by @sunglassesmish)

A groan tumbled past Tommy's lips while he slowly flopped over from his side onto his back. His right arm stretched out over the duvet and landed with a thud on the other side of the bed, causing his head to perk up as he lazily opened his eyes.

It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the darkness but he felt a shiver crawl down his spine when he noticed the other side of the bed was empty.

Why was he alone in bed?

His bleary eyes focused on the alarm clock on the side table opposite him and he noticed it read 2:09am. He had another four hours before he had to wake up and start getting himself ready for work.

His hand gripped the bedsheet and a deep growl vibrated through into the pillow as he turned his head and smothered his face in the pillow for a few seconds. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until (Y/n) was back in bed beside him, his mind just didn't relax and shut down without her wrapped under his arm.

When a minute ticked by and turned into two, Tommy flumped his hands down on the bed and pushed himself up. His head spun and swayed from side to side as he threw off the cover and grunted, pushing up onto unsteady feet. He rubbed the base of his hand against his eye to try and wake himself up and become more alert as he started to shuffle across the carpet.

"Alright honey, what're you up to?" His voice came out in a soft groan, thick and laced with sleep and he turned and padded out the bedroom and took a look around the dark hallway.

He couldn't help the gnawing feeling of unease that clawed at the back of his throat and sent his blood tingling with adrenaline.

Was (Y/n) having trouble sleeping again?

She hadn't been doing well lately in regards to sleeping. It had gotten to the point where she had to ask her dad to change her shifts at the station to days only. Working nights only made her worse. Night shifts meant short bursts of sleep, a ten minute power nap in the bunker room if necessary. And when (Y/n) was struggling to sleep during the night, sleeping during the day was impossible.

The night shifts had physically worn her down. She had started throwing up and becoming lathargic at home and suffered constant headaches from lack of sleep. Mixing between day and night shifts hadn't worked for (Y/n) and Bobby could see that. Everyone at the 118 could see it so they had no problem changing the rota a little so (Y/n) was on permanent days.

Tommy ran his fingers through his hair and dragged his hand across the back of his head and down his neck.

He gave the door to the study a nudge, but the lights were out and the room was basked in darkness, save from a slither of white creeping in from the street light outside.

His senses suddenly came flooding back to him in waves and Tommy paused in the hall, stumbling on his back foot when a noise suddenly hit him like a train.

Running water. The shower.

Why on Earth was (Y/n) getting a shower at two in the morning? That was only a normality if one of them had been on a night shift and didn't get chance to wash at the station before they came home.

What was she doing? Had she hurt herself or spilled something? Was she that irritated by insomnia that she decided getting a shower was the only thing she could do? Was she that fed up that she needed to start her morning routine right now?

"Honey?" His voice was still groggy with sleep and came out as a grumble while he made a beeline for the bathroom.

Panic flooded Tommy's chest and a shiver tore down from the base of his neck right down to the tip of his toes when he opened the door.

The light wasn't on.

The bathroom was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a faint light seeping through the frosted glass window, presumably from a neighbour's house or porch light. Tommy could barely see his reflection in the bathroom mirror it was that dark. Why was (Y/n) getting a shower in the dark? She'd never done that before, not even when she had a horrid migraine.

"Baby, what're you doing?" Tommy could feel himself livening up by the second as his hand fumbled out for the cord to switch the light on.

The pastel cream light blinded him and had him squinting and groaning, taking at least five seconds to get his eyes adjusted to the light so he could actually see what his wife was doing.

Confusion and terror were the only things Tommy could feel when he looked towards the bath.

She was stood in the bath, her left side was slightly slumped against the wall and her hands were cupping the back of her neck. That wouldn't have been such a worrying sight for Tommy, if it wasn't for the fact that (Y/n) was still in her clothes.

She was wearing her thin white pyjama top and matching shorts. Both of which were sodden through and stuck to her body like a second skin. It allowed Tommy to see every outline, curve and ridge of her body and the sight was a mixture of enamouring and frightening.

He found the will to move and pushed forward, reaching out for her to see if she was crying or panicking or having some kind of emotional turmoil to be stood doing this. But when he looked up at her, Tommy almost didn't recognise her.

The vacant look in her constricted eyes was bewildering. Her lips were parted just a little, enough to let shallow breaths slide silently into the air, but she wasn't moving or reacting to him at all.

"Baby? Baby?!" His hands clamped down on her arms as he leaned over the edge of the tub but he hissed and twisted to the right.

The shower was lukewarm, verging on cold.

How long had she been stood here like that? She was going to make herself sick.

He kept his left hand tightly dug around (Y/n)'s arm while he scrambled to reach out and turn the shower off before (Y/n) went hypothermic.

Water trickled down Tommy's shoulder and arm and he could feel droplets tickling his cheek before he turned to look back at his wife. She was drenched from head to toe and she was cold, almost as cold as a block of ice.

Tommy let his hands pat up her arms until he was cupping her face, smoothing his thumbs forcefully against her cheeks to try and stimulate some kind of response before something suddenly dawned on him and his breathing came to a shallow stop.

She was sleepwalking. That was the only explanation Tommy could see, other than his wife having some sort of complete mental breakdown. She wasn't responding to him, she wasn't looking at him or registering his touch and he doubted that her eyes had changed to adjust to the light when he turned it on. She was completely mute of any response or reaction.

"Honey? Honey, come on…" He let go of her face to try and worm his arms around her middle instead.

They couldn't stand here like this, he had to get her out of these clothes and dry her off and change her before she got sick. He had to get her to wake up so she didn't try and do this again, but Tommy didn't want to wake her. He had no idea how to do that or how to wake her safely without doing some sort of damage.

With his arms around her waist and his face dangerously close to her sodden chest, Tommy was seconds away from lifting her up when he suddenly felt her hands force down on his shoulders. She gripped him so suddenly and tightly that her nails scratched into his bare shoulders, feeling like razor sharp teeth biting at his skin.

He yelped, the sound verging on a scream that he wasn't proud of and his head snapped up so fast that his neck twinged and felt like he had pulled a muscle.

(Y/n)'s scream was worse.

Her body came alive in his arms just like he had wished for a few seconds ago. Her arms trembled, her body broke out into horrid shakes and her knees started to cave in and she slumped back against the wall.

A rabid look took over her eyes as her pupils finally started to dilate and expand and her jaw dropped as horrid, shallow gasps clawed past her throat. Tommy could feel her chest heaving and pushing out into his chin and when her knees buckled, she let herself lean into him when she realised it was only him. It was her husband holding onto her.

"T-T- Tommy…" Every part of (Y/n) that could shake, did so in horrid spasms.

She could feel her blood pumping so harshly her arteries must be close to bursting. Her neck was throbbing from the blood rushing so fast through her body and her skin came alive, beating out the uneven rhythm her heart was setting. And her heart, oh how it banged and throbbed and thundered against her ribs like it was trying to break free from its confinement.

Tommy's hair felt soft and ticklish and itchy at the same time when he tilted his head forward and buried his face into her chest. Her sodden frame made him stick to her like glue and his body became damp when he pulled her into him and carefully lifted her up from her feet.

He hoisted her out of the tub and twisted to the left until he could lower himself down to his knees on the bath mat, easing (Y/n) down with him until they were both kneeling on the floor.

"Are you okay? Honey, are you alright?" His hands went back to cupping her face and he tilted her head back so she was looking up at him.

She had never seen so much panic in his eyes and his chest was heaving against hers like he had run a marathon.

"What… why were we i-in the shower? What time is it?" Ragged breaths slipped through each word causing her to stutter and taking the volume out of her voice.

Why were they in the bathroom? Why had they- or at least she, been in the shower? What time was it, the window was cast in darkness outside and (Y/n) felt like she hadn't even gone to sleep. She didn't remember falling asleep. She remembered lying in bed, curled up on Tommy's chest, wishing his heart would act as a metronome to send her off to sleep.

She didn't remember waking up or coming into the bathroom, or leaving the bedroom at all.

"I think you were sleepwalking. Honey, you were in the shower in the dark." Tommy pressed their foreheads together, feeling all the water trickle from (Y/n)'s forehead onto his own and each droplet that jumped free from her nose fell onto his lips instead.

"I don't… don't remember…"

She felt Tommy's thumb smooth across her lips, pulling at her lower lip like he was trying to take the words from her mouth or try to soothe and calm her down. It didn't work until he closed the distance between them and kissed her. The feeling of her frozen lips against his flushed ones made Tommy gasp into her mouth and he hated how cold she felt in his arms.

He swiped his tongue across her lips, begging for access as he hoped his body heat and his touch would help to thaw her out and calm her down at the same time.

He felt her hands move to clutch at his wrists as if she was making sure he was here and that this wasn't some kind of awful nightmare.

When tears began to trickle down her face and he felt her body quivering as she started to cry against his mouth, he shuddered. He pulled back, nudging their noses together before he dared to open his eyes and slowly peel his hands from her sodden face.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay." His lips were on hers again, sealing his words with a promise before he moved his hands down her arms until he had hold of her hips. "Let's get these off you and get you dry."

(Y/n) nodded, but she couldn't find the ability to move at all. She could only go limp and let Tommy slip his fingers beneath her shirt, peeling it off her body like he was taking off a layer of skin she was shedding like a reptile. He slowly removed the sodden shirt and tossed it into the bath to be sorted out in the morning.

His hands found her hips but his own legs were trembling when he eased them both up and dragged her shorts and underwear down her thighs so she could step out of them.

Her body jumped and quivered when Tommy wrapped a towel around her and a quiet whimper fell past her lips before she pushed forward and burrowed into his chest.

He curved his arm around her waist and moved his other hand to cup the back of her neck, kissing her sodden hair to try and calm her down.

"It's okay."

His cheek rested on top of (Y/n)'s sodden hair and his hand continued to glide up and down her back, trying his best to calm them both down. But their breaths were running away without them and their chests were bashing into one another with how ragged and deep they were inhaling.

He knew one thing for certain; he wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight.

***

The steaming cup of coffee in her hands made (Y/n)'s fingers start to tingle and she brought the mug to her lips, allowing the steam to swirl around her tired eyes and stop the burning sensation behind them. She didn't care about burning the roof of her mouth when she took a large gulp, barely tasting the difference in the coffee that was decaf for a change.

Her eyes didn't want to stay open. She thought about switching for a cup of caffeinated coffee to try and keep herself alert and awake, it was only three in the afternoon after all. But she couldn't take the risk that a caffeinated cup might keep her awake tonight.

(Y/n) needed to sleep tonight.

She had to sleep. Four nights in a row she had barely gotten more than four hours of sleep and even that had been fractured and split up by her mind waking up at random hours. She needed to try and get a good night's sleep or she wouldn't be fit for work tomorrow.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Athena's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she tried to force a smile on her face, but it felt like too much effort. She downed half the coffee in her cup, relishing in the way it burned the back of her throat and fizzled in her veins, fighting to kep her alert when all she wanted to do was collapse.

Her hands stayed curled around her cup that she was nursing close to her chest and she leaned her elbows further on the table, slouching forward in her seat.

She could see her dad out the corner of her eye. He was stood in the kitchen, finishing up some vegetables for tea. It was supposed to be a family dinner tonight, but Tommy was on call and had been dragged to the 217 station to help out. That put them down to (Y/n), May and Athena and Bobby.

"Just tired." She managed a smile but it wasn't convincing and (Y/n) noticed her dad pause so he could look across at her.

He knew she had been having trouble sleeping, she had to tell him so Bobby could change her rota so she was working days instead of nights.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

She tried to keep her smile from fading and put on a calm, brave face, the last thing she wanted to do was worry her parents. But the worry was already swirling around in her dad's eyes, and when she looked at Athena, she could see the concentration on her face. She was studying her, looking for signs of illness or feeling unwell.

"I don't know why, I just can't stay asleep… I… I've never gone sleepwalking before, have I?"

Her question was aimed at her dad more than Athena because although she thought of and referred to Athena as her mum, by the time she and Bobby got together, (Y/n) had already moved out. She couldn't remember any part of her childhood or teenage years where she had gone sleepwalking in the night.

What happened last week had been the first time (Y/n) had ever done something like that, at least to her knowledge.

She could see the worry flashing across her dad's face and he set down the knife in his hand, whipped the teatowel from his shoulder and walked closer to the table. He stood behind Athena's chair, his hand on her shoulder and his other hand on his hip as he crossed one leg over the other.

"No, you never did anything like that as a kid, why? What's going on, sweetheart?"

(Y/n) dropped her eyes to her cup that was half empty and rarely letting off any steam anymore. She didn't want to worry them, but she didn't know what to do.

"Tommy… he found me in the shower the other night, in the dark, fully dressed. I didn't- I don't remember doing it."

