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about me. cece (she/her) / 26 / brown eye enthusiast— sometimes a writer, but barely.

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[cryingwriter]

²⁹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘, 𝐒𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Daniel Blake × Teresa Hawke (OC) ♟️

Summary: Daniel is tasked with bringing BB to Buck as Teresa finally meets with the mayor. (18+ ONLY • MDNI) (tw: reference to animal abuse/death.)

Chapter 29 • 2,863 words • When the Dust Settles masterlist

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Daniel’s leg won’t quit bouncing no matter how hard he tries to stop it. The park is empty and secure like Buck said it would be but he still feels like someone is watching. Maybe he just feels that way now—the feeling of being watched is permanent after finding out there were cameras in Fisk’s office. He pulls his leather jacket tighter as if that’ll hide him.

Buck told him hours ago to text BB to meet there but he still hasn’t done it. He’s been sitting here on a bench trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to break Teresa out of jail. God, it’s so fuckin’ stupid. He’s not some action movie hero or very good at strategizing a plan for real world use. He’s good with words, theories, getting himself out of things by talking but this is a whole other thing.

Buck texts him again. It’s the same thing he said an hour ago and the hour before that. He wants to know if he’s done it yet. Daniel’s supposed to apologize for how he acted on his birthday and invite BB to meet so they can talk in person. It’s a flimsy plan but that’s the best he could come up with to tell Buck.

He can’t do it. Whether he trusts her or not, he won’t let her get killed for his mistakes. Teresa wouldn’t want it either. The way she looked at him when he told her he’d buried a body filled him with more shame than he can ever recover from. He never wanted her to know but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He didn’t want to be this. Whatever kind of man he’s become.

His phone starts ringing and he jumps, nearly throwing it across the stone steps. BUCK CASHMAN blinks over his screen and his fingers tighten so hard around the plastic that it cracks. “Fuck!” He stands up and paces. It’s now or never. “Hey,” he answers. “Sorry I haven’t texted you back. I was just, uh. . . I just got here.”

“Did you schedule your date?”

He sighs. “Uh, yeah. She’s on her way.”

“Good.” There's silence for a beat. “I’ll be heading your way shortly.”

The line goes dead before he can come up with any excuse to stop him. He doesn’t know what to do. He could run but what then? He doesn’t know how to do anything right without Teresa. And he can’t go without her.

But he doesn’t even know if she’s still locked up or what the hell is going on. He slumps back onto the bench and pulls at his hair so hard it hurts and a few strands come away. She could be dead right now and he wouldn’t know.

He can’t hear her voice anymore in his mind. He doesn’t know if she’d want him to go or stay. Going means leaving her behind but staying means he might finally meet some sort of consequence for what he’s done. And if this is where he meets his end, then he hopes Teresa knows it’s because he wants to be her good boy. He’ll be ready to face whatever comes if it means she never looks at him the way she did.

Buck arrives too soon, all business and unchecked arrogance. It’s like he can tell, even feet away, that Daniel has lied. The disappointment comes off him like a heavy stench and coats the air with tension. “Where is she?” he asks when he reaches him. Although, he knows already, doesn’t he? Not here.

Daniel takes a deep breath. “She’s not coming.”

Buck closes his eyes for a split second and steadies his breathing. It’s a skill Daniel hasn’t learned yet. Control. “You didn’t talk to her, did you?” He may find her eventually. He may kill her. But it won’t be Daniel who led her like a lamb to the slaughter.

“She was busy,” he says simply.

They stand there for what seems a long time, just looking at each other. The electrical current of anxiety ramps and fades with the pumping of his heart, over and over as he waits for Buck to speak. Frustration is dark in his eyes but it’s hard to tell if there’s any real wrath. Daniel doesn’t want to believe that he might actually hurt him for this.

“Let’s take a walk,” Buck finally says and moves past him before he can protest.

Daniel follows without complaint.

“You understand,” he starts as he leads them toward a clearing in the line of trees not unlike where they buried the body in the Catskills and pulls out a pair of leather gloves. “This was an order.”

He knows it’s coming. He’s been here before, pushed against the wall with no escape and waiting for the first blow to land. He can take a beating, this he knows. It will have been a while since the last time someone laid a hand on him but the muscle memory will kick in and he will brace and he will flinch like a battered dog but he will take it all the same.

“I told you once, the mayor is only sympathetic to a point.”

He huffs a small laugh. “See, I don’t think he’s sympathetic at all, Buck.”

“Remember when you said you’d disappear.” Buck stares into him, through him to some deep part that hides all the fear and tears it wide open. “Unfortunately, I think you may have to, Daniel.”

“You remind me of a real pretty collie I had once,” Powell says when he pulls Teresa out of the cruiser at City Hall. “We tried everything. Shock collars, electric fence, keeping her locked up. No matter what we did she kept getting out of the goddamn gate. One day I come home from work and she’s sitting in the driveway. It didn’t make any sense. I knew she couldn’t have gotten out but I’d had enough.”

Teresa cringes away from him. She cannot imagine being an innocent animal under his care. It makes her stomach turn and her heart break.

“That was the last time she ever got out.”

She breathes roughly, trying to blink away tears forming. “You’re a sick fuck.”

He laughs. “I found out after that the neighbor kid was coming into the yard and taking her out to play with her. I think dough-boy’s gonna look just like that kid did when I told him that his favorite puppy was dead.”

She turns toward him, yanking out of his grasp so she can walk in on her own. “If you’re done fucking talking, I’d like to go inside now.”

A sadistic laugh comes out of him as he grabs her by the arm and shoves her against the cruiser. “If you try anything,” he says, squeezing her wrist so hard as he lifts it up that it cracks. He unlocks the cuffs. “I will shoot you. And I’ll make sure you go slow.”

“Understood.”

Powell stares at her, his lip twitching with a smirk he’s hiding. He thinks he knows how this is going to go but he’s very wrong. He shouldn’t have taken off the cuffs.

She follows him unsteadily, his fingers digging into her upper arm, as they climb the steps. Inside they take the elevator to Fisk’s office floor.

It’s only been six months since she stepped foot here and yet it all looks different, foreign. The color of the walls seems darker, the hallways longer. It’s as if her poorly constructed memory has come to life and she walks through it the way you do a house in your dreams with too many doors and a layout that makes no sense. The mayor’s office door opens like another kind of prison cell and suddenly she’s in there with her captor.

Wilson Fisk sits at his desk, drapes closed behind him so that no light touches his darkness. His eyes rake over her body, evaluating every detail. It’s one of the only times he’s seen her so unkempt.

“Did you enjoy your pale imitation of freedom?” he asks, rising from his chair.

Powell lets go of her and steps back as if he expects Fisk to finish what he started at the warehouse and finally strangle the life out of her. But he won’t do that. Allowing her to come here today is for some other reason. Killing her now would be too easy.

“Have you enjoyed your power play over the city?” She moves forward so she can see him up close, the wrinkles by his eyes, his permanent scowl. “I think at some point it’s bound to come to an end.”

He does his best semblance of a smile. “I’ve thought about how to . . . correct your behavior. How to discipline. Taking your life would only leave a bitter taste in my mouth.”

She knew he couldn't kill her but the alternative may be worse than death.

“I once thought that you could take your hurt, your loss, and make that pain into something useful. But losing Vanessa—there is nowhere to put that pain. You don’t understand what that is like.” He’s quiet for a moment, torment etched into his aging features. Then he sighs weakly. “Do you know where Daniel Blake is today?”

The kind of silence that blankets the room is filled with dread, it’s heavy on her skin and spreads up through her limbs like ice water in her veins.

“He was given an opportunity to prove himself. Unfortunately, he was incapable of making the hard decision.”

