#just about at 10k words for chapter five | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gejo333 · 5 months

Text

Artist credit: @chocolate_duckling via Instagram or TikTok. It’s so cute I just really wanted to show this artist’s work. This is only the first drawing to the set. 💕You should check them out.

An Unexpected Match IX

Pt. 1 Pt.10

DBF/DILF Miguel O’Hara x female reader

18+ Warning

Summary: Drama goes down at the holiday party😭😱… and did Miguel keep a secret from you?

Will you be able to enjoy your Christmas and New Years in peace?

Happy New Years Everyone!

Sorry this chapter took longer to get out. It’s my largest chapter yet. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 10k

—————————————————��——————

"Gabi, this is your mother."

Gabi looked at Sofia before looking back up to Miguel as she shook her head. "No, that's not my mama." Gabi glanced up to you, something you noticed everyone in the close vicinity saw, including your parents.

"No Gabi. I'm your real mom. Not her." Sofia put on a fake smile.

Hearing the tense conversation from the kitchen Stephanie came over as she stood next to you, giving Sofia the, 'make one wrong move and I'll fight you bitch,' gaze.

"Hey Gabi, how about you go with Aunt Steph to the kitchen."

"But I want to stay with you and Papa." Gabi looked up at you with sad eyes breaking your heart.

"Mija, remember the conversation we had earlier in the living room?" Said Miguel followed by a slow nod of Gabi's head. "That conversation is going to happen now. So it can only be grownups at the moment." He added.

"We can decorate cookies in the kitchen Gabi." Said Stephanie as Gabi slowly walked over to her before taking her hand. Stephanie looked at you giving you a small hopeful smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

"I'm guessing you need to tell us something?" Said your father as he crossed his arms looking between you, Miguel and Sofia.

Sofia smirked, "wow, your parents don't know that their daughter has been fucking a man almost two decades older than her for the last few months." She chuckled, knowing full well that she just told your biggest secret the most horrible way possible.

"Sofia." Miguel snapped at her warning her to stop. But it was too late. You looked to your shocked and upset parents before scanning around the nearby people who heard the conversation.

"This was not how you were supposed to find out." You tell them.

"Backyard now." Your Father said. Your eyes widen, shocked from his angry tone. You had never heard you father speak to you like that. Not once.

"You. We're not finish yet." Miguel said to Sofia. You'd never seen Miguel give such a muderous glare to someone before, but that plus his cold tone sent a chill up your spine.

"Wasn't planning on leaving any time soon."

"And if I find out you were near our daughter while we're outside. There will be hell to pay." Miguel pointed at you when he said 'our daughter,' which made your heart melt before coming back into reality from the glare Sofia sends you from Miguel's words and you winced when you heard your mother gasp.

All four of you walked out to the backyard, farthest from the house so people can't hear.

Your parents looked at Miguel before looking back at you both upset. The awkward silence continued until your father spoke up: " you care to explain what's happening between you two?"

Miguel looked to you, noticing your panicked stars making you have a hard time to speak.

"I'm in love with your daughter and we've been together for almost five months."

"Y/n, you can't possibly be in love with a man you met only 6 months ago! How did this thing even start?! Was Tyler right? Did you cheat on him with Miguel?" Your mother said going into a rant.

"First off, I do love him, way more than I ever felt for Tyler. And I can't believe you would think I would cheat on that bastard when he cheated on me. Like I told you earlier, my relationship started after I caught Tyler cheating on me."

"Hold on." Your father said as he began to grow more upset. "The morning I came to your house and asked you where my daughter is, she was with you wasn't she? And you lied to my face when my wife and I were worried sick where she was! She's only 21 Miguel. She's too young for you."

"I'm a grown woman and responsible adult. I'll be with whoever I want to be with." You argued.

"Sam, Sarah. She's been well taken care of these past few months." Added Miguel.

"You live with each other?! Y/n when I asked you where you were living you said with Stephanie."

"I did live with Stephanie. For the first month right after I moved out of the apartment I shared with Tyler."

"So, how did this even hap-" asked your farther before being cut off by your mother, "when did you both actually meet?"