She still couldn't comprehend what she had done. Getting a shower in the middle of the night was never something (Y/n) had done, unless it was at the station after a rough, grimey call-out. She didn't take showers late into the evening, she and Tommy had a routine of showering in the morning and half the time he climbed in the shower with her.

Never before had (Y/n) wandered into the shower that late at night, especially not in the dark without the light on and with the water that cold. And she had never gotten in there fully dressed- or partially dressed, since she had been in her night wear. It wasn't normal.

She had never had an episode of sleep walking. And now (Y/n) was frightened that it was going to happen again. She dreaded going to sleep and wondering if she was going to wake up in the shower or in the living room and she was petrified at the thought of waking up in the kitchen.

What if she tried to cook? What if she chopped something up and cut herself? Would she wake up if she hurt herself, or would her mind still be shut down and asleep? Maybe she wouldn't feel pain if she hurt herself while she was sleeping, (Y/n) had no idea and it frightened the life out of her.

Athena turned to look over her shoulder before she tried to smile and looked back across at (Y/n). She reached her hand out and curled her fingers softly around (Y/n)'s wrist, giving her a squeeze and a calm smile.

"Maybe you should speak to the doctor. Some people sleepwalk when they're stressed."

"I got an appointment for next week, I don't think I'm stressed though, no more than usual. Just, so tired."

She couldn't think of anything that was stressing her out. Her job was demanding and stressful, but (Y/n) was used to that and the stress didn't usually follow her home. If something happened on shift, Bobby usually made them all talk to the department therapist and get cleared for their next shift. (Y/n) was just tired because she wasn't sleeping, but she didn't know why she wasn't sleeping.

"Do you want some time off?" Bobby gave her shoulder a squeeze before he leaned behind him to grab his coffee.

"No, no I need to be at work." Taking time off would put (Y/n) at a loose end. Work made her tired and sometimes it helped her get to sleep quicker or get an extra hour of sleep, especially if she was exhausted.

Time off would only disrupt her body even more and she didn't want to be home relaxing and not sleeping. Doing nothing wouldn't make her more tired and she needed to be tired so she could try and exhaust herself into sleeping.

"Okay, well let's see what the doctor suggests, maybe they can give you something to take."

God knows Bobby had taken his fair share of medications in the past. He had meds when he had a back injury almost a decade ago. He had meds when he was off work and he couldn't get to sleep. He got hooked to painkillers and booze and then went cold turkey after the apartment fire. Since moving here he had been on a prescription for sleep meds, but that had been controlled, given his past. And it had helped and now Bobby didn't need them anymore.

Maybe (Y/n) could do with something to help turn her brain off and let her body recuperate and relax. Even if it was only temporary, she might just need that extra bit of help.

Bobby went back around the kitchen island and finished preparing the vegetables for tea, but he kept glancing back at the girls sitting at the table. Now he was worried. He didn't think it had been as bad as this and he hated the thought of (Y/n) struggling and him not being able to do anything for his daughter.

"Well, what about if we- honey? You okay?" An air of caution surrounded Athena's words and she set down her cup of tea, a frown forming on her lips when she looked across at (Y/n).

She gave (Y/n)'s wrist a delicate squeeze to try and gain her attention, but she found herself frowning deeper when (Y/n) didn't respond.

A few seconds ago, (Y/n) had put her cup down and had been dragging her hand slowly and methodically through her hair. But now, her body was leaning to the right and her head was tilted at an angle.

She looked frozen.

"Bobby…"

He set down the knife yet again and walked back over to the table, narrowing his eyes on his daughter. Her pupils were constricted and her lips were slightly parted like she was about to whistle, but she wasn't talking or moving or doing anything at all.

"Is she- is she sleeping?" Athena gently let go of (Y/n)'s wrist and sat up straight in her chair.

She had heard of this, but she had never seen it before. Micro-sleeps. Where someone could fall asleep, or at least, their mind would partially shut them down into a state of REM sleep, while they were still up and previously moving about. (Y/n)'s eyes were still open but her body was locked in place and she was taking soft breaths like she had indeed gone to sleep.

This was a way for the brain to catch a small ounce of rest, taking whatever form of sleep it could get when it was desperate. Was (Y/n) in such a critical need for sleep that her body was taking micro-naps? Had she done this before?

"(Y/n)? Sweetheart," Bobby warily rested a hand on her shoulder and crouched down in front of her just as she started to blink furiously.

Her head snapped back and her hand dropped from the back of her neck as she jolted backwards in her seat. Her pupils started to dilate and expand and her breaths turned fast and rapid as if she had just finished running a marathon.

"What- what were you saying?" (Y/n) looked down to her dad's hand on her shoulder before she looked between both parents, wondering why they were suddenly looking at her with such confusion and concern. And how her dad had suddenly moved from the kitchen to stand beside her so quickly.

This could be worse than they thought, and Bobby could feel a slither of panic crawling up his chest and gripping his lungs.

***

Tommy's eyes fluttered open and his body jolted forward with a start. His arm flopped across the bed with a thud and he groggily lifted his head up off the pillow, taking a second to look around.

Why was he awake? What time was it? What was happening?

Those three questions swirled around Tommy's head in a flurry while he tried to wake up and take in his surroundings.

The answer to the first question came easily. He was alone in bed, that was why he was awake. He had turned over towards (Y/n)'s side of the bed, but she wasn't there, and Tommy didn't sleep well without her.

The answer to the second question was 1:56am, the red letters on the digital clock flashed out at Tommy like a horrible beacon.

And the answer to the third question was one Tommy wasn't sure he wanted to find out because a horrid thought dwelled in the back of his head. If it was this late into the night- or early into the morning- then that meant either (Y/n) couldn't sleep and was trying to occupy herself. Or she was sleepwalking.

Panic flooded Tommy's system along with adrenaline and he felt his heart fluttering against his ribs as his hands planted down on the mattress and he pushed himself up from the bed. He hopped off and hurried out the room, suddenly wide awake as if he was on shift, ready to tackle a fire or fly a plane into a hurricane.

"Baby?" His voice rang out through the air as he flicked the hallway light on and made a beeline for the bathroom. That was where he found her last time.

Tommy had no idea what to expect if this was happening again. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to try and look after her and help her if he wasn't meant to wake her? What if she did something dangerous? They hadn't even been to the doctors yet, their appointment was in two days and Tommy had been praying that nothing like this would happen until they had talked to a doctor and got some advice.

He hurriedly pulled the cord to switch the bathroom light on and stepped inside, but Tommy was both pleasantly and horrifyingly surprised to find the bathroom empty.

Switching the light off again, he turned round and hazardly peeked into the spare room which was a study. Just to be sure. No, (Y/n) wasn't in there either.

Maybe she wasn't sleepwalking, maybe she had gone downstairs to watch tv if she couldn't get to sleep. She hadn't done that before but Tommy wouldn't put it past her because they were both light sleepers and turning the tv on in the bedroom would have woken Tommy up.

He swung around the bannister and slowly headed down the stairs, flicking the landing light on when he got down.

He would of turned right and gone to look in the living room, but Tommy stopped dead in his tracks when something caught his eye.

The front door.

It was open.

"Honey, what're you doing?" His voice came out deeper than he intended and he padded barefoot across the wooden floor towards the front door.

What was she doing heading outside at two in the morning? Tommy didn't like the sound of that. In their line of work, they knew what kind of people hung out in seedy corners and the people that walked the streets this late at night. And Tommy knew that just before they got married they'd had a break-in at their last house, that made (Y/n) nervous. She didn't like going out the house after dark, not for anything. So what was she doing?

He pushed the door open and took a few cautious steps out, feeling the soles of his feet tingling and sparking with ignited nerves when they hit the frozen stone step. Maybe a pair of shoes might have been sensible, but Tommy was too nervous to think about wasting anymore time and he was suddenly glad he'd gone to sleep in sleep shorts.

The last thing any of the neighbours needed to see or witness on their cameras was Tommy heading out into the street in his boxers, looking like a madman.

He didn't have to look far. He twisted his head from left to right, watching the surroundings, dimly illuminated by the pale street lights.

His eyes immediately found his wife. Stood barefoot on the damp grass in front of the living room window.

"Jesus, baby, what's the matter? What're you doing out here?"

Tommy internally cringed as he stood on the grass that sank down beneath his feet like he was walking on sand after the waves had rolled out. He didn't think it had been raining that much earlier.

His hands found (Y/n)'s arms and he leaned around to look at her, taking in her state.

Her hair was falling out of a loose bun, loose tendrils hanging around her face. She was wearing one of Tommy's shirts that hung around her thighs and covered the pyjama shorts he knew she went to bed in. Tommy didn't like either of them stood out here, partially exposed for all the neighbours to gawp at while the midnight air chilled their bones.

"Oh Christ." Tommy's shoulders dropped and he pressed his temple against the side of her head, closing his eyes as he willed himself not to start shaking or even crying.

She was sleepwalking.

Why had she gone downstairs and unlocked the front door? Why had she come out here in the middle of the night? What did her brain think she was doing? Why was she doing this, what was going through her head to make her mind do this?

He had to get her inside somehow. Tommy couldn't let her stand out here for all the neighbourhood to see. She looked like she was frightened or waiting for the police or for a riot to start. She looked panicked. The neighbours might think Tommy was threatening her or doing something horrid for her to be out here on the front like this, so early in the morning.

He was going to have to take her inside even though she was in his sleepwalking state. He had to get her back in the privacy of their home where he could work out what to do next. He might have to make a call to Bobby and ask for some advice.

Did other people who went sleepwalking normally venture outside? Tommy had heard of people driving while they were still technically asleep. He was sure he remembered Bobby mentioning something like that had happened at the station once.

Maybe he should call Hen in the morning, see if she could give any advice. After all, she had been the one to go to medical school and try out to be a doctor at one point, she might know something helpful or have some advice.

"Baby, let's head back inside, come on. It's cold." He murmured the last part against her neck, giving her arms a light squeeze while he rubbed his fingers up and down her arms. He could feel the goosebumps rising on her skin and the trembles starting to rattle through her. She was cold and it made Tommy fret how long she had been stood out here.

What would of happened if Tommy hadn't woken up when he did? Would (Y/n) have gone wandering, or would she just stand here until she either woke up or collapsed back into a deep sleep? Would anyone be out at this time of night? Could someone have seen and tried to hurt her or drag her away?

The possibilities were endless and too frightening for Tommy to try and comprehend. He was just relieved he had come downstairs when he did before anything else happened.

He merged his tense, shivering chest into (Y/n)'s back, curling around her like a coat and kept his hands on her upper arms. He tried to be slow and gentle when he twisted (Y/n) to the left. Despite being stood in the middle of the garden, she was surprisingly easy to move.

He kissed the back of her head, muttering "Inside," again while he slowly nudged her until she started walking. Her legs were slow and she fumbled over her feet but Tommy shifted his hands to her hips to keep hold of her and keep her steady. He nudged her forwards, shivering when they crossed from the grass back to the stone path and headed inside.

Once they were inside, Tommy looped his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist, keeping her pressed into his bare chest so she didn't start wandering. He turned and hastily locked the door, clicking the chain across although it wouldn't do them much good. If (Y/n) had managed to unlock the door in her sleep, the chain wouldn't do her much good.

He wasn't sure what to do now.

Was he supposed to guide (Y/n) upstairs and try to get her back into bed? Did he sit her down in the living room and wait for her to wake up? Did he try and call someone?

Tommy wasn't sure this classed as an emergency, the only person he could actually call would be Bobby. This wasn't a health issue that she could be taken to the emergency room for, this was why they had a doctor's appointment booked.

She screamed.

A gasp retaliated from Tommy's lips and both arms deadlocked around (Y/n)'s waist as his chest shuddered and he stumbled back into the door when her knees gave way.

Her hands scratched at his arms, trying to grab him to steady them both and her head flopped back on his shoulder as her weight fell into his chest. Shakes tore through them both as (Y/n) gasped, trying to breathe but her chest felt like it was tightening up, not allowing her to calm down at all.

Strangled sounds parted her lips, even when she felt Tommy kissing the side of her head and rubbing his hand up and down her stomach to try and calm her down.

Tears welled up in her burning eyes and she snapped them closed, gripping Tommy like he was her lifeline. Her head twisted to the side and she smothered her face in his neck, feeling the way he was breathing harsh and fast against her temple like he had been shocked.

"Wh- where… why?"

(Y/n) couldn't stop the way she trembled back and forth and how it caused her to slam and push her husband back into the door.

It took her a few seconds longer than it should have to realise that they were downstairs. They were in their home. Why was she facing the stairs? What were they doing near the front door? Oh God, what had she been doing?

The last thing (Y/n) remembered was lying on Tommy's chest upstairs in bed. She remembered him falling asleep early, he had been out on call. She remembered listening to his heartbeat and his breathing, lulling her to calm down when the minutes ticked by and she couldn't settle to sleep.

