#stellas silly words

[stellabat]

discord dm im posting here bc the funny

[sexysilverstrider]

i dont hazbin i just see clips every now and then but one things for sure i see alastor n if i were to pick a character i pick him but i was so confused as to why i like him (besides the many pretty fanart) and then i saw his human form and understood everything perfectly

[supernovaa-remnant]

Inspiration for my fic has got to stop hitting me only at the latest hours of the night.. I have to get up early for registration tomorrow I cannot be staying up to write my silly little dreambur fic 😭

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel sleeps with his innocent married next door neighbor after fixing her sink.]

Smut

“He could see the guilt you felt, the confusion you felt when you suddenly smacked him across the face. He barely moved, accepting your hit with his hand still around your waist.”

The phone sitting right beside you, Joel could read the name on the called ID. It was your husband.

“Answer it” he whispered.

A tiny hint of Javier Peña in this

“Damn it, Henry” you sighed checking under your sink to see it was leaking much more than earlier. Of course your husband was coming home late once again from work leaving you to a messy kitchen. The water over flowing and it being late in the evening you knew no plumber would be available to come now. The thought of asking your neighbor Joel Miller was tempting but also a bit embarrassing this late in the day. Joel knew you and he knew your husband, the two of them weren’t exactly friends but whenever they’d see each other they’d have a quick talk about whatever game was going on. With a sigh you snapped yourself out of it and marched yourself to Joel’s front door.

It didn’t take long before Joel opened his door, intrigued to find you on the other end.

“Stella” he greeted you with half a smile.

“Hey, Joel…I’m sorry for bothering late. Henry won’t be back until God knows what time and my sink is leaking and-“

“Say no more,” he chuckled before calling out to Tommy letting him know where he would be.

Grabbing some tools from the back of his truck he followed you to your house right behind you. Not being able to stop himself from enjoying the view of the way you walked up the stairs, the move of your hips with each step his eyes were glued to your ass.

“Sorry again about this” he quickly looked up as you turned around opening the door for him.

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’” Joel always had a way with words, yet it wasn’t exactly what he said but more of how he said it.

Standing to the side you watched how he got to work under your sink. One of his legs lay flat while the other was bent, you couldn’t help but notice his navy blue shirt being pulled up slightly, revealing a light soft patch of hair that led to his-

“How long has this been like this?” Joel’s question distracting your thoughts, distracting your eyes.

“Oh uh-Henry tried to fix it but-“

“Yeah I could see that” he chuckled, his arms flexing as he worked. There you were again checking out Joel as he lay under your sink when your house phone rang.

“Not again, Henry” Joel heard you speak with disappointment, he couldn’t help but take a peak at you as stood by the counter.

“We’ve had to change it so many times, silly me for thinking you’d prioritize your wife” Joel looked down at you and watched as you sadly hung up the phone and pushed it aside. Before you knew it he was finished wiping his hands clean.

“That’s it?”

“Yes mam’” he smiled yet noticed the sadness in your eyes.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah” you sighed not being able to hide the disappointment you felt.

“Henry and I made four years last week and we’ve yet to celebrate it because theres always a reason for him to come home late, even bought this damn bottle of wine to surprise him,” you rolled your eyes. Joel tilted his head and crossed his arms listening to what you had to say.

“I can’t remember the last time we went on a date and we don’t even have children keeping us busy…ain’t that sad?” You chuckled sarcastically.

“I even bought this new stupid dress I’m wearing now to see if he’d like it and now I’m blabbing away-“

“You look beautiful in it” Joel’s compliment completely catching you off guard.

“Thank you” he watched as your eyes lit up before you realized you hadn’t even offered him a glass of water.

“Oh god, how rude am I? Would ya like a glass of water or tea? Coffee?”

“How about wine?” A playful look in his eyes as he motioned to the bottle you had just mentioned.

“You know what….why not?” You grabbed two glasses and the wine opener, pouring each a cup. Joel watched as you took a sip from your cup and tried to hold back a smile.

“What cha smiling about?” Joel asked with a smirk.

“If my husband knew I was standing here having wine with you-“ you laughed as he stepped closer to you.

“How would he feel about that? ” He asked curiously, a squint in his eyes.

“He probably wouldn’t like it” you looked down with embarrassment.

“Oh yeah?” He took another step closer.

“Or he’s probably too distracted right now with his secretary anyways too wonder what the hell I’m doing” you rolled your eyes before chugging the remainder of your wine. You always suspected your husband wasn’t faithful. Joel watched as you wiped your lips still lost in thought before you realized he was staring at you.

“Sorry- I know you don’t care to hear about any of that”

“Hmm..I don’t know darling I just find it hard to believe a man could get distracted with another woman when he has you at home” a light shade of red appearing on your cheeks as you quickly looked away. It had been a while since another man flirted with you so directly you didn’t know how to respond. Quickly pouring yourself another glass Joel chuckled as you chugged down what you poured. Silently he walked towards you, slowly pulling the glass away from your lips and setting it aside. You could feel your heart racing, leaning back against the counter as he looked down at your lips.

Was this actually happening?

“Joel” you whispered as his eyes found yours, his hands gently falling on your hips.

“You..you now I’m married..” you whispered as he pressed his body against yours. He was hesitant for a moment, analyzing your face.

“Happily?” His question making you react with a look of defeat.

No you weren’t happy, you hadn’t been for a long time and Joel could always see it whenever he saw you and your husband together yet you never expected this from Joel.

You couldn’t respond and before you even realized, he closed the distance between your lips and kissed you sending a shock through your body. Your eyes were open as he took you by surprise, his hand slowly closing around your waist pulling you harder against him before he gently parted away.

“I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t thought of doing this for some time now” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“This ain’t very much gentleman like of me but for some reason….I don’t care” he smirked before kissing you again. This time you closed your eyes, your hands brushing up his chest and wrapping around his neck, your body melting into his. You were losing control forgetting what was right or wrong, he pushed aside the dishes behind you and quickly lifted you up onto the counter without parting his lips from yours. His hands sliding under your dress making you gasp and turn away from his lips.

“Joel….” You whispered. No other man beside your husband had touched you in almost a decade.

“I…I’ve never done this before…I have a husband” you spoke as if you were trying to remind yourself of the man you married. Joel could tell this was the first time any other man aside from your husband touched you. The thought giving him a rush.

Refusing to look up into his deep brown eyes barely able to make out your words you swallowed nervously.

“This is…it’s wrong” you made the mistake of looking up at him and found him staring at your lips, yearning to feel more of them.

“So tell me to stop” he whispered before looking up into your eyes.

“Tell me to stop and I promise I’ll leave, darlin’”

You knew you couldn’t.

You didn’t want him to.

Slowly you could hear the sound of him unbuttoning his jeans, his lips pressed against your cheek before slowly finding yours again. Joel knew you had never done something like this before, somehow that intrigued him more. He moved slowly, giving you the chance to stop him but he knew damn well you wouldn’t. Feeling his hands between your thighs you felt him slowly slide your underwear off your legs, throwing them to the side. Shoving your dress higher he positioned himself right at your entrance slowly sliding himself in you. Breathing each other in you moaned as his thrust pushed your body up against the wall. It felt exactly like you what you wanted.

What you needed.

Your arms slow grabbing onto his shoulders as he penetrated you deeply. A louder moan than you expected escaped your lips, Joel smirked looking down at how much you creamed all over his cock.

“Look at that..” he whispered roughly.

“Wanted it that bad, huh?” He thrusted harder when the house phone rang making you gasp. The phone sitting right beside you, Joel could read the name on the called ID.

It was your husband.

“Answer it”

“What?” You panted as he continued to move into you.

“Answer it” he demanded, his hand sliding behind your neck grabbing a chunk of your hair. A look you had never seen from him as he eagerly waited for you to do as he said.

Looking at the caller ID your heart sunk, what the hell was Joel thinking?

“Joel..I can’t” you whispered when he tugged at your hair.

“Yes you can” he held himself inside you deeply making you gasp.

“Hello?” You whispered, the phone shaking in your hand against your ear as Joel looked dead at you. Your husband of course making more excuses on how he would get home even later than he first said. Yet, for the first time in months…you didn’t care. Joel unexpectedly began to slam into you faster, a panic arising in your eyes as you felt yourself about to cum.

Your husband speaking as you attempted to control your breathing but at this level of pleasure it was impossible.

“I don’t know what damn time I’ll be home tonight so please don’t wait up for me, maybe I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t call my office either” Your husband continued as Joel watched your eyes begin to roll back. Biting his bottom lip as sweat dripped down his forehead he felt you tighten up around his cock.

“Hello? Are you even listening?!!” Your husband yelled when ecstasy exploded throughout your body.

“Yes!” You screamed uncontrollably, the phone slipping from your hands falling into pieces onto the floor. Grabbing onto Joel you moaned as he watched an orgasm take over you completely.

“Please…please-“ you begged as your body arched against him. Joel grunted pulling your hips closer to him thrusting his hips against you as you came.

“Joel…” you whispered, your body collapsing back against the wall. Out of breath you could barely say a word Joel quickly pulled out and came on your thigh making a sound of sweet relief.

A twist of emotions exploding through your chest. A pleasure you had never felt before mixed with a guilt you never knew you could feel.

“Oh my god…” you whispered as he turned away fixing himself up. Grabbing some paper towels you cleaned yourself off still in shock with what you had just done. Getting off the counter your legs felt like jello practically making you lose your balance. Joel quickly turned and held you up by your waist as you looked up at him feeling confused yet you didn’t know what to say. He could see the guilt you felt, the confusion you felt when you suddenly smacked him across the face. He barely moved, accepting your hit with his hand still around your waist. You attempted to push his hand off before he abruptly pulled you tighter against him. You gasped not expecting his reaction as he stared down at you intensely not saying a word.

“You-“ Joel grabbed your face pressing his lips to yours as you struggled to push away for just a second, his hands grabbing your wrists before you melted once again in his arms. Parting his lips from you he looked down breathlessly.

“It’s alright” he whispered as you looked up at him innocently. He knew what he had just done, but Joel didn’t regret it, hell he wished he could stay with you.

Kissing your forehead he silently left your home as you stood against the counter in shocker. Your phone still on the floor, your underwear right beside it with a drop of his cum you had noticed.

What the hell did this mean?

Joel went to his home and walked in casually passing Tommy who sat at the table eating a sandwich. Tommy didn’t even get to say a word with how quickly Joel hid himself in the bathroom starting the shower.

Staring at himself in the mirror he didn’t know what to feel. This wasn’t like Joel to sleep with a married woman yet the guilt he felt was more from you. The look in your eyes as you had realized what you had done he felt responsible for…yet he couldn’t keep himself away….

Part 2?

[sy-on-boy]

"Anya, are you... feeling okay?"

Anya stared at Becky with with big, blank, buggy eyes. "I don't understand," she said in a monotone.

Becky squinted at Anya. Anya was usually weird, but Becky knew her well enough to discern Anya's different types of weirdness. "Are you trying to be like Damian's creepy older brother?"

Ewen and Emile heard and quickly turned around to defend their best friend's brother. "Oy, don't insult Demetrius!" "He's not creepy, he's a genius! His mind operates at levels we cannot understand!"

"You guys are talking about my brother?" Damian's voice came. "What's all this fuss?"

Becky sighed, then deadpanned, "I think Anya's trying to be like your brother. For some reason."

Damian jumped and instantly scowled. Anya continued to silently stare at Damian with her buggy eyes. Damian backed away, weirded out (and oddly jealous) by Anya imitating his own brother. "Ugh, what's wrong with you, Forger?" he spluttered out, cheeks turning pink.

Upon seeing Damian's distaste, Anya blinked, dropped the act, and looked normal again. "Super Sy-on boy is a genius so I'm going to be like him until I become a genius. I wanna get stella stars like Super Sy-on boy."

"But Bossman also has stella stars," Ewen said innocently.

"But Super Sy-on boy has more stella stars," Anya interjected just as innocently. Damian's face instantly darkened.

Becky noticed and nudged Anya. "You didn't have to rub it in his face!" she hissed to Anya.

"Rub what in Sy-on boy's face?" Anya might not understand the saying, but now she knew she shouldn't had compared Damian with Demetrius even if it was unintentional. Anya gulped and nervously glanced at Damian, who was looking solemn and suddenly older than he was.

"Of course my brother is always better at everything. Even an idiot like her can see it. I don't like how she's imitating Demetrius (hah, a commoner like her would never come close to us Desmonds) but I see her point. Maybe I should be more like Demetrius too..."

Anya blinked. Becky's earlier words of "rub it in his face" came back to her. Face, face... Sy-on boy's face? In her mind, she superimposed Demetrius' buggy eyes and slicked back hair on top of Damian's. Hmph, a bit off-putting, but this was actually fine because Damian still looked stupid and snot-faced as he always did.

But then Anya imagined Demetrius' complete lack of expression on Damian— no more taunts, no more temper tantrums, no more of his silly red faces, but also no more smiles, no more tears, no more of that unadulterated fear she saw during the bus hyjacking, no more of that determined face of his when he shielded her from the dodgeball, no more of Damian being his annoying, crybaby, sometimes heroic self. A Damian with barely any thoughts. A Damian who didn't understand people and didn't bother with anything at all. No more Sy-on boy being Sy-on boy.

... And Anya didn't think she liked that.

"You don't have to be like Super Sy-on boy," Anya blurted out. She felt bad for making Damian feel down earlier, because she was supposed to be friends with him, and friends didn't make each other feel bad.

Damian looked at her, bewildered and somewhat taken aback. "Huh??"

What Anya thought was "your mom is weird and your brother is weird and your dad is an evil super boss. You're a jerk sometimes but you're not weird like they are, and I feel bad for you", but obviously she couldn't say that, so she simply said, "Sy-on boy is Sy-on boy. You're not Super Sy-on boy and you don't have to be like him (because I need to read your mind for the mission)."

Damian blinked, his heart warmed by Anya's unexpected sincerity. Anya wanted him to be himself? And not like his brother? She... didn't expect that from him?

Becky, intuitive as always, chimed in. "Damian, you're a bit of a brat, but don't turn into a creep like your brother."

Damian scowled. "My brother's not a creep!!"

"I'm just making a honest statement! It's for your own good!"

Anya stepped aside to let Becky and Damian bicker. Her eyes flitted over to Damian— Damian without those buggy eyes, Damian with long eyelashes, Damian with anger and scowls, Damian with thoughts and feelings and fears and likes and affection.

Then she thought of Damian's mother and brother with the odd, mysterious, and almost chilling darkness in their heads. In some way, Demetrius' apathy was easier to stomach than Melinda's tornado of chaotic and contradictory thoughts, but both of them threw her off. Damian, despite being Damian, despite being the son of the evil boss, was still... relatively normal. He smiled. He loved his dog. He was protective of his friends. He wanted stella stars. He threw temper tantrums. He wanted his family to love him. (He was scared of being abandoned.) Despite everything, Damian was still like Anya.

... Yeah. Anya hoped Sy-on boy would stay Sy-on boy for as long as he could.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗

pt 2 of do you like the way the water tastes?

eddie x fem!reader

summary: eddie walks you home but doesn’t do what you expect, when you try to confront him it doesn’t go as planned.

Your work shoes were rubbing at your ankles, friction from the water and the inability to never really feel dry after spending the afternoon at the pool, prevalent on your reddening skin. 

  But you could care less. 

  Eddie and you had been walking home in small awkward silence for the last ten minutes. Every once in a while his boot would crack a rock down the sidewalk and you’d kick it back to him, playing again, like children. 

  The silly boy at the pool with you was now being coy, rosy cheeks hiding behind a curtain of curls when your knuckles brushed his while you walked. 

  He clears his throat a few times, maybe the chlorine was making his throat scratchy? Or possibly his bravado fell once the two of you were alone?

  Either way, you focused on the way his fingers went to his mouth to bite the nail in a nervous habit, the click of his tongue ring on the back of his front teeth in another little routine for him. The noise makes your belly burn. so you break the ice.

  You bump into his shoulder, one hand twirling the ends of your hair, the other taking advantage of the heated skim of his skin on yours, “really had me fooled at Benny’s.” 

  he chuckles quickly, exasperating a small snort that he covers with a cough, “ ‘m sorry, probably should have said something better than that— just thought you’d like to ditch work and swim with me— I mean us.” The pretty blush creeps across his cheeks again and you can’t help but grin. 