“Wilson,” she starts but the words die on her lips.

“You do not understand what I feel. But you will.”

She flies at him, her fists banging against his chest, nails cutting into the skin of his face and his neck as she loses herself to the passion of violence and despair. “Don’t do this.” She grabs his collar, tugging his towering form to her level. “Wilson.” She sounds inhuman to her own ears, like it’s coming from some plane of existence other than herself. He shrugs her off and she slumps to the floor, wailing. “Please! Wilson, please don’t hurt him to hurt me. I’ll do anything!”

“You will not. You will suffer for every careless moment you spent with that boy. I will make my pain useful and give it to you.”

Powell grabs her roughly, prying her away from Fisk’s feet and yanking her off the floor. She thrashes, blinded by tears. This can’t be it.

“God, please!” She weeps.

“Come on,” Powell says, tugging her away. “Let’s go.”

She twists and grabs his gun from its holster, backing away with Wilson in her sights. “Where the fuck is he?” Powell steps in front of him with a hand out and Wilson just laughs. “Where is Daniel?”

The bellowing of Fisk’s laugh fills the room and she almost puts the gun to her own head. It’s over. She has nothing left to live for.

But if Daniel was dead, Buck would be here.

“You once told Vanessa that by your side would be the safest place she could ever be.” Teresa hands shake as she holds both men at gunpoint. “All you ever did was put a target on her back. When will you see, Wilson? James, Vanessa—it’s you. You killed them.”

He stares at her but there’s a small flicker, one that tells her he does know. Deep down.

“You should’ve killed me too.”

She pulls the trigger.

The bullet hits Powell in the arm as he moves to block the mayor. Her second shot pierces through the meat of his upper thigh and arterial spray paints Wilson’s white suit red when he catches Powell going down.

She bolts then. Security or the Task Force will be on her in seconds if she doesn’t find a place to hide or a way out. Damn it. She could’ve taken five extra seconds to aim another shot at Wilson’s head but she is too focused on Daniel. She has to believe that he’s still alive and that Buck was just given the order. She has to believe that she has enough time to get to him. Nothing else is an option.

There’s only one place that makes sense to go. And when she gets there, Sheila’s already standing in her office, having heard the gunshots. “Miss Hawke,” she says, alarmed.

“Has Daniel ever shared his location with you?”

“What?”

“I don’t have time!”

Sheila notices the gun and pulls her cellphone from her suit jacket. “Yes. I—I think so. What’s going on?”

“Give me your phone.” She hands it over and Teresa’s fingers tremor as she taps the screen. The loading bar takes so long she nearly throws the phone across the room but then his location pings in a secluded park outside the city. “I need your car.”

Sheila looks at her. “Teresa, is Daniel . . .” Her words are cut off by understanding. She nods and digs the keys out of her pocket, giving them to Teresa without another word, just a look in her eyes that says save him.

Daniel imagines his future. One long series of events—marriage, kids, growing old, death. It’s unrealistic and sickly sweet but some part of him fantasizes that it could be true. When he wakes up in the hospital, bruised and sore, Teresa will be there at his bedside. She’ll ask him how he is and he’ll say “never better” and she’ll laugh. The best sound in the entire world.

Buck’s fist comes down again, into his stomach this time, and he loses all of his thoughts and all of his breath. The sound of leather stretching is all he can hear as another blow to his face lands in a muffled thud. And he feels the trickle of blood before the pain.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to show me what kind of man you are, Daniel. Come on.” Buck’s voice is far away, dulled by his wheezing.

He lies there and takes every hit. He doesn’t shield himself, doesn’t fight back, just lets it happen. It’s his own punishment for the mistakes he’s made, for backing a man he knew was evil, and for putting people he cares about in danger. This is atonement. There’s a part of him that wonders if his dad prepared him, showed him how to take a beating for a moment like this.

He thinks of the shape of his fathers belt, the way it felt, and the way his mother always stood in the hallway watching. She never picked him up when it was over. Never told him it would be okay, only told him to clean up in the bathroom or go to bed. There were never any apologies or excuses to lighten the burden of blame, just breakfast at the table in the morning and something for dad’s hangover in the orange juice.

Buck grunts above him, grabbing him by his leather jacket. A weak punch comes across his face and he chokes on the blood running down the back of his throat as his head smacks back down against rocky dirt. It saves BB, that’s all he keeps thinking. It saves her. He can take this.

But it’s suffering. It isn’t noble or brave. It’s just him on the ground sacrificing nothing because he is nothing, to anyone except maybe Teresa. He wants to call out for her even though it makes no sense. He whimpers, turning away from the guy he wanted to call a friend.

“I don’t enjoy this,” Buck says, panting.

Daniel watches through swollen lids as Buck strips off his gloves and tosses them aside. He pulls out his gun and Daniel closes his eyes. He stops bracing for impact. “What is following his orders gonna do for you? How long till you're on the floor with a gun pointed at your head?”

“Last chance.”

It isn’t until this very moment that Daniel fully processes that this is the end. Buck really is going to kill him. Even if he gave up BB, even if he swore never to see Teresa again, even if he was everything that Fisk wanted him to be, it wouldn’t matter. Not anymore. This is where he dies. He thought he could be a man but he begs for his life. “Please,” he wheezes. “Buck. I never got to tell her.”

Gravel crunching under tires sounds somewhere close but he can’t lift his head. It swims in and out of consciousness. Buck racks the slide of his gun.

The first thing Teresa sees is Daniel, unmoving on the ground.

It’s in a dreamlike state that she acts—out of the car, pulling Powell’s gun, setting her sights. It’s instant. She moves from one fluid motion to the next, synapses firing, muscle memory.

Buck glances at her. He’s wound so tight he has the thousand yard stare of a shell-shocked soldier. It’s how she knows she’s out of time.

Seven seconds.

Six.

She curls her finger into the trigger hold. Five.

Four.

Three. She glides across the muddy grass, steady in her stride and intent.

Two.

Buck fires first.

[cryingwriter]

²⁸ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐖

Daniel Blake × Teresa Hawke (OC) ♟️

Summary: Teresa and Karen meet again as they both sit in jail.

Chapter 28 • 1,984 words • When the Dust Settles masterlist

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Given the circumstances, one might find it strange, but Teresa has never been more grateful. Not for her life but because Daniel was spared of seeing it taken away. It’s all she can be thankful for. Him, and him alone. It’s what keeps her going as they throw her in the van, as they abuse her on the way to the precinct, as they toss her into a cell—all she thinks about is her sweet boy.

She goes down onto the floor hard inside the jail and Powell doesn’t shut the cell door right away. He bends down and brushes the hair off her face to see if they’ve left her any trophies other than the bruised ring of Fisk’s hand around her neck. She’s been slapped around before, she knows what they did to her on the way won’t leave a mark. He won’t try again though, not in any place the public can see.

He reaches down to her bandaged side and shoves a thumb into her flesh until she wails. “I like those sounds. You wanna play?”

She gags from the pain and the offer. “You wouldn’t like how I play,” she says, panting, readying herself to show him what it’s like to get his dick bit off.

“You don’t know a thing about me, sweetheart.”

She laughs. “Oh? I don’t know Officer Connor Powell, with his perfect job and his perfect family. Dead partner, killed by a vigilante. Grown kids and a wife that won’t please him. Maybe that’s why he has to rough up the girls selling sex on the corner of 74th just to get off.”

A smile spreads across his face slowly. His fingers shoot into her hair and her face hits the concrete when he shoves her down. “Go on. Lick my boots like a good dog.”

“Hey, asshole!” A female voice comes from the adjacent cell. “You want an audience? ‘Cause I’ll cheer. I might even scream.”