How long had she been asleep before she started wandering again? Where had she wandered? What had she been doing?

"Baby…?" She tried to open her eyes, but it was too hard to look up at Tommy when she could feel the panic fluttering through her voice. She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

"Honey, you- you wandered outside. You unlocked the door and everything, I- I found you on the lawn."

A broken cry tore past (Y/n)'s lips as her hands clutched at Tommy's arm and she slid down. She felt his arms bind tightly around her torso, pinning her against him until the weight was almost painful. Tommy held her tighter and slid down with her until the pair of them were sat on the floor.

He spread his thighs, parting his knees to the sides so (Y/n) could sit between them and tilt back into his chest. His right arm stayed around her waist while he moved his left hand to cradle the side of her face. He could feel her nose brushing against his jaw and her tears soaked into his cheek and ran down his face as she mewled and gasped into his neck.

"S'okay honey, I've got you." His lips meshed against her temple and he realised he was swaying them from left to right, his shoulders bumping the door every now and then.

What could he do? Would it be an idea to lock the bedroom door? But if Tommy did that, he would have to hide the key so (Y/n) didn't see where he kept it or else she would open the bedroom door and they would be back to square one.

But Tommy couldn't lock them in the bedroom every night, that wasn't going to be an ideal long-lasting situation.

And Tommy worked nights, his rota was a mixture of days and nights because he did long twelve and twenty four hour shifts. He might have to ask his Captain if he could be put on days for the time being, so he could be home with (Y/n) during the nights to keep an eye on her.

He was going to have to be more vigil at night, make sure if (Y/n) slipped from under his arm that he noticed and woke up and checked what she was doing.

"Tommy,"

"I've got you honey, shh. It's okay."

He would do something. He would do anything. Tommy would do whatever he could to look after (Y/n) and try to stop this from getting any worse. But he wasn't sure what he could do.

#911 imagine #imagine #tommy x reader #tommy kinard #tommy kinard imagine #tommy kinard x reader #tommy kinard 911 #bobby nash

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me?

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry, 'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall, at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper.

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay? It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again. I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

***************************************************

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night.

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him.

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

******************************************

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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hellishjoel · 10 months

Text

slow shift

7k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Next Chapter

series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, talking about w33d, alcohol consumption (not by reader or frankie, but discussions of alcohol), oral (f! receiving), discussions of periods and Plan B, frankie having a fat d!ick, slightly public sex, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), you know how I roll

A/N: welcome to the first part in my linecook!frankie series! It's all just going to be chaos!! enjoy dirty dishes, cussing, and decent food made by the hot linecooks. I’ll have a title as soon as I stop putting it off <3 enjoy! let me know what you think! also how LIT is the banner

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle. You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Welcome to hell.

A makeshift building somehow still holding up four walls that housed a small restaurant inside.

This wasn’t some secret treasure that belonged on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives or a hidden hole-in-the-wall five-star Michelin Restaurant. This was Tommy’s Diner.

The locals had different names for the run-down dump you called your place of employment: the Hometown Heartburn Hut (true), American Pie ( ha-ha funny), the Rusty Spoon (some guy OD’s behind the place one time, and no one ever forgets), or Tumbleweed, your pothead coworkers liked to call it. It was a tumbleweed because the restaurant was barren, emphasis on the weed to accommodate the faded line cooks that lurked in the back of the restaurant.

Don’t let today’s slow shift fool you; there were times when Tumbleweed was cram-packed. Friday night football games were busy with tailgaters, bustling with teens after a championship game. Other times, it was when a Greyhound bus or a similar cross-country vehicle drove through and took a stop for the passengers.

The most popular time of year was in the summer. Tommy’s Diner hosted Saturday night Cruise Nights. The town would flood with classic cars and hot rods, and the diner would transform into a drive-in. Their engines revved through different cities from far and wide to be at Tommy’s. That’s when the place felt the most alive, bustling with people and their laughter, little kids running with their milkshakes and flipping quarters into the rigged claw machine.

But it wasn’t a Saturday in August. It was a Monday. You were stuck with the misfit motley crew that did everything from dishwashing, cooking, bussing, running the register, being half-ass managers, and, of course, the token pretty waitress. You.

You will admit that each character working at Tumbleweed had a unique story etched into their grubby hands or baggy-eyed faces. They’ve weathered years of late-night shifts and condiment, grease-stained aprons.

Tonight there was Lou, the jaded by heartbreak teenage busboy. He walked with a shuffle, always sniffling about an ex-girlfriend. He worked slow and god damn, did that piss you off.

Then there was Tina, the aspiring singer stuck in a small-town type. She was newer, still learning how things worked since she had never waited tables a day in her life. She had that fresh twinkle of stardom in her eye despite being in her late 30’s. You were training her and trying not to let her drive you up the wall whenever she started singing different songs on the jukebox. Note to self: Put a sticky note saying it’s busted every time you work together.

Paul was the do-it-all guy. Toilet clogged? Get Paul. Dishes piling up? Ask Paul to do it. The cashier on a bathroom break? Paul can run the till. He was useful, just complained and grumbled a lot.

Tommy of Tommy’s Diner hasn’t worked a day in years. He’s older, so it’s understandable. Last thing you heard was he was down in Florida, living out retirement in a cheap home with a gambling addiction. Sounded like he was doing well for himself. But now his idiot son Rudy ran the place. Tommy’s picture was still on dusty display, toothy smile and all at the front door that people huddled in and out of—speaking of.

Your head lifted to attention as the bell above the door chimed, sighing in annoyance as you leaned back onto the counter. It was just Frankie.

“It’s fifteen after. You were supposed to be here on time today because we have to set up for Carla’s thing.”

Frankie breezed past you, aviators and stupid ballcap on, his smile lifted in a sneer. He was smacking on pink bubble gum as he neared your part of the counter and purposely shuffled past you with his hips against yours in an attempt to get into the kitchen. You couldn’t help but lean into him with a little smirk.

“Tommy said it was fine I was late.” He joked once he ducked into the back, your arms crossed as you followed him aimlessly.

You sigh and lean back against the locker next to his, watching him shuffle off his jacket.

“You disappoint me, Frankie.” Your face held a teasing pout.

“Never meet your heroes, baby.” That stupid fucking cocky smirk painted his face.

You opted to roll your eyes and look away as a defense tactic against Frankie’s flirty moves. Frankie calling you baby made your guts twist.

He was an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but you two were hired the same summer a few years back and were the only ones who stayed once summer had run its course. You supposed it was bonded trauma after that.

New workers had come and gone, but you and Frankie were still at Tommy’s, still working crappy shifts on crappy hourly pay. Despite Frankie being a douchebag, he made the place bearable. He was comfortable. You knew each other.

“Can you just meet me on the floor like you were supposed to fifteen minutes ago and help with the banner? Carla’s going to be here at five, and you still have to make her special-”

“Jesus fuckin’- yes, I’ll be out in a few.” Frankie playfully groaned, shoving the brim of his hat into his mouth to hold it, his hands busy as he tied a tattered red bandana around his forehead before he replaced the cap back on. Okay… hot.

He took a deep breath once he finished, and leaned against the locker beside you, arms crossed, mimicking you as your shoulder brushed his bicep. You looked up at him, so many inches taller than you, as he looked down. Maybe too far down. He started at your eyes, but those eyes of his tended to wander right down to the cut of your shirt.

“Ugh- Frankie!” You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, readjusting your top as he playfully threw his hands up on the defense.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous today, by the way!” He shouted as you exited the locker room, smiling and shaking your head with your back to him and throwing up your middle finger before the door swung closed with your exit.

---

You stood on the top of a dining table in your sneakers, attempting to hang a shitty banner you had painted for Carla’s birthday. You glanced down at the table and made a little face about the scuff you put in it. Oops. You can try and scrub it later.

There was no other person you or Frankie would do this stuff for. But it was Carla’s birthday and she was a diamond in the rough at this dump.

Carla's position at Tumbleweed is a mixture of human resources, accounting, decent management, and a mother figure to not just you but the entire staff. Besides Carla, we could all care less about everyone else's birthday. You were burning this ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner as soon as the clock struck midnight.

You let out an exhausted huff as you attempted to tack the final hanging string into the wall, but it was just out of reach. That’s when you heard the smacking of his stupid pink bubble gum. You didn’t even have to look.

“Are you gonna help me or not, Morales?” Your voice seethed in annoyance, not only to Frankie but also cursing your short legs and your just not long enough arms.

He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the differential space between you and took the tack and string into his meaty fingers.

You glanced down, watching his teeth capture his lower lip in concentration, checking to see if it was straight. Pushing the pin in, he backed up to where you stood on the dining table and crossed his arms in observance.

It was incredibly crooked. But it was the thought that counts, right?

“Good enough for me. You?” You glanced down at Frankie, and he was biting back a smile.

“What?” You pushed, narrowing your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Distracted by something else. “D’you paint this?” The warmth of his hand slowly crept onto the back of your calf, your chest tightening as he slowly skated it higher with no interference from you.

You gently nod, avoiding his eye contact as you look at the sign. Now, his hand was on the back of your thigh, and you had to take a breath. A mhm was all you could muster up.

His fingers delicately skimmed the skirt of your uniform, knuckles brushing against your backside. You used to hate these 50’s style waitress uniforms, but now they didn’t seem so damn bad because Frankie’s movements were making you lightheaded. Snap out of it!

“Need help down?” Frankie asked, hand at the ready on your hip.

You shook your head despite using his assistance anyway. You squatted on the table, black lace panties peeking out as you used Frankie’s broad shoulders as leverage. You put one foot down onto the linoleum and then the other, wiping your hands cleanly down your uniform as you both returned to look at the lopsided sign.

You hoped it was enough. You hoped she appreciated it, especially all that she’s done for you over the years. Covering your shifts, leveling out the register when you accidentally gave someone the wrong change, tucking extra tips into your apron when she knew your rent was coming up. Everyone needed a Carla, not everyone was lucky to have one.

“She’s gonna love it,” Frankie seemed to sense your nerves as he lifted his cap to bring some air to his sweaty dark curls before putting it back into place. “I’ll start workin’ on her special. Mushroom Swiss patty melt?” He said before disappearing into the kitchen again, only leaving once you gave him your little nod of assurance. You liked that he remembered.

---

“Happy birthday, Carla!” Uncoordinated voices cheered as Carla entered Tumbleweed right on time for her shift.

Her face lit up, and she looked beautiful. She packed a little extra blush and eyeshadow to commemorate the special occasion.

“Oh, shit- oh my- You guys! Thank you!” Carla made special eye contact with you, knowing you were the only one caring enough to orchestrate this shindig.

Carla has this soulful charm about her. Raised in Louisiana, she loved to cook family recipes and bring the leftovers to work for you and Frankie to fight over. You remember she had three kids at home, so she had this curvy mom's body that put a proud sway in her walk. A playful and confident woman at heart, she was all the regular’s favorite to see. And she knew everyone. And she knew everything. She put Tommy’s back in business during the slower seasons. People would come to see her face on Sunday mornings over their coffee and runny eggs.

“Oh, baby, thank you.” She cooed as she cupped your cheek and squeezed, making your face tick. “This the red velvet?” Her voice hummed as she observed the cake in your hands, pushing her finger lightly into the frosting to taste it.

You had pulled one of the cakes from the display case and shitily piped it with chocolate sauce ‘HBD!’.

“Of course, your favorite... Right?” You pursed your lips and snuck a nervous glance at Frankie before you set the cake down on the countertop.

Carla looked beyond touched for something you’d consider a bit lackluster. “It’s my favorite ‘cause you made it. Thank you, baby.”

You glanced around for the cake cutter, watching as Tina pushed a quarter into the jukebox and got the party started. Everyone was doing shitty dance moves, even the one or two customers that had filtered in for a cheap dinner.

You sighed as you looked behind the counter for the cake cutter, grabbing the cake and its stand to haul it to the back.

You thrust your shoulder blades into the swinging door, setting the cake stand on the counter as you started sifting through the different drawers to find the serving knife.

Half a carton filled with cigarettes; Frankie’s. Matches from an old jazzy gentleman’s club; Rudy’s. Hair ties; yours. Where’s the fuckin’ cake cutter?!

The music from the jukebox was more faded in the kitchen. The serving window, professionally called the pass, was just big enough to see faces and hand plates through from the kitchen to the front.

You made a face when you found the cake server inside a large pot-- how, no, why? Jesus Christ. Fucking idiots.

The swinging door to the kitchen wooshed in before slowly creaking closed, seeing Frankie coming to stand beside you in your peripheral.