  “Well,” you joke, stretching an olive branch out to him, “I’m glad your sick little plan worked.” 

  The heat creeps up to his ears and he chances to look down at you. Your smile widens and his gaze has you turning away, suddenly sheepish. 

  His eyes never leave you, but his better judgment stops him from grabbing your hand.  “yeah,” he manages, hot tongue licking his own lips. Daring to stare at the way the sun catches on the slope of your nose and sweat beads on your cupid’s bow, “lucky me.” 

  —

  “No kiss or anything?” Stella squeals through the end of your phone a week later. 

  Eddie had walked you all the way to the door of your apartment building. The small talk was sweet along the way, and you thought when he paused on his way to leave and looked at your lips that he would lean into a kiss. 

  But he never did. And you felt stupid. 

  Surely he’d ask for your number? 

  But he didn’t do that either.

  Instead he leaned into the door frame, ghosted his nose along your chin and whispered into your ear, the same clink of his tongue ring on his teeth, “see you around, sweetheart.” 

  What probably took a matter of 5 seconds lingered on your skin for hours. His smell; all chlorine and cigarettes. The way his cheeks burned in a crimson tinged tan from the sun. 

  It was intoxicating. 

  Addicting. 

  And you were left confused. He had almost kissed you at the pool… so why was he shy when you were alone? And even worse, silent. 

  “Nancy Drew couldn’t crack this case,” you explained to your best friend, “I thought we would… I don’t know.. go out? Maybe sneak a kiss?” 

  You were annoying yourself. Why was this bothering you so bad? It’s not as if you had a ton of boyfriends in your lifetime, but you knew when someone was flirting. 

  And Eddie Munson was laying on the charm, hot and heavy. 

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend?�� Stella quipped, “maybe he was just letting you down easy?” 

  Sweet Stella was always so genuine, she'd tell it to you straight but deliver it in sugary goodness. And even though she was sweet the words cut you like a knife. 

  “Fuck, who knows, I gotta go… see you at work?” 

  She says her goodbyes and you slam the receiver down, the ding satisfying to your ears. 

  Was Eddie playing you? Your stomach twists at the thought and you nearly kick yourself for letting him get the best of you. You didn’t even know him enough to be this upset. 

  Pushing him out of your mind the best you could for the rest of the afternoon you wait tables, pocketing next to nothing in tips because you won’t crack a smile. Coffee stains your apron, and ketchup coats the toe of your shoe, the smell making you gag in disgust. 

  Anything and everything that could go wrong at work did. At least to you. Stella and Dawn seemed to be having a great shift but you were brooding in your own head about the audacity Eddie Munson had to not even call, or have the balls to tell you that he wasn’t interested. 

  Being led on was worse than rejection. And this stung horribly, wedging the stinger into your chest further with every huff of annoyance you let out. 

  Stella’s smile cheers you up, her uniform cinching her curves in all the right ways, her pockets nearly bursting with loose change and folded bills in tips.

  “Maybe he’s shy?” She says over a shared cigarette in the back near closing time, her brain had been working overtime trying to make you feel better. 

  Shrugging your shoulders you scoot onto the plastic bucket you’ve used as a chair since starting at Benny’s junior year. “I dunno Stell, I feel like a giant fucking loser.” 

  It was true, you hadn’t heard anything from him since he walked you home. You even made an embarrassing call to Gareth to see if you would bring Eddie up. But he never did. You were annoyed with yourself for giving a shit when clearly he didn’t. 

  “Well how about this,” she says sliding down next to you, “I’ll close up tonight and you go home and rest. No sense in feeling like shit  and being at this dump .” 

  —

  The drive back to your apartment is short, and hot, the air conditioning that hasn’t worked all summer in your car suddenly driving you mad.  The old radio that fuzzed and only came clear in one station decided to quit indefinitely right in the middle of your favorite song. 

  Before the transmission is thrown into park, you’re on the verge of screaming, and when the key sticks in the ignition you slam your hands into the steering wheel. Could this day get any worse? 

  Frustration brews when you finally finagle the key just right so it pops out of the vice and your elbow catches the dash, hard. The last straw. 

Smoldering tears well in your eyes, but you swallow them down. And it’s in that moment that you decide you need answers right the fuck now. 

  —

  Forest Hills Trailer Park was on the outskirts of town, nestled up against a vast, thick tree line. You didn’t know which trailer was his, taking a chance on a tan one that had a van parked out front that looked similar to his. Only to be embarrassed beyond belief when an old lady with missing teeth and tight curlers cursed you out for interrupting Oprah, a slam of her shitty screen door in your face. 

  Stomping down the steps you narrowly avoid a nail on the second step. Causing you to lose your balance and topple over into barely-there grass covered lawn. Face first into the dirt.

  Great. 

  The drag of soil  and the pull of grass snapping from the earth rings into your ears and shoves under your nails as you scrape your hands on the yard of lot 11, pushing yourself up. 

  The first rogue tear slides down your dirty face and you don’t even bother to wipe it away. Simply shifting to sit on your butt while you dust gingerly at the gravel and fresh blood from your knees. 

  You were wrong before: today could get worse. Much worse. Coffee, ketchup, grass and dirt all paint your work uniform. You were a mess. A pissed off, mess. 

  You hear your name in a question. And when you look up there he is. The one you had been searching for. Standing above you with a concerned expression, trying hard to hide a grin. He’s wearing a bandana around his head, the pungent smell of grease and sticky oil wafts to you when the wind picks up and he gets closer, a socket wrench gripped lazily in his hand. 

  The dirt on your cheek and bits of twigs stuck in your hair only add to the messy glamor of how you already looked. But Eddie can’t help but stare, the same heat in his cheeks and swimming in his stomach from the day at the pool when you look up at him, tears ready to fall. 

  “Didn’t know Miss Jeanie had a granddaughter,” he says with a slight tease, “thought she was too damn mean to ever be married.” 

  When the scowl set on your face didn't budge he changed his tone, shifting his weight from laid back and almost cocky with a hip out to standing like he was getting scolded. Both feet locked in place and his head down, shoulders sagged, peeking at you through his bangs, he stammers, “a—are you okay?” 

  A loud sniff leaves your body as you shove yourself up from the ground, not seeing the hand Eddie threw out to help you, “yeah,” you spit, wincing slightly as the bend in your knees stretches open the broken skin, “just peachy, I try to spend my Saturdays falling down the steps of some rickety ass trailer in hopes of avoiding a nail through my foot.” 

  Eddie only stares, mouth set in confusion as he tries to think of a quick reply, something witty, maybe something to make you laugh, but you don’t give him the time. 

  Turning on your heel, you stumble over a rock but catch yourself. Again, not seeing the way Eddie had ran forward with an outstretched hand to help. You’ve never been more mad and embarrassed in your entire life, and all you wanted to do was get the hell out of here. 

  It’s not until you have the door of your car open does Eddie register what he wanted to say, “what are you doing here?”

  It comes out wrong, accusing compared to the way he thought it would fall flirty from his lips. And you’re stunned, the tears falling freely now. 

  “Fuck, I mean— shit—” he stutters through his explanation, tongue tied and twisting in on itself, “n—not like ‘what are you doing here?’ but…” embarrassment works up his neck and hides on the tips of his ears, “I—I meant, Uhh— shit, d’ you need a band aid?” 

  The tears make clean streaks down your face and you wipe at them angrily. “N-o I don’t need a f-frickin’ bandaid, Eddie!” You needed a hot bath, a nap, a fucking cigarette; anything but this frustratingly awkward conversation with you resembling a bum and Eddie looking like a Greek Mechanic God.

  “Well, you’re bleeding,” he emphasizes and points to the bloody scrapes on your knees. 

  You knew they were bleeding, they stung and burned with each step you took, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of helping you out. 

  “I’m f—fine,” you stutter.

  “Shh, c’mon sweet girl,” Eddie says, closing the steps between you both and shutting your car door, his forefinger curled to catch a tear from dripping down your cheek, “lemme clean y’ up and then you can tell me what brought this cute little face down to the slums.” 

  You had come here to give him a piece of your mind, demand to know why he was so hot and cold. Instead you had made a fool out of yourself, and were a blubbering mess. 

  —

  Eddie’s trailer was the one next door to Miss Jeanie’s. Misjudging the yard his van was parked in as hers, you silently kick yourself as you follow him up the three steps leading inside. 

  His trailer is welcoming in a young bachelor type of way. Comforting outdated trinkets, guitar amps and cords strewn across the surfaces— keeping the dust and empty beer cans company.

  “Sorry,” he says, picking up some beer cans and tossing them into the trash, “roommates a slob, have a seat Uhh— wherever,” he says gesturing around with his hands and disappearing down a narrow hallway. 

  You look around and take a seat at the table, “didn’t know you had a roommate,” you call out, looking around the small cluttered living space. Tapes and magazines cover the small table along with a faded green homemade ashtray filled almost to the rim. 

  Eddie comes bounding back down the hallway, carrying a small first aid kit and a washcloth, “I don’t,” he quips, delivering a wink that has your stomach somersaulting. And when he notices the heat rise on your cheeks, he gives you a toothy smile in an attempt to hide his own blush. 

  And it was like no time had passed. Like he hadn’t been avoiding you for a week, but rather that you were still swimming in the cool blue water of the pool, kissed by the warmth of the sun and his arms around you when he pulled you in. 

  His thumbs trace the edges of the kit in a nervous habit, “Alright, let's take a look at those knees,” he looks from you to the kitchen counter, “do you uh.. here—” with a sweep of his arm he shoves the magazines and scattered tapes in a dusty cardboard box and tossed it on the table, “sit up here.” 

  Quirking an eyebrow at him, you give him a puzzled expression, which he answers with a laugh, “Dr. Munson needs to be able to see what he’s doing.” 

  For the first time since arriving in the trailer park, you let out a small smile, “doctor huh?” you question hoisting yourself onto the counter. 

  Eddie works beside you filling a bowl with warm water, “shyeah, I’m the band's primary caregiver,” he explains in a mockery tone, “even gave myself stitches a few years back after hiding from the cops when Jeff’s party got busted.” 

  He extends his pale arm towards you brandishing the silvery crook of a scar on his forearm, “twelve stitches, not the prettiest thing but it did the job.” 

  The air of your giggle was exactly what he was looking for, and his dimples dip into his cheeks with a smirk, hiding behind uncombed curls. 

  Thick fingers open the lid to the kit and he pulls out the old packages of gauze and bandages. Dipping a washcloth into the warm water he whistles a tune you haven’t heard, wringing the cloth out, the water splashes gently into the bowl. 

  He glanced over at your cut knees and winced, “not gonna lie to you, ‘s gonna hurt like hell.” 

  Nodding with a sniffle you quietly say, “I’ve had scraped knees before… doctor.” The grin he tried to hide spreads and tickles the corners of his eyes. 

  “Just want my favorite patient comfortable,” he says leaning into the joke.

  “Favorite or only?”

  His laugh is loud and boisterous, a thousand leagues away from his gentle touch on the delicate raw skin as he presses the cloth carefully around the scrapes and cleans the wound. 

  “Both,” he says, looking up at you through the thick black weeds of his lashes, holding your gaze for a second longer than he should have, pushing the limits. “Ya gonna tell me what you were doin’ playing in the dirt by my trailer or should I guess?”

  “I— I was,” you think quick of a lie, but you almost tremble when his head lowers and his curls tickle the tops of your bare thighs, the feeling sends prickles of goose flesh in its wake. All senses on overload, and you squirm when his warm hand sits atop one of them. 

  “I heard that there was a place to rent here, and well yeah if you must know— I was researching that information for Molly and Gareth.” 

  The sensation is quick lived as he hurriedly empties the bowl and struggles to open the bandaid package, using his teeth instead and spitting the paper to the floor.

  “Really?” He questions, in almost a whisper, after expertly placing the bandaid over the cut. Leaning with palms on either side of you, his stare is playful, “cause Gareth told me they already found a place.” 

  Your blood runs cold and you can smell the brine of sweat on his bandana as he gets closer and boxes you in. Stuttering out a phrase somewhere between, ‘I-was-looking-for-my-other-friend’ and a muttered gasp, he only laughs. 

  The same click from his tongue ring you heard at the pool on the back of his teeth as he clucks his tongue sang in your ears, you’d do whatever you could to hear that again. Shaking his head, he looks at you with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, “you sure about that?” 

  Here he was again, laying it on thick and juicy. But two could play this game. 

  “Yeah,” you counter back, leaning forward into him, not giving him the upper hand but wanting to tease him— unable to forget the week of silence. 

  Whispering and curling your lips close to his ear you can hear the way he shudders, “thanks for the bandaids Doctor Munson,” your breath fans on his skin, and you ghost your lips across his cheek, “but, I gotta go.” 

  You didn’t. But the satisfaction of having him close and then you being the one to to push him away was fucking satisfying. 

  Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the counter, crossing his arms across the stained front of his once white shirt, “Two lies from those pretty little lips, sweetheart you’re just asking for trouble.” 

  “I’m not lying,” you say innocently, hopping down from the counter and walking towards the door, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

  You were. 

  “That's three,” he says, eyes following you like he was lost. The flirty vibe he had been giving was falling away from him. 

  Turning the knob you glance over your shoulder, “looks like I’m out.”  

  In two long legged strides he’s beside you, pulling the door shut with a big hand over your own, his face looks almost flustered like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of you, “Go for a drive with me.” 

  “No,” you sing-song to him looking at your bare wrist as if you were wearing a watch, biting back with a teasing hint of venom of your sour attitude, “it’s late, maybe next week.” 

  He snorts a laugh and the dimples he had tried to hide earlier appear, making you almost melt into the worn linoleum. 

  “Ahh c’mon Pinocchio,” he teases, reaching to your cheek to brush a smear of dirt from it, “maybe a little fresh air will help you remember why you came here in the first place.” 

  “I’ve already ridden in that death trap on wheels, screw boy,” you say pointing a finger into his chest. 

  He crowds you again, licking his lips and biting his tongue ring through his perfect teeth to show you the silver bulb. 

  “Oh baby no, we aren’t driving the van,” his fingers wrap around the hem of your sleeve on your work uniform and he looks down at you with a devilish grin, “we’re taking my bike.” 

tag list: @em-guitar-pick @joejoequinnquinn @raven-rust @hiscrimsonangel @josephquinnsfreckles @strangerfreak @bebe07011 @b-irock @chloe-6123 @whenshelanded @take-everything-you-can @mandyjo8719 @parmawiolets @mommybaby-witch @hellfirefiend @nevermoreraven1 @emmaisgonnacry @secretdryrose @eddiemunson4life420 @littlegingerbat @tlclick73 @definitionwanderlust @yvedesi

[scuderiasundays]

time after time

summary: years of yearning ending in a fiery release 🧨 written with lennon stella's cover of "time after time" (one of my all-time favorites) on repeat!

words: 1315

a/n: those b/w milan photos gave me the final push i needed to get this out into the world! the first time i've written anything this long so i would appreciate any and all feedback 🫶🏼

September 2012

"I bet you could convince my mom to let me go." It was a picturesque night in Madrid as the words slipped out of his mouth. Gathered around a table adorned with colorful tapas, Carlos and his friends celebrated his and Y/N’s birthdays over Gambas al Ajillo and pints of Estrella Galicia. Sat across from Carlos was Y/N, his best friend who he had grown up alongside. The aspiring Formula 1 driver had been away for months, leaving behind his beloved hometown. Tonight, their tight-knit group had unanimously agreed to refrain from discussing anything related to motorsport, but Carlos couldn't help but come up with hypothetical situations that ended in successfully persuading his mother to allow him to race in Macau, a city an astonishing 10,497 kilometers away.

Would Y/N ever gather the strength to say no to those velvety brown eyes? The evening had quickly gone by, and Carlos and Y/N bid farewell to their friends, commencing their walk back to the Sainz residence. “Mama, look who I’ve brought home.” Reyes’ face lit up upon Y/N’s arrival at the front door. If ever a motherly instinct surged within Reyes, it was when she witnessed the two little ones growing up, sensing deep down they were destined to end up together. Reyes had been like a second mother to Y/N and had always gotten her a birthday gift of her choosing. “So, what shall it be this year?” Reyes beamed. “I want to use this year’s wish for Carlos, if that’s alright. He’s worked tirelessly this season and it would kill me if he didn’t get to race in Macau.”