Powell backs off and hocks his spit, blowing it across Teresa's face before he stands up. She stays where she is as he leaves the cell and slams the heavy bars shut. She doesn’t get up until he leaves out the exit door.

She climbs onto her knees and has to use the bars to pull herself up. “Figured that was you.” She sighs, gazing across the hall.

Karen comes into the light. “I wondered where you went. How’s running back to Fisk working out for you?”

Teresa laughs and her side aches. “Got closer than you.”

“You said you were with us and you wanted him dead. It looks more like you were willing to call a truce.”

Does it? She laughs again and cradles her wound. Leave it to Karen to twist this. Always a journalist. She has to admit, though, that somewhere deep down she wanted to go home. The home she's had since fifteen. Maybe partly to get close enough to kill Fisk or be close to familiarity. Either way, it was always to be with Daniel, the only real thing she’s ever known.

“Can’t two things be true at once?”

Karen scoffs and leans her shoulder against the bars, back against the cement wall. “You’re either with us or you’re not.”

Teresa shakes her head, knowing there’s no explaining it, no justifying the way she’s handled things. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.”

“I can’t stand to watch, Karen. There is no mercifully putting an end to this. So whatever way I have to do it, I’ll do it. I don’t care if it means crawling back to him.”

That must piss Karen off because she turns sharply. “You know what your brother’s fatal flaw was? He was so far up Fisk’s ass he couldn’t fathom that I would ever say no to his offer. You think maybe that’s genetic? The trait that makes you want to lick his boots.”

Teresa understands in a removed sort of way that it was a trauma for Karen to kill her brother. It’s something they both live with every day but in different ways. Both victims, only Teresa was complicit. Only one of them knows that kind of shame. “You know, we aren’t so unalike,” she tells her. “You would do anything for those you care about, correct?”

“That’s right,” she spits.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t pretend what I’m doing is any different. Sometimes to kill the king you have to kiss the ring.”

“So that’s your plan—get close enough to kill him?”

“Since you and Matt can’t seem to.”

“Oh, we both know I’m capable of it.”

Teresa has to smile. Karen would’ve made a great addition to Fisk’s empire if she wasn’t as smart as she is. She has to admire her back bone. The woman killed her brother and yet she even sort of reveres her for that too. In a strange way she’s thankful that he isn’t here for this. That she doesn’t have to kill him, too, to keep Daniel.

“I don’t think anyone really knows what I’m capable of or what I am willing to do for who I love. I’ll be out of here a lot faster than you, Karen. Fisk will want to make an example of you.”

Karen lets out a small laugh. “This isn’t about Fisk,” she says almost to herself. “I’m just putting it together. You, BB, Fisk’s guy . . . Daniel Blake. It’s about saving him, isn’t it?”

She can’t bring herself to say a simple yes, to admit that everything she’s done and will do from here on out is for him. “We all have our reasons.”

“He's already made his choice.”

“There’s always more choices to make.”

“Don’t you ever worry that by the time you make it into that room, it’ll be too late?” Karen’s voice is softer now, like she understands in some way. “Don’t you worry that Fisk has already thought of everything and he’s just waiting?”

“All the time.”

“Do you really think you’ll get the chance to kill him?”

Teresa expects venom but that’s not what this is. It’s Karen asking for one shred of hope that this could all be over soon. Even if she hates herself for it—and by association to James Wesley, hates Teresa—she wants her to do it. She wants her to end his life and get it over with.

“I have to try.”

Karen disappears into the darkness and lays back on her cot. There’s nothing more to be said. All there is to do now is wait.

Sometime early in the morning the exit door opening wakes Teresa out of a dead sleep. She wasn’t aware she’d even fallen asleep until light pours in from the rest of the building and blinds her. She shoots up in case it’s Powell coming back because she will not be caught lying down.

It’s not him though. It’s some regular officer in a blue uniform. He unlocks her cell, latches on some cuffs and nods with his head to follow him.

Karen sits up and stares like she wants to say something.

“Good luck,” Teresa tells her and tries on a smile.

“Yeah. You too.”

Then she follows the officer into the unknown.

He takes her down several corridors with officers lining the walls, watching. Their eyes crawl like bugs across her skin and it makes her acutely aware that these cops belong to Fisk, that they know her, that it would be easy for them to spin stories if something unfortunate should happen. So she cooperates fully even when he roughly tosses her into a holding room chair.

He cuffs her to the table and leaves. It’s about ten minutes before she hears any voice in the hall or sees heads walk by through the small window in the door. Then finally it opens and in steps the last person she expects to see.

Dr. Heather Glenn saunters to the table and smooths her skirt as she sits down. “Miss Wesley, I’m here to assess you before release.”

“Miss Hawke.”

“Is that the name you prefer?” she asks, folding over a notepad.

“Yes.”

“May I ask the reason for the name change?”

Teresa takes a deep breath. She’s psychoanalyzed herself enough over the years that it isn’t an uncomfortable or hard answer. “Individuality. I took it from the only man I’ve ever trusted.”

Heather smiles, shifting forward like she’s surprised by the honesty and self awareness. “Would you say individuality is a driving force for you then?”

“Sure.”

“Independence?”

“Yes.”

She writes something down but from Teresa’s side of the table it looks like doodles and chicken scratch. “Do you find that your independence is ever in conflict with your commitments?”

Is she selfish enough to abandon loyalty? Funny. “I find that . . . my commitments have often asked too much of me.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Angry.”

“Do you ever want to harm yourself?”

“Seriously?”

“Do you want to harm others?”

Teresa has to laugh. It’s all she’s wanted to do since leaving Gracie Mansion the night Bullseye tried to kill Fisk. Harm one person and make New York a safer place. “Dr. Glenn, what I want is to reduce harm to others.”

“Mm.” She leans back in her seat and studies her.

It’s like looking into a mirror at her old self for a moment. It’s hard to see what they’ve done to Heather, what they’re taking from her, and she doesn’t even realize it. The cycle has already begun. Trauma and the Fisk shaped bandaid. “You’re handling it well.”

“Handling what?” she asks with an irritated lick of her lips.

“The pressure of Fisk’s thumb.” Teresa smiles when the perfection of Heather’s mask starts to wear. “But I see the way you clench your fists and grind your jaw, Dr. Glenn. One crack and all that you’ve got bottled up is going to come spewing out.”

She combs her hair over her ear and sets her lips. “Miss Wesley, I find it incumbent that you’re monitored and treated as a vulnerable and hostile individual. For the safety of yourself and others.”

There's a knock and it breaks their unfriendly eye contact. The door opens and Buck calmly slides in. He’s in the same suit as last night but still looking dapper as always.

For the first time since her conversation with Karen, Teresa thinks of Daniel. She worries where he might be and what he’s doing. There’s no doubt that he’s scared and unsure of everything now. She can only hope that he doesn’t do something stupid before she gets out of here. She hopes he isn’t forced to.

“Miss Hawke,” Buck greets. “Dr. Glenn, any progress?”

“She wants me on a leash,” Teresa says, leaning back in her chair.

Heather stands with a shake of her head. “She’s incompatible with reintroduction. My recommendation is incarceration or at the very least a psychiatric hold. But it’s at the discretion of the mayor.”

“Shame.” Buck sighs. “Lucky day for Miss Hawke though. The mayor wants to see her in his office.”

None of this feels lucky, not even the chance to get as close as she can to Fisk. Her heart drops when Buck and Heather leave the room and the officer that comes to get her isn’t the same as before. It’s Powell and he has a smug grin on his face like he’s already enjoying what he’s thinking about doing to her.

She can’t think of it. If it happens, she’ll deal with it then, not a second before.