Your eyes widen, as your heart began to beat faster. Your gaze turns to Miguel before looking back at your parents pissed expressions. You knew the next few words were going to make everything way worse.

"We did only meet six months ago. But, the first time we did met was in Miami."

"You mean two years ago in Miami? When you were only 19?!"

"You had sex with my daughter when she was 19?!" Your father grew more livid, as he was about to come after Miguel. Of course Miguel would easily be able to hold his own, however you wouldn't see it happen as you step in front of your father.

"Get out of the way y/n." Your father warned you. When you didn't move a second later he grabbed you harshly by the wrist, making you wince as he nails cut into you as he pulled you away.

On instinct Miguel pushed Sam back as he grabs you by the waist and back to him. He quickly checked your wrist, anger rising on his face when he saw the already forming bruises.

"Dont you dare harm her again. We're leaving." Miguel was about to lead you back inside the house when your mother gently grabbed your non-brushed arm and said with a serious gaze,

"We'll stop paying for school. We won't pay for graduate school either, if you continue this." Said your mother, concerned etched on her face. Your eyes widen, anger coursing through your body.

"You're going to make me chose between my education and the man I love? Please don't make me do that. You know what I'm going to chose." You give Miguel's hand a squeeze knowing it would always be you and Gabi first.

"I'll pay for the rest of her education." Miguel joined in.

"That's insane. Her senior year alone will cost almost 50k for one semester. Plus forget about us helping you with your student loan debt. And that's way more than just 50k and that's just undergrad." Argued your mother, trying to scare him away.

"I can easily afford it. Money doesn't scare me away." Miguel shot back, knowing full well the intention behind her words. You looked to Miguel with a confused look before looking to your father who says, "she's too young to handle a world like that."

"Too young to handle what world? Miguel what's he talking about?"

"Mi amor, I was going to tell you soon."

"Wow, little miss perfect really is clueless." Sofia chuckled as she walked into the backyard.

"Sofia, get out. None of this concerns you." Miguel said before you stepped away from him, walking closer to her.

"Hold on, what am I so clueless about little miss bitch?" You bite back.

"I'll give you that sweetie, just because I'm such a nice person. It's kind of funny how you never thought of looking up your boyfriend. But like come on, who doesn't know about Nueva York's most successful, self-made billionaire Miguel O'Hara. And one of Nueva York's top socialite bachelors." Sofia tried to stifle her laughter when she saw your shocked expression.

Your eyes widen, a hurt expression crossed your eyes as you looked at Miguel who looked back at you with a sad and apologetic look before his gaze returned to a vicious glare back at Sofia.

"How did you even find where I lived, Sofia?"

" I found you from a tabloid Magazine of Mr. Richie rich picking up his doting girlfriend at her college. You can't possibly not have known about his wealth. You must be a really good gold digger to fool him." Sofia's words turned back to you.

"I-" You were having trouble finding words to argue back. Luckily Miguel stepped in to save you.

"You must have been oblivious not that long ago, Sofia. Because I remember our shitty relationship ending because I was too poor. And I bet the reason your back isn't for Gabi but because you also found out I have money."

"How dare you think I'm not here to see Abby."

"It's Gabi." You glare at her with a look of disgust that she couldn't remember her own daughter's name.

"Right. Well I'm not leaving anytime soon. I want time with my daughter."

"Over my dead body. You gave up all your custody rights when you abandoned her at my apartment when she was only a day old!" Miguel's voice grew slightly louder, growing more angry by the thought of Gabi being taken away from her family. You put your hand in Miguel's, your thumb gently caressing his knuckles to help calm him down.

"Maybe we should leave." You say to him, which he looked to you, gaze becoming soft as he nodded, still trying to calm down.

You both walk back into the house ignoring your parents yelling at you from the background, ignoring all the stares, and comments. You head to the kitchen as you see Gabi with Stephanie and Jack decorating cookies.

"Hey, thank you for watching her. We decided we're going to leave. I'll see you in a few days." You give Stephanie a small smile as you wipe Gabi's face off from the green frosting with a wet napkin before you pick her up in your arms. You hear your parents back inside as they call out for you, still upset. But you ignore them as you and Miguel leave.