“Carlitos put you up to this, no?” Reyes chuckled. Drawing Y/N into a warm embrace, she assured Y/N that Carlos could race at the Macau Grand Prix, so long as he stopped pressuring his best friend to speak on his behalf. To make up for her son’s foolishness, Reyes allowed Y/N to blow out the candles on the birthday cake she’d made for Carlos since she had virtually used up her birthday wish on him. Y/N closed her eyes, silently praying that this would be the year Carlos would come to his senses and realize she’s been madly in love with him this whole time.

July 2020

"You're not coming to Mallorca this summer?" Y/N could sense Carlos’ frustration seeping through the phone. It wasn't that she didn't want to go, of course she did. Summers in Mallorca were pure bliss. The refreshing gazpacho Reyes prepared, the laughter-filled board game sessions with Carlos' grandfather, and the exhilarating late-night padel matches with Carlos, Ana, and Blanca. There was cause for additional celebration this summer as Carlos had made it through the treacherous F1 silly season unscathed, securing a seat at McLaren. However, a mixture of the demands of residency and an unspoken truth kept Y/N from wanting to spend even a single moment with the man she had termed “Summer Carlos.”

Summer Carlos was carefree, bronzed, and exuded warmth. Summer Carlos was the Carlos who had drunkenly kissed her three summers ago, leaving her heartbroken when he acted as though nothing had happened the following day. The memory still stung, and Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to face those emotions once again.

July 2022

Caco, Carlos' older cousin, had graciously invited Y/N to join them at the Silverstone Grand Prix. After managing to secure a weekend off from work, Y/N was euphoric escaping the sterile confines of the hospital. As she walked into the motorhome, a mix of emotions swirled within her. It had been months since she had last seen her best friend. Her job kept her tethered to the emergency room, while Formula 1 had taken Carlos across the globe.

The initial words that escaped Carlos' lips were, "You look pale, like you could use some Mallorcan sun." Y/N couldn't decipher whether he genuinely wanted her there or not. The uncertainty lingered, leaving her unsure of where they stood after all this time apart.

Eager to avoid being in anyone's way, especially Carlos', Y/N decided to take a stroll around the paddock. Lost in her thoughts, she ran into Lando, Carlos' former teammate, who recognized her immediately and approached with a friendly smile. "How've you been, Y/N? We miss you over at McLaren.” Y/N had tended to Lando after his Eau Rouge crash during qualifying in 2021, forging a close bond between them.

A faint smile appeared on Y/N's face as she replied, "Maybe I'll seek refuge at McLaren's hospitality this weekend since it seems like Carlos doesn't want me here." Lando chuckled in his characteristic way, the sound putting Y/N at ease. "You and I both know the man is terrible at expressing his feelings. He's probably just yearning for you because you've been too busy saving lives. Trust me," Lando reassured her. "I'm running late for a meeting, but I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Y/N's mind was filled with curiosity, trying to make sense of Lando's words. Carlos pining for her? It seemed impossible, given their history and the distance that had grown between them. Yet, a flicker of hope ignited within her, and she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Carlos' aloofness than she had initially assumed.

Y/N's phone buzzed, and her heart skipped a beat as she read Carlos' message: "You and me in my driver's room now." Her hands shook as she knocked on the door, waiting for his response. "Come in," he replied, and as she entered, she couldn't help but notice how he made the fiery Ferrari red his own.

"You can't just waltz back into my life whenever you feel like it, Y/N. Race weekends are sacred to me, and you showing up out of nowhere is a distraction. It's not like you even care about me or my career anyways. When was the last time you watched a race, hmm? Dr. Y/N is always too busy at the hospital."

Y/N wouldn't allow Carlos to lash out at her like this, not after all the sacrifices she had made. Countless sleepless nights on call, choosing to stay awake to watch Carlos race in distant cities. Collecting every article featuring him since his karting days, carefully preserving them in a special scrapbook. Being there for him in his darkest moments, answering late-night calls when the pressure almost crushed him.

"You can't push me away that easily. We both know I've always been there for you, to the point where I didn’t even know who I truly was when you reached Formula 1 and left Madrid," Y/N said. "I only bury myself in my work to avoid facing the emptiness that hangs over the city when you’re not around."

Carlos felt a pang of pain as he witnessed his best friend break down in front of his eyes. Had he truly misunderstood everything all along? Y/N's words pierced through his heart. "I’m all yours. I always have been," she said, her tears dampening her sleeves.

In an attempt to console her, Carlos whispered softly, "Don't cry, princesa. Mama will kill me if she finds out I made you so upset."

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle through her tears. “Well, go out and win this race for me, and I'll promise not to snitch.”

“For you, anything,” he said.

“And for the first time in Formula 1, Carlos Sainz is victorious! He wins the British Grand Prix!” The electrifying announcement filled the air as Y/N ran from the garage to the podium. As Carlos emerged from the car, his eyes searched for one face in particular. With both hands, he gently caressed Y/N's face. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips against hers, years of longing exploding in a passionate release. The two of them radiated a golden glow, as if destiny herself had brought them together, time after time.

[moon-catto]

hii stella idk if ur requests are open but if they are can i pls request a hurt (maybe end w comfort...or not) trope of gojo forgetting ur anniversary again🙇‍♀️

He forgets your anniversary

Summary: Today is your fourth anniversary with him... And might be the last one.

Warning: Mention of abandonment, angst with comfort at the end.

Sorry this took so damn longg, I hope you'll like this one!

Masterlist

The gold ring goes loose as you gently pushed it off from your annular finger. The skin under the skin is one shade lighter due to how long you’ve worn the ring.

You flicked the ring lightly on the table surface. Watching it as the round object glides around, towards the edge of the table and fall to the cold ground below with a light clink sound.

It used to be the most precious thing for you. Now it feels like the ring has lost all of its’ original purpose, just like this relationship of yours with him— because what is a relationship for if there’s only one person fighting for it?

And you’re tired of fighting, really. At first, you used to think that it’s such a waste for a four years long relationship ended so abruptly like this, so that’s why you’re trying to talk about it with your husband for the last time after proposing it several times before.

It’s ironic. Today marked the fourth anniversary of yours and him, but this maybe the date where everything ends. You’ve said your share via written letters and chats due to how rare he came home and now the choice lies with him.

If he decided to end this here and today, you won’t complain. You expected this long time ago with how cold he’s acting recently, you know it’s inevitable.

So it’s silly for you to cry about it again, isn’t it? It’s funny how your tears keeps falling from your eyes non-stop and ruined your pretty white blouse that you have prepared for this anniversary. You can’t prevent your heart from feeling hurt when you know it’s one hour away from midnight, and still no sign from him. No calls, messages... Just nothing.

Then you realized that maybe... Despite the strong act you’ve been doing until now, in the depths of your heart, you still want him to fight for this. For you. You just want him to be here and took your extended hand, to make sure that you’re not a fool for picking up the gold ring again.

But now the chair across you is still empty. The lights are still off and so is the candle you put on the cake you have baked this afternoon.

Maybe this is it. This is the real end of your marriage. Too bad that you won’t be able to hate him for abandoning you, because your love for him is far too much for the hatred to seep in. That’s why this feels thrice too painful.

Love is indeed a twisted curse. It made you blind to the cold reality around you and put a leash on your neck, to keep you suffering and suffering under the name of love— in the end, it left you with nothing but a bleeding heart and wounded soul.

You don’t know if you will be able to move on from this— four years worth of loving relationship, but you have to. You need to in order to heal yourself. It will be a hard journey because you’ll be on your own from now.

Your head hung low, but then the front door opened. Someone is running towards you— you don’t need raise your head to know who is that, just the sight of his wet shoes is enough for you to know.

He is here. He finally came home after months disappearing.

The silent is so loud, you can hear his erratic breathing from your position. Water dripping from his uniform and made a small path to your feet.

“I—“ he began speaking. You can tell he’s nervous, his voice cracked.

“What do you want?” You said. Your hand rubbed your other hand to calm yourself.

“I... I want to see you...” he said, he sounded desperate as he continues. “I want to see you... Wife...”he added hesitantly.

The pet name made your hand clenched tighter together. “Now you have seen me. Get out.”

You missed the way his pupils dilated. Or how his mouth went agape on your cold words. You even refused to see him. This is enough signs for him to spare you less problem by walking out now, but... But...

“Please...” he walked one step closer, his arms reaching for your figure but stopped in the middle of the cold air. His shoulder slumped down as his whole body begins to tremble at the thought that this is maybe the last day he’s able to see you. “Please... Another chance...” he pleaded quietly.

At his pitiful words, you let out a light chuckle. You rubbed your face roughly and he can see how the edge of your fingernails have been bitten off quite badly due to intense anxiety.

“For what?” you asked him again, but spare him no time to answer. “I thought you made it clear that you want to end this?”

“No! I don’t want to end this!”

“Then why the fuck are you abandoning me for months, Satoru?!” You yelled back in a heart beat.

The echo of your voice bouncing from the walls before the silent filled the air again.

“I’m so tired of this!” You get up from the chair. “Of you!” you pointed him and by then he can see your face. All red and with tears falling from your puffy eyes, he can’t ignore how the rage burns inside your brilliant irises. The intensity of your emotions consumed him, leaving him speechless and unable to made any coherent words.

You inhaled sharply. The pain in your heart multiplied just with his sight alone. You looked to the side, disappointment clearly shown on your face. “I gave you too many chances already.”

His heart fell to his stomach.

“W-wife...”

“If you’re not going to leave, then I will.” You quickly made your way to your bedroom and he hurriedly following behind. He called your names several times but it falls deaf on your ears.

“W-wife, love, Y/N, please...” he begged you while trying to stop your hand from pulling your prepared suitcase. “Don’t leave me, I beg you.” He hugged you from behind, his strong arms are able to stop you from moving. “I’ll do anything, anything you want! Please don’t leave me!”

“You’re months late, Satoru! What’s the use of begging now?!”

Then he fell on his knees with his hands holding onto your legs, his forehead touched the floor.

“I’ll do anything for you... I need you, I can’t live without you, Y/N... please, please, please, please—”

Your heart hurts more when he keeps begging. Chanting apologies and promises like his life depended on it, his grip on you is gentle— you can leave his grasp anytime, but you can’t. Not when he’s trembling so much like this, like he genuinely fears that you’d leave him for real.

You’re going to leave. You’re sure of it, yet he managed to crumble your resolve so easily like this. You might love him more than you initially thought.

New batch of tears wet your cheeks again. You never thought you would see him like this after exchanged vows with him. Vulnerable and insecure, his usual persona has disappeared completely and left a fragile shell of a broken man you used to love so much.

“Satoru,” you called him. You kneeled so you can help him stand, he clings to you instead. His head on your shoulder, his breath so quick and heavy at the same time. “Please stand.”

“You’ll leave,” he sobs. “You’ll leave me if I let go...”

“Satoru...”

“I love you.” His confession always feel so sweet, now it feels so sad and full of pain. “I love you so much...” his lips found way to your neck, giving kisses to your neck with still trembling body.

“... Why now?” you whispered. Your legs gave out and you sit on the floor. His bigger body enveloped you into a tighter hug. His body is cold and wet, but his hands remain warm on your skin.

“I’m sorry I’m so late...” he hiccups, his sobs sound so broken and raw. “I know I’m not supposed to beg you for another chance... I know...”

“But I can’t let you go.”

“... Are you cheating on me?”

At that, he looked at you immediately. “No, no! How could I—" he hiccups.

Looking at his baffled expression, he’s telling the truth. “I’d rather die than to cheat on you.”

“So why do you never come home? Why do you never replied to my text and my calls...?” he wiped your tears with his thumbs, kissed your forehead with such love and it hurts because he still loves you like he did before.

“I’m sorry, for leaving you alone for so long...” he cupped your cheeks before pulling you gently to his chest where you can hear his heart beating so fast.

“It’s just that, I have so many things to do lately and it’s dangerous if you’re involved.” He says. “I don’t want you to be in any danger, Y/N.”

“And I know it’s not fair for you. I always keep you in the dark about what I do but that’s because I’m just really scared to lose you.” He begins to stroke your hair gently, your soft sobs made his tears starts to welling up.

“But I don’t realized that I also pushed you away... I almost lost you because of my own stupidity.” He hurried his head on your neck again, inhaling your scent and feeling your warmth again that he missed for months. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. For acting so stupid.”

“... You do know today is our anniversary, right?”

He nodded.

“That’s why I came home.” He hugged your figure tighter, closer to him. “I can’t leave you alone on our anniversary again.”

Your finger traced his wet black uniform. The soft material feels smooth under your skin. Warmth slightly seeping off of his body.

This is the first time you’re able to touch him like this. It feels like a dream even if you’re in his arms now, his eyes looked at you with such vibrant affection and pain. No matter how much you decline it, your heart skips only for him.

Your finger continues tracking his skin. His Adam’s apple, up to his lips where he kissed each fingers of yours with such tenderness and passion. Your other hand ruffle his wet hair, feeling each strand wipe your skin wet. Your fingers went down to rub the skin under his eyes, now darken because the lack of sleep and crying. His eyes flutter closed at your light touch, his cheeks reddens as he sighed in both bliss and relief of having your touch on him.

“Will you continue to do it?” you asked with voice barely above whisper.

“... What?” he opened his eyes.

“Keeping everything as a secret from me.” You said.

He gulped as the guilty feeling slowly creeping inside his heart. You don't even have to ask permission from him to know about this, but here you are. “No.” He answered. “I won’t keep you in the dark again.”

“What if you lied again?” you asked again, he knows you're scared that he'll leave you again. And so does he, his hand grabbed onto the hem of your blouse tightly until the material crinkled under his fingertips.

“You can kill me with your own hands.” He leaned closer to you, pulling your body closer to him gently. “I don’t mind.“

You looked at him with hesitance in your eyes, he sensed it. He cupped your face lovingly with his hands. “To me, losing you is equal to the death itself.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “Because you are the most precious person to me.”

His words are sincere. He’s offering himself for you, all bare and vulnerable. He’s fighting for you with his all and it shows in his eyes.

“Please give me another chance to fight for you.” His nose rubs yours gently, just like a cat to his owner. “I swear I’ll never leave again.”

“This might be the last.” You whispered, and his eyes twinkle with both hope and desperation. “After that i—”

“I know.” He smiled bitterly. “Thank you.... thank you, wife."

He kissed you gently as if he’s tasting the water. After you gave him approval, he pulled you for another kisses. Harder and deeper, he filled the hollow parts of your heart with his love again.

He pushed you gently on the floor, his lips never leaving you. Covering every skin possible with his lips, his hand hold onto yours tightly when he made mental promises to not to let you down ever again.

When he pulled back, he gazes at you with the same love-struck look he had when he saw you in your wedding dress. His tears flow from his eyes along with a gentle curve of his lips. “I love you.”

“... So what exactly are you doing recently?” You asked him. You’re both have showered and now cuddling on the bed.

Your finger traced circles on his chest, unknowingly made his heart jumped in joy at the small gesture.

He leaned closer to kiss your forehead. “Remember the annoying old geezer who is always creeping you out?”

You nodded.

“You see, he’s one of the higher ups of the Jujutsu world. He’s also the one who planned Yuuji’s execution along with some other.... Disturbing things...” he said.

“I don't know him well but he sounds like an actual asshole.”

He chuckled at your brazen words. “You described him perfectly, baby.”

“So what is your business with him?” you looked up to him just to find him looking back at you with a sweet smile on his face. You’re so adorable, even with your puffy eyes and red nose— you’re undoubtedly the most beautiful girl he ever seen in his lifetime.

Can’t resist your charm, he leaned in for some kisses.

“Satoru, you’re getting distracted.” You hit his shoulder lightly and he giggled. He sounds so innocent, his laugh pulled on your heartstrings.

“Sorry,” he gave you one last Kiss on your lips. “You’re just so beautiful, wife.”

You didn’t know if he’s just messing with you or being genuine. Either way, his sweet words made your cheeks growing warm.

“So about that old man, him and other higher ups ruled over the Jujutsu world. It’s basically a rotten and shitty ass world where they let the students die young.” He brushed your red cheeks with his big thumbs. Internally pushing the needs to bite your rosy cheeks. “So...”

He cheekily smiled. “I rebelled and take over the higher-ups along with my talented and cute student soldiers yesterday.”

“You did WHAT?”

He grinned proudly in contrast with your shaken expression. “So I guess I’m not a teacher anymore, but the principal of Tokyo Jujutsu College. Tee-hee~"

"WHAT?!"