He puts her in the front seat of his cruiser, still cuffed, and buckles her in, lingering as he pulls the belt over her chest. “Ya know, if he can’t kill you, I hope he asks me to.” He brushes the hair off her face and she shivers in disgust. “I hope he lets me do it in front of your kid boyfriend.”

[cryingwriter]

²⁷𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Daniel Blake × Teresa Hawke (OC) ♟️

Summary: Teresa and Daniel are tested.

Chapter 27 • 3,355 words • When the Dust Settles masterlist

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Rather read on AO3? Click here!

Teresa’s eyes burn as she watches Daniel’s phone screen light up again. He leans over the kitchen counter and rubs his hair until it’s a mess. Neither of them have slept. The only thing either of them have done for the past ten minutes is dread the next time BUCK CASHMAN blinks across his caller ID.

“I have to answer at some point.”

She shakes her head and runs a hand over her face. “He’ll think you’re sleeping.”

“No, I always answer.”

Of course, he does.

If they leave now and Buck gets suspicious they’re together, there’s a chance he will enforce road blocks so they can’t leave the city. But the alternative is letting Daniel tell a lie he won’t be able to keep up with for long. Either way, they don’t have a solid plan and it terrifies her.

Daniel should be packing while she finds them a ride. They should be on the road before the sun comes up. They should’ve left last night instead of falling into bed but they both needed the time together. There’s a whole hell of a lot of shoulds to consider but way too many unknowns that keep her paralyzed.

“What should I tell him?”

“Why is he calling?”

Daniel lets out a deep breath and messes with his hair some more. “Probably to talk about BB.”

Her heart drops. Why is this girl always in the middle of things? “What about BB?”

“Did you know about City Without Fear? I’m assuming you did if you were with Daredevil and Karen Page.”

Of course, she knows about it. The Resistance is widespread but she wasn’t really looking at the small details. She admits she was one track minded. “I heard of it.”

“Well, BB is the one making it.”

She does know that and she’s not happy about it, about what kind of position it puts him in. “And Buck knows?”

“Yeah, sure, but he doesn’t have proof. Unless she sent the false information I gave her to Ellison.”

Wow. She didn’t think BB was big enough of a player to be in touch with the Bulletin. If she wasn’t pissed at her for continually putting Daniel in danger, she might be impressed.

Teresa hasn’t been very good at seeing everything the way she used to. Not since Daniel. She thought Daredevil would kill Fisk—or hoped he would— but it’s certainly not looking that way now. Matt’s not angry enough about what happened to his friend. If that had been Daniel, Wilson would be six feet under already.

“Buck will ask you to play her, to bring her to him so he can take care of it.” She sighs. “It’ll be a nonnegotiable order. Another test.”

“I know.”

She doesn’t want him to do it but it’s choosing between BB’s life and his own. And if it were up to Teresa, she’d pick Daniel every time. But he’s a good boy, and she knows he won’t be able to do it. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get out of here before anything happens, okay?”

He nods.

And his phone starts ringing again.

“Tell him you were sleeping. Make him think you’re going to give him BB. Buy us time.” Her heart pounds as she gives him the instructions. “And put it on speaker.”

Daniel’s hand shakes as he reaches over and slides the button on the screen over to answer the call and taps the speaker icon. “Hey, man.”

“Daniel,” Buck’s thickly accented voice comes through the other line.

“Yeah? I’m here. Sorry about the wait. I . . . I was tired, man.” He looks at her for approval and she nods. “What’s up?”

There’s a tiny beat of silence, then, “Is Miss Hawke there with you?”

The air sucks out of the room. Damn it. This can’t be happening.

“Daniel, can you hear me?” Buck’s voice echoes in the apartment.

Panicked eyes meet hers, his mouth dropping open in terror. They’ve already been caught. He looks at her for answers but she doesn’t have any. Their options are slowly slipping away. And it’s all her fault.

“Yes,” Teresa says. “I’m here.”

Daniel slams his hand down over the phone and mutes their side. “Goddamn it, Teresa! Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Act like you’re turning me in.”

He tears at his hair. “He won’t believe me!”

“Well,” Buck says, between their arguing. “It’s good to know you’re in the same place.”

“Daniel, please, do what I say.” She begs him with her eyes. “No matter what, just tell him what he wants to hear.” She unmutes them.

He’s standing so still he looks like his bones might crack under the pressure she’s just put on him. He stares at the phone, tired and hurt, and it makes him look like a little boy. “What do you want me to do here, Buck?”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a tick. Did you do what was asked of you, Daniel?”

“Yeah,” he answers, completely defeated. “I found the leak.”

“Good man.” There is quiet white noise for a moment. “Sit tight, Teresa. We’ve got a lot to talk about, the three of us.”

The line goes dead and the silence rings in her ears. This is about to go so sideways, she’s not sure they can come back from it. But she won’t let Daniel see how scared she is. If they can follow through and say all the right things, they might still make it out of this. She has to believe that. But now he’s quiet in a way that makes her ache with regret. She’s done it again. This time she hasn’t left him but still hurt him. She might as well have kicked him in the stomach and ran out the front door. The look on his face says it all.

“Don’t . . .” she starts, but the words cease to come.

He narrows his eyes at her. “Don’t what?”

“Give up.” She joins him on his side of the counter but doesn’t touch him. It seems they’ve done too much of that tonight. She should’ve made him go with her the second she got there but she was selfish and stupid. So very stupid. “It’s gonna be hard for a while. But we let it play out.”

“Let it—the Task Force shot you, Teresa!” He stares in disbelief when she doesn’t react. “Buck gets here and he finishes their job. You want that?”

“He’s not going to shoot me.”

“You don’t know that!”

She throws her arms around him and squeezes him as tight as she can. It feels like maybe it’s the last time. “You’re right. Okay. But listen,” she whispers and holds his face so he can’t look away. His eyes are wet. “I need you to act like you don’t care about me. Don’t let Buck see it.”

“What?”

“I came here tonight, asking about getting back in with Fisk. I tried to manipulate you—”

“Stop.”

“Daniel, we don’t have time for this.”

“We can go right now. Shirts on our backs. I don’t care.”

“We wouldn’t make it out of the city. Not now.”

“Then we don’t but at least we’d be together.”

For a moment she can’t catch her breath, clutching her chest as her heart stops. She’s incapacitated, unknowing what to do.

This is all wrong. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

He’s willing to die trying and she can barely stand to hear it. But how careless had she been with her life? All in the name of protecting him. Maybe it’s time she lets him decide for himself. Maybe it doesn’t sound all that bad to try, even if it comes to an end. At least they’d be together when it happens.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He waits hopefully.

“We can . . . We can do it.”

A loud knock on the door makes them both jump. They lock eyes and scramble away from each other.

“We’ll go out the sliding door,” Daniel says, grabbing her hand. “We’ll find a way down the balcony.”

She hesitates a second too long and the door busts in. She pulls her hand away and wants to kill herself for the way she knows it’s gonna break his heart. It’s already breaking hers.

It’s not Buck that comes through the door but Connor Powell, loud and proud asshole leader of the Anti-Vigilante Task Force, followed by his posse of wanna-be Punishers. They wait behind him like little minions.

He smirks when he sees her and stalks into the room with one intention—to finish what he started. “Get on your knees, Miss Hawke.”

“Not for you,” she bites.

He raises his gun and Daniel steps forward. “Woah. Buck said we were just gonna talk.”

“Did he now?”

Teresa feels a sick kind of protectiveness over Daniel that floods into her so suddenly she’s sure she could rip Powell’s throat out with her bare hands or teeth if he made one wrong move. Whichever got the job done quicker. She hopes to hell Daniel doesn’t provoke him.