You carefully plunged the slicer into the soft sponge of the cake, carving a piece for Carla and setting it on a plate. You reached forward across the counter for another small plate, the short skirt of your uniform revealing the curve of your ass to an overly curious Frankie. You could feel his heat burning through his chest.

“Could you be less obvious?” Your voice held teasing notes, putting another piece of cake on a plate and pushing them away to make space for more.

He had tried this a handful of times with you, and he had yet to be successful besides that one time when you both drunkenly made out at the last December holiday party. You were pretty sure he had been hung up on you ever since. You enjoyed watching him try.

Your eyes flitted over to his, observing his body and facial features.

He looked gross, honestly. The two meals he cooked including Carla’s special before she came in for her shift made his face and neck sweaty and his hands greasy, his apron to match. It was white at one time, a long, long time ago. His stupid red bandana was still tied around his forehead, catching the spare sweat droplets, as the kitchen became unbearably hot in the middle of August.

You probably didn’t look much better. Hair all over the place with makeup you put on in the morning probably half smudged off by now. Your hands were checkered in pen ink, a spare papercut from snagging a receipt from the register. But still decent. He was still decent.

His hand was back in dangerous territory, lingering low on your waist. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. You could feel warmth flooding your body, heat from the heart of his hand burning into your hip. He was admiring your body, slow and appreciative as he cupped the curve of your ass. And then he squeezed.

Your shaky hands barely got the fourth slice you cut onto a small serving plate. The cake cutter clattered onto the metal counter as Frankie shifted his body behind yours, his watchful eyes on the pass. No one was watching, stupid and oblivious. You swallowed a lump down your throat, your small hands clenching the rim of the counter. His hips were flushed against yours. Worst of all was that you really fucking liked it.

“This okay?” You’re flattered he asked after the fact.

You leaned back into his touch, quietly humming on the brink of a little moan. You were a little desperate for touch, maybe you’d be on your period soon. “Mhmm..”.

Frankie was a douchebag, but you two have been flirting back and forth with one another for years like an ongoing tennis match. He was older, he had years on you. Not an obscenely amount, but enough to make people raise an eyebrow. You were surprised he had the balls to actually make a move on you like he was right now.

“Like you in black.” Frankie’s voice was cut down to a murmur, low and all-enveloping. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the black in your waitress uniform or your black panties. Probably the latter.

His fingers brushed past your goosebump-covered ass and slipped between your legs to your clothed pussy. You softly gasped, eyes shifting closed as your hips involuntarily leaned into Frankie’s touch. You didn’t look subtle at all. You looked like you wanted to be touched, manhandled, kissed, fucked…

“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He purred, your chest already heaving. “Act normal.” You forced your eyes open, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. Needy pupils connected with his blown-out ones. The back of your head brushed his shoulder, setting it there for just a moment before he looked straight ahead.

Frankie nodded back to the pass, your eyes following his eye line to everyone distractedly dancing and sipping coffee mixed with bourbon on the floor.

You bit down on your lower lip, knuckles cast over in a milky white with the iron grip you held on the metal rim of the counter. Frankie’s body heat had disappeared from your back, and now you felt it cast against the back of your legs. You glanced around, seeing him on his knees behind you with his mouth now latched to the back of your thighs. Oh, fuck. His kisses sponged up higher, towards your heat.

Your eyelashes fluttered, Frankie’s act normal echoing through your hollow head. With distracted hands, you resumed cutting the cake. You probably looked slow and stupid, but feeling his patchy beard hair nestle between the sweet skin of your inner thighs had you in a haze.

Frankie’s big hands reached under your skirt, lining the black panties that sat snugly on your hips with his forefingers. He slowly peeled them down, feeling the material roll as he stopped them to rest halfway down on your thighs.

Your shoulders shuddered as your warm pussy met the slight chill of the outside world, panties adorning a little soaked spot.

“Frankie,” Mm? “Someone’s gonna see.” But you weren’t stopping him. You weren’t telling him to fuck off. You weren’t kicking him right in the gut like you probably could. In fact, you were leaning into him.

“Such a pretty pussy... Can’t stop, baby.”

A helpless whimper left your lips, thighs shaking at his affectionate, warm kisses.

Frankie’s hand swatted at the inside of your right ankle and then the other, hinting for you to spread yourself for him. You pursed your lips and shakily sighed, parting your legs as your sneakers lightly squeaked on the checkered floor. Fuck me, Frankie.

You didn’t know how much longer you could be patient. The waiting was tantric, hypnotizing you into seduction.

Spread for him and dripping, Frankie’s mouth finally attached to your slit. Your knee lightly jerked up and smacked a bus tub filled with dirty dishes, a few eyes on you through the pass as you nervously laughed. “S-Sorry!”

Frankie couldn’t help but let out a warm puff of laughter against your cunt, and you swore your insides were twisting at the sensation.

“Easy pretty girl… Don’t need us gettin’ caught. You want me to stop?” Frankie’s voice was husky, warm palms spreading your thighs, your body lightly bending over to lean on the counter. You tried to look busy with something, stupidly polishing a random fork. With the extra exposure, he had full access to your sex.

“Does it look like I want you to stop?” You finally punched out through air-abducted lungs, anxiously chewing on the skin of your lip. “Frankie.” You said in a hushed warning tone, wanting more and not knowing how to ask nicely for it. But that’s what he liked about you. You weren’t nice.

His lips finally attached properly to your pussy, his devilish tongue lining the center of your cunt and flicking off your clit. Your head dropped, ears ringing at the sensation.

You wondered how good he would feel if he could take his time instead of giving you head quick while all your coworkers were distracted. Maybe he could run his thumb over the front of your panties, trace the seam of your pussy, and feel how soaked you were for him and his attentive fingers. You thought Frankie had always been so down bad for you. He probably dreamed about getting this opportunity. He finally got you when you were just as horny for someone with a pulse. But this wasn’t all the time in the world; this was a slow shift at Tommy’s.

You rut your hips back into Frankie’s face, hot pants fanning fog onto the cool metal of the counter.

Frankie put his mouth where you needed him most, his tongue dedicating a poem to you. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide, wet strip up through your core, taking in all your juices. His tongue lapped at your weeping hole, thighs shaking against his head as you stifled a moan into the counter.

He was good, manipulative, a fucking menace.

Frankie’s tongue made precision flicks against your bundle of nerves, a gasp a bit too loud leaving the kitchen as you whimpered broken fragments of his name.

You weakly looked up, seeing Tina pluck another quarter in the jukebox, cranking the volume to some seventies soul music. Fuck being quiet.

Concealed by the groove of Stevie Wonder singing We Can Work It Out, your moans were hidden by the shake of a tambourine and plucks to an electric guitar.

“Goddammit, Frankie, mmm, so fucking good,” a gasp and a moan followed suit, lazily smirking with your eyes closed. “So fucking… hot.” You murmured.

Frankie’s mouth was a welcome wonder, dedicated to making you cum. He was swirling his tongue around your clit, weakly flattening your front over the counter again and pressing your cheek against the cool metal. Don’t be a douche right now, Francisco Morales. Make me fuckin’ cum.

The kitchen door swiftly swung open, and your body flew up to stand straight as Carla waited in the doorway.

“What’s taking you so long to cut my cake, baby? I know that bitch is stale as hell, but that don’t mean I don’t want it.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in an attempt to speak, but Frankie’s movements didn’t cease despite Carla’s unexpected intrusion. You bit back a whimper as he lined his tongue just barely into the tight entrance of your walls, his greedy fingers piercing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you spread. Thank god the counter covered your waist down.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Carla looked you up and down, curious but ultimately not giving a damn. You could feel Frankie’s dirty smirk against your thighs.

“Alright... Hurry up. I’m tryna get my dessert.”

And with that, the door swished closed, and your back slumped at the relief.

Frankie’s unexpected voice made you jump lightly, his words echoing against you. “Gotta make ya finish fast, princess. Want my dessert, too.”

You whimpered but willed yourself to stand up straight and turn around to face him. He looked like a mess. Lust-filled black eyes and a cocky smirk to match. Your juices glistened on his lips and chin. Frankie would be incredibly hot if he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

“Taste as good as you look, princess.” Frankie stood up, tall and broad body making a white hot spot form in your stomach. Fuck, you couldn’t do this right now. Not right here.

He could tell. He took a few cautious steps away, you watched him carefully like a rattlesnake. He knew when not to push you and when to let you make the decisions. He also knew how to give you orders when you were too pussy fucked to think straight.

“Serve that cake and meet me out back.” He was looking over you, enjoying the few times you looked totally fucked like you did right now. He stepped back into your space and pulled your panties back into place, a sobby whimper leaving your lips as he gently cupped your aching mound with a smirk. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”

“Fuck off.” You mumbled, fixing the bottom half of your uniform.

You watch as Frankie grabs the beer bottle you all used as a makeshift door prop and his half-carton of cigarettes you had brought out of a drawer in an attempt to find the cake cutter. He disappears out back into the alley. Shit, the cake.

You hurriedly sliced the remainder of the cake, placing a few stray candles into the slices. You lit them once you greeted the group waiting on the floor, singing a shitty rendition of Happy Birthday. Paul lights his cigarette from one of the candles, puffing smoke across the frosting.

The crowd hastily grabbed one of the small plates and a fork. Most of you only tried a bite or two. The cake had been in the display case for far too long.

---

Anxious and impatient, you slip into the back with everyone’s dirty dishes and sneak back into the kitchen. You do nothing more with them than chuck them into the sink for Lou to wash up at some point or another. Your eyes stare at the beer bottle keeping the back kitchen door ajar. You take in a deep breath, leaving a shaky sigh before following Frankie out into the alley.

The air was warm, a welcome breeze passing over you. The alley was everyone’s hideaway, littered with crushed beer and soda cans, two large garbage dumpsters, and a large one for recycling. You could see the highway in the distance. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning purple and blue. You’d watch those cars drive right past your little town, paying no mind, probably off going to somewhere bigger and better. The only people from the highway who stopped to visit Tommy’s were people who didn’t know any better.

A flick of a lighter crackled, dividing your attention. Frankie was smoking his cigarette, his back leaning against the brick wall of the diner. He was trying not to smirk. Seeing you out here was way too much power for him. He took a drag, the end of his cigarette lighting up in a glowing orange haze before he pulled it from his mouth. The smoke he exhaled was taken by the breeze.

“Happy to see me?” His goading tone asked.

“No.” A challenge. A pause.

“So, you want me to go back inside?”

“No.” Another beat. A step closer to him, arms crossed. He’s smart enough to let his cigarette land on the ground.

“So, you want me to stay out here?”

Silence. Staring. Gauging each other’s reactions. Your tight jaw meets his cocky smirk. Too stubborn to ask meeting too stubborn to give without begging. Fuck.

Maybe it’s because you’re both desperate. Maybe because Frankie knows you. Knows you’re too stubborn to ask for him to fulfill your needs. Your inaction meets his unwillingness to waste another moment that he could be inside of you.

Stomping on his cigarette before closing the distance between you two, he envelopes you in a kiss that robs you of your breath. He tastes musky and bitter. The smoke that recently captured his lungs was hot on your lips.

Your heart was beating with excitement, happy to lose control for a moment as Frankie walked you blindly backward into the brick wall. Ouch.

Your tongues danced in a rhythmic motion, seducing you into letting him take the power as the kiss deepened. The flavor was subtle but distinct. The Marlboro’s held an acrid undertone, an unexpected layer of the kiss you sort of liked. If he tasted like spearmint gum, it might have turned you off.

It was like you were his cigarette now, breathing you in and clinging to you in addiction. It was his bad habit, but who were you to judge. You had a closet full of skeletons you weren’t open to anyone seeing. Maybe this was one of his.

His hands were a welcome guest, feeling his warm palms explore a body he had probably fantasized about.

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.

You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Frankie guided you further from the backdoor, hearing voices enter the kitchen. Probably Paul and Lou to start working on closing chores. He took you behind the dumpsters and hiked up your dress. You decided to be useful and push your panties down. He rounded up the material that was tying you up at your ankles and shoved them into his pocket. You were not letting him keep those.

You pushed his apron aside, fingers fussing over his belt buckle. He watched, amused, unwilling to help. He liked seeing you so desperate for his cock. Unbuttoned. Unzippered. Black boxer trim peaking out now. You made slight eye contact with him before you shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Your heart clenches at how girthy he was. Fuckkk, this was gonna feel good.

He didn’t take his apron off, merely shoved it to the side as it haphazardly swayed on his hip. He closed the distance between you again, a greedy kiss, a kiss to mark you with. You pulled away to spit into your hand, taking him by his base and squeezing.

Frankie’s eyes shuddered closed, his head dropping as you took his manhood in the small of your hand. He was.. more than a handful. He was so meaty, not even able to wrap your fist fully around him.