Masterlist

[strawbeerossi]

Here Comes The Sun

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Two years after the tragic loss of Noah is spent with healing and love and filled with light. The Reid's welcome two new children into their lives: Stella and Milo. On the second anniversary of losing their oldest son, the parents decide to take a trip to a place that is filled with loving memories.

Content Warning: There are mentions of mending a failing relationship, reader and Spencer are attentive to one another this go around, there’s a brief mention of guilt due to reader being pregnant again and having another child but it isn’t too long, there are a lot of flashback sequences, Penelope and reader are best friends, there’s happiness for once, then of course a nice big fluffy bow wrapped around this work with a little dash of angst glitter dusted on it.

Word Count: 2.9K

Part one

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The italicized bodies of text are memories. I had to end on a memory because I thought it was fitting. Besides, it would be Penelope’s favorite memory and I couldn’t resist.

Another request from the lovely @lucreziaq2001! 🩷

Two years, eight months, three weeks, six days, ten minutes and two seconds.

That’s how long it had been for Spencer and Y/N to slowly adjust to their lives together, adapting to the life of being a husband and wife again, enjoying one another’s company and love.

Their time was spent together, Spencer happy to watch whatever trashy tv show that his wife settled on, or Y/N was happy to sit and listen to her husband read something interesting to him.

They were able to laugh together, cry together, even sleep together in their shared bedroom after months of having to sleep separately.

There was healing, progress that was making life worth living again.

No more tears of agony in a separate room, both spouses longing for the loving embrace and soft words of reassurance.

As the seasons changed, life got more bearable. Spencer had begun working appropriate hours, not staying longer than he had to when he got the luxury of going home due to not being on a case. He wanted to be home with his life partner, enjoying the warmth and comfort of her presence.

It was a bit silly but he felt like he did years ago when he first met her. There was excitement to text and call her, to tell her about his day over dinner. He felt alive again.

Y/N was no different, back to her smiley self as she had made peace with Noah, their little boy being present in the rainbows that shone over Quantico after a heavy rain or even a light sprinkle. The tears never dried, yet she knew that she’d be okay, that Spencer would be okay.

There was no replacing what they lost.

It was an autumn morning whenever she had paced around the bathroom, her hands over her mouth as her hands were clamped over her mouth, tears drenching her cheeks.

Five pregnancy tests – all positive.

Part of her was ecstatic, another part of her was feeling immense guilt. There was a thought lingering in the back of her mind of everyone being upset with her. She was terrified of the other dark thought that would loom over her forever; another loss to get over.

She was in the bathroom for hours, so long that she didn’t even realize that her thoughts had encompassed her, having her sit on the bathroom floor until it was time for Spencer to come home a few hours early from a more quiet day at the office.

The first emotion that washed over him was worry. Every light in the house was off, there was silence. That was never a good sign, especially after the way he nearly lost her before.

After a panic inducing search around their shared home, he found her curled up on the bathroom floor. As he cautiously approached his wife and kneeled down beside her, his hand was resting against her shoulder as he soothingly smoothed it up and down her back.

There was a tearful admission of Y/N being pregnant again and she looked like she’d been bracing herself for the worst reaction, even though she knew her husband well enough at this point to know he wouldn’t be angry, nor would he snap at her.

Instead, they held each other on the bathroom floor, the tears of relief falling from the wife’s eyes while tears of joy were falling from her husband’s eyes.

They couldn’t replace what they lost and they knew that but this was going to be a new journey. Grieving parents being able to extend their love and share stories of their oldest child who’s spirit lingered in the house.

Life had begun to lighten up, getting better with each passing day. She’d almost forgotten the excitement of being pregnant, feeling the little kicks or the way that she would giggle as Spencer would get kicked in the mouth when he tried pressing kisses against the swollen baby bump.

However, the real shock didn’t come until they were at a doctor’s appointment, listening to the sound of the baby’s heartbeat, another one being detected. That coupled with the sonogram that showed that there were two in there had both parents looking at each other with wide eyes.

Two babies.

They had thought they prepared enough, reading numerous books on multiples and thinking of names that meshed well together all the while there was the feeling of warmth. A family of five.

Y/N always wanted a big family and this meant they were nearing the stages of that coming to fruition. She always thought four children was the perfect amount to classify a big family, however she’d be willing to up that number if it made her husband happy.

As the days turned to weeks, this pregnancy opened many doors that she didn’t face the first go around. For starters, she was sporting a bump very early on.

However Spencer had a whole explanation for the reasoning behind that,

“That's because once your abdominal muscles and skin expand during pregnancy, they're never quite as taut again.”

Which made sense given the abdominal muscle that went hand in hand with pregnancy had already been stretched out the first go around, leaving her body to proudly display the life that had been growing inside of the woman.

As the time went by though and the beautiful twins were brought into the world, things got better. They were fraternal twins; Stella Rose Reid, then they had Milo Walter Reid. They both had a head full of brunette curls and the same beautiful hazel eyes that their father shared. Stella was the loud one, knowing exactly how to get the attention of both parents within the snap of a finger. Milo, however, was the quiet one, he rarely cried and mostly resorted to soft cooing.

As they grew from newborns to infants, their personalities shined just as bright. Stella loved Spencer, sometimes Y/N would joke that she loved her father more. She was the first to begin crawling, her father coming in after a week long case was what motivated her to bolt towards him.

“Look at her!” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she watched the little girl scurry over to her father as quick as her little body would take her. “Daddy’s home, isn’t he?” She gushed fondly, looking to Milo in her arms as he was peacefully sleeping, a fist full of his mother’s shirt as if he would be taken away if he dared to let go.

“Hi, Stella!” Spencer's voice was high pitched, the excitement in his tone making the baby squeal with her own matched happiness while holding her arms up towards her father as she was seated by his feet. “I’ve missed you too, my little star.” The father grinned, nuzzling his nose against the chubby cheeked baby while kissing the top of her head.

“I would squeal and greet you but the little man is knocked out cold. They got into a little argument over those teething keys earlier, poor bub got smacked in the head.” The mother spoke while standing from where she was seated on the floor, greeting her husband with a kiss like she always did.

“Ah! We don’t hit bubba!” Spencer narrowed his eyes at his daughter, making the little girl match his look while babbling in her own language, almost as if she was arguing with him. “You better be nice or I’ll ground you until you’re eighteen.” He warned, a chuckle leaving his lips.

Y/N would like to think they did good, always making sure their children were well attended to, however she could admit she was reminiscent of a helicopter parent. Her therapist assured her it was normal, given the circumstances of the loss of their oldest child.

As the twins were hitting the nine month milestone however, there was a tight feeling in their mother’s chest. The day they turned nine months also fell on the two year anniversary of their brother’s death. It was a hard enough day already, this being the second year without him.

Spencer had already used some of his leave for that day as well as the next, just wanting to be with his wife and children for the time they needed him most. Besides, he could answer calls and give insight if the team really needed him.

The morning of the anniversary was a little different than any other day. Spencer made sure to get both of the twins and he was the one to get them situated before making breakfast. The day wasn’t gloomy, there was no rain. It was going to stay a good day, one where they could discuss the life of their son and reminisce on old memories.

Spencer even invited Penelope over to spend the day with them.

It was no secret that Y/N was friends with the team, getting to know them and their families as the years passed by, however she’d grown the closest to Penelope, mainly because they could’ve been the same person with the way they both acted. They’d bonded easy, mainly over their love of all small and cute animals, bunnies being something that they both adored.

“Are you kidding?” Y/N laughed while looking over the bunny stuffed animal, the “push present” that the loveable insisted on getting, the little doll being special for their shared bond.

“I told you that you deserved it! Reid has a huge head, so I can only believe that baby Reid was the same way. No offense to you, my precious little muffin.” The blonde cooed while looking over the infant sleeping in the cot beside the hospital bed.

The twins had their own special things though, Stella having a stuffed owl from her aunt Penny while Milo had a stuffed duck, the two being in love with the plushies to the point where they couldn’t sleep without them.

The knock on the front door had Spencer hurrying to the front door, a smile on his face once he pulled it open to see Garcia. “Hey, thanks for coming! I’m pretty sure Y/N is still asleep but she’s gonna be thrilled to see you. Come in, come in.” He stepped out of the way.

Both the babies were excited upon seeing the aunt that spoiled them with love and attention the most. All the excitement was enough to get Y/N out of bed, the woman rubbing her eyes tiredly before she was heading off to get herself dressed before joining her family.

Seeing Penelope had the woman grinning, hurrying over to hug the woman who she hadn’t seen in quite a while. “Hi! How are you?” She asked as she was kissing her friend’s cheek.

The greetings were extended over breakfast as they both told one another about the busyness of their lives, whether it be working for the FBI or chasing after two very hyperactive nine month olds who could crawl and tear up anything in their path. As cute as they were, they could be little hellions.

“So, I was thinking that we could all go to the lake. The one that overlooks the daisy field.” Spencer was the one to suggest the activity for the day. “I think it would be good to show the twins the place where Noah loved to sit. Plus, you know he loved to play in the grass.”

The suggestion brought a smile to his wife’s face as she nodded. “I love that idea. I’m sure Stella and Milo are gonna love playing with the flowers since they are growing for spring.”

So, that was just what they did.

They made sure to cover the two little ones in enough sunscreen for a full summer, which the two babies didn’t seem to mind all too much. The real fun was whenever they made it to the lake. Penelope had the blanket that they packed sprawled out on the grass, Milo being thrilled to watch the ducks as he pointed at them with excitement.

“Look at the duckies!” Y/N gushed while watching Milo happily clap his hands together while watching the birds on the water, the dimples in his cheeks on prominent display.

As the family was sitting in the tranquility of their surroundings, it wasn’t long until Spencer was turning his attention to his wife.

“Remember when we first brought Noah here? He loved putting his little feet in the water.” He offered a smile while chuckling softly as his wife laughed. “I do remember. I also remember holding him and you were going over to get water and then you ended up tripping and falling right in.” She let out a giggle at the memory.

“Holy shit this is freezing!” Spencer’s teeth chattered as he was quickly pushing himself from the cold lake, his once nice suit being soaked. “Language!” Taylor scolded between her hysterical laughter.

“You fell in slow motion!” She couldn’t stop, tears springing up in her eyes from the laughter as Noah’s head was tilting to the side in curiosity while looking at his father, a cheeky smile spreading across his little face.

“You’re both gonna laugh at me?! What the heck!” Spencer groaned, pulling a pout while heading over to sit beside his wife. “You’re lucky you’re holding him right now.” He muttered, though he couldn’t bite back the smile on his face as his wife and son were just laughing their heads off.

“You wouldn’t dare push me in, Reid.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed, a smile on her face while looking down at their little boy who had a wide smile on his face.

Just the mere memory had the woman laughing as she held Milo, almost like a mirror to the past of her and Noah. “I’ll never forget that. You looked like such a pouty baby.” She laughed. “Then you got a cold and it wasn’t as funny at the time. I had to take care of you because you’re a huge baby when you’re sick.” She commented.

Penelope was laughing at that. “What man isn’t a big baby when he’s sick?? I think it’s just in their genetic code, my love.” The blonde commented before blowing a kiss to Spencer as he looked offended at the statement.

“Well that’s not true at all!” He protested, waving the woman off. “Biologically, that’s incorrect. Not every man acts like that.” He huffed out before offering a smile. “Besides. Don’t act like I don’t have plenty of embarrassing memories of you where Noah and I got to laugh at you.”

“Noah! No!” Y/N squeaked out as she had her hands over her face, the little boy covered in lipstick after he successfully knocked it off his mother’s vanity. “My goodness, you’re a mess!” She sighed dramatically as she leaned down to pick her son up.

However, the baby had other plans as he was using her being off guard to his advantage, his hands quickly moving to rest against her face, leaving behind big red lipstick stains on his hands. “Oh no!” She laughed, the baby in her arms squealing with a giggle.

“Baby, I-“ Spencer paused, looking at his wife as he caught Y/N’s and Noah’s new looks. “Is this a new trend?” He asked, snorting out a laugh as he smirked over at his wife who was sticking her tongue out at her husband. “You’re just jealous because we look pretty and you don’t.”

As the night went on, the laughter turned to panic. She couldn’t get the lipstick off of her nor Noah’s face. “Spencer! Help!” She called, using the rag to try and scrub the red off of their son’s delicate skin. However, there was a red mark left behind, the stain of the lipstick that was once there. “Help me.” She let out an exasperated sigh, handing off the rag.

Needless to say, both mother and son were covered in red lip stains for about a week.

“That was ridiculous. I threw that lipstick out the next day.” Y/N said, looking over at Penelope while laughing.

As the day went by and the sun began to set, the twins were laying in each of their parents’ arms while snoozing, tired out from all the excitement. “Thank you for coming by, Penelope. It’s nice to have you here.” The woman said softly, her cheek resting against her best friend’s shoulder as they watched the sunset over the lake in front of them. “Thank you guys for inviting me on this special day. I really do appreciate it.” Penelope spoke from the heart while letting her arms wrap tightly around the woman beside her.

“I’m so happy you let me be a part of this special day! I never thought I’d be the first one to meet baby Reid!” The blonde grinned widely, holding the newborn boy in her arms while kissing his head.

“Why wouldn’t we have you? You’ve been the best friend anyone could ask for, Penny.” Y/N smiled tiredly, exhausted from the hours of labor in order to bring Noah into the world, her eyes slowly closing as she was drifting off to sleep not too long after.

Spencer and Penelope were left to gush over baby Noah together, the man sighing in content as he let his finger gently brush over the baby’s chubby cheek. “I’m so grateful for you, you know that? Thank you for being here, for being there for Y/N throughout all of this. You have no idea how much we love you, Garcia.” The Reid father smiled, moving to hug one of his close friends.

“You’re part of the family, you know? No matter what. Even if you get tired of us.” He joked, making the blonde laugh.

[lousycapy]

video ideas for the McLaren pr team

’cause the flow been dry since the proscription of unboxed

why not satisfy one of their sponsor while at it? Get these boys each a McLaren LEGO set and do a competition of who can assemble it the fastest, bits of chatting here and there and boom! Nice long chill video c:

we’ve seen how competitive Lando and Oscar can be in the inverted goggles video, so maybe it could be fun to bring this kind of energy back? Stick ‘em on a paddle court and let’s have a lil showdown! Now of course it’d be nice to get the Williams vs McLaren match, but interteam content does tend to be rare so I wouldn’t put my money on it

maybe it’s time to change it up a little, we’ve seen them a lot in competitive contexts. Why not some cooperative challenge this time? Seeing them struggle in an escape room would be hilarious, and it’d show a nice united front to the public

now, now, the boys are racing drivers. Some track actions is always nice, so I propose a karting video. Another one, don’t look at me like that I just love these

playing with food is a staple of video challenges, and with mister Oscar Pastry on your team it’d be a shame to not capitalize on this play on words. Baking contest, no instructions, whoever makes the worst concoction has to taste his mess (plus possible affiliation with their Optimum Nutrition sponsor c;)

SUMMER. GAMES. That video was fire, stamp of approval, keep going sweetie. Tweak the games so that it isn’t a repeat and we’re onto a winner here

for a team with an history as rich as McLaren they haven’t been quizzing their drivers much on their f1 knowledge… even outside of McLaren. Chill bla bla video of their favourite moments of the sport, wins, overtakes, radios?

they’ve been getting a lot of friendship bracelets on stage recently, so why not capitalize on this fan interaction and let ‘em make some to distribute to the fans at the next race?

uno with Stella, Brown, whoever. I want to see them being the little menaces that they are, terrorize the McLaren team, stick up a +4 in each other’s face, unleash the sassiness :o

’look at you’ ‘look at you’ ‘look at us’ alright then. You wanna fawn over each other? Then with their partnerships with clothing brands surely the pr team could find a way of letting them choose silly outfits for each other, little modeling session, um?

anyway, thank you for coming to my ted talk, yadi yada, if you want to add some ideas you are very welcome to put them in the comments :D

[chalk-boy]

Hsr bf/gf/so hcs

I need this. I will be adding to this

No I'm not sorry for the image for Blade(≧▽≦)

Characters:Dan heng, March 7th, Blade, Jing Yuan, Stella, Caelus(More to be added)

Fw:I haven't gotten to meeting Blade so might be a bit ooc(Out of Character) I'll add more to it when I meet him

𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

Not really a touchy guy

Much Prefers words, acts and quality time

Will buy you flowers to show he loves you

Gives you kisses every morning

Matching hair clips/Necklaces/Bracelet(What ever you prefer >ω<)

Very reserved and cautious at first but then after awhile he'll open up

In New places he'll hold your hand to make sure neither of you lose each other

He's an amazing listener

He does enjoy cuddles

Why? Because I say so

He's memorized the entired of your fav book

ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃᵘᵗⁱˢᵗⁱᶜ

If you have long-ish hair he'll do it for you in the mornings

Calls you pet names like "Love" "My eternal" "Dear" ect...