“Look,” Daniel says, quietly, hand out in front of him like that might stop a bullet. “When Buck called, he didn’t really mention anything about killing someone in my apartment. Ya know, where I live.” Oh, good boy. He listens. Act unattached. “So maybe we should wait for him to show up.”

“He’s already down stairs waiting for ya, dough-boy.”

Teresa’s jaw cracks under the pressure of her grinding teeth. She wants to say something but she holds her tongue.

“Then call him,” Daniel says, more calm in his voice than she expects. Maybe this is the side of him Fisk saw potential in.

Powell stands there for a breath too long before he lets out an incredulous laugh. “Fine. We’ll all walk down together.” He turns on his heel and the other AVTF agents imitate the movement.

Teresa gives Daniel one last look before she follows.

Daniel walks with a heavy step to stop himself from reaching out and wrenching Teresa’s arm out of Powell’s grasp. He shouldn’t be able to touch a woman at all, let alone his woman. It takes everything in him not to stake that claim. She told him not to let it show. So he won't.

Down in the parking lot, Buck leans against his sleek black car. He cocks his head in their directions as the Task Force separates Teresa from him, manhandling her roughly into the back of their van. Buck will expect that he protests so he doesn’t. And it's the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He doesn’t watch as the double doors close, just keeps his eyes on Buck, and pretends like it’s not killing him. Like Teresa is nothing.

“Come on, Daniel,” he says, opening the car door.

He joins him and a chill of dread slithers down his spine. It’s a body in the trunk all over again, only this time it’s worse. “What’s going on, man?”

The engine rumbles to life and the car starts rolling. “You tell me.”

“I dunno. It’s been a shit day. Mrs. Fisk’s funeral, the leak with BB, and now Miss Hawke shows up talking about . . . realigning with the mayor.” He sighs, trying to slow his breathing. “I mean,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I dunno what kinda pull she thinks I have.”

“Perhaps she thinks you're simple.” He doesn’t look at him. “Easy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“You’re not.”

“No, Buck. You didn’t have to bring the Task Force. I would’ve brought her down to you. I would’ve done whatever you said to do.”

The car goes eerily quiet for the rest of the ride.

Daniel isn’t sure where they’re going or how long it’ll take to get there and he’s too nervous to ask. The only comfort he has is that they’re still following the Task Force van. In some way it means he’s still with her, that they will probably be in the same place together soon. This isn’t where things end. At least not yet.

They pull into a warehouse lot he’s never been to before. Lights reflect off the waters from a nearby dock onto a silver building. A logo of some sort has faded from the metal siding. It looks like it might’ve been a canning company at one point but he isn’t sure.

“Buck, what are we doing here?”

Dark eyes glare at him as the engine shuts off. “The mayor is here to take care of some business. We are here to watch.”

He gulps and unbuckles his seatbelt a little too fast. “What does that mean?”

“Daniel,” Buck says simply but there’s even an edge in that. “I need to ask. Do you have any existing feelings for Miss Hawke?”

Two separate sides of him begin to war—one part wants to obey Teresa, lie, but the other part is sure that Buck will know. No matter how hard he tries to hide what he feels for her, it’ll be written all over his face. And he’s fuckin’ terrified that either way, he loses her tonight. For good.

“Sure,” he says decidedly. “I mean, we worked together. I care—I cared about her. But she left, ya know, and that was it.”

Buck sighs like even that isn’t sufficient enough. “I’m going to tell you the truth and I need you to hear the warning in it. Teresa had been with the mayor a very long time, longer than I have, and every step she took was in his desired direction. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, totally,” he says but doesn’t fully. If this was all about loyalty then where did the betrayal start? She wasn’t always a turncoat as Buck called her.

“Are you aware there are security cameras in the mayor’s office?”

Daniel’s blood runs cold. Memories come rushing in unstoppable waves. How could he sit in the mayor's chair that night and the thought never cross his mind that he was being watched? How could he not even worry for a second that someone else might see what he and Teresa had done? He can’t speak. Or move. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe.

“Don’t worry.” Buck turns more toward him, somewhere between jolly and threatening. “The mayor never saw the video. But he knew.”

“I . . . I was the one who . . . That wasn’t . . .” he stutters, mouth so dry that it hurts to swallow. “He fired her because I . . .”

“No. He fired her because of what she did. She made the wrong choice.”

“Why didn’t he fire me?”

“Because your only weakness is the same as any man.” He smiles. “Pretty women.” Daniel looks away because he knows it’s true. Buck makes a small tsk noise. “BB Urich. Teresa. You’ve got a lot on your plate, haven’t you? The mayor can be sympathetic to a point. So, Daniel, is your head where it needs to be?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Your fondness of the fairer sex won’t prevent you from taking orders?”

“No.”

“You won’t interfere with what the mayor decides to do with Miss Hawke or Miss Urich?”

His heart beats so hard he can hardly hear past the rushing of blood in his ears. “I told you, Buck. I’ve been loyal. Like you said, Fisk changed my life. I’m not gonna throw it away now.”

“Good.”

It’s the last thing he says before exiting the car but Daniel can’t move yet. He’s frozen to the seat, staring ahead out the windshield as Buck walks past toward the loading dock at the back of the warehouse. It isn’t until Powell kicks open the Task Force van doors and drags Teresa out that he finally moves.

She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t fight, just walks calmly to what might be her death. And no matter what he just told Buck, he can’t let that happen. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it but he will save her if he has to. Even if he does it while taking his last breath, he’ll do it.

The overheard fluorescent lights in the warehouse are bright and turn everyone a sickly green. Especially Mayor Fisk, in his white suit, who comes forward from the shadows into the room like a predator from the underbrush. It’s the first time Daniel’s seen the real him and not some manufactured figure of success. It’s the first time he’s seen any man with bloodlust in his eyes.

“Is this the meeting you were hoping for, Teresa?” Fisk booms.

Powell throws her onto the concrete floor and it takes everything not to run forward and catch her. She still doesn’t glance in his direction and that scares him. Maybe it’s better that she doesn’t though because if she looked at him asking for help, he would go to her in an instant. No hesitation. No second thought to if it could get them killed. He’d just move.

“I fear your olive branch comes too late.”

Teresa pulls herself to her knees. “This is what it’s come to? After everything.”

Her voice is so quiet, Daniel can’t make out some of what she says. Fisk steps forward and grabs her by the hair, yanking her up off the ground. She doesn’t struggle or make a noise and it makes him feel like throwing up. His fists curl and his toes press hard against the inside of his shoe. He can’t watch him kill her. He won’t.

“I’m sorry about Vanessa,” she says softly, practically dangling from Fisk’s hands.

“Don’t speak of her.”

“She was as much my friend as she was your wife, Wilson.”

Fisk snarls, shaking her. “You are nothing.”

“Is that right?” She holds her own even as she trembles. “If I was easy to kill, you would’ve done it already.”

His hands fly to her throat and she snaps backward on impact, hacking as he squeezes. Daniel steps forward and a hand slams across his chest. Buck’s hand. They share a look and he’s surprised to find that Buck is just as afflicted as he is. The only difference between them seems to be the amount of control they have to stop themselves from stopping this.

She struggles, paint-chipped nails ripping Fisk’s hands to shreds.

Daniel can do nothing but stand and watch as her energy fades. He and Buck both gasp at the parting of her last breaths and the hand over his chest tightens around his shirt to hold him in place. The realization that he’s watching her die hits and he loses himself, his body giving out the same hers is, but Buck keeps him balanced. There won’t be a life to live without her.

He gives up.

Teresa’s lips move. He hears nothing. They move again but from where he’s standing he can’t make anything out. She stops fighting. She stops moving. One last whisper passes her lips, inaudible.

And Fisk lets go.