You head to Miguel's car where everything for Christmas and staying in the city was packed. You buckle Gabi in her car seat, placing a kiss to the top of your head a smile escapes your lips as you see her yawn before you get in on the passenger side.

The entire ride to the city was in silence. You were slightly upset at Miguel for lying to you, maybe more upset since you were heartbroken by your parent's heartless reaction about your relationship with Miguel.

Miguel entered a large driveway to a luxurious apartment complex, where a man in doorman uniform came to the window with a welcoming smile. "Good evening Mr. O'Hara. Would you like the car parked?"

"Yes, thank you. Also could you have the things in the trunk sent up to my apartment?"

"Of course, sir."

You and Miguel got out of the car, you grabbed your purse as Miguel carried a now sleeping Gabi in his arms. He handed the young man a $100 tip before he guided you inside the modern apartment complex. Walking inside you were greeted by someone friendly at the front desk.

"Good evening Mr. O'Hara. Welcome back." To which Miguel nodded and smiled to the person in response.

When you entered the elevator Miguel pressed a fob key to a scanner, before the elevator began to move up. You noticed there were no buttons for levels, which you thought was interesting. Your gaze met his, as you saw that he wanted to say something but decided against it.

After a few minutes the elevator stopped and opened up to a vast and nice entry way. When you stepped outside and turned the corner your eyes widen by the massive penthouse. Your gaze quickly switched from the nice interior decoration to the gorgeous night skyline of Nueva York. Maybe if your heart didn't ache you would have enjoyed seeing this view for the first time.

"Cariño, I put Gabi in her bedroom. I know there's a lot we need to talk about. But first I want to say I'm so sorry that I didn't say anything about who I was I-" you turned to face him with a small smile as you interrupted him.

"Miguel, you don't need to give me an excuse. It's your money. Maybe I was a bit naive, as you do have two properties plus you bought one upstate. But I just thought you did really well at your job at Alchemax. Did I expect you to be a billionaire? No. But that doesn't change anything between us. I guess what maybe it hurt a bit. The reason why you didn't mention it was maybe you didn't fully trust me yet. Like maybe what Sofia said about me being a gold digger, maybe you were waiting to see if I was one or not. Or maybe that's just my insecurities consuming my mind. And I'm not even upset. I'm more upset at myself that for even a minute that I was upset at you for it. But I'm not. I just think with my parents reaction and Gabi's mom coming to the party unexpectedly I just didn't know where to put my emotions and I'm sorry."

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, trying to hold them in. But a second later you couldn't hold them much longer as they poured down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. You felt arms wrap around you, pulling you against him into a hug, as he brushed the hair out of your face as well as wiping away your tears.

"I hate to see you this way, mi amor. It breaks my heart when you're hurting like this. You don't need to apologize, at all." He lifted your chin lovingly as he added, "I have always trusted you. Since day one I have always thought of you as a kind and loving person. Even with the slight knowledge that I do well, I never thought of you as a gold digger. That's just Sofia, trying to get into your head. She is a gold digger not you. Also, you are Gabi's mom not Sofia. I might have said that at the moment, cause I just was in shock at the party. At the moment the words to explain how she biologically is her mother was not coming to my mind. You are Gabi's mom. Gabi see's you as her mom and I see you as her mom, as well as the love of my life. And I think we should explain it to her tomorrow morning. And I'm sorry that your parents reacted like that. I knew that they might have been a bit upset, but I didn't think they would act so cruel. But they aren't your only family. Gabi and I are your family just as much as they are. And as your family and your boyfriend I will pay for the rest of your education."

"Miguel... no. I can figure it out on my own. It's my responsibility. And I will find a better part time job to help pay for the rest of college and I will set up a payment plan with my loans. Most people do this."

"Cariño, I can't just stand to the side and let you struggle with debt. Please let me help you." You get out of his embrace, looking up at him slightly annoyed that he won't take no for an answer.

"Are we really going to get in an argument over this?"

"We won't because I'll pay for it."

"Miguel, please just let this one go. Please." You look up at him with pleading eyes, to which he let out a sigh, deciding to let it go for now. He pulled you into another embrace leaning in to place a kiss to your lips which you happily returned. After the kiss you stay in each other's arms, trying to forget all of the stress and worries from tonight.