You purred out a little moan as you worked your hand over him, feeling him grow heavy in your hand as you lubed up his tip, slowly circling your thumb teasingly around the pulsing head.

“Enough.” He muttered. He didn’t like you toying with him.

Frankie hiked up your leg by the underside of your calf, hooking around his hip as you leaned your back against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t comfy, but when you fuck against a run-down diner, you don’t get many options.

Your chest shuddered as you felt his cock heavy against your folds, erect and brushing up against where you needed him most. He was running his hand up and down himself now. You watched as he put down another line of spit from his mouth to his cock before his knuckles shuffled up and down his shaft a few more times.

The sight made you reel your head back and stare up at the sky. As eager as you are, you’re worried about feeling how thick he is. He knows.

“M’gonna go real slow.” He punches out, setting his forehead down against yours, and you shakily nod. Please don’t fucking split me in two, Frankie Morales. You still have a shift to finish, after all. You’re thankful he at least acknowledges his girth. It’s sort of the elephant in the room.

You both look down at your centers, your dripping one and his angry, pink head meeting in unison. It’s sort of fucked up the way that you’re two horrible people. But you knew horrible people always seemed to find each other.

You wet your lips and bite down. Hard. You weren’t a fresh spring virgin, but this wasn’t any other half-decent dick.

You lay your head back against the wall as Frankie guides himself into your welcoming entrance. Your wetness lubes him up well, but he’s still large.

You clench your eyes close and smile. The pain is always pleasure. “Fuck,” you mutter, your head wanting to come back down and watch.

Frankie’s being gentle, an odd word you’d never describe him as. He’s grunting and impatient, but patient for you. He fills you up to the brim and your head is flooded with clouds. You’re in the sky, lightheaded, but so fucking horny.

His hips meeting yours are a gentle greeting, both of your lips brushing as you shared pants of desperation as well as relief. Your stomach was tight, recoiling with the pressure he was providing to the inside of your walls.

“God-

“Jesus-

“-fucking damn.”

“Christ.”

The two of you moaned in unison.

Your nails are piercing into his shirt, bunching around the tops of his shoulders. You move to grip his apron for some sort of control. There is none.

One of his hands is still supporting your leg wrapped around his hip, the other flattened against the brick wall beside your head. You took solace in his arm, resting your forehead against it weakly.

He was cocky for a reason. His length in inches was his amount of reasons.

“Fuck me.” You finally mustered up enough strength to demand. He shakes his head against yours.

“Give it a minute.” He mutters, barely coherent. You’re scrumptiously tight around him, and you know it. You both do.

“We don’t have a minute.” You feverishly bite back, attempting to shift your hips against his. He retaliates by planting his hips against you, fucking the final few inches of his dick into you as you both fell deeper into the wall.

A hot moan rolled off your tongue, hiding your face away in his forearm and shuddering your eyes closed. Frankie’s hand slipped from your leg, cupping the globe of your ass in his warm hand. He squeezed and it made you smile as he reeled his hips slowly back.

He grumbles something.

“What?” You asked with a dopey grin. He pushes back inside you and wipes the smirk clear off your face.

“I said… you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” His voice was tattered with grunts, your tight little pussy making it hard for him to breath.

Now he was creating a rhythm, fucking you into the wall in steady thrusts. You were already feeling your insides tug eagerly in excitement, the hot pool he had created in your guts simmering to a boil.

“Mhmm, mhm, mhm,” you moaned in silent begs, moans you had to read between the lines to understand. Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck you feel good, I-I can’t think of anything other than fuck! Fuck me, Frankie!

He filled you up to a brim you had yet to discover you had. His tip tickled your cervix with each snap of his hips. He was getting greedy, a little sloppy. You’d judge him on this short-lived fuck later, for now, it was perfectly timed to get back into work without anyone noticing.

Your eyes widened and met his murky brown ones as he moved the hand he had against the wall nudged between your thighs, circling your clit. It was messy at first, but he found what made you tick and adjusted. Now he was running tight circles around you, and you were finding it hard to stay silent.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing motion. You actually wanted to taste him again, so you leaned into it, your tongue lining his mouth and tasting his old cigarette with a moan.

Now he was filling you up, no hesitancy in his hips as he snapped the full extent of his length into your cunt. Your head flew back against the orange and red brick, a fucked moan leaving your mouth. Neither of you cared. Frankie’s face was nuzzled against your jawline and neck, sloppy kisses tasting old perfume as the circles on your clit intensified your impending orgasm.

“F-Fuck, Frankie, shit, I’m gonna-” You gasped and closed your eyes, clutching your arms weakly around his shoulders and holding him to you. His body enveloped you like a shield protecting you from anything in your surroundings.

Your orgasm crashed over you, coursing through your body like a million volts of electricity as you whimpered and moaned into his neck. Your eyes were clamped closed, your walls clenching and fluttering around his sensitive cock.

His moans were heavenly, guttural and deep, a little shaky even as he puffed them into your neck and shoulder. His hips twitched against the inside of your thighs as he came undone inside of you. It felt like he was cumming for days, filling you up with white rope after white rope of his semen and painting your insides with only remnants of him.

You couldn’t think. You just focused on the distant sound of the highway, creating a bustling amount of white noise for you. You gently held his head to keep him close, your shaky hand winding into his hair as the two of you reconciled over your orgasms.

He was the first one to move. He slipped himself from you and gave you a few lazy kisses. Your stomach fluttered before you shook your head.

Stop it, Frankie.

‘M not doin’ anything.

Teasing smiles. Hands softening their holds on each other’s bodies. Fixing hair. Fixing undergarments.

He would have held onto your panties. He probably hoped you forgot about them. You tugged them from his pocket and attempted to slip into them with ease, but you ended up having to use the brick wall as a support to lean into.

You steadied his apron straight, and he pulled the skirt of your uniform down. Teamwork.

You don’t really talk, just clean yourselves up, nod, and dart back inside before anyone can really notice or give a damn that you were missing in action. You kept having to excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling Frankie still seeping from you. It made your chest hot, an embarrassed smile on your face.

Fuck it. That’s what Plan B is for. Or you can just wait to see if you get your period in a few days time.

---

You and Frankie danced around one another during the closing shift. Carla went home and took the cake in a to-go container to give to her kids. It was shitty that she had to work on her birthday, but she said that getting to see your gorgeous face was a present of its own.

You tiredly yawned, seeing it was a few minutes past ten. You helped Tina even out the cash register, putting today’s earnings in an envelope, then putting it in the safe for Rudy to take to the bank at the end of the week.

“You sure you don’t mind cleaning up on your own?” Tina asked, giving her a tired smile and a soft shrug.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Despite her annoying singing, Tina wasn’t that bad. She gave you a big grin before she hopped off the stool and left out the front door. Lou and Paul had already left at the start of closing. You didn’t know if Frankie snuck out the back early.

You did a double take to the jukebox, watching Frankie flip his baseball hat backward and push a quarter into the machine. Your face softened, seeing him flip between the different records before landing on one.

Something by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You watched him reach up and untack your banner from the wall easily. You nodded softly before grabbing the spray bottle filled with disinfectant and began wiping down the counters, seats, and tables.

He walked up to you once you finished cleaning, handing you your folded-up banner. You twisted your lips in thought, rolling the banner around in your hands.

“Wanna help me burn this in the burn barrel out back?”

Frankie sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Fuck it. Got nothin’ better to do.”

---

With Frankie’s lighter, both of you watched with glassy eyes as the Happy Birthday! banner burnt to ashes. His face was lit up in orange and yellow hues. He haphazardly tried to lean into the flames with a cigarette dangling between his lips, a stupid laugh leaving you. He shrugged and put the cigarette behind his ear.

“Fuck it.” He huffed, both of your eyes transfixed on the fading flames.

There was a beat of silence.

Frankie’s eyes met yours. “We should do that again sometime.”

Half of your mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Do what?”

He cocked his head to the side in annoyance. “You know what.”

You shrugged and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets. The hum of the highway in the distance made you flashback to just a few hours ago with Frankie railing you against Tumbleweed. A black and purple-streaked night sky submerged the two of you, making you feel tiny. You sigh and shift on your feet, keeping your eyes on the flames that licked up the ay! in Birthday!

“Maybe.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Maybe?”

“Mhm.”

Frankie teetered on your half-ass decision. Even the notion of having an open door left for him to sneak in was enough to make him happy. “Okay. I’ll take a maybe.”

God, you were bluffing so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be sooo bad to throw him a bone every once in a while.

Your fantasizing was cut short as ashes of the banner spewed up from the depths of the barrel and fluttered up into the air between you and Frankie, both of you taking a preemptive step away.

His lighter clicked again; he had to do it a few times before the end of his cigarette caught a flame. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmured. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to walk you to your car, wanting to leave, but not until you started heading home, too.

He swung his body into the driver seat of his beaten-up pickup truck. You decided to follow suit, sliding into your car. You saw Tommy’s fade away from the rearview mirror in the distance. But the thoughts of Frankie between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, and begging to serve your aching center would sit with you until your next shift at Tumbleweed. Sorry. Tommy’s Diner.

---

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#frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut #catfish morales #francisco morales #joel miller #joel miller smut

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 month

Note

hi for the first tomlinson!sister blurb maybe like her and harry’s relationship during the years? her relationship with her family and louis idk lol im bad at coming up with ideas 😭

trope masterlist || ask me anything <3

anniversary masterlist is here !!

welcome to the first blurb of the week all for my first anniversary 💞 i hope you enjoy it just as much as i had creating it <3

authors note - thanks to whoever came up with this gorgeous idea it’s definitely a good one so i hope i somehow did it justice💗💗 when it comes to the tragic passings of johannah and felicity, i decided not to use there photos in this just to respect the privacy of the tomlinson family🙏

2010,

MARCH. (account private.)

liked by mrsjohannahdeakin, yourfriend and 23 others.

yourinstagram, good luck lou! can’t believe that my brother is auditioning for the x-factor i know for a fact that your going to smash it ❤️

view all comments.

yourfriend, good luck louis!

mrsjohannahdeakin, can’t believe my baby boys doing this ❤️

yourfriend, wait what? how did i not know he was auditioning??

yourfriend, good luck

yourfriend, so that’s why your not in school today?

DECEMBER.

liked by gemmasfriend, yourinstagram and 21 others.

gemmastyles, get a room

tagged, yourinstagram

view all comments.

gemmasfriend, can’t believe how famous harry is now

gemmasfriend, cuties

annetwist, all i see is a bunch of cuties

mrsjohannahdeakin, the cutest babies ever

gemmasfriend, Harry’s got a gf?

yourinstagram, gem!

2011,

SEPTEMBER. (account still private.)

liked by yourfriend, mrsjohannahdeakin and 56 others.

yourinstagram, so guess who appeared in her brothers music video? this girl and it was everything and more. if your my friend then you’ll go and stream it right now 💞

view all comments.

yourfriend, this song is such a bop

yourfriend, im so jealous that you got to be that close to Harry 😮‍💨

yourinstagram, 🫣🫣

mrsjohannahdeakin, super proud of the boys for this

yourfriend, this song is so good like your brother and his friends are geniuses

2012,

FEBRUARY. (Account Still Private.)

liked by lottietomlinson, mrsjohannahdeakin and 198 others.

yourinstagram, birthday meal for the birthday boy happy eighteenth to my curly headed friend🎉🎂

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yourfriend, still can’t believe that your friends with the one direction boys

yourfriend, happy birthday harry

mrsjohannahdeakin, happy birthday harry feels like it was just yesterday that I met little sixteen year old you for the very first time

yourinstagram, he just read this and is blushing right infront of me

yourfriend, happy birthday

liked by username, username and 4,419 others.

enews, harry styles and his band mates little sister (yn) spotted getting cosy after leaving a restaurant together. read more at the link in our bio. 🔗

view all comments.

username, wtf? that’s his bestfriends sister

username, the way he’s holding her in the third picture

username, this is kinda gross

username, why would she do that to louis?

username, wasn’t it his birthday yesterday?

username, and they were the only two who went out to celebrate so it was obviously a date

username, there actually cute

2013.

AUGUST.

“Homes always been a special place to me,”Harry spoke into the camera, head resting in the palm of his hand.

“I’ve taken a few people there but only people that mean something special to me, and yeah you could say that one of those people is (Y/N),” A soft smile formed on his face. “She just understands this life y’know like because of her brother being Lou.”

A cease formed in his brow. “Although telling Louis that I was dating his sister was something I wish I could go back and never have to do.”

“Only joking, he actually did take it pretty well to be fair,” he let out a soft laugh. “Let’s just say I didn’t end up with a black eye.”

— Harry referring to (Y/N) Tomlinson in This Is Us.

2014.