She hits the ground, wheezing, too weak to move herself off his shoe. He kicks her over.

“Take her,” he barks.

Powell moves at lightning speed, scooping her off the ground roughly until she stands on wobbling feet. “Where to, sir?”

“15th Precinct.”

For a moment, Daniel’s so dazed he hardly understands what’s happening. Somewhere in the haze he’d prepared himself, somehow, to watch her die and to die himself. He’d gone numb. And now they’re taking her to jail?

Things start moving fast and before he knows it he’s back outside, following Buck to the car. He watches as Teresa is dragged toward the Task Force van once again tonight. She turns to look at him, eyes watery, head hanging limply. But she’s alive. God, she’s alive.

“Do I have authority to kill this bitch if she tries anything?” Powell asks, pulling her against him by the hair.

Daniel wants to kill him.

“Yes,” Buck spits like he hates the way the word tastes. “You will have permission.”

Teresa’s eyes stay on Daniel, she doesn’t look away even when she’s manhandled toward the back double doors of the van. She waits until the very last minute before she mouths, “You and me.”

Then she's taken away.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Let Me See

dad!eddie x mom!reader

summary: You're wearing a new pair of shorts and Eddie just can't seem to get his hands off you.

word count: 662

cw: MDNI (18+) fingering, oral (f receiving)

Eddie knows that he's done for as soon as you walk out of the bathroom. You're all getting ready to go to the pool with Vicky, Robin, and Scarlet and he doesn't even hear you ask where the sunscreen is because he's so focused on your shorts. You're packing the pool bag as he gets a better look, shamelessly staring. He knows that they're new. They have to be because he definitely would have remembered them.

He's too busy admiring the way that they hug your ass to hear you speaking to him, calling his name over and over. His eyes are laser focused on it, the way the shorts look like they're made for you. God, he really is a lucky man, isn't he?

"Honey?" You ask and Eddie snaps out of it, shaking his head as he looks you in the eyes.

"Hm?" He's been caught but you don't say anything about it, just giving him a pointed look as you hold your hand out.

"Sunscreen?"

"Right." He reaches for the bottle that's sitting on the bed and passes it to you. When you turn, bending over the bed to put the sunscreen in the bag, Eddie can't help but get a handful. He stands behind you, hands cupping each cheek as he gives it a squeeze. When you let out a squeal, he chuckles as he sticks his hands into your back pockets and spins you around.

"Edward Alan Munson!" He should be afraid of the glare you're shooting at him, but today, he's not. Because today, he's un-phased, wanting to see what you've got going on underneath even though he's very well aware.

"C'mon, sweetheart. You know you can't wear those and expect me to not cop a feel. I'm only human."

"You are shameless."

"And you love it." He leans in for a kiss and you can't help but melt into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. You know that neither of you have time for this since you're already supposed to be leaving, but what's ten more minutes?

One of his hands presses against your back while the other fiddles with button of your shorts. He's able to get them unbuttoned and he's mentally cheering himself on because after all these years, he's still got it. He slowly unzips it, smiling against your lips as you whine because of how long he's taking.

"Gotta be patient, sweetheart," he sing-songs. "Can't rush a good thing like this. I want you to enjoy it."

"You've got five minutes."

"Fine."

"But tonight, you can take however long you want." He grins at the promise before his lips find yours again, more hungry this time. He's so needy for you right now even though it's the worst timing, but did you really think this wouldn't happen when you put those shorts on today?

"You know exactly how to drive me crazy, don't you?"

"Yes!" The last word comes out in a breathy moan as his fingers sink inside, your hands grabbing hold of his shoulders as you push yourself against him. "Fuck, Eddie, more."

He gets deeper, curling his fingers so they hit the right spot and you're already so close, screaming out his name as he sinks to his knees as your bikini bottoms come down, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. You're having trouble standing when his lips wrap around your clit, your fingers threading into his hair.

"I don't know what you're doing, but if you could stop and get in the car, that'd be great!" You hear Gigi's voice on the other side of the door and you both freeze, bodies running cold. For a second, you both forgot where you were and what you were doing beforehand. Eddie pulls away from you and helps you get dressed. And In record speed, you both throw your belongings into your bag and head out into the hall, both giggling, suddenly feeling like teenagers again.

You can find the rest of the "I think I Like This Little Life" universe here!

taglist: @kinokomoonshine @seedlingghost @misshale21 @glassbxttless @imnotevenhereatall @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @enchantedmoonlight13 @littlemissholy @n0t-even-try1ng-2 @emxxblog @crybabyddl @spider-starry @micheledawn1975 @strangerthingsmamareblogs @the-witty-pen-name @gwenlinthegremlin @bad-wolf1991 @dreamerjj @ietss @exploding-bonbon @roostersgirl-001 @alicemarie730 @kaitieskidmore97 @your-nightmaredoll @pastelpoppies @demongamerkitty @thebiggestcrybaby3 @raeyas-ghost @leovaldez0924

If you’d like to be added to this taglist or any of my others, feel free to fill out the form pinned on my blog! (for 21+ only and teens/ageless blogs will be blocked!!)

[wheels-of-despair]

So Many Scarves Pairing: Mac (Warfare) x Wife!Reader Summary: While exploring their new town, our trio stumbles into a hipster-infested shop… Words: 500ish

"What's this place?" Travis asks, going up on his tiptoes to peer through the dark window into a mysterious shop.

You're exploring your new town today. Well, the strip mall behind the grocery store you're going to hit before you call it a day. Baby steps.

"Spindle," Mac reads off the sign. "The hell's a spindle?"

"Something sewing-related?" you guess. There are no clues in the incredibly generic logo or on the windows. You'd have walked right past without noticing, if it hadn't been for the curious child.

"I can't see anything," Travis grumbles. "Can we go in?"

"You gonna learn how to sew?" Mac teases.

"Maybe," Travis challenges, sticking his nose in the air like a boy offended. And then he turns around and reaches for the doorknob, glancing back for permission.

"Okay," you shrug, stepping closer.

Travis opens the door and walks inside, and you and Mac follow.

It's a record store. They're everywhere. There are records lining the walls, hanging from the ceiling, displayed on every endcap, thousands upon thousands in crates on tables that people are flipping through. Something jazzy plays on the store's speakers, and all you can make out are quiet murmurs of people comparing records as they browse. It's hot out, and kind of in too, but everyone's wearing jackets and scarves and hats.

Hipsters. You've entered a hole-in-the-wall for hipsters.

Mac closes the door behind you, and you realize that you're in the way. You step to the side, reaching for Travis's shoulders and pulling him with you. Now clear of the door, you take it all in.

"That's a lot of vinyl," Mac notices.

"What's a vinyl?" Travis asks, twisting his head up to look at his step-dad.

Mac takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.

"An antiquated way to listen to music."

Travis's forehead wrinkles in confusion.

"It's like… how people listened to music before CDs," you explain.

"Further back," Mac adds. "It was vinyl, then 8-tracks, then cassettes, then CDs."

"Are you gonna rant about the rise of digital everything again?" you tease.

Mac scoffs.

"And people still listen to old music?" Travis asks.

"Apparently," Mac says lowly, eyes raking over all the hipsters in the shop.

Why do they need so many scarves?

"Why?" Travis asks.

"I don't know, it's a hipster thing," Mac shrugs.

"What's a hipster?" Travis asks.

The dull sound of records being flipped through stops. Heads rise. Oddly trimmed beards and meticulously waxed mustaches behind thick-rimmed glasses all zero in on the jarhead standing by the door, who's not even wearing that t-shirt bearing the USMC logo ironically.

"You know, we don't have anything to play these things on, so we should probably just…"

You usher the jarhead and the curious child out of the record store before they can be strangled with scarves.