"Mama, Papa."

You and Miguel turned to see Gabi from the hallway in her Pjs and holding her favorite stuffed Bunny in her arms.

"Oh Baby bug, what are you doing up so late? We thought you were asleep." You say and you and Miguel walk over to her as he picks her up in his arms. You brush some of the curls out of her face and behind her ear.

"I couldn't go back to sleep. And I heard you crying mama and I wanted to give you a hug to make you feel better." Said Gabi as she pouted, not liking the thought that you were sad. You took Gabi into your arms as you gave her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry if I woke you. I'm alright though, but thank you for your hug. It helped a lot." You smiled which made Gabi's pout turn into a grin as she wrapped her arms around your neck, "I love you mama."

"I love you too my baby bug. Now let's get you back to bed."

"Wait, who was that lady at the party? Papa said she was my mama, but you are my mama." You and Miguel look at each other before you both sit on the sofa in the living room. Miguel picked up Gabi and sat her on his lap as you sat right next to him, putting her feet on your lap.

"I'm sorry if I confused you earlier, princesa."

"I asked Auntie Stephanie and Uncle Jackie, but they wouldn't tell me anything. They just kept on giving me cookies to decorate." Gabi pouted slightly. You internally chuckled when you heard Gabi call your brother Uncle Jackie. You were never going to stop teasing him about that.

"Well I'm glad they didn't tell you because it's better that Mama and I explain it to you." Said Miguel as you noticed he try to stifle a laugh from the silly nickname she gave your older brother. Miguel looked back at you, worry in his eyes. You smiled softly and brushed some of his dark curls that have fallen out of place behind his ear. Even though Miguel has been in the parenting game a lot longer than you, you could see that he was still learning too. He smiled at you before taking a deep breath and exhaling.

" Sometimes not all Mama's and Papa's are biologically related to their children. But that doesn't mean they aren't your Mamas and Papas. The woman you met today, she isn't your Mama. I'm sorry that I confused you earlier. Papa wasn't thinking properly. Y/n is your Mama, but the woman you met today, Sofia, she carried and gave birth to you."

"Are you bio-logitally to me Papa?" You and Miguel lightly chuckled as Gabi tried to pronounce such a big word for her age.

"Yes, I am."

"How did you help that lady bring me to life?" Both your and Miguel's eyes widen from her question as your cheeks tinted pink and Miguel coughed from the sudden question.

"That's a question that will be answered when you're old enough to understand." You chuckle as you pick Gabi up and hold her in your arms. "But even though I didn't give birth to you. You'll always be my daughter and my baby bug. And I will always love you."

"I love you too Mama." Gabi wrapped her tiny arms around your neck again giving you another hug.

"Now let's get you to bed."

All exhausted from the hectic events taking place both you and Miguel got undressed and under the covers, falling asleep right away in each others arms.

The next morning you woke up to the beautiful city view skyline, bringing a warm smile to your face happy to finally enjoy the beautiful scenery before you. You sit up to look for your phone, but notice it was on Miguel's side table charging. Another smile came to your face, as you loved how thoughtful Miguel was to you. Knowing that the sun was up, you knew he would be up any minute so to get your phone you decided to straddle him before leaning over to grab your phone.

You turned it back on a frown forming on your lips as you saw the hundreds of texts and miscalls from your parents and siblings. You scrolled through some of them, and rolled your eyes seeing the repetitive cruel things your parents said yesterday now on text. The messages from your brothers were nicer, just trying to be the bridge between the two disputing sides.

Large hands made their way to your waist, as his thumb gently rubbed circles to your sides. You places the phone to the side as your frown is replaced by a warm smile as you looked down at your half-awake boyfriend.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, cariño. Though I'm really enjoying waking up to you straddling me, I didn't think I would see you frowning first thing when I see your beautiful face. What's wrong?"