Would keep relationships a secret if you want<3

When you two first met he was having an internal breakdown cause of how pretty you are

Don't you dare deny that<3

He's always up before you

So he'll make you breakfast

ℳ𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽 7𝓉𝒽

Ball of affection

Loves hugs, kisses, ect...

Trans

She gives off those vibes

Could not keep your relationship a secret

She's to loving

She's also autistic

And has Adhd

She also enjoys cuddles

I don't have to explain why right?

ℬ𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

Very touchy a times

He's like a cat tbh

He Prefers physical touch or quality time

Depends on the day

Calm angry energy

When it's only the two of you he shows a more soft, sweet side of him

He likes it when you play with/do his hair(Won't admit to it though)

Karfa teases him about how much sweeter he is to you

He's the type to do pda no matter what

You stole the part of his heart that wasn't corrupt

𝕵𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖄𝖚𝖆𝖓

Lazy boy

Gifts, quality time and acts of service

Cuddles 4 life

Matching pj's

Because yes

You two adopted Yanqing

When Yanqing first heard you two were dating he found you worthy enough to see his whole sword collection

You two do each other's hair

He wants a big happy family :D

And I mean BIG

𝓢𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪

Corny pickup lines

You have to keep her away from trash cans

She's too curious about everything tbh

She likes doing your hair

I imagine her to be a silly girl

Puppy girl

ℭ𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔲𝔰

He's aggressive

He's also very curious but he's more self aware

Puppy

[stellabat]

thomas flyswatter is hot in a pathetic way

[theratboyking]

Sincerely Yours

Pairing: Various Papas x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: The papas send you a letter

Warnings: None.

Masterlist

Primo:

La mia rosa,

I hope this letter reaches you in good health and that everything is running as well as it can be. It truly is a shame that the ministry could not spare you for even just a week. Italy is amazing this time of year; the flowers are in bloom. How I wish you could see them. Perhaps next time we will be able to spend a holiday back at the family's home. You would love it, I am absolutely sure of it. I’m hoping to be home soon. The days are starting to drag on. There’s only so much that I can put up of Nihil’s shit before I lose my mind.

Until you are in my arms again, Primo

Secondo:

la mia luce stellare,

You would think that with my retirement, these stupid trips for the ministry would come to an end. Or, at the very least, they would allow me to have the company of my wife at the very least. A week is far too long to be without you, stella. I feel as if I am a man stranded out at sea. Forever searching for your light. I long for your touch, your kiss, ooh satanas, I long to be lost in you. I hope you are following the rules amore, but then again you always love breaking them. Always love to keep your papa wanting more. Not even the dark lord is going to be able to keep me off of you when I return. I should be home by the end of the week and, with any luck, sooner.

With all my eternal love, Secondo Emeritus

Terzo:

La mia dea,

They say that poetry is the fruit of love. The way to the heart, as the scholars say, no? Words never seemed to allude me but with you, amore. But with you, all the charm I possess seems to slip from my grasp. No, you have sent this casanova crawling at your feet. I wish to bask in your light. I want my pleasure to begin and end with you. To spend my days with you. To spend my nights caught in your embrace. Oh, how I long to be in your arms, to hold you in mine. Come la mia anima invoca la tua. Il mio cuore raggiunge solo te. I can only hope you feel the same. Satanas, I hope you do.

Awaiting your response, Papa Terzo Emeritus iii

Copia:

Amore,

Perhaps it’s silly to be writing you, but would you indulge this old man. How are you? I hope the abbey is treating you well and that everything is still Okie Dokie. I am doing well, and so are the ghouls. They all send their best wishes to you. The crowds love us; we’ve reached new heights that I never even imagined. It’s just as we talked about cara mia. How I wish you were here to enjoy it with me. To be honest, life on the road is starting to lose its charm. I miss you, amore. I miss waking up and having you in my arms. Are you sure that you can’t spare at least a week? A week and I could die a happy man, amore.

Forever yours, Copia

[concreteburialplot]

Intertwined // 04

04 - Snapped Neck

pairing: noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo

masterlists: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5.1k

warnings; VERY SAD 🥲, mild yelling/verbal abuse?, hints at past abuse, reference to past character death, noah is a devastated horrible depressed mess, short time skips, don’t say i didn’t warn you - sorry in advance, don’t hate me 🥲

reminder; THIS IS AU, nothing is meant to be accurate, including family history/events/dynamics/members/names !!

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

i’d like to offer a small playlist for this chapter:

seven - taylor swift

matilda - harry styles

winner - conan gray

hard times - ethel cain

anything 4 u - LANY

if it keeps you up at night - the swoons

-NOAH-

After much-needed water bottles, I’m finally starting to feel somewhat normal again. Folio’s asleep in bed next to me while I lay on a laughably thin blanket on the floor. My eyes fully adjusted to the darkness and all I’m focused on is the popcorn ceiling and counting each plaster peak.

The party rages on the other side of the room and I wonder if anyone out there is sober enough to take me home. It’s almost 1 am and the party hasn’t slowed down. I sigh roughly and roll over to wrap the thin pillow around my head to cover both ears. Even through the cotton I can still vaguely hear the music and a song starts that Nicholas and I were obsessed with a couple months ago.

I chuckle quietly at the lyrics,

“That’s my best friend, she a real bad bitch…”

Such a silly song, even though it’s nothing like what we play or what we regularly listen to – we somehow always get the same pop-y songs stuck in our heads at the same time, then end up loving them unironically.

I shake my head with a stupid grin, thinking about the time we were in the kitchen doing a proper, ridiculous performance while we blasted it through a Google speaker. It started with that song but then snowballed into an entire concert at 2 am – all while his little sister just made fun of us, until she eventually caved in and joined our set.

We were all mic-ed up: me a dustpan, Nicholas a broom, and Stella a spatula.

I dig my front teeth into my bottom lip to stifle a laugh that would definitely wake up Folio.

The memory makes the ground below me that much more rigid.

I’ve already tried sleeping every which way on this god-forsaken carpet, but I can’t seem to get comfy.

The hard floor must be the reason I can’t fall asleep.

I flip back to lay flat.

I don’t really understand why Nick got so upset, but it’s been a long night, so I guess I get it. I’m sure he wasn’t thrilled about getting in the lake. Fucking Folio.

And I know he doesn’t like parties.

I don’t really like them either. I think? Maybe I do now? I don’t know.

But I didn’t want to do this without him.

And I just let him leave like that…

God why did I let him leave.

I want to go home.

I need to go home.

There’s a sharp twist in my stomach when I unlock my dying phone and find no texts from him.

I open my bank app to check my balance. $33.87.

I exit and click on the Uber app, put in our address to see the price. $27.59.

I hit request.

I get home after an Uber ride from a questionable middle-aged man with ridiculous combover.

I fumble with my keys at the front door only to find that it’s not locked. I press my weight against the creaky wooden door to push it open. The house is quiet, if Nick’s car wasn’t in the driveway, I’d think the house was completely empty.

I quietly set my keys down on the wooden dining table across from the kitchen. The bedroom door in the hallway is closed, which I expected. I cross the linoleum and very gently twist the doorknob to peer inside. The small room is illuminated solely by moonlight beaming in through the large window by the bed. I step into the room and click the door closed behind me. When I walk over to the bed, the shimmering white light acts like a spotlight on his face and what I notice churns something deep in my chest. Dried streaks coat his face and look almost like rivers from puffy red eyes.

Surely, he didn’t come home that upset because of the argument we had, right?

I tug at my lip and very gently slip into bed beside him beneath the puffy duvet. The movement causes Nicholas to stir and turn away from me. I stay completely still, not even moving a muscle until he’s completely settled then turn in the same direction as him, just inches away from his back.

If he’s that upset with me, would he even want me here?

Am I intruding?

Is it really intruding if I live here too?

Maybe I should’ve stayed on Folio’s floor.

It’s only then that it really sets in that I really moved out, well more like kicked out, and I live here now. Mostly anyway.

But just because you live somewhere doesn’t mean it’s your home. While I love living with my best friend, and I love his family, and they feel like family – they’re not. As much as they try to not make me feel like one, I am an outsider here.

Even Folio in his frat house, sure he just got hazed and whatever, but he belongs there.

I don’t belong anywhere.

The closest thing I’ve gotten to what I imagine belonging feels like, is with Nicholas. But again, he has no tie to me. We’re friends of course, but if I pissed him off and he wanted me gone… well I’d have nothing. I’d have nowhere to go.

I hate this feeling, this feeling of relying on people.

It’s weird taking up space somewhere you have to walk on eggshells because it’s not yours. Because you don’t belong.  

It’s not like I felt like I belonged at home either, not after Mom passed.

So here is better than there at least.

At least there’s no yelling or slamming doors here.

My eyes drift through the moonlit darkness to the small pile of my belongings in the corner of the room. The sight sends a chill up my spine and my heart rate noticeably rises. I’m reminded that there are still some things waiting for me at my stepdad’s.

I want the ability to truly get on my own, if I don’t want to rely on people, I need to get my stuff so that I can actually make something of myself.

I need to at least try.

And to do that, I need my guitar and my keyboard. I’m nothing without them – and I won’t be able to be anything without them.

-NICHOLAS-

My eyes shoot open when shrill screams fill my eardrums. I nearly jump out of my skin at the noise, especially since I had gone to bed alone.

I don’t have the luxury of trying to figure out how Noah got home, just that he is and he’s having another night terror.

“Fuck.” I mutter.

Because I did such a great fucking job dealing with this last time.

I tug at his freezing cold arm and shake him vigorously but of course, it didn’t do much the first time, why would it have a different result now.

I replicate what I did the last time and straddle his lap, grabbing his wrists and pinning them at his sides to restrain his jerky movements.

“NOAH!” I repeat his name with increasing volume.

He wakes up slowly after a couple times of calling his name.

“Nicholas?” He asks groggily, with furrowed brows and squinted eyes.

I sigh, “Night terror.” I state curtly and pull off him, landing beside him with my back towards him.

“Oh.” He says softly and his eyes falter. “Sorry.”

There’s a twist of guilt in my gut because I should be softer with him after his terror, but I just don’t have it in me tonight. The teary soreness in my eyes reminds me just how much I don’t have it in me. I tug the sheets closer to my body.

He rustles around a bit trying to get comfortable, but I fall back asleep quickly. For a bit.

It’s not long after, maybe an hour or two, that I’m awoken once again but this time to a bunch of noise and the overhead light on at full brightness.

“What the fuck.” I mumble, sitting up and rubbing one eye while keeping the other mostly shut.

I turn to find Noah sitting on folded knees, manically rummaging through the couple bags he moved in with. He’s ripping through each one, tossing pieces of clothing out left and right, shaking out the empty bags as if they have hidden compartments.

“What the fuck are you doing Noah.” I ask, my tone soaked in annoyance, exhaustion, and anger.

“I can’t find some of my shirts. I need to get the rest of my shit out. Today.” He replies, his words rushed.

My brows knit together at his sudden – and poorly timed – bout of bravery and motivation. He’d been putting this off and avoiding it for weeks. And now he’s tearing apart his stuff, throwing shit all over our room at 4:30 in the morning… after a night of drinking?

I yawn and shake my head in confusion, “Wait, wait, wait, how did you even get home?”

“Uber.” He replies simply, his gaze still focused on his third bag not even looking up at me.

“You took an Uber home?” I ask somewhat skeptically, “Why didn’t you just call me?”

His rummaging movements pause with a bundle of shirts in hand, “Didn’t wanna bother you.” Then continues digging through the bag.

Normally I would go on a tangent about how I’d rather call me to pick him up instead of doing something stupid like possibly be driven home by someone inebriated – but I’m much too depleted, both physically and emotionally to do so.

“Well, you should’ve called me.” I tug the cotton sheets closer to my body and bunch the material to my chest. “What is this really about? You’re acting so strange.”

I reach over to the light switch and turn the knob to dim the white-yellow hue of the light above us.

“I just need to get my shit, Nicholas.” He huffs, seeming aggravated by my questions.

“Well, you’re gonna go alone if you keep snapping at me like that.” I retort, even though I’d never let him go alone.

He exhales and deflates with a balled-up band tee in his hands. “I just need to do it today. If I don’t do it today, I might not ever be able to.”

Honestly, this is the last thing I fucking needed after earlier tonight. I just wanted to fucking sleep. And not be around Noah.

Yet here I am, awake, around too much Noah.

“Fine.” I sigh. “Fine, we can go today – but only if you fucking wrap up whatever the fuck you’re doing and come to bed. If we’re really doing this today, you don’t need to be sleep-deprived for it.”

“Fine.” He agrees reluctantly and begins gathering the clothes to shove back into the bags. “But I probably won’t be able to sleep.”

“Well, you should at least try.” I scoot back into my left side to make room for him.

The box spring squeaks under the weight of him when slides in and immediately turns away from me. Normally I would be a tad offended, but tonight, I’m grateful.

Surprisingly, small snoozy noises escape him not long after his head hit the pillow. I lay facing him, watching the rise and fall of his ribcage like a metronome.

Concern and fear suddenly flood my bloodstream like a bad drug. Getting most of his stuff out the first time was no picnic and I just know this last time is going to be even worse. Frankly, I’m a tad worried about the things he’d left behind, I wouldn’t put it past his stepdad to throw them out.

I shake my head and try to focus on my breathing to calm me down. When that doesn’t work, I try counting.

I drift off to sleep before 30.  

My faux-leather steering wheel cover cracks under my fidgeting fingers. Noah can’t seem to sit still, running his hands up and down his thighs probably to self soothe. The anxiety is thick and tangible in the car. He would never admit it to me, but I know he’s scared shitless about going back home. Noah always tried to hide it from me, but I’m not stupid. It doesn’t matter how “anemic” or thin you are, you don’t amass that many bruises that frequently. I always wondered if that’s why he started wanting so many tattoos so suddenly. Maybe, on some level, that’s what made me want to start tattooing in the first place.

The normally 20-minute-long car ride felt like three hours, but when we arrived, I could’ve sworn it had only been 3 minutes.

I park on the curb at the end of the driveway and shut off the car. Just being on the tiny patch of lawn has my heart thumping through my chest and it’s not even my battle.

But I guess if I’m here with him,

If it’s his, it’s mine too.

As much as he wasn’t prepared to do this, neither was I. My gaze lands on the rectangular windows of the small yellow house. From the outside, it looks so normal, so happy even. It’s almost eerie how far from the truth that is.

I look over at him, just now realizing he hadn’t said a word the whole ride. He’s slumped in the passenger seat, one lanky arm wrapped around his own waist and the other stationed at his mouth. His eyes glued to the house behind me as he chews on his thumbnail.

“We can still go back home, Noah. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not ready.” I offer gently, mostly because I don’t think either of us are fully equipped to do this.  

“No. I have to do this.” His eyes finally falter away from the house and land on me.

“Okay. You sure you’re ready?” I ask quietly.

His teeth dig into his bottom lip. “No. But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’m gonna be with you the whole time, okay?” I hold out my pinky. “Always, remember?”

He nods and hooks onto my pinky. “Always.”

As expected, I’ve landed myself in the middle of a brawl between Noah and his stepdad. I feel guilty and useless standing there as a bystander not interfering, but my feet can’t seem to move and my vocal cords have ceased to function.

Noah started off strong, full of adrenaline and blind bravery, but it didn’t take long for George to wear him down.

My heart beats loud in my ears and I can’t hear a word they’re saying. All I see is him waving around Noah’s guitar like it’s a toy, using it as an extension of his exaggerated furious expressions. Noah’s tall, but George is much taller and stronger than him, so Noah just looks like a mouse running around an elephant, scrambling trying to snatch the instrument back.