So. Many. Scarves.

[lucy-vanpelts]

when someone calls me their friend my heart skips a beat it’s like i won at being myself

[glassbxttless]

The Truce Pt. 1

eddie munson x bats (fem!reader)

word count: 900+

summary: Corroded Coffin Fest Day 24: Cassette Tape | Bats and Eddie aren’t doing too well in busy Los Angeles.

warnings: angsty, a little jealousy if you squint, bats n eds are fightin

notes: submission for @corrodedcoffinfest! this one was really hard to finish! feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!

There's a note on the counter written on the back of a receipt with black sharpie, weighed down on one corner with your husband’s favorite Garfield mug.

Studio. Don't wait up. 

Love you. 

E. 

You stare at it for a moment, before crumpling it in your fist. You figured that much, so you tossed and turned in bed for hours until you couldn't stand it anymore. You open the fridge, but nothing looks or sounds appetizing. You sigh and shut the door, moving over to the cassette collection, selecting Black Sabbath’s Master of Reality and popping it into the stereo on the counter. A big empty house in LA is a fucking lonely existence, no matter if you're proud of him or not. Music springs out from the speakers, wrapping you in a hug just as you wish your husband would. And as your loneliness really starts to take hold, the front door opens. You hear voices, Eddie's first, then another follows it— this time a woman's. Your stomach tightens before your brain can even logically keep up. Then there's a hushed goodnight, the door closes, shoes are kicked off, keys are tossed onto the entryway table, and a few seconds later he appears in the kitchen doorway. 

He jumps slightly, but his face lights up almost immediately when he sees you. "Bats, baby, you scared the fuck out of me." 

You lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. "Who was that?" You ask. 

His smile fades just slightly as he places his jacket over the back of the island chair, "what?" 

"The girl."

"Oh her? She's just one of the studio assistants. Car wouldn't start so she drove me home. Was hoping we could call someone for it tomorrow." Eddie raises his eyebrows at the way your face reacts and makes his way to the fridge. You watch the way he moves when he does, tugging the fridge door open. He grabs out one of the premade sandwiches you'd left for him earlier in the night. "Alright, what the fuck is this actually about?" 

You shrug one shoulder. "Nothing." 

"Seriously, babe. You've been weird for like, two weeks." He frowns, tearing back the wax paper. 

"Weird?" 

"Yeah, weird." He frowns, taking a bite. "You've been all quiet and snippy and slamming fucking cabinets around like your mother when someone pisses her off." 

You raise your brows as you stare at him. “Wooow. You really know how to talk to people." You mumble as you move to walk past him.

He catches your arm, holding you in place. "Hey…" He says, quieter now, "Talk to me." 

Your eyes start to sting suddenly from the sheer frustration of it all. "You're never here." 

His expression changes immediately, letting go of you. He sighs, "Bats… honey—"

"You leave before I'm even up half the time. And you don't come home until midnight or three in the morning or not at all. And when you are here, you're asleep on the couch." 

"That's not fair." He frowns. 

"You think I want to live here alone? I have no friends here, Ed. I wouldn't have come had I known i'd never fucking see you." 

The pool light ripples across the ceiling, spilling in from the back door. Eddie frowns, "bullshit." 

"Excuse me?" You frown, your chest getting tighter. 

"I said bullshit." He looks at you, eyes tired and frustrated.

"I didn't ask for this big fucking lonely house, Eddie." 

"No, but you sure as hell didn't complain when we bought it." He frowns. You blink at him, stunned. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Bats, baby. I didn't mean that." 

"It's okay." You shrug, nodding. "I get it now." 

"Don't fucking do that dramatic shit." He groans. 

"Dramatic? Go ahead and tell me how dramatic I am for wanting to see my husband." You laugh, a bit incredulously. 

Eddie laughs under his breath, but there's frustration laced under it there. "You think I want to be in the studio twenty hours a day?" 

"I think you'd rather be there than here." 

His face falls. "That's… That's fucked up." 

"Well?" 

He frowns. "No, don't "well" me like that. That was fucked up to say and you know it." You stay silent as he stares at you, hurt flashes across his face. Then he looks away as he mutters, "un-fucking-believable." 

You let out a breath, moving to speak but he doesn't let you.

"I can't do this with you right now." He mumbles as he drops the sandwich into the trash, grabbing his jacket. 

"Seriously?" Your chest tightens. "God forbid we have one uncomfortable conversation." 

"Oh, fuck off." He huffs, jamming his arms into the sleeves angrily. "God forbid I try to keep everything from falling apart." 

"Well, maybe your marriage should be included in that." 

You both go dead silent after that while you just stare at one another. You can actually see the fight drain from his body. Exhaustion replaces it, maybe a little guilt. Then he just shakes his head, "I'm going to get a drink."

"Of course you are."

He leaves the kitchen, muttering, "Jesus Christ, Bats,” as he grabs your car keys from the entryway table. The front door slams behind him and you just stand in the kitchen, alone, for a long time after that listening to the sounds of the stereo.

[thesuperyapper]

Mutual I wanna talk to you but I don't know what to say. I really like you and I enjoy our interactions I think you'd be an awesome person to be friends with in real life. Please do not attack me with a sledgehammer.

[tokkibean]

i do not “delete sentences” when they start “hindering the plot” i COPY PASTE THEM into a SEPARATE DOC made just for keeping all my USELESS LINES that i will also NEVER USE so therefore i should JUST DELETE THEM but i DONT because id FEEL BAD if i did

[harpyharpyharpy]

You don't actually have to kill your darlings. You can just put them in the oubliette #myoubliette

[coolgreenthings]

back where I belong. (in bed.)

[exhuastedpigeon]

The first rule of fandom is have fun. The second rule of fandom is find an enabler and become an enabler. Yes you should write that fic. What if it was even hornier? What if it was angstier? What if you wrote it just for me?

[gutpunchlove]

DANIEL BLAKE daredevil: born again s2 ep6 - requiem

[icallhimjoey]

joe @ wimbledon

[melancholyromance]

does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes

[glassbxttless]

six non-selfie photos from your camera roll

thanks for passing off this joy @wheels-of-despair

(that monkey’s name is tippytoe btw)

tagging for the next ones: @munsonsmixtapes @punkrockmlchael @peachyproserpina

[munsonsmixtapes]

Lonely is the Word

bartender!eddie x fem!reader

summary: You go to a bar after being stood up and really hit it off with the cute bartender.

word count: 2.1k+

It's a really slow night at the bar for Eddie, which really shouldn't be surprising for a Thursday. There's the usual suspects that are here pretty much every day and that damn flickering bulb that he's been meaning to change. A popular rock song plays softly over the speakers as Eddie wipes down the bar, seeing that the time displayed on the clock behind him means that it's almost time to close.

He's whistling along to the song as he continues to wipe everything down, knowing that he definitely needs to mop when he hears a pair of shoes sticking to the floor. And when he looks up, his whistling comes to a stop as he takes you in.

He doesn't know what you're doing here and why you're wearing a dress, but he's not gonna question it. You look out of place amongst the brick wall and heavy metal band posters and he wonders if you had a prior commitment. And just when he thinks you're going to realize that you're in the wrong place, you make your way over to the bar, sitting on one of the stools.

You set your clutch on the bar as you peruse the menu, clearly unsure of what you're going to order. Eddie's trying to keep up with his closing tasks, but he can't keep his eyes off you, trying to psych himself up to take your order. You seem to be eyeing him too and he wonders if the flirty looks are all in his head or if you really mean them. He's still not quite used to the female attention he's gotten since he's left Hawkins and has a hard time deciphering what's flirting and what's being friendly.