You leaned down and gave him a good morning kiss, to which Miguel took the advantage of wrapping his arms around you and bringing you down on to his chest, which made you laugh in surprise between his loving kisses. Placing one more kiss to his lips you place your face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the mixture of his shampoo and cologne blending into a welcoming scent of citrus, bamboo, amber, patchouli and musk. With his alluring smell, the gently combing his fingers through your hair, and the rhythm of his beating heart made you almost fall back asleep.

"I checked my phone, thank you for charging it for me. But I saw what feels like a hundred texts and miss calls from my parents. And it's all the same horrible stuff they were saying last night."

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Obviously they'll be calling us both today. I just say we ignore it for now and enjoy the our time in the city." Miguel said after checking his phone to see just as many texts and miss calls from your parents.

"I think that's a good idea. Oh, forgot to say. Merry Christmas Eve." You kiss up his neck to his chin before reaching his plush lips.

"Merry Christmas Eve, mi amor."

After a few more sweet kisses you decided to unstraddle his lap, to Miguel disappointment. But you tease of a person, whispered in his ear, "I'm hoping Santa Claus visits me tonight. But I think I'm on the naughty list." You gently kiss the side of his neck before getting up from the bed and leaving a blushing Miguel as you quickly put on a pair of his sweat pants and one of your bras and tank tops before going to the elevator where all your things from the car were neatly placed by the doorman.

You grabbed the bags of all the gifts you had bought and bring them back to the bedroom. When you entered, Miguel was sitting up in bed looking at his phone, obviously irritated.

You set the bags down, except for one semi-large box. You get back on the bed as you straddle his legs and place the box on his lap. "Maybe this will let that iconic O'Hara smile show. Is everything ok though?"

Miguel placed the phone on the bed next to him, surprised to see the box on his lap as his smile reappeared.

"I guess out of spite, your mother gave Sofia my new phone number. And now she won't stop texting me. She's being 'nice.'" Miguel air quotes the word nice before he handed you over his phone so you could see. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw the sickly sweet messages from her. However, you smiled when you saw the text he sent her back, obviously irritated and asking her not to text him again.

"Enough about the pains in our side. I got you something. Ok, maybe it's for us. But you don't get to see the other part until tonight." You wink at him, which earned a smirk on his lips as he opens the box. His brows furrowed with a smile on his face as he lifted pieces of soft red and white clothing. You decide to get off the bed as you see him get out of bed, getting a nice glance of only him in his boxers before he put on the suit.

Your eyes widen, grin growing, cheeks growing a shade red as you see him in the final product. He wore a deep red Santa suit with white fluff lining down his chest meeting into a middle right above his waist with a large black belt and followed by deep red pants that shaped him just as well at the top part. And it all matched with black boots.

"How do I look?" Miguel smirked. You walk up to him as you placed your hands on his bare chest.

"Really sexy. Maybe too sexy. I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands of you." You chuckle.

"I like the words coming out of your mouth."

"I bet you'll like what my mouth is going to do." You go on your knees, eyes never leaving his reddish-brown. Settled between his legs as you lower his pants and free his erect cock.

You stroked him a few times before you dragged your tongue up his member before kissing his leaking tip. You open your mouth for him to slide onto your tongue and down your throat your lust-filled gaze not leaving his own as a groan escaped his lips.

"Mi amor, your too good to me. I don't deserve you or your pretty mouth." Miguel moaned out as his hand reached the back of your head. His fingers intertwined into your hair as he gently thrusts into your throat. You hum against his cock in approval, earning another groan from Miguel's lips. Miguel gently thrusts more of himself into your mouth; but as this wasn't the first blow job you've given him, you've gotten quite enough practice to be able to deep throat him now. As he continued his movements you continued to move your tongue along his cock.

"Fuck baby, I can't last much longer." Miguel thrusted his cock as deep as it could go before spilling it into your throat. You happily take him all before removing your mouth and licking his tip clean. You slowly wiped your thumb across your lip, as a bit was left on your lips before you licked it off your finger, while your gaze stayed locked on his.

"My god, mi amor. You make me want to ravage you when you do that."

"Why don't you then." You grin, standing up from your spot on the ground. Miguel grabs you and puts you on the bed, as you get on top of you he raises you shirt kissing your stomach up to your breasts, as he was about to take a nipple into his mouth the doorbell rang from the hallway.