JUNE. (account public.)

liked by harrystyles, louist91 and 10,476 others.

yourinstagram, fangirling proper rn because i’ve just met five seconds of summer and I don’t exactly know how to cope knowing i was stood right next to luke hemmings 😳

tagged, 5sos

view all comments.

username, this girl is living all of our fantasies right now

username, Callum’s a proper fitty

harrystyles, luke hemmings? not like you’ve got me or anything

yourinstagram, but his accent…

harrystyles, heyyyy

username, your adorable

username, i want to live your life

username, how does it feel girly??

2015,

APRIL.

enews, harry styles and (y/n) tomlinson spark engagement rumours just weeks after band mate zayn malik leaves the group. read more at the link in our bio. 🔗

liked by username, username and 4,569 others

tagged, yourinstagram and harrystyles

view all comments.

username, good for them i guess

username, hope this is true there my faves 🙏

username, she’s not even that pretty 🤷‍♀️

username, excuse you! but just because she’s dating someone that you find attractive doesn’t mean that you can be so mean to someone

username, aren’t they a little young?

username, ayyo

username, childhood sweethearts and all that jazz

username, defo a PR stunt

username, one that’s been going on for five years?

2016,

JANUARY.

liked by annetwist, taylorswift and 234,619 others.

yourinstagram, welcome to the world our darling nephew, freddie reign tomlinson, auntie and uncle adore you so much ❤️💗

tagged, louist91 and brianasrealaccount

view all comments.

username, freddie 😭

lottietomlinson, can’t believe you met him before me ☹️

username, love how she said ‘our nephew’ instead of ‘my nephew’

username, harry holding a baby is something i never knew i needed

username, imagine when him and (y/n) have kids

username, welcome to the world freddie!

username, he’s so cute!

harrystyles, he definitely likes me more.

yourinstagram, in your dreams lover boy

username, there banter >>>>

DECEMBER.

liked by yourfriend, zayn and 1,345,329 others.

yourinstagram, Mum, I miss you.

comments have been disabled.

2017,

APRIL.

liked by yourinstagram, lottietomlinson and 2,464,924 others.

harrystyles, SIGN.OF.THE.TIMES // 7.APRIL. 17 //

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username, oh this is gonna be good

username, this songs is gonna be iconic just y’all wait

yourinstagram, so proud h! ❤️

harrystyles liked your comment.

username, him releasing music means that one direction are officially over and I don’t know how to feel about that

username, excited!

lottietomlinson, love love love

harrystyles liked your comment.

username, CRYING

username, that date is so soon! you could have given us some more time to prepare.

MAY.

liked by lottietomlinson, taylorswift and 832,178 others.

yourinstagram, tried to get a picture of cillian murphy but some rando was giving me death glares🤷‍♀️

tagged, harrystyles

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username, same girl same

username, if looks could kill girly

lottietomlinson, cillian could do a lot of things to me…

yourinstagram, 🫣

username, if harry styles looked at me like that id simply pass away

username, the two loves of my life

gemmastyles, give him my number!

yourinstagram, will do!

harrystyles, heyyyyy

2018,

november.

liked by louist91, annetwist and 5,431,890 others.

harrystylesandyourinstagram, 08.11.2018

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lottietomlinson, best day ever!

liampayne, one of the best days

annetwist, im still emotional typing this

niallhoran, loved it lad

gemmastyles, now give me a neice/nephew pls and thx

yourfriend, your dreams came true!

louist91, treat her right styles

zayn, so happy for you

2019,

march.

liked by username, taylorswift and 709,326 others.

yourinstagram, the moon was always her favourite. fizzy, i miss you.

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2020,

JANUARY.

liked by harrystyles, the.daisytomlinson and 934,431 others.

yourinstagram, my best friend just released his debut album, go listen to it or else i will hunt you down….

tagged, louist91

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username, already have!!

username, listened and loved every single song on it

harrystyles, i thought i was your best friend.

yourinstagram, you are baby, you are

username, this album ruined me 😭

username, whose music is better louis or harrys?

yourinstagram, uhhh 1D?

username, walls is gonna be iconic watch this space

2021,

SEPTEMBER.

liked by lottietomlinson, niallhoran and 709,315 others.

yourinstagram, The Away From Home Festival 💞

tagged, louist91

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username, gorgeous!

annetwist, so pretty darling

yourinstagram, ❤️

username, im there aswell

username, isn’t harry starting tour tomorrow ?

username, yeah he is, guess she’s not going 🤷‍♀️

username, maybe they’ve divorced?

yourinstagram, hi! im flying out directly after this to go and support him just in time for his first show tomorrow, me and h are happier than ever so please stop trying to get involved in our personal lives x

username, that outfit is so pretty, so casual but so chic

username, she looks more and more like lottie everyday

username, is it just me or does it look like she has a bump?

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yourinstagram, it really is love on tour ❤️

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username, power couple

gemmastyles, iconic 👌

username, best night of my life

username, can someone look at me the way harry looks at (y/n)??

username, my show!

username, she defo has a baby bump

username, don’t just assume things

username, your so gorgeous!

lottietomlinson, my beauty of a sister 💗

yourinstagram, have you seen yourself?

DECEMBER.

liked by taylorswift, thephoebetomlinson and 3,476,218 others.

yourinstagram and harrystyles, the best christmas present we could have ever asked for.

felix robin styles.

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2022,

JUNE.

liked by harrystyles, lottietomlinson and 932,164 others.

yourinstagram, London night one. ❤️

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username, so gorgeous.

username, it’s going to be such a good night !!

gemmastyles, that dress is everything 😮‍💨

yourinstagram, girl have you seen your dress? it’s beautiful !

username, love love love

username, it’s going to a night that goes down in history

thephoebetomlinson, can’t deal!

yourinstagram, mwah 💞

(Y/N) VIA INSTAGRAM STORIES !!

AUGUST.

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yourinstagram, when felix met lucky 💙

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username, the second generation of tomlinsons are all boys 🥹

liked by yourinstagram.

username, cousins

username, felix is so big now wow

mrlewisburton, 💙

yourinstagram, he’s adorable x

username, i can’t believe that lotties had a baby 🥲

username, this is too much for my heart

liked by yourinstagram, ryan.viggars and 1,619,908 others.

louist91, I’m so excited to finally tell you that my new album Faith In The Future is out 11th November. After living with this album for a while I can’t wait for you all to hear it. Thank you for allowing me to make the music I want to make.

Link in bio to pre-order.

#FaithInTheFuture

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username, ahhhh

username, hold up - 🖐️

harrystyles, happy for you mate.

liked by louist91

username, im having heart palpitations as im typing this

username, screaming crying throwing up

yourinstagram, proud of you lou ❤️

liked by louist91

username, love there relationship so much 🥹

2023,

FEBRUARY.

liked by annetwist, zayn and 1,326,317 others.

yourinstagram, hands up if your husbands a three times grammy winner 🙌 words can’t explain how proud of him me and bubba are 💞

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username, im crying

username, i don’t know anyone more deserving

lottietomlinson, ❤️❤️

liked by yourinstagram.

username, SCREAMING

username, why can’t he look at me like that??

username, because your not (y/n) 🤷‍♀️

username, fairs

JULY.

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harrystyles, Love On Tour. Reggio Emilia. July, 2023.

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username, it’s really over

username, he’ll be back soon hopefully 🙏

thephoebetomlinson, such a good night ❤️

username, was the whole family there??

username, yeah they were !

username, don’t cry because it’s over cry because it happened

username, best night of my life

yourinstagram, so immensely proud ❤️

harrystyles, ❤️

liked by the.daisytomlinson, taylorswift and 932,176 others.

yourinstagram, lying on the beach as the sun blew out 🌊🏝️

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username, your so effortlessly gorgeous

username, felix is so big now like wasn’t he just born yesterday??

yourinstagram, it’s going far too quick !!

username, whose that handsome man?

username, just show us his face ffs

harrystyles, who lays on a sunbed like that?

yourinstagram, honestly he’s such a weirdo 🙄

NOVEMBER.

liked by zayn, darbyward and 843,290 others.

yourinstagram, a night ill never forget. 💫

tagged, louist91

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username, can’t believe how far he’s come 🥹

username, im emotional

username, was harry there?

username, this post is about louis not harry

annetwist, 💙

username, my pookie sold out the 02

2024,

JANUARY.

liked by lottietomlinson, niallhoran and 1,236,471 others.

yourinstagram, when felix met olive 🫒 so immensely proud of you phee, your already the best mama ever 💗

tagged, thephoebetomlinson, jack.varley7

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username, the best duo

username, the first girl of the generation

username, how is Phoebe a mum like tf?

thephoebetomlinson, 💙🩷

yourinstagram, 🥹

FEBRUARY.

liked by annetwist, lottietomlinson and 1,346,371 others.

yourinstagram, when felix met his new forever bestie 🩷🩵

tagged, gemmastyles, michalmlynowski

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username, can’t believe our gems a mum

username, cousins 🥹

the.daisytomlinson, babies 💞

username, your turn next

username, now fucking way

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daisyblog · 3 months

Text

Uncle Louis

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Louis meets Grace for the first time.

From the moment Louis learnt that his sister and Harry were having a baby, he longed for the day he meets his little niece. He loved Lucky and Olive, and he couldn’t wait to feel the feeling all over again.

He had asked not to see any photos of the new arrival as he wanted to meet the little one without seeing her little face first. So once he knew YN and Harry were back home and settled as their new little family, he went to see them.

Louis immediately congratulated Harry as he walked through their front door, pulling him into a brotherly hug.

When Louis arrived, he was met with YN lounging in the living room and the tiniest baby cuddled into her chest. “Oh my fo-“. Louis stopped the swear word from spilling. “She’s so small!”.

“She’s like a little doll!” YN smiled down at her little baby, rubbing her back gently. A habit she had quickly picked up. “Do you want a cuddle?”.

Louis sat down next to YN, his eyes still attached to the little baby that he now got to call his niece. “Of course I do!”. YN gently moved so she could place her little girl into her brother’s arms. “‘ello…you’re so tiny”. Louis smiled down at the newborn. “You look just like your Mummy!”.

“Harry said that when she was born” YN explained as she remembered their conversation after she was born. “He said she looks like Mum too”.

Louis let out a sad smile. “I can see Mum too…I just didn’t want to say incase it made you upset”.

“It brings me comfort…yah know to think I can see Mum’s face again”. YN reassured him as they both look at the sleeping baby, who was still content in her uncle’s arms.

Harry returned to the room, with three mugs of tea in his hands. He smiled at the sight of his daughter cuddled up in Louis’ arms. “Suits you Lou!”. He teased, earning a “fook off Harold!”.

The three spent the afternoon chatting, drinking tea and being absolutely obsessed with the new arrival. But Louis realised he hadn’t heard them mention and it began to make him curious.

“So has this little beauty got a name?”. Louis looked between his sister and Harry as they shared a cheeky grin.

“She does.” YN smiled innocently at her brother, not giving anything away.

Louis looked for any signs on the newborn clothing or something in the room but he was still clueless. “Are you gonna tell me?”.

There was a short pause before YN gave in a revealed their daughter’s name. “Meet Grace Johannah Robyn Styles!”.

YN and Harry noticed Louis swallow harshly, almost like he was trying to hold his emotions back but he was quick to wipe away a single tear from his cheek. He looked down at Grace in his arms and was completely overwhelmed at how much thought had gone into her name.

“I love it…and I love you both for giving her a thoughtful name”. Louis complimented the special name.

“They are all special people…who will always be with us”. Harry kept his focus on his daughter, as he thought about the three people they had lost.

“They’re all proud of you…and so am I!” Louis’ voice was emotional, a slight tremble to it. “Especially you”. He spoke directly to YN. “You make me extra proud”.

Tears streamed down YN’s cheeks at his words. Harry wrapping his arms around her to comfort her. “I couldn’t ask for a better Mum for our Gracie!”. Harry kissed the top of her head as she wiped away her tears.

“You two need to stop, I’m going to flood this place”. YN tried to hold back more tears from falling. But in true YN style she managed to make them both laugh, with her lack of care to what she said. “I need my baby back…before my boobs do a milk explosion!”.

“Welcome to the family Grace!”.

---

ynstyles

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ynstyles Cuddles with Uncle Louis❤️ View all 11,451 comments

annetwist Aww how precious 🥰

lottietomlinson best uncle 🫶🏼

marktommo1111 A special photo❤️

louteasdale 🥹

mrsemily.deakin Doris and Ernie can’t wait to visit🥰❤️ ⌞ ynstyles Can’t wait to see them and Grace is excited for her cuddles with her Auntie and Uncle 🤍

niallhoran I hope there’s some left for me xx ⌞ ynstyles Always! Can’t wait to see you xx

louist91 Missing her already!!xx

thephoebetomlinson the best uncle to our girls and lucky❤️

louisfan MY HEART ❤️❤️❤️

1Dfan4 too much cuteness

harryfan8 Grace is so lucky having Harry as her Dad and Louis as an uncle!!!