I’m not sure what they’re even screaming about but the argument escalates further than I ever expected it to. My eyes round as I witness each of George’s hands slide to either end of the guitar’s neck.

No

He wouldn’t

As if in slow motion, I watch the light pale from Noah’s face. His eyes wide and teary, and his brows curled up. I can see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes in real time as he watches his stepdad easily snap the neck of his beloved guitar.

The break is quick and sharp and fills the room with the sound of cords plucking and wood splintering. The noise after is even louder though, just jarring silence.

Until George opens his mouth again. “Get your sad, pathetic little toys and your little boyfriend out of my goddamn house.” Rasps his deep Western accent.

He forcefully tosses the broken instrument at Noah, hitting him so hard it knocks him backwards. The livid man storms across the house and slams the master bedroom door behind him.

Noah’s knees buckle and land harshly on the carpeted floor, holding the guitar in his arms as if it’s a wounded soldier in battle. His face scrunches up around his eyes and tears just begin pouring from him. His chest hiccups with each sob that escapes. He curls the wooden pieces in his arms into his chest and rests his forehead against the curve of the guitar. His cries heave his entire body.

I’m frozen where I stand. What I just witnessed might as well have been a murder. I’ve seen Noah cry, of course, but this is something I’ve only ever seen once before. Besides that one time, I’ve never seen him this bad. At least, he’s never letme see him this bad.

I gently meet him on the floor. For some reason, I feel hesitant to touch him, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

I don’t dare even touch the arms that are gripped onto his guitar so, I rest my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t even react to my touch at all, as if he can’t even feel it.

“Noah…” I say cautiously. “Let’s just get you out of here, okay? We just need to grab your stuff and get out. We can figure this out later… later when we’re not here.”

He doesn’t respond and when I try to nudge him even a little bit, he’s solid like concrete where he’s kneeled.

“C’mon Noah we gotta go.” I stretch up to double-check that the bedroom door is still closed. “I’ll get the rest of your stuff. We just need to get you out of here.” I urge and squeeze his shoulder a bit.

His fingers dig into the instrument as he takes a deep sniffle and screws his eyes shut tight, shoving the salty tears out. He just gives me a little nod against the guitar, letting me know that he understands but doesn’t move.

“Please, Noah.” I beg and try pulling at his arm again. “Please get up. I need you to get up for me.”

He gives a little of his arm to me and not much more. But I take what I can get and use both of my arms to weakly lift him up from the floor by his underarms. I basically carry him out of the house, his body limp as I drag him backwards across the overgrown lawn. Shards of dying grass cling to our clothes and dust kicks up all over the back of his jeans.

I feebly open my back door and let him crawl into the backseat with the guitar tight in his grip. He immediately lays with it across the cushions and some boxes.

Luckily, we had gotten most of his belongings already so there was just the final sweep left to do.

Thankfully, George is still holed up in his room, though that doesn’t ease my panicked heart-pounding in my ears. Noah’s room is completely bare except for a half-filled trash bag of miscellaneous belongings. I drag the heavy bag across the stained beige carpet, but I stop at something that catches my eye.

In one cubicle of many that make up a huge bookshelf are a couple of photo albums in chronological order spanning over a few years. From the peek-through covers I can tell that they’re filled with pictures of his parents, or maybe at least his mom.

My head snaps at a stir that comes from behind the bedroom door and in a split-second decision, I scoop all the photo albums and throw them into the black trash bag. I use all my strength to heave the now extra bulky bag across the yard as I run towards the car.

I toss the bag into the trunk and slam the door before rounding the car, throwing myself so hard into the driver’s seat that I nearly tip the car over. I take a glance in my rear-view to check on Noah and find his body tightly curled around the instrument sobbing even worse than how I left him. Seeing him like this… gives me an ache in my chest that I didn’t even know could hurt so much. It’s so excruciating that I could almost vomit from it.

I quickly shift the car into drive and speed off so fast that my wheels squeal.

I’m unsure what to do or what to say. It feels like saying anything would only make things worse at risk of saying something wrong. I always feel guilty when situations like this happen with his family because I can’t imagine what he feels. I don’t know what I’d do without my family, and I can’t even fathom someone treating their child like that, especially him. Noah is the last person on earth that deserves that.

I bite my nail as I walk back and forth in the living room lost in my thoughts.

“Honey, why don’t you come sit down?” My mom suggests patting the couch cushion next to her. “Pacing around the living room isn’t going to help anything.”

I sigh and meet her on the couch, “You should’ve seen him, Mamá.” I run my fingers through my sweat-coated roots. “Oh my god, it was horrible.”

She begins rubbing small circles into my back, “I know Gatito.” She tries to soothe, using her Spanish nickname for me – she always told me I resembled a small cat. “But we know what his family is like, I’m surprised something like this hadn’t happened sooner.”

“Yeah…” I trail off, biting down hard on my thumbnail thinking of all the things we never told her his stepdad had done. If she knew the things he’d done to him – especially in front of me – who knows what she’d do. She’s a Hispanic single mother, nothing would be able to stop her – and a George vs. Mom battle royal is the last thing we need.

“I’ve just never seen anyone that… defeated before. That guitar was everything to him.” I hang my head and use both hands to cover my face.

“Well, you know, maybe we could pull together some extra money by Christmas?” She offers. “I could pick up some extra shifts at the hospital.”

“No, no, Mom, you don’t understand.” I sigh and turn my head to her against my propped palm. “His mom gave him that guitar.”

“Oh.” She replies solemnly in understanding.

“There’s a music store in town where I get my vinyls, they do repairs there.” My sister speaks up from across the room, resting on the column that separates the living room from the kitchen. “Maybe you could see if they could fix it?”

I blink blankly as I process her words and it’s like a lightbulb illuminates above my head. “You actually might have a good idea for once Stell.”

 She rolls her eyes, “I’m trying to be helpful, you don’t have to be rude.”

“I’m your brother, it’s kind of my job to be rude.”

“Whatever.” She takes a sip from her obnoxiously sized water bottle. “There’s a really cute guy that works there, I think he does most of the repairs. His name is Jolly, tell him Stella sent you.” She winks.

“Augh.” I groan in disgust and wave her boy craze away. “I’ll be sure to do that.” I add sarcastically.

A serious stillness falls over the room like everyone is equally unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you gonna do about Noah?” Stella asks softly, her voice laced with concern.

My leg bounces in anxious uncertainty as my eyes drift over to my closed bedroom door.

“I don’t know.”

I gently knock on my door and slowly creek it open. The room is pitch black with just Noah on the bed curled up around his guitar, his shoulder length hair splayed across the pillows, and the duvet wrapped around him like a cocoon. He’d been hidden away in my room like this since we got home.

“You awake?” I question timidly, readjusting the tray in my hands.

It takes a moment, but he replies with a tiny, short groan.

“I brought you soup. You know, the chicken noodle my mom makes that you like so much?”

Another brief pause followed by a slightly more intrigued grumble.

I take it as permission to enter and precariously make my way over to him. There’s a sliver of mattress left behind him, and I fit half my ass on it.

I allow him the space to be quiet with me for a bit.

“How are you doing?” I ask, even though it’s an asinine question.

He just sniffles.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I sigh quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

He sniffles again and scooches further into the bed, onto my side.

I silently tap my index finger on the plastic tray, pondering what that could mean before I speak. “You want me to lay with you?”

He gives a small ‘mhm’ groan.

“Okay, I can do that. But can you eat for me?”

He replies with a ‘nuh-uh’ whine.  

I exhale knowing this was going to be an uphill battle. “Noah, you’ve gotta eat.”

He shakes his head in resistance again.

“C’mon, just a couple bites…for me?”

A pause before he lets out a defiant but agreeing sigh.

“You’re not gonna move, are you?”

He shakes his head.

I breathe out trying not to sound annoyed because I should be grateful that he even cooperated this much.

Maneuvering around him from behind, I hold the bowl in one hand and the spoon in the other. Thankfully, the soup had cooled down to just a bit warmer than room temperature. I scoop a spoonful of it, making sure to get a little bit of everything: noodle, chicken, and carrot – if he’s only going to take a couple bites, I have to make sure they count.  I carefully bring the spoon over to his lips, he lifts his head just a bit and takes the spoonful into his mouth. He let me give him 4 or 5 bites, which was more than I expected, before rejecting the rest.

I set the bowl on the nightstand, lift the sheets, and nestle into the space he made for me.

“Thanks for eating.” I say quietly. “I know you didn’t want to.”

He nods mutely.

I press my lips together. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”

He’s silent. Slowly but surely sniffles and sobs begin to pour from him again. I immediately feel the twist of guilt in my stomach for being the one to trigger his tears again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-I can leave if you want some priv–“

His hand reaches behind him and firmly captures my wrist.

“Stay.” He begs in a coarse whisper, the first thing he’s said since we came home. “Please?”

His voice is so cracked and hoarse, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was sick.

I falter a second to respond but he must’ve felt the hesitation.

“It helps.” He croaks. “Remember?”

The churn in my chest returns and there’s an ache in my heart that accompanies it. If I could somehow magically take all of this away, I would, even if it meant trading places with him. Even if it meant I’d be the one hurting instead.

I feel so fucking useless, not being able to do much for him.

But at least I can do this.

“Okay.” I respond cautiously and settle further into the bed, now essentially spooned around his body.

His grip on my wrist never left so I let our joined arms rest on his hip. I can’t seem to gather with the right words to say to him, I mean what can you really say after something like that?

So, I offer him the only words that feel suitable.

“I’m not going anywhere, Noah. You know that right?”

There’s a long quiet, so long that I think he may have fallen asleep.

But then he squeezes my wrist.

“Thank you.”

I sense the urge to do something, but I’m not sure how he’ll react. I don’t know, maybe it would help?

I tug at where his hand meets mine and he gives me an upset grumble, like he doesn’t want me to leave.

“I just… is it okay if - can I try something?” I ask shyly, suddenly very nervous, nervous enough to have my heart racing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch his brows furrowing. I can tell he wants to be stubborn and keep me latched there, but curiosity always gets the best of him. He slowly loosens his grip on my wrist.

I didn’t notice that my palms were sweating until I’ve retrieved my hand. I press my lips flat and feel like my ribcage could burst open at any minute from how hard my heart beats against it.

My body is screaming at me to do it and as much as I want to fight it, I can’t.

Maybe it would help

I let my arm go where it wants to go. It slithers beneath the covers and through the space between Noah’s arm and his side. I wrap my arm around his waist and pull flush against him.

We both freeze. My ears grow warm as the hour-long seconds pass.

Maybe he’s uncomfortable

Maybe he thinks this is weird

Maybe it is weird?

Is this weird?

Maybe he doesn’t like it

Maybe I’m making it worse

Maybe–

Unexpectedly, he just melts into me. His body molds into my arms like they were made just for him.

He finds my arm and brings it to his face, pressing his damp, swollen eyes against it. Small sobs fall into my arm and his grip on me is so tight I could turn blue.

Maybe he feels safe, and maybe he just needed to feel safe to let the rest out.

My own eyes well up at the sound of him, at the feeling of his body heaving in my arms. I press my forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m always gonna be here.” I reassure him again through my own held-back tears.

He wipes his tears off with the collar of his shirt before pulling my arm back around his chest. He nuzzles into me, and I feel my heart swell so big it fills my entire chest.

I think I already know the answer, but I wanna hear it anyway.

“Does this help?”

He lets out a sleepy sigh as he nestles his back into my chest.

“You always help, Nicholas.”

Next Chapter -> 05 - Girl Crush*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @cryingabtab @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @kingdomof-omens @the-hell-i-overcame @blackveilomens @xxrainstorm [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

a/n; I know this was a heavy one 😅 i'm sorry, i hope you were able to enjoy it regardless.

Thank you for the support on this series and on my other series, Virality. I appreciate it more than you know. I love reading your comments and asks. I am incredibly grateful for them, thank you.

[yagirlwrites]

(Not) My Baby (3)

Pairing: college! Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsys: Rafe struggles to explain himself and Y/N struggles to deal with the situation he put her in. Her best friend is there to comfort her in the aftermath.

Warnings: Angst

A/N: Hi y'all! I'm so sorry this took so damn long to update! I hope it's enjoyable enough and people still care about this little story! I do intend to write this series out completely, I have not given up on it! But life be a bitch and I be busy, unfortunately. I hope y'all like this part and as always let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated (but reblogs are welcome).

Happy reading! 🥰

(Not) My Baby (Part 3)

Stella walked through the door after a long afternoon of classes, ready to plop down on the couch and chill hard. Walking into the livingroom she greeted out a cheery "Honey, I'm home!" followed by a chuckle. She expected to be welcomed with an eyeroll from /Y/N or a silly comment from Lena but she was met with silence.

Y/N was sitting on the couch - a melted pint of Ben & Jerry's on the table, seemingly untouched - staring at the TV screen with a far away look in her eye. She hadn't even noticed Stella's arrival.

"Peach?" Stella's voice was quiet, catious, unsure of what was going on. Her worry only grew once she realized Y/N still wasn't acknowledging her. She approached her gently, laying an uncertain hand on her shoulder and calling her name again.

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts with a start, confused and disoriented for a few seconds untill she realized who was touching her and where she was. The darkness was slowly setting in outside, accompanied by the twinkling of lights. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, staring at nothing.

"Are you okay, Peach?" She finally met Stella's eye and shook off her haze.

"Yeah. I'm fine, Pumpkin" she replied with a small smile.

Their nicknames for each other had been a staple of their friendship since freshman year. That first semester, the dorm they had shared had been a mess. The mysterious stench that could never be placed constantly plaguing them. They were forced to light scented candles to neutralize it. Y/N's favourite was the Peach scented one her mother made for her before she left for college. Stella's choice was always Pumpkin Spice, no matter what the season was. One day the nicknames came up and they hadn't left them since. The memory always made her smile.

"You don't seem okay." Her friend wore a concerned look and she sighed. She didn't even know how to begin to explain to her what was wrong. Physically she had been on that couch for hours, but her mind was still at the sandwich bar... with him.

"Something weird happened today..." She started talking, hoping that if she managed to explain it to Stella she might start to make sense of it herself.

-----

"Are you gonna say something?" His voice broke her staredown with the glass of water on the table in front of her. She hadn't moved a muscle for several minutes, trying and failing to process his words.

His family thought they were a couple. And it was because of him. He told a boldfaced lie and implicated her in it. How the hell does she react to that?

"Why?" Her voice startled him when she finaly spoke. He was freaking out big time. How the hell could he explain it without sounding like a dick? He couldn't. If she didn't before, she will definitely hate him now.

"I -" he trailed off, not being able to meet her eye. The words weren't coming no matter how hard he willed them to. Just say something, idiot!

Her focus was on him again and he didn't know if that freaked him out more or less than her disasociation from earlier. She was staring. Waiting. He wasn't even sure she was blinking. He tried wiping his sweaty hands on his pants, but it didn't help.

"My family..." he looked up at her, making sure she was still listening and not getting ready to run.

"My family is complicated. I've been dodging the talk about girlfriends and relationships for as long as I could... But then they started pestering me about this wedding and my stepmom was talking about these different girls" he scoffed "options, she called them. Options for dates for the wedding. And I tried, I really tried to get them to drop it but then my dad got angry because I wasn't taking things seriously and he started going on about how immature I am that I can't even have a single relationship work and how embarrasing it is having to set me up with these dates and I just -"

He had been speaking so fast she was struggling to keep up, the story spilling from his lips as if he had been holding it in for ages. She supposed he had. The way he made his family sound was making her skin crawl.

"I just cracked." His eyes were glossy, and if she didn't know any better she'd think he was on the verge of tears.

"I told them I have a girlfriend." He took a big gulp of his sweet tea, trying to calm his skipping heart. He felt ill, like he was going to pass out from telling her all of this. But she gave him no choice.

"Okay..." she broke the silence when it became clear he wasn't going to continue. He still hadn't explained why she was involved and that's exacly what she told him. He was playing with his hands on the table again, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat forming on his brow. He looked rough.

"Once I said it, I couldn't take it back. But then they started demanding to know 'who she was' and 'why I hadn't told them' and 'how long we've been together' and they kept-" he closed his eyes then.

"They kept asking : 'Whats her name? Who is it?' over and over and I just... your name slipped out."

----

"He what?!" Stella had been listening to the story with bathed breath untill that moment. Y/N sighed and repeated herself.

"He told them we're together..." Her hands met her face as she exhaled. This was not helping at all. She supposed it was wishful thinking that it might.