"What was that?"

"Nothing hermosa." Miguel said as he took a nipple in his mouth, before lowering one of his hands into your sweats about to finger fuck you. However, the doorbell rang again. A growl of frustration left Miguel as he kissed your lips before getting off of you. He checked his phone, and sighed. "Ese maldito hermano mío. Gabriel's here early. Again. I'm sorry cariño." (that damn brother of mine.)

"It's ok, Miggy. We can continue later. Plus I still have that second part of the gift to show you tonight." You kiss him one more time before getting off the bed.

"I can't wait for it."

After both getting quickly dressed in proper clothing, Miguel pressed a button on his phone that let the elevator come up to the penthouse.

As the elevator doors open, walked in Gabriel with his usual bright smile as he carried in

two bags filled with gifts.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again! I'm hoping my brother hasn't been tormenting you too much. Blink twice if you need saving." Gabriel chuckled as he set down the bags as he gave you a hug which you happily returned.

"Juro por Dios..." Miguel lightly glared as he sent him a 'I'm going to kill you,' smile at his brother as he stood right next to you.

"He's been good. And I'm good too. It's nice to see you again. Feels like it's been a while." You chuckle at Gabriel's silly personality.

"Now where's my little sobrina." (Niece)

"Asleep. She went to bed late, so we're letting her sleep a bit longer." Said Miguel.

"Aw, ok. Is she ok?" Gabriel asked, worry etched in his tone.

"She's fine. A lot happened yesterday. My parents , well the neighborhood knows about our relationship now and..." you looked to Miguel.

"Sofia somehow found out where I lived and came to the holiday party and said to Gabi that she was her mother." Added Miguel.

"Yeah, I would probably have a hard time sleeping too. And I can't believe that damn woman shows up after everything she's done." Gabriel eyes widen before a his brows furrowed and a frown appeared on his face, something rarely that happens, by the mention of Sofia's name.

"We decided though that we are going to live our lives and try to ignore it all as much as we can." You said.

"That sounds like a good plan. Now, let me make you all a proper Christmas Eve breakfast, my brother never can get our mother's recipe quite right." Gabriel heads to the kitchen.

"I swear he wants me to punch him." Miguel grits his teeth as he sends a glare to the back of his brother's head. You chuckle as you caress Miguel's cheek.

"How about you go check on your emails really quick in your office and I'll go help Gabriel in the kitchen." You go on your tip toes as Miguel nods before he leans down the rest of the way to kiss you, giving you a loving smile before heading to his office.

You head to the kitchen wear you see Gabriel cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You smile as you wash your hands before drying them.

"Yes, you can. Can you grate some of these cheeses?"

"Sure thing." You smile as you go through the many cabinets trying to find the cheese grater.

"Third bottom cabinet to your right."

"Thank you. It's my first time here, so I don't know where everything is." You go to the right cabinet and take it out before you hoping Gabriel at the kitchen island and started to grate the cheeses for the omelettes.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened last night?" Gabriel looked over at you with a small smile before looking back at the task before him. You smile back as you tell him everything that happened last night, from Gabi starting to call you Mom, parents finding out about your relationship with Miguel told by Sofia who appeared out of nowhere and causing trouble herself, and then the part about how you didn't know about Miguel's wealth status, also cruelly told by Sofia.

"Wow, that definitely is a crazy night. I'm happy you also know about Miguel's 'status,' he's been wanting to tell you for a long time, but he just didn't know when to say it. I guess he was worried you might leave. But he never said that, but I can just hear it in his voice. My brother has had girlfriends in the past, but he's never loved someone like he loves you. He's heads over heels for you." Gabriel smiles at you as he moved to pour the eggs into the pan.

"Well, I hope he knows this. But I'm heads over heels for your brother. I can't imagine not having him or Gabi in my life." As if on cue Miguel walked into the kitchen, with a loving smile on his face as his gaze met yours. You cheeks tint pink, wondering if he heard you and Gabriel's conversation. He places his hands on your hips as he pulled you into his embrace from behind, taking your chin and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I love you." He said. Your cheeks grew a shade darker. Oh he definitely heard your conversation.