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

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jo-harrington · 1 year

Text

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington stranger things #Eddie and steve #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years

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Mommy... Master List

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jaylver · 6 months

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CINDY LOU WHO — P.SH

synopsis: christmas came early with a heartbreak as your present when you found out your boyfriend had fallen out of love with you. the boy that you loved is now in love with someone else, a new girl who managed to make him believe in love the way cindy-lou made grinch believe in christmas.

pairings: non-idol!sunghoon x afab!reader

genre: lovers to exes, break up au, angst

warning(s): underlying hints of cheating/unfaithfulness

wc: 731

a/n: when i said i was planning a depressive december ... i was not lying. hoping everyone is enjoying the festive season! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Festive season hasn't been feeling the same ever since your boyfriend returned from his trip.

Sunghoon had been off somewhere in the desert with his friends as a getaway before Christmas. At first, you thought it was funny that he was going somewhere with the opposite season compared to where you were now. But the moment you noticed a change in him once he returned home, you figured things weren't about to be the same.

It shouldn’t be this hard to communicate and interact with him, but why was he acting like a stranger to you now? You had to bug him for ages to let him see pictures he took from the trip, that alone was enough to tell you something had shifted in the air. On the couch that night, it was probably only you that was enjoying your time as you swiped through the pictures, many were with his usual guy friends you already knew.

However, there was one that specifically caught your eyes. There in one of his pictures was a girl laughing.

A girl amongst the group, odd wasn’t it? She was sitting closely next to your boyfriend. Repeat, your boyfriend. You couldn’t recognise who she was, nor could you recall meeting her in the past. Sunghoon must’ve noticed you staring too long and pausing on that specific picture, so he tried to explain despite your heart breaking into pieces, saying it was a girl they met on the trip and there was nothing more.

To him, he claimed it was just ‘a girl’, but you knew there was more to that, and you weren’t trying to be a paranoid crazy girlfriend. You couldn’t sleep that night, sitting wide awake in your living room couch, the same exact spot where you had seen the pictures earlier. Was she the reason he’s been acting off around you? Had she casted a spell on him while he was there? Why him?

Maybe he met her somewhere in the desert. He was soul searching and found someone better. Did she make him happy like you couldn’t do? Or even worse, would she be the one with his ring on her finger? There’s red and green everywhere, but God, you were so blue.

“Let’s break up.”

The timing was just perfect. Two weeks before Christmas day, and right before your annual trip back to his family’s house to celebrate Christmas with his family. He was cruel, a little too cruel for breaking your heart at this time. ‘Tis the season, you guess.

Of course he would fall in love with her, you understood that almost at once when you saw her posts on social media. With her hair so long, lips so red, she was a dream anyone would wish to have. She was also the total opposite of you, that was what you noted as you scrolled five years back in her profile. You felt like a joke.

Just thinking about the fact that she’d be doing the exact same thing you did the past five years this festive season has you crumbling inside out. You bet she’d wake up in his old bed at his family’s house, ready to celebrate Christmas, while you sat in your home all alone wondering what went wrong.

The snow’s going to fall and the tree’s going to glisten. Everywhere around you was in a high, happy atmosphere, but you couldn’t seem to feel the same. All you knew was you’d puke at the thought of her kissing the boy who you once loved, the one who was in love with someone else.

Even after breaking the news to all your friends, they said it couldn’t be true, and you thought it was funny, that they were much more in denial than you were. They tried to console you by putting on How the Grinch Stole Christmas, huddling together under a large blanket with snacks on the side, but you could only think of how she reminded you of Cindy-Lou.

Cindy-lou showed the Grinch the real meaning of Christmas just as she had shown Sunghoon true love. Maybe all along he had never wanted to commit to you, and he had found something more in her. You should be happy now that your friends were around, but you were feeling the exact opposite. Everything reminded you of him and her both.

Cindy-lou, who?

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softtdaisy · 7 months

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🌲 a walk in the past l Charles Leclerc

summary. this Christmas market has been your favorite for years. today, it's just a reminder of what you lost. of who you lost.

words count. 1,895

a/n. this is the story that inspired the whole angsty Christmas series. it's massively inspired by Cindy Lou who (please listen to Sabrina's ep). it's sad. it's Charles. I hope you will love it 🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

Ever since you were a child, you used to go to the Christmas market every year. It wasn’t even to buy a present. Just the pleasure of walking around this stall, hearing Christmas songs and seeing the pleasure on everyone’s face when they won a game, sharing a sweet and seasonal meal or just this magic thing that seems to make all the people here happy. It was one of your favorite moments of the year and you couldn’t miss it.

Even if this year, you were close to skip it.

“If you think I would have let you alone in your apartment instead of enjoying your favorite time of the year, you were barking up the wrong tree.” your best friend replied, putting her arm around your shoulder to bring you closer.

You laughed at her gesture and appreciated this feeling of being loved. And not alone.

Something you sadly lacked these past months.

The reason you almost didn’t come this year was simple. It was Charles.

When you started dating three years ago, the Formula One season was coming to an end. You had met through mutual friends in Monaco and he always managed to see you when he came back home, sometimes even skipping time with his family for you -something you were arguing with him for.

Once he was finally free, this Christmas market was one of your first official dates as a couple. You were living a literal teenage dream, walking hand in hand with him, showing him all the places you had memories with -meaning almost everything. You let him buy your favorite sweet and a scarf that you never left after that.

And you did that every year. It was always the first date you had after the season ended. The first time you could act like a normal couple again. And even if Charles met some fans there, very few thanks to the beanie and the scarf hiding him, it still felt intimate.

One night, after you drank too much wine and were watching the fireworks, Charles told you that at least he knew where he could propose to you.

It has become your place.

Until he left.

Now it was only yours, alone.

Everything reminded you of him now. The stall with all the puppies where you were talking about adopting one and even thought about the name. The big pine tree where you added your own decoration together, like the tradition says. The photomaton where he kissed you and the picture that was still somewhere in your apartment because you couldn’t get rid of it. Or just every couple, being happy like you used to. You hated feeling jealous about these poor people who didn’t ask for anything but to spend a moment together.

It was hard to walk on the path of your biggest heartbreak.

“How about a hot chocolate?” Your friend asked you. Well pulled you because she didn’t really wait for your answer before walking to the stall. You didn’t mind. It wasn’t like you felt like making any decision anyway. You apologized to the little girl that collided with your legs and followed your best friend until you had to wait because there were too many people.

You looked around and noticed the stall with handmade Christmas decorations. You always bought something there, like your own tradition. “Do you mind if I go there while you wait?” your best friend agreed and you walked there with stars in your eyes.

Not thinking for a single second that going there would wreck your heart into millions pieces.

“Oh, miss little red beanie.” The seller laughed when he saw you, remembering the little girl you were before with your favorite red beanie, until you grew and it became too small for you. You started to look around the decorations, already noticing some new ones that you loved.

Until you heard a laugh. A very distinct laugh that you could have recognized everywhere. You still turned around to make sure you didn’t dream.

Oh how you wished you did.

Because there he was. Still looking as beautiful as before. With his outgrown brown hair hiding in his black beanie, a scarf you used to steal when you couldn’t find yours, eyes so shiny because of the cold and a red nose that you loved to tease him about. No doubt. Charles was there.

And he wasn’t alone.

You weren’t sure you wanted to look at her. To see who she was. How she could be better than you. Why did he choose her over you? Knowing would be hard. Ignoring it wouldn’t be that much better.

But before you could ever decide what you wanted, Charles turned his head. He felt a look on him.

No he had the same feeling he used to have when you were together. There was something different with you. Something magnetic that would always let him know that you were there, looking at him, even if he couldn’t see you. And it was back.

Your eyes met. And suddenly, your heart was breaking again.

You couldn’t handle the idea of being around him with his new girl. So you did the first thing that came to your mind: running away.

The perks of knowing this market by heart, you knew exactly where you had to go to avoid people and be at peace.

The con was that Charles knew it too.

“Please wait!” you heard him in your back. What a wonderful idea to have an athlete as an ex, especially one you’re trying to run away from.

You ended up stopping, not able to go anywhere else without turning around and meeting Charles. With nothing else to lose, you accepted your fate. The terrible fate that you feared these past weeks.

You really wondered if you would see Charles now that the season was over and he was around. Were there any chances that you would run into each other in such a big city? You thought you wouldn’t. You really thought you would be lucky enough to avoid this confrontation.

Apparently the universe wasn’t a fan of this narrative.

“I had no idea you would be here, I wouldn’t come otherwise.”

You laughed. How dare he? You had no idea what you hated the most. The fact he really thought you wouldn’t be there this year because of him. Or that he used this sweet and comprehensive tone like he was really sorry for you. If he was, then he wouldn’t have broken your heart out of a stupid boredom.

“Oh I’m sorry Charles” you said, turning around to finally face him “Do I bother you by being here, at my favorite place, the one I come to every year, the one I showed you because I wanted to live that moment?”

“That’s not what I meant.” he sighed, putting a hand on his neck and biting his lips.

You used to love this tic. There were always some moments in your relationship when you had a hard time distinguishing Charles the driver from Charles your boyfriend. Sure, it was the same person in the end. But the media and his PR team were creating a whole entire character around him, one that wasn’t entirely faithful to the real Charles you knew.

And then there were moments like this where he wasn’t that overly confident driver that couldn't do no wrong. He was the man that you love, scared of saying the wrong thing, conscious that everything could come to an end one day.

“So what?” you added, taking a step closer to him. It was a dangerous limit, because at any moment, the feeling of being that close would make all your feelings come back. From hate to love there was indeed one step, one you better not take if you didn’t want to come home with a heart even more broken. “If you knew I was there you wouldn’t have brought your new doll?”

You saw the change in his eyes when you said that. And oh how you hated seeing this look on his face. Because you knew it too, there was not one thing you didn’t know about him. And this one hurted, again. It was the exact same look Charles used to give when someone talked badly about you.

Suddenly, you weren’t the one being protected. You were the one he had to protect his new girl from.

“You’re being mean.” he added, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“I am mean?” your voice broke at that last word. “You fucking brought her here Charles! It was our place! It is my safe place and now you ruined it! Again!” this time you couldn’t resist and hit his chest with your fist. “Why do you have to ruin everything in my life?”

It wasn’t a real question. Or at least, you didn’t expect any real answer. What could he say? Because he wanted to? Because if you can’t be happy together, you shouldn’t try to be now that you are no longer a thing? Or maybe the worst one: he just didn’t think this through. It would mean you were never important enough for him to think about the consequences.

There was no world in which Charles truly thought about you when he broke up with you at the beginning of the year. When you thought everything was alright, when you were looking for an apartment together, when you had that stupid conversation about having a family one day. He dropped it. The “I’m not sure I can’t do this anymore.” Just like that.

Did he really think about you when he couldn’t give a simple explanation as to why he couldn’t do you anymore?

A single tear fell from your eye and Charles watched it run slowly on your cheek. “I just wanted to apologize.” he whispered, taking your hand between his. But you immediately dropped it.

“That would have been a first.”

You both stayed silent for a few seconds before you started to walk back to the market. This time, Charles didn’t try to stop you. It was worthless and he knew that. You wouldn’t stop. You had enough. And even he knew that it would be unkind to try again.

You whipped the tear right before you met your best friend, standing in the middle of the road looking for you. You grabbed a chocolate cup and kissed her cheek to thank her. “Where were you?” she asked, more concerned that you thought she would be. How long did you disappear for her to have the time to buy these drinks?

You turned around and saw Charles coming back too. You watched as he grabbed her hand and gave it a kiss with a big smile. Yes. Something he used to do with you too. “Such a gentleman” you used to say when he did that. But now you weren’t the one getting your hand kissed.

“No way…” you heard your best friend say when she saw them. “This can’t be true right?” she asked you. And you wished you could reassure her.

But the truth was there. Charles broke your heart at the beginning of the year.

And he broke what was left at the end of it.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc story #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 story #f1 angst #my writing #a very angsty Christmas

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tillthelandslide · 4 months

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Insufferable Arsehole Part 15: You

A/n: hi everyone! Feels so surreal to say but this is the penultimate chapter of insufferable arsehole *cries*. I love this series so much so please feel free to send in any requests you want to see from these characters. But the main series is nearly over *sobs*. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I love you all so much and thank you for all your support <3. I want to give a massive shout out to @ughgoaway and @justanamesstuff for loving this series as much as I do. Without all of your support (but especially my loving ia stans) this series would've been over a long time ago. I love you guys so much. Hope you enjoy <3

Extra note: I wrote all the little poems in the notebook part of this series. They're all original (whether you think they're shit or you like them) please don't copy them.