"What the fuck?" Stella took a large sip from her wine glass - having at some point during the recounting of Y/N's day decided she needed to pour them both a drink.

"Exactly." Y/N leaned her head back over the couch and closed her eyes, trying and failing to push away the oncoming headache. She could feel the pulsing in her ears. This was a mess. She had no clue what to do about it. So she took another sip of the Pinot.

"So what did you say?" Stella was holding onto the wine glass with an iron grip, the situation making every nerve in her body buzz with anticipation and trepidation. Completely bewildered but secretly loving the drama.

She had always thought the two had a weird relationship. Even though her friend would kill her if she knew she thought of the word 'relationship' pertaining to them in the first place. She knew he had left a mark on the girl, having witnessed the way they acted around each other. He pushed all her buttons and Y/N never hesitated to throw back what she got. But Stella never knew the full extent of it and she wondered if this was a blessing or a curse.

On the one hand, there was always an insane ammount of sexual tension between Y/N and Rafe. Everyone thought so but no one dared say it, not willing to risk life and limb from the pair. Maybe this could be what tips over the glass and they finally resolve whatever is going on between them. Or, more likely, it would end in blood and tears. It was one of the two, Stella was sure of it.

"I don't know..." Y/N trailed off, looking awkward as hell.

"You don't know what you said?" Stella was looking at her with disbelief. What did that even mean?

"I just... I freaked out. Okay?" Y/N's voice held a note of panic and embarrassment and Stella could not help herself, leaning over, now on the edge of her seat.

"Freaked out how?"

----

"What do you mean 'my name slipped out'?" Her voice was incredulous. He'd put her in a terrible position without a second thought. It made her cheeks flush with anger again.

"It just slipped out, okay? I didn't plan it. It just happened!" He was tripping over his words with how fast he was talking. It felt like everything was falling appart and he had no idea how to fix it. If he even could anymore.

Y/N was shaking her head, eyes wide as the realisation of exactly what he had done finally sunk in. And then she lost the plot a little bit, she'll admit.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I never meant for it to happen. But then once it was out there I couldn't take it back. I couldn't tell them I lied! My dad would never let me live it down, he'd never let me forget..." He trailed off from his rambling then.

As he had been speaking, Y/N had reached over and grabbed the sandwich off his plate and was currently munching down on it, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Did you just... take my sandwich?" He didn't even mean to speek, the bizzarity of the situation just making his words slip out. She looked at him then and there was a spark of anger in her eyes that made him gulp.

"Yeah... yeah! I did take your sandwich." She took another bite, maintaining eye contact. She knew it was childish but she'd be damned if she apologized now.

"I eat when I'm stressed. This is making me very stressed." She spoke as she grabbed his tea and then proceeded to down half of it. He was completely bewildered at what was happening.

"That's..." he trailed off, trying to move on from this weird moment, while she chewed on his lunch.

"Look it - it doesn't matter. If you could just see it from my perspective you'd understand-"

"Understand what?" She interrupted, voice eerily cold. "Understand that after being a dick to me for years, you decided to involve me in your family drama that has nothing to do with me? To lie about us being a couple? Not only that but you expect me to help you keep up the lie!? Go to a wedding? Are you actually insane?"

She was getting angrier by the second. How dare he? After everything, after how he treated her... to go and pull something like this? It was unbelievable. Selfish. Egoistic. So very him, after all. She scoffed at the realisation.

"You know what?" He was looking at her with big pleading eyes as she stood from her seat.

"I don't need this." She grabbed her stuff and made to leave.

"Please, Y/N!" His hand wrapped around her wrist again and she saw red.

"Take your fucking hand off me." He raised his hands up in surrender, fear in his eyes. He had really fucked this up big time. He didn't even know why he thought this would go any differently.

"Please..." His pleading voice and those big eyes made a funny feeling she couldn't decipher blossom in her stomach. She was frozen in place.

"Please, just think about it? Please?" Her face softened some at his pathetic state. Why was this act pulling on her heartstrings?

"I - I need you." He was fighting so hard not to touch her, to pull her to him and beg her. He was so close to getting down on his knees when she spoke.

"Fine. I'll think about it." Her words were quiet and for a moment he thought he imagined them, but the sincere look in her eyes made him realize it was true. He didn't expect that.

She didn't expect that. She couldn't believe she folded like that. As soon as he brought out the sad eyes she was acting like a fucking idiot. She wanted to slap herself but instead she settled for turning and walking away from him. Angry. Sad. More confused than she'd ever been in her life.

----

Stella was sitting there, mouth agape. Y/N finally stopped avoiding her eyes and looked at her friend. She wanted to disappear. For the ground to swallow her up. She felt so drained and lost and now, once again, embarrassed.

"You stole his sandwich?" Stella was visibly holding back a laugh and Y/N couldn't stop the eye roll. Of course she would focus on that.

"Piss off." She got up to put her glass in the sink, trying to settle her heart from reliving the day. Stella followed, completely unphased by the girl snapping at her.

"Okay, so what are you gonna do?" Y/N took a deep breath and looked at her friend. Stella finally realized how tired Y/N looked and that it was probably taking a lot more out of her than she had picked up on. She got lost in the drama of it all but her friend was really stressed.

"You know what? We can worry about that tomorrow. Okay?" Y/N let out a breath of relief, even if it was a small one.

"What do you say we get into your bed and put on netflix, like we used to?" Y/N gave a small smile and a nod at that and Stella wrapped her arm around her, leading them towards her room. "I'll heat up the leftovers from last night and we can cozy up, yeah?"

Y/N agreed. Even thought she had planned to make a nice dinner tonight she knew she had no energy. Yet another thing Rafe had ruined today. Left over cheesy pasta would have to take on the difficult job of trying to soothe her. She knew it wouldn't succeed though. It couldn't possibly. She was fucked on so many levels and she had no idea how to move forward.

But for tonight, it didn't matter. Simon Bassett and his dreamy forearms were the only thing she needed to focus on tonight. That and the feel of her friend holding her in a comforting embrace, making her smile. She was glad to have Stella by her side, no matter what. And before she drifted into dream land, she realised that as long as she had her friends she would be just fine. She always was. Rafe couldn't ruin that.

---

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @r0und3bitch @tee-swizzle @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @goldenjo @kanib45 @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @cmac-writes @malfoytargaryen @alinaharlow @buggy-d-chopper @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife

[carolmunson]

satin spats (steddie x reader)

Hi. This is a semi-prequel to the Good Cop x Bad Cop trilogy. Showing that Steve had been slowly becoming more unhinged overtime about his innate need for control when it comes to feeling powerless against his father. A lead up to why Reader calling Eddie 'Daddy’ in GCxBC: Daddy Lessons was the nail in the coffin for him going off the rails. This features a really, like genuinely emotionally mean Steve and this has a big Eddie to the rescue focus towards the end.

warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, VERYMEAN!STEVE, intense degradation/humiliation, choking/leash play, swearing, fighting, yelling, rough sex, p in v sex, oral (male receiving), really mean name calling, drinking, controlling behavior, etc.

“I really think you’re the perfect fit. You’re never late, you always know what’s happening in the office, you’re always taking on more than you can chew and then chewing it.” “Are you sure, Mr. Harrington? Is this really happening right now?” you asked, beaming. “I think you’ll make a great Executive Assistant – I’m offering you the promotion,” your boss said with a shrug, “You wanna take up the offer?” “Uh, yes!” you replied, your heart soaring after a year and a half of getting coffees and answering phones, “Absolutely yes! And it’s not…like, this isn’t because I’m with Steve, right?”

“My son has no bearing on where I see excellence, Stella,” he said as if he hadn’t just insulted his only son, “This is all you.” Your smile faltered a bit at the dig, but you were so happy that you didn’t want to let it bother you. You had really wanted this promotion in the office. You and Eddie did practice interviews for weeks (’Yeah, baby, show me how bad you want this promotion.’ ‘Ed be serious, please!’), he helped you streamline your resume, he made you French toast this morning on homemade brioche because he wanted you to ‘get promoted on a full stomach’. (’Ed I’m so nervous, I can’t.’ ‘You have to, sweet thing, you’ll feel so much better – and it took me forever to make that brioche so if you don’t eat it I’ll be really sad.’) “Mr. Harrington, I’m –” you were at a loss for words, “I don’t know what to say. I’m so honored! I promise I won’t let you down.” “I know you won’t. We’ll get you started in a week or so, while we get a new secretary on board,” he explained. “Okay! Great!” you squealed, “It’s really happening!”

“It really is,” he smiled back at you, “Give my son a call, we should celebrate later. We’ll do D’archenzo.” “I will, I will,” you said, getting up from the chair across from his desk, “Thank you so much Mr. Harrington.” “Stel, please, just call me Bill,” he pleaded. “Sorry – ugh, thank you so much Bill,” you said, at the door frame. You left his office, shutting the door behind you. Your face hurt from smiling. You scurried back to your desk and immediately called the boy who would be the most excited to hear from you. “Thanks for calling Danger Records. This is the guy who runs it,” Eddie’s bored voice rang through the phone, “How can I help you?” “Ed.” “Oh shit!” you could hear through his words he was beaming, “You got it. Holy shit, you got it!” “I got it!” you tried not to scream, bouncing up and down in your desk chair. “Oh babe, I am so proud of you. I knew you had it in the bag,” he cheered, “I’m so happy for you. How do you feel? Are you excited? You really earned it, sweet thing.” “I’m so excited, and I’m so nervous. I don’t know, it’s so many feelings,” you explained, jittery with enthusiasm.

“I’m so sad I’m closing, sweetheart,” he moped, “I would’ve had something put together for you for when you got home. Let me take my little Exec out this weekend.” You blushed at his new nickname, “Little Exec makes it sound silly.” “It’s not silly, it could never be silly, it’s you,” he said, adoration pouring through his words like honey. “But baby, I’m so sorry, I have to go. We got a couple people in here that need specifics – collectors. I’ll see you at home, okay?” “Yeah, yeah, okay! Um, Bill wants to take me and Steve out for a drink to celebrate at D’archenzo. But we’ll probably be back before you get home,” you said, sweat prickling under your dress at the thought of calling Steve. “Oooh, D’archenzo? My little miss money bags over here. Ugh, I can’t wait to see you and give you a big fat kiss. I love you,” Eddie’s smile was infectious, even if you couldn’t see it. “Love you too! I’ll see you tonight!”

You heaved a dreamy sigh at the praise and excitement. Sometimes it was nice to be cheered for, instead of the cheer leader. You picked up the phone off the receiver again and dialed Family Video slowly. Steve’s shift ended at 4 and it was 3:55, but you couldn’t will yourself to get the to conversation faster. “Family Video, this is Steve,” his voice was cheery, and accommodating.

“Hi Stevie, I’m sorry to call so close to the end of your shift,” you said. “That’s okay, baby, is everything okay at work?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s great!” you said, “I um – I got the job!”

“Oh…” he said, his voice still light but distant, “Was that today?” “Yeah, it was um, it was today,” you said, disappointment creeping into your chest.

“Well hey, congrats baby,” he said, his voice lacking the luster it had when he answered the phone. “Uh, your dad wants to know if you wanted to come meet us for celebratory drinks at 5. Do you wanna come?” you chewed on your lower lip, bouncing your leg anxiously. “And hang out with Bill?” he scoffed, “Oh yeah. That’s how I love spending my Friday nights off.” “Please?” you asked, your voice getting smaller. You heard him sigh, the kind he does when he runs his hand over his face, “Yeah honey, I’ll come. You going to Salvatore’s?” “D’archenzo,” you corrected. “Psht, of course he wants to do D’archenzo,” he muttered, taking a pause, “Yeah baby, I’ll see you there. Might be a little late, have to go home and change.” “That’s okay,” you said, a little breathily, “I’m excited to see you.”

“Me too, princess,” his tone made it sound otherwise. “Love you,” you said, meeker than you expected. “Love you, see you later.” Dial tone. You wished you had called Eddie second. –

You shifted nervously in the half circle booth at D’archenzo, eyes snapping from the door to your boss — nodding and smiling every now and again to pretend you were paying attention. The not so great thing about Bill is that he loved to hear himself talk, so it gave you a lot more time to think about how this night might go.

Steve didn’t like his father, that much was true. It was the grandstanding he did whenever he was around him that frustrated you — needing so desperately to be the King Steve he felt like his father wanted him to be. Cool, confident, a provider: all qualities his dad ingrained in him since he was a kid. The same kind of man he was, coasting through life with a winning smile and a law degree. But instead, Steve didn’t get the grades for college, much less a chance at Harvard. Now he was a Senior Manager at Family Video. Disappointed was the understatement of the century.

Your heart raced as you saw him come in and you sucked in a hard breath of air. He looked stunning, always making sure to look his best when it came to being around Bill. His brown and black sports jacket hugged him expertly over a patterned shirt, the collar undone just a bit so you could see the small gold Mary Magdalene pendant he wore on a chain that his grandmother gave him before she died. His matching pants were perfectly pressed, you could tell he was late because he went to go get them done at the cleaners. His leather shoes shining in the low light of the bar.

There was a mirror at the entrance and he nervously looked at himself in it, running his hands through his hair. You could tell he was tense but trying to appear to not be, trying to appear as cool, calm, and collected as he was when he came home ready to turn your ass bright red. After a final breath, he greeted the host with a stunning Harrington smile, nodding over to you and your dad’s booth.

“Hi, Stevie,” you said, plastering a big smile on your face.

“There’s my girl,” he said, his voice slightly lower than normal. He slid into the booth next to you and immediately put his hand on your thigh under the table. His thumb skittered over the hem of your work skirt, smoothing over your nylons. The touch made you feel safe, but you knew he was grounding himself – you were what was safe here. You wanted to fucking eat him alive on that table.

After a soft kiss on the lips, he turned his attention to his father.

“Bill.”

“Steven.”

You closed your eyes and let a breath out of your nose, trying to ease the tension by just existing between them. “Hi, are you folks dining or just– Oh, hey Mr. Harrington, good to see you again!” your eyes opened to the waiter at the edge of the table. Of course the waiters knew Bill, he came here all the time.  

“Just drinks, Marco,” Bill replied, “Thanks.”

“Ladies first, what can I get started for you?” Marco turned his right smile to you.

“I’ll get–”

“She’ll have a margarita on the rocks, no salt. Patron, please,” Steve responded without a beat. Your cheeks burned, you didn’t think he’d order for you in front of his father, but that was always how it was. Steve craved control around him, and you were the easiest tool. You were embarrassed, even though the the order wasn’t wrong – you could do it yourself – your thighs tightened at the gesture, the edge on his voice just right.

“And for you?” the waiter asked, patiently.

“Do you have Maker’s Gold Label?” he asked, his posture broadening.

“We do, sir,” Marco responded.

“I’ll take a double,” he said, “Thanks.”

“Steve,” you warned while Bill was distracted ordering, “Not tonight.”

He squeezed your thigh hard to remind you who you were talking to. He got in close to your ear, his Paco Rabanne cologne hitting your nose, practically growling, “Watch who you’re talking to.”

You nodded, your eyes falling to the dark walnut table in front of you, “Sorry.”

Steve always got bourbon when he was with Bill, because Bill always got bourbon. But just like Bill, Steve was a mean drunk when he spent the night with Maker’s. Eddie didn’t even allow it in the house anymore.

“Not even a bouquet Steve?” Bill asked after Marco walked away, “Your girl just got a big promotion and you didn’t get her a present?”

You could’ve just died, it was already starting.

“Bill, I don’t need—” you started.

“It’s at the house,” Steve replied coolly, “Not something I want to keep in my pocket in this part of town.”

You kept your eyes on the table, knowing there wasn’t a gift or flowers. You were more surprised he even agreed to come around. He was doing his best, this was always hard for him.

The drinks arrived with a beautiful cocktail waitress that Bill eyed hungrily, you caught her blush. Steve huffed, “Mom couldn’t make it, tonight?”

“Your mom’s at the Miami house,” Bill said with a wink. He picked up his drink.

“A toast,” Bill started, you raised your glass, Steve half raised his, “To Steve’s girl becoming the breadwinner.”

He let out a hearty laugh. Steve didn’t even clink his glass, just downed the double and slammed it back down on the table. Your heart sunk, you knew it stung him.