"What can I get for you?" He asks as he makes his way over, throwing the towel he's holding onto his shoulder. He's cute with his unruly, curly hair and his smile that you just know makes everyone swoon. In the dim lighting you can barely make out his brown eyes, imagining that they've gotten him out a lot of trouble.

"I was thinking about a glass of wine, but I think I'm gonna go with the-" you cut yourself off, looking down at the menu in front of you. "The Bahama Mama." You're pointing to the radioactive blue colored drink on the menu and Eddie can't help but laugh at that. In the almost year that this place has been open, only a handful of people have ordered the Bahama Mama. They all like the cheap beer or hard liquor.

"Something funny?"

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Coming right up." You watch him mix your drink, wondering what you'd be doing right now if tonight had gone according to plan, but you think you prefer being here with with cute bartender. Even though this is a side of town you don't usually end up on, you don't feel like your in danger here. In fact, this place feels cozy, much like being wrapped up in a warm blanket.

The music playing over the speakers isn't typically something you'd listen to, but you don't mind it. All of the other metal music you've heard has been very harsh on your ears, but this-this is nice. You just know that the bartender controls the music by the way he's singing along as he mixes your drink.

He's not the kind of guy you'd normally be into, but there's something about him that's reeled you in. It's the mysterious air about him that's intrigued you. You can't read his mind and you like that. Too many men have been far too forward with you and if this guy's interested, you have no idea.

"Here you are, one Bahama Mama." He sets the drink in front of you and it's just as blue as the picture, like someone has poured Windex into the glass. He watches you take a sip, smiling when he sees you nod in approval. It's strong but you prefer it. It's been a long night and you deserve a fucking drink.

"Thank you," you pause, waiting to him to give his name.

"Eddie." The name fits him, you think, then immediately wonder if it's short for something or just Eddie. Part of you wants to call him "Edward" just to see his reaction

You give him your name in return and you love the way it sounds when he says it. It sounds so pretty coming from his lips. You have to keep yourself from imagining how it would sound during climax, trying to keep your mind from straying into dirty thoughts territory.

You make small talk as he continues to clean and you sip on your drink. A few of the regulars are still in their usual spots as others have left. It's getting closer and closer to closing time and Eddie really doesn't want to say goodbye to you. You're the most interesting part of his night.

"So, who is this?" You ask, pointing upwards to signify that you're asking about the music. His eyes bug out at the question so you're assuming that you asked the wrong one.

"You're joking," he sputters out a laugh as his hands slam down onto the bar, looking you directly in the eyes. "You've never heard of Black Sabbath?" You shake your head in response. "Ozzy Osbourne?"

"Well, I've heard of them, just never listened to them. At least, not on my own time." He's so used people hating on him for the music he listens to but he appreciates how polite you're being.

"Voluntarily? I can't believe what I'm hearing. You have to be pulling my leg now." He knows you're not and wonders who turned you off of metal. An ex most likely.

"Sorry, metal just hasn't been my thing, but I'd definitely listen to more of this." He can't seem to keep the smile off of his face for the first time tonight. He's not used to talking to customers like this but you're just so easy to have a conversation with. The playful side of him just comes out so easily and he can actually see himself talking to you more after tonight."

"Tell you what, after I close up, we can go upstairs and listening to their greatest hits." You don't usually go home with people you've just met, but you promised yourself you'd get out of your comfort zone. And even though you've just met Eddie, you feel like you can trust him. You fully believe that you're just going to listen to music and that this isn't some ploy to take something from you.

"I'd actually really like that," you nod. It's already 11:30 according to the clock on the wall behind Eddie so you don't have much longer until the bar closes up. You talk about everything and nothing as you help him finish cleaning despite him telling you not to. You don't seem to understand the concept of sitting there and looking pretty which is a damn shame because you're so good at it.

He reluctantly agreed to let you mop the floor, unable to deny that pretty smile you flashed him when you offered. He's pretty sure he'd let you do anything just by seeing the way your lips curl up, showing off your nice teeth. God, he's so easy. You came in here in that fucking dress and charmed him despite your dislike of metal, (he's really going to have to change that) he really wants to get to know you better.

Once the bar is all cleaned up, Eddie takes you by the hand like the gentleman he is and leads you down the hall where the restrooms are located to the door at the very end that's locked. Eddie unlocks it to reveals a staircase that you assume leads up to his apartment. The stairs are very narrow so Eddie makes you go first, so he can catch you if you fall. He truly has no idea how you're wearing those heels, deciding that you have to be a warrior of some type to do it.

You get to the top with no issue and he unlocks the door, opening it for you and letting you in. He's trying to remember if he left it a complete mess before he left but he can't be sure. When he peeks inside, he doesn't see anything wrong until he fully gets through the door and sees the singular bowl in his sink from breakfast. How embarrassing.

You take in the place before you as Eddie turns on the overhead light, the kitchen coming into view as you step inside. It's a small studio apartment, but he's done what he can with the space. You move out of the small kitchen and head into the living/bedroom, his unmade bed taking up most of it. There's a small TV on top of a short bookcase across from the bed. Next to the bookcase is a large stack of books that clearly wouldn't fit and you admire that he likes a read since you know a lot of men don't. And if they do, they're those bullshit shelf help books.

You make yourself at home by sitting on his bed, moving to take off your shoes as he does something in the kitchen. Just when you wonder what he's doing, he comes into the room with two glasses of water.

"Just wanted to make sure you were hydrated after that drink," he says as he passes you one of the glasses which you take gratefully.

"Thank you." You take a few sips then set it on the bed side table to your left before collapsing onto the bed. It's been a long night and the comfort and sheets are so soft that you could just-

"Nice place you've got here," you compliment before you can fully fall asleep. You turn to your right to see Eddie putting on a record and adjusting the volume on the record player that you haven't noticed until now.

"Thanks. The commute to work is really long, though," he jokes and you can't help but laugh. He's got a Black Sabbath album playing just like he promised and when he's got the volume to where he wants it, he makes his way over to the bed and sits next to you but keeps his space.

He wants you to feel comfortable here and really doesn't want to ruin whatever is going between the two of you by not reading the room. You surprise him by scooting closer until your thighs are touching.

"This is a nice dress." He's starting to sweat at his embarrassing attempt at flirting but you seem to be into it with the way that you lean into him, a smirk playing on your pretty lips. He admires the way it flows out, stopping at your thighs, the shade of red popping against your skin.

"Thanks. I actually wore it on a date."

"Did it not go well?"

"Nope. He stood me up." You don't know why you expected anything else since was like pulling teeth to get him to pick a restaurant. It was clear from the beginning that he didn't want to go out with you in the first place so you don't know why you even went through it. Maybe it's just because you're tired of being alone.

"What a dick." Eddie already has a hard time getting dates in the past so he can't imagine just not showing up. He'd consider himself the luckiest guy in the world to be with you. In fact he already does because you'd rather be in his apartment right now than anywhere else.

"Yeah, he was, but all worked out because I'm here with you." Eddie cheeks heat at your words and they're practically on fire when your hand lands on his thigh. It's an innocent touch in this context but it's still burning through his jeans. You lean closer and he closes his eyes in anticipation, only opening them when you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around your waist awkwardly as you scoot even closer.

You've been quiet for a while and when he turns his head, he sees that you've fallen asleep. He can't help but let out a laugh before slowly moving to lay you down on the bed, draping the comforter over you. You look so pretty like this and he turns off the record player and puts the record back in its sleeve to prevent dust from collecting on it.

And as he places a pillow on top of the rug that's going to be his bed for the night, he wonders what you'll think when you wake up. Like when you realize that this was all a mistake like they all do, will you be mean about it, or will you be the sweetheart he knows you are? He guesses that only time will tell.

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