Previous Part

Series Masterlist

Matty’s POV

The sofa I'm lying on feels way too comfortable, the warmth of it making it hard for me to get up. It’s soft beneath me and it lures me into closing my eyes. I have things I need to do, I have people I need to call, meetings I need to attend, friends I need to make sure are okay, set lists to read and adjust. A wonderful and loving girlfriend who I need to show my love for. But lying here, listening to the soft strum of the guitar she's playing has my closed eyes fluttering and my body weighing down on the sofa. I don't fall asleep, I just lie with my eyes closed, letting her voice drift over me - consume me.

I had moments like these, moments where I felt... Numb. But she pulls me out of them, or at least fills my body with something other than numbness, she touches the parts that can't usually be persuaded on days like these. These moments were few and far between with the presence of Lou in my life and somehow it makes this time worse. I feel guilty for feeling this way, for feeling low, for slipping into a dark space. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, I had a wonderful girlfriend, I was finally with the girl meant for me. And I had friends, great friends who were more like family. I had adoring fans and I did what I felt like I was meant to for a living. Life was perfect… So why did I feel so unworthy of it all?

It had started earlier this morning when I had snapped at one of the music techs, I hadn't meant to and I felt guilty as soon as I did it. Her warm hand clamped around my shoulder almost immediately, telling me to go lie down and so I did. I heard her apologise for my actions, explaining that I was 'tired'. I felt thankful she didn't tell the guy the real reason. The guys understood it, maybe even more than Lou, so when she spoke to them before she came back to me, they got it. Jamie had once described me as someone with a huge ego but no self worth, in moments like these, I had to agree.

The sound of the guitar stops and I hear her set it down, I hear the shuffle of the foot stall, feel a light bump against the side of the sofa, feel her soft hand drifting up my back, up to my neck and then my head, pushing the curls away and making my eyes flutter open.

My heart beat falters, my breath matching it, her beautiful eyes look down at me, soothing me. It was hard to describe them, they were ever changing. I wouldn't say they were green, but they weren't blue or grey either, it was as if those colours alone weren't enough for someone like Lou, they weren't special or unique so whoever created her (I don't believe in God but some greater being had to create a person like her) decided to make a new colour, a combination of all things beautiful. They had hints of grey and specs of yellow and sometimes the sun made them look piercingly blue but the sun could also make them look like emeralds. They were perfect, one look into them and I can feel myself slipping from the dark spaces of my mind.

"Hi my sweet boy" it surprises me that I don't have to tell her what I need from her in times like these, she just got it. As if she had access to all parts of my brain, able to peek in and see what I needed and having the ability to just give it to me without a shred of hesitation or an ulterior motive. It shouldn’t surprise me, not anymore, not when I knew she was it for me, the only one I ever want to be with, to spend the rest of my life with. The person who was mine and I theirs.

"Hi" I don't recognise the voice that comes from me, a low, deep grumble of a sad man. One that felt like a distant memory, the voice of someone I used to know, not the person I am now.

"I want to show you something" she says and I find myself nodding, she places her black leather notebook in my lap and I find my heart beating three times as hard as I look at it. She had never shown me this before, showing someone this is like showing them your deepest thoughts and emotions, baring your soul to them. I had watched her scribble in it countless times, I had watched as she wrote lyrics that pulled her lips up at the corners, I had watched as she scribbled down angrily, tears falling from her eyes and coating the pages.

I remember the only time I had come close to reading the lyrics, pinning her down to a hotel bed in some forgotten location, tickling her sides until the book slipped from her fingertips, holding the pages above her head just out of reach as our laughter was all that could be heard. I remember the way she begged me to give it back, of course I would never have read it without her permission. I remember her pleas made me drop the book and bury my face into her neck. She made me forget about the lyrics easily, too wrapped up in her to care about them.

"Are you sure?" I ask, sitting up slightly so my back is against the armrest of the sofa, pulling the book towards me and playing with the frayed edges. She smiles at me, her hand resting against my jaw, her thumb running over her bone, making my eyes flutter momentarily.

"Sometimes I think you forget how much you mean to people, you forget how much people love you... And not just me, the band and the crew, your family, my family, the fans... Of course I can only speak for myself... So I want you to read this" she speaks, voice soft and delicate. Beautiful.

I want to speak. To tell her I love her. To thank her. I want to smile. To press my lips against hers. But my eyes won't leave the book.

"most of them aren't finished... They're not songs... They're just things I wrote, little poems" she says and I nod, looking up from the book.

"I love you Matty" she says, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to my forehead before leaving me. It takes a while for me to open the book, scared of what I'll find. My shaky hands eventually separate the cover from the first page.

I find a few I recognise, like the one she posted on Instagram, the one I loved:

"I'd stay with you here forever, you with those dark eyes and darker hair, the epitome of beauty, you put Adonis to shame, with the way you paint my brain, with everything that is you, you with those dark eyes and darker hair. The epitome of beauty."

Her handwriting is delicate, cursive and, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. I'm not surprised because everything she does is beauty. She is beauty.

I flick through the pages, little photos taped to the corners or wedged in, the photos make my heart swell. Photos of her and G, one in particular making me smile: a photo of Lou sitting on George's shoulders, looking as if she was scared to fall down, but she's laughing and so is George and his hands are clamped on her thighs that rest around his head ensuring she doesn't fall. A picture of her and Ross, pulling funny faces at each other, they both look younger, Ross’ hair is short and Lou’s is too, I wish I had her like that back then, even now, even still - I regret the time we lost. I find a picture she took of me, her thighs resting either side of my waist as she takes a photo from above, I feel like a different person than the one smiling up at me. I see another one taken in a photo booth, one where we're kissing, it makes me smile.

I read on, my heart slowly being refilled with love and beauty and kindness and feeling.

I could bask in you for endless days and endless nights. For you are the sun that shines and glistens. For you are the one that warms my once cold heart and bones.

You're the sun in winter, warming up bones and creating smiles. You're rain on a summer's day, soaking the sweat away. You're all things good and kind and lovely. You're love and sex and beauty. You're the definition of passion. Cigarettes and coffee and fresh and home. You're my favourite scent. My favourite sound. My favourite sight. My favourite thought. My favourite feeling. You touch me and I feel you everywhere. Burying into my being. You're mine. My favourite scent. Cigarettes, coffee, fresh, home. My home.

I loved the complexity of some but simply adored the simplicity of others. Reading the ones which don't hide behind metaphors, they're purer somehow.

Pain engraved my brain. Hurt twisted through my mind. Envy soaked through my eyes. You appeared , all those emotions vanished. I began to love the way you loved me. I found myself loving you more. I used to hate you, I hated hating you. I love you now, I love loving you and I love you loving me.

I smile, a huge smile and I feel it seep through my bones, warming my cold body, feeling finally flooding back in.

Red lips and brown eyes. Black curls and tattooed skin. I'd like to paint in you in my mind so I could have you here forever

The few words are the only ones on this particular page, the rest is filled with pictures of us, a picture of the M necklace I gave her, a picture of my marked neck, her marks. There's a picture of us kissing, ones in which any other circumstance would cause my skin to heat up and my blood to rush south. There’s sweet pictures too, of us in Rome, our hands intertwined, pictures of our tattoos we got together.

The ropes within unwind under your command. Just say the word and I'll follow you to the ends of the earth.

Matty is sun kissed cheeks on summer days, cherry blossom on withered ground, swirling clouds amongst technicolour skies.

I turn the page and a larger piece of paper falls out, I unfold it carefully, taking my time in reading the words I find on the page:

Dear George,

I’m writing to you from Rome. Seems a bit weird to be writing you a letter knowing I’m going to be seeing you soon. Was feeling nostalgic I guess… Remember the days when we were both on tour and we’d write these big long letters to each other from wherever in the world we were. It was such a pain trying to make sure they were sent to you before you left that city or town. I remember us arguing one day because Jamie had complained about the amount of money he kept having to spend to retrieve the letters when had arrived a little too late. Grumpy sod.

Anyway, you’d usually write about how the tour was going, how Matty had been getting on your nerves. I always wondered whether you just said that to make me feel better for not getting on with your best friend. You’d send me pictures of you with Ross and Hann and I’d send you pictures of me and the girls (usually receiving a text from you or Macdonald after that made me want to hit you around the head - pervs)

Strange how different things seem now. Like now for instance - I'm writing this, by the pool (this place is fucking huge, you and Charli would love it here), Matty’s napping next to me. He’s sleeping with this dopey grin and… I love him George. So much. Please don’t try to cringe too much reading this. His skin isn’t as pale anymore. Shock right? Our pale boy has a tan!

I want to thank you G. Thank you for everything. You’ve been the best friend I could have ever asked for… but thank you for bringing me him. Matty is everything George. The way he loves me is nothing I have ever felt before. I know now that everything up until now is worth it because now I have him.

I can’t help but wonder how I ever could have hated him. He cares so deeply for every one G… sometimes I wonder if it's too much, if he’s going to get hurt in the end. But that’s okay. Because he has me. And he has you and the boys. And together we love him deeply (still probably half as much as he loves us). I’m going to spend every day of my life proving to him that he is worthy.

So thank you George. He’s the love of my life. He owns my heart, now and forever.

Your best friend - Lou x

My heart picks up in my chest, I love her, more than anyone I have ever loved in my life. I feel tears fall from my eyes, coating my cheeks. I swipe them away before they have a chance to hit the pages.

But you... It was different with you

That's my favourite, my fingers find the page and I carefully tear the page out, I fold it gently and tuck it into my pocket.

I stand from the sofa, feeling weightless now, feeling love for her in every fibre of my being. I walk around the venue, trying to find her. I find George who smiles at me widely.

"glad to see you perked up a bit" he says with a hand to my shoulder.

"Where's Lou?" My abruptness takes him back but it doesn't stop him from answering. I appreciate that.

"She's with your mum in the kitchen, they're baking" George clearly sees my shocked face and he chuckles "yeah your mum is here" I hug him tightly before I leave him, heading for the kitchen.

My legs move too quickly for my brain to register but I don't care, I need to find her. My mum spots me before Lou does and she smiles widely.

"Hello Matthew, feeling any better?" She asks, Lou looks up at me as she finishes speaking.

"Explained to your mum that you were feeling a little tired" Lou explains and I nod, smiling at her.

"Much better mum, thank you" I say leaning down to place a peck against her cheek.

Lou's hands are covered in flour and it makes me smile. I squeeze past my mother with a gentle "excuse me" . My hands find Lou's waist and I hitch her up, making her smile.

"Matty put the poor woman down" my mother scolds me but I don't stop. Lou's hands find my shoulders as she feels like she's going to fall.

"I've got flour on your shirt now idiot" she says but she's still smiling. She looks down at me and I see everything in her eyes, every emotion, every indication that she loves me. I love her, god do I love you.

"I don't care, come here" I say, one hand finding her chin and lightly pulling her towards me.

"Matty, your mum" she says, eyes flicking over my shoulder to my mum who giggles to herself, busying herself with the baking..

"I. Don't. Care" I say with the widest smile I think has ever graced my features.

"What has gotten into you?" She asks, smiling widely. Her eyes sparkle. God she's beautiful.

"I love you Lou, so much, you're everything. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you, if that's okay with you" I say, I hear my mum coo behind us and Lou smiles above me, her legs wrapping around my waist to support herself more.

"Fine with me Healy" she says, leaning down to press her lips against mine finally. The kiss is kept short to save my mother seeing us in a compromising position.

"But you, it was different with you" I repeat her own words back to her and she nods.

"Yeah..." She says and I see her eyes well with tears, I feel myself copying her, placing her back on the floor but moving my head down to kiss her again. I hold her to my side as I turn to my mother.

"I'll leave you both to bake," I say, pressing a firm kiss to her cheek, smiling at my mother. .

"Okay" she says with a smile. I hug my mum tightly before I walk out, but I don't miss my mother's words

"That boy is obsessed with you, I've never ever known him to love someone as much as you" she says.

"Trust me, the same goes for him. I'd do anything for him" Lou's words make me smile and so I continue walking.

I find George again, happy to find him with Hann and Ross.

"Good you're all here" I say, drawing their attention towards me.

"Everything okay mate?" Ross asks and I smile as I nod.

"I need your help"

"Anything," George says.

"I'm going to ask Lou to marry me" they all smile widely at me, I like that. My eyes flick to George’s. He seems expressionless for a second.

“If that’s okay with you” I ask, I see George’s lip quiver slightly and his fingers grip his bottom lip as he nods. I see tears coat his eyes as he steps forward, grabbing my hand in his and pulling me forward into a hug.

“Fuck yeah” I find myself crying too. I feel two more sets of arms wrapping around us. I smile.

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