“Oh, come on Steven, don’t be a sore sport. House husbands are gonna be all the rage in the 90s,” Bill smirked, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. Steve looked dead behind the eyes, only moving to signal to a waiter he’d like another bourbon.

“Speaking of house husbands, your friend Ed, how’s he doing?” Bill asked.

“Eddie’s fine,” you said, “At the record store tonight, closing up shop.”

“And it’s not weird for you? Living there with Steve’s roommate?” he asked.

You shook your head no, heat bubbling in your chest. Steve’s roommate. Not the man who plowed into you on the couch after playing 'interview’ last night, the scratches down his back still bright red the next day. 'Means I did my job right, baby girl,’ he said when you apologized.

“No, no, we’re all really good friends. It works out nicely!” you enthused. Steve had checked out, nursing the new bourbon that was slipped in front of him, his hand still cupped on your thigh.

The next 30 minutes had been grueling. Between the men sitting on either side of you bickering and continuing to drink, to Steve telling the waiter, “She’s had enough,” when you went to order a second margarita, your head was swimming. Then the check came…

Steve reached for it, snatching the waiter wallet and taking out his own.

“Steven–” Bill started.

“I got it, dad, I got it,” he said, not looking up.

“I don’t think Family Video can cover this bill, sport,” Bill said with a chuckle.

“I have the money, it’s fine,” he said, slotting the bills into the folder and putting his leather wallet back in his jacket’s inside pocket.

“You have the money, because I have the money,” Bill’s voice became fatherly, in that know-it-all way. Calm and smooth, but with an air of authority. A waiter came by to collect the check.

“Mr. Harrington, please let Steve cover it,” you cooed, “He’s just trying to be like you.” Steve’s postured straightened, he pinched the inside of your thigh and you stifled a yelp.

“Can’t blame him,” Bill smirked, and down the rest of his whiskey and standing up, “Alright kids, guess it’s time to be heading out. Next time, Stel get’s the check. She’s making more than both of you boys.”

“I’ll be right back, just heading the rest room,” you whispered to Steve, scooting over to get past him out of the booth.

“I’ll meet you in the fucking car,” Steve hissed, slamming his hands on the table to get up. The glasses shook on the table and you flinched, following out of the booth behind him and heading to the bathroom.

“Woah, woah, Steve, you good to drive…” you heard Bill say, and a semblance of a frustrated, ’Jesus Christ dad, I’m fine,’ as you moved further to the back of the bar.

—

The car ride was silent, Steve wasn’t drunk but you could tell he was feeling the bourbon. He was morose, leaning back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other on his lap. He cast a few glances over at you while you leaned your head on your hand, elbow propped up on the ledge the car door window. You weren’t necessarily pouty, but annoyed that this whole day had become about Steve. You started it off so happy, and now you just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

He pulled into the drive way and swiftly got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You followed suit, taking small steps in your patent leather work heels, your hands jammed into your trench coat pockets in the cold fall air. You both met in the front hall, shedding yourself of layers, Steve tossing his keys noisily into the bowl on the cabinet by the door.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, your brows furrowing, “You had your little melt down, grow up Steve.”

He let out a dark chuckle, “Yeah, okay. Thanks big shot.”

“What is your problem?” you asked, incredulous.

“I am so sick of you coming to the rescue for me around him. You always do this. You embarrass me every, single, time,” he said, his voice raising, his hands animated while he spoke.

“I think you were embarrassing enough on your own! Slamming your hands down, shouting – what, are you a fucking child?” you asked, “And don’t get me started on ordering for me and telling me when I’ve had enough. We were with your fucking dad, Steve. I’m a big girl, I think I got it.”

“Oh yeah, my big girl and her big new job, how could I fucking forget? Remind me again how much fucking better you think you are than me,” he hissed. He slung his suit jacket over the coat rack and huffed into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge and taking out a beer, slamming it closed.

Fine, two could play at this game.

“Sure,” you shrilled, following him into the kitchen. You reached into your purse, grabbing a wad of $20s, “Here’s your fucking money back.”

The bills showered over him, some hitting him in the face. He leaned his lower back against the counter. Nodding slowly, his face stoic and cold.

“I asked the waiter to put it on my card, instead,” you said, your eyes boring into him, “Because I knew it was too much for you until you got paid again.”

“Hm,” he said, his jaw tense. Still nodding slowly while he put his beer down behind him and rolled up his sleeves. He pushed himself off the counter, and walked through the archway into the living room, placing himself on his favorite arm chair. You looked at him with your arms crossed, walking through the living room to the stairs.

“Don’t forget, you’re still free use this week,” Steve asked, his voice low and menacing. Your back straightened hearing the quiet anger in his voice. Fuck, you were free use this week.

“C'mere, big shot,” he said. You obeyed with a huff, walking over the to arm chair and looking down at him.

“What? What do you want?” you asked haughtily.

“Get on those knees before I make you,” he said, pointing at the ground between his feet. You began to kneel before he stopped you.

“Take this working girl shit off, first,” he said, tugging at your skirt and blazer. You stripped while he watched, blankness behind his eyes, it made you nervous. Maybe you went too far. No, fuck it, he went too far. He was being ridiculous.

You got down on your knees, naked, in front of him. Sure he’d make you suck his cock and then you go take a shower and go to bed.

He let a finger trace over your lower lip, pulled it back, and unbuckled his belt, slipping it around your neck. Not too tight, but just enough. You understood now that this was punishment, not funishment. He needed to feel in control again.

“Does he know?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face. “Does who know what, Steve?” you asked, annoyed. He pulled at your make shift leash, gagging you in the process. “Does Bill know that you come home from being a know-it-all at work and call his loser son, 'Daddy’?” his voice boarding the line between salacious and scary.

“Does he know that you get punished when you don’t follow my rules? That Daddy makes you do chores and behave just like he wants?” he leaned forward in his seat resting his forearms on his knees. The leather of the belt hanging loosely between his legs in front of you. 

“That you like getting put over my knee and spanked like a little girl?” he got right in your face, you whimpered as the pressure on your throat tightened.

“Big shot, huh?” he said, “What, can’t take it?”

“Steve, the last t-time you–” he pulled tighter, your face reddened as you choked.

“Don’t fucking call me Steve when you’re in my fuckin’ house,” he hissed, “I own this fuckin’ house.”

He loosened the pull of the belt, “Sorry, Daddy,” you whisper softly.

“Good, that’s what I wanna hear,” he said, tapping your cheek with his fingers. He stood up, leaving some slack in the leather he held in his hands. You followed suit.

“Sit on the couch,” he said. You gingerly sat on the center cushion, your hands on your lap, waiting for your next instruction. Steve stood in front of you parting your legs with his knee, he undid his pants parting his own legs so his slacks and underwear would rest on his thighs.

“So, big league exec assistant. Show Daddy how sorry you are,” he said.

Your eyes brimmed with tears. So this is what he thought of your accomplishment. You took his cock in your hands, silky and smooth to the touch, achingly hard – you were almost scared of it. You let your flattened tongue glide from the base to the tip, sucking softly on his head, then mid shaft, and back to his head. Your tongue gliding expertly in your mouth, sucking in your cheeks just tightly enough, but not all the way. Not until you pulled him all the way into your mouth, his tip dipping down the back of your throat. You opened up your throat to accommodate him, groaning as you did, looking up begging him to make eye contact with you, to tell you that you were doing so good. He didn’t.

“Shit, that’s it. That’s how you got that promotion, hm?” he groaned, gripping your hair, “Suckin’ all the guys at the office like this? So they’ll all report to my dad how good you are?”

You moved your head back, taking him out of your mouth, you wanted to cry, “That’s not…That’s not how I got the job…”

“Must be, how else you get so good at putting dick that far down your throat?” his glare down at you was brutal, “I see those little outfits you wear to work, of course you’re the office whore.”

“I’m not,” you said, tears starting to spill down your cheeks. He tightened his pull on the belt again, you gagged out of your cry.

“You don’t get to tell me what you are,” he said, a chill whipped through your chest. “I do,” he said, pulling at the belt so you stood up. He hoisted up his pants, leaving them undone. He walked you over to the credenza, leaning you over it so you looked in the big ornate mirror on the wall, seeing him behind you. You watched him in the reflection tug his pants down again. He didn’t check if you were wet or not, just slammed himself into you, looking down at your ass, leaving a hard smack on it to watch it bounce back against his hips and hand.

“You know what you are, big shot?” he asked, looking at you in the mirror, “You’re a worthless fucking whore. C'mon, I wanna hear you say it, look at me in the mirror and say it.” “I’m a…I’m a worthless fucking whore,” you whimpered. “That’s right,” he grumbled, rutting mindlessly into you, “A stupid fucking slut.”

“Steve…” you said, hurt from his words paining your face. You watched the belt tighten on you neck in the mirror. You watched your face bloom red.

“Respect me in my fuckin’ house,” he said.

“Daddy, that’s…you’re being really mean,” you choked out.

“Really mean? Yeah?” he mocked, a sly grin pulling up his lips, “You wanna hear really mean, baby doll?”

His pace quickened while he held the pressure on the belt around your neck.

“You got that fuckin’ job because of me. You didn’t get all obedient without Daddy telling you what to do all the time. You didn’t work harder without me telling you what you needed to do. You didn’t get all that extra work done at home without me staying up and helping you figure out the fuckin’ budget books. I made you, you ungrateful bitch,” his voice getting more ragged with every sentence. The belt getting pulled a little tighter with every thrust.

“Talked you up to my mom so she’d talk you up to my dad. You didn’t do shit for that job,” he spat, “All you’re good for is being Daddy’s toy.” You tapped out.

Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, you slammed your hand down three times on the cradenza to get him to stop. He let go, gently taking the belt off and sliding out of you, you winced at the burn.

“Baby…” he said, his voice soft, “Baby, I didn’t mean…” You turned around, sobbing, “Yes you did, you did mean it.” “No, no,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I was just…you know how I get after I see Bill.” “You weren’t playing the p-p-part St-steve, that’s-that’s-s-s what you really th-thiiiiink,” your last words drawn out as another sob poured out of your body. “Oh baby girl, no, I promise,” he said, pulling back, “Hey, hey, let me look at your neck, okay?” “No, no,” you said, squirming out of his touch, “I don’t want you right now. I–” The front door opened, Eddie pushing it open with his hip, his hands full with a big bouquet of roses and a couple of records, “Where’s my little exeeeeccccc!” he sang out, a smile on his face. As he turned to kick off his shoes, he saw you both standing in the living room. His smile fell. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, gently placing the roses and records down on the cabinet. He slid his sneakers off and padded into the living room, his eyes filled with concern at you crying, naked in the mirror. “Oh sweet thing, what happened?” he asked, wrapping you up in his arms. You fell apart in his chest. 'Is she okay?’ he mouthed to Steve over your shoulder. Steve walked away and laced his fingers over his forehead, his head leaning back slightly. “What happened, baby?” he asked, pulling you a little away from his chest to look you over, “Were you playing and it was too much?” “She tapped out, Ed,” Steve said from the kitchen, in the same position. “He said I only got this job because I’m a whore,” you cried, “He said he made me. He–he leashed me with his b-belt again.” Eddie looked up at Steve, he was pissed. This was supposed to be your day. Eddie pressed a kiss to your temple, “Go upstairs, sweet girl. I’ll come make it better in a minute.” “I’m gonna take a shower,” you said. You felt dirty and degraded. The day was ruined, you padded up the stairs, stopping when you heard Eddie talking again. “That’s the third time in a week and a half that she’s safe’d out with you, Steve,” Eddie was livid, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Nothing, Ed, we’re just trying new things,” Steve muttered, he was quiet. “Bullshit, Harrington! Don’t lie to my face, come on!” Ed was full on yelling, “I saw her fucking neck, man. You know she hates that shit. She fucking hates it.”

“She was breaking my r–” Steve’s voice cracked. “I don’t care man. I don’t CARE what rules she was breaking. She doesn’t like the belt around her neck, so we don’t do it. Why can’t you just–Is this–wait is this all cause of Bill? Was tonight about Bill?” Ed’s voice shrilled up through the hall way and through the stairs. “Tell me this shit tonight isn’t about drinks with your dad,” You could tell by the sound of his voice that Eddie got to the point of being so mad he was smiling. If you were a betting woman, you’d guess he’d punch Steve next. Steve didn’t say anything for a minute, “She just…every time she just makes it worse.” “Steve, whatever shit you have going on with your dad is YOUR PROBLEM! She’s not the PROBLEM! She is a PERSON!” he yelled, “You can’t come home and beat on her just because you’re mad at your dad, that’s not how this shit works! She’s not your fucking punching bag when your feelings get hurt, Harrington! She’s your girl. She’s our girl.”

“This was such a big fucking day for her and I come home to her crying?! Cause her boyfriend said she’s an office whore? What’s wrong with you, man?” Ed’s voice was high and angry. “Go take a walk, man. Go figure it out,” he said, you could hear him heading over to the stairs. You scurried to the bathroom to shower before Ed could catch you listening. When you got out of the shower and into the bedroom, Ed was sitting on the bed in his boxers re-reading The Two Towers (for the millionth time). The bouquet of roses in a vase on on the dresser. He looked up from his book at you, “Angel vanimelda.” “Beautiful Angel?,” you asked, wrapped in your towel at the door. “See, the more elvish I speak to you, the quicker you’re learning it,” he said, closing the book and putting it on the side table. He got up, getting chest to chest with you and without a word pulled you into a deep kiss. One hand resting gently on your face, the other snaking around your waist. When he pulled away, he looked at you sweetly, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Tears filled your eyes again, that’s all you really wanted to hear. “Thanks, Ed, thank you,” you said with a quick sniffle, wiping them away. “I don’t think Steve meant what he said, I think he’s just – I don’t – figuring his shit out. But I’m here,” he pointed to himself, “And I’m saying fuck that guy, and you’re the most badass girl I know, aside from Nancy Wheeler because she has guns, and you earned that job.” You laughed, and let him kiss you again, he broke away and tilted your chin up, “Just checking out your neck, baby. I think it’s okay. Definitely gonna be red tomorrow, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t bruise up.” “Better not bruise up, I have to go be an executive assistant next week,” you smiled, the cry from earlier settling down in your chest. “That’s my girl! My little exec!” he cheered, pulling a bit at your towel so that it dropped to the floor, putting his hands on the smallest part of your waist. He looked you over and bit his bottom lip, his stare made you squeeze your thighs together. “So, since you got the job, can we not play 'interview practice’ anymore?” he asked, “Cause I really liked that game.” “We can play, on one condition,” you smirked, pulling him in, feeling his warm chest against yours. You pushed up on your tip toes and got in his face, “I get to be the boss this time.” Eddie became stupid almost immediately, barely containing his excitement, “Oh fuck yes, baby. Yes. Fuck. Oh my god, fuck. Be my fuckin’ boss any day, Jesus Christ.” — You had fallen asleep long before Steve had gotten back in the house. The forty minutes you spent sitting on Eddie’s face while he devoured you into, and you counted, seven orgasms, really tired you out. He definitely would’ve gotten the promotion if you were the boss. You slept soundly while the front door opened, the moonlight shining into the front hall. Steve closing it gently behind him, and taking his shoes off. You didn’t hear him sniffling or see him wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand while he sat in the dark in the living room. Cradling his head in his hands. Looking over at the money on the floor in the kitchen, his belt still on the cradenza, wracking his body with another flurry of breathy silent cries. “Pull it together, Harrington,” he whispered, the grogginess of his sobbing staining his voice, “Pull it together for her.” He got up, tears still pooled in his eyes, and reached into the inside pocket of the sports jacket he slung over the coat rack earlier that night. Fishing past his wallet, he pulled out a card and a little velvet box that had been there the whole night. He trudged into the kitchen and put them on the kitchen table, popping the box open to reveal the contents, leaving the card next to it with the note open. He picked up the money and neatly organized it, shoving it into his pants pocket. He slid his belt into his pants and trudged up the stairs, resigning himself to the man-cave couch that night. There was a reason Steve couldn’t totally afford to buy drinks tonight, but it wasn’t because he wasn’t making enough money. On the kitchen table, in the velvet box, sat a pair of ruby stud earrings you saw at the jewelers a month ago when Steve stopped in to get his watch cleaned. He watched you coo over them and knew you had to have them, he bought them two weeks later when you said you were going up for the Exec job. He knew you’d get it, you were too good. Next to the box, a simple note: To my best girl, You never fail to impress me. Love, Steve