"I love you too."

"Ok, you two. Either get a room or help me with cooking." Gabriel chuckled as he connoted to make the omelettes.

You saw Miguel roll his eyes, as he leaned down to kiss your one last time before he gently pushed Gabriel away from the stove, "I'll do it. You're burning them."

"B-burning them? I'm adding a nice crisp! You make them too watery!" Gabriel argued back as he tried to get back to the pan, though tall and fit he was still no where compared to his older brother.

You smile at the two O'Hara brother, leaving them to continue their banter while you head to Gabi's room. Checking the time, you thought it was smart for Gabi to wake up. You gently open the door, as you quietly walk in. You look around to see the adorable light blue room, filled with a few soccer balls, dolls, and legos filled with butterflies and soccer balls decorated around the room. You kneel down by her bedside. Your heart on the verge of bursting for how adorable she was.

"Good morning Baby bug. Merry Christmas Eve. It's time to wake up." you gently brush some of her brown curls, the same has her fathers, covering her face. Big brown eyes reveal themselves to you, and a small smile appears on her face.

"Mama!"Getting a boost of energy, Gabi sits up to hug you. Lifting her out of bed, you stop, before grabbing her stuffed bunny know that she would want to have that with her.

"How did you sleep?" You step out of her room.

"Good!" She smiled after yawning as she rested her head in the crook of your neck.

"Oh guess who's here?"

"Santa!" Gabi's head popped up as she looked at you with excitement, which made you chuckle.

"Not Santa, it's too early for him to visit yet. He comes during the night. Tio Gabi is here."

"That's even better!" Gabi cheered which warmed your heart as you kissed the top of her head before making your way into the kitchen.

"Guess who's awake." You say, having the two O'Hara brothers turn to face you and Gabi.

"Good morning princesa." Miguel smiled at the loving sight of you and Gabi. He was about to walk over to lift her into his arms, but was beat to it by his brother. "Aw my mini Gabi! My favorite sobrina. I've missed you." You handed Gabi over to Gabriel as he gives her a big hug.

"Tio Gabi, I'm your only sobrina." Gabi giggled.

"Who knows Gabi, maybe you'll get a littler brother or sister one day." Chuckled Gabriel, which made Gabi eyes brighten up as her mile widens. "Really?! Mama, Papa! Will I?"

Your cheeks turn a bright red, eyes widen. Your embarrassment grew further as you felt Miguel hand on your lower back.

"N-no princesa. Not at the moment. But maybe one day." Miguel looks down at you, trying to figure out what you thought.

"Yes, definitely one day. But not at the moment sweetheart."

"Aw ok."

You felt Miguel give you a love squeeze to your waist, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss to your cheek, hinting that he liked your answer before making his way to his brother, "now let me get a hug from my daughter."

"Papa!" Gabi smiled as she practically hopped out of Gabriel's arms and into her father's.

After breakfast was finished being made everyone sat together at the dinning table. Miguel helped cut up Gabi's omelette, which you smiled at the sight, wanting to keep this moment as a mental image in your head.

You recalled how the topic of having more kids has been brought up a few times recently. You know with Miguel being in his late thirties, he probably wants to get married and have a few more children. And you know that one day he will want to talk about it seriously with you.

And of course you're not against the idea of getting married and giving Gabi a few brothers or sisters, but you know you want to have your career start off first. But you're not sure if Miguel will want to wait that long. Sometimes you forget the age difference between the both of you. Yeah, there are many couples with big age gapes, some even bigger, but probably when both people were both out of school and had somewhat of a career. Of course you know exactly what you want to do, you just haven't gotten to start it yet. Maybe you should ask Miguel about how you get noticed by Alchamex.

"Mi amor? Y/n?" Miguel called out your name, concern seen in his eyes.

"Yes, sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts. What were we talking about?" Your cheeks tuned pink, embarrassed from not paying attention to your boyfriend talking to you.

"It's alright, cariño. I was asking if you wanted to go ice skating in Central Park." Miguel chuckled, he thought your slight embarrassment was cute.

"I would love to."

"Then maybe after we could go see Santa at Macys. I heard he's making a quick appearance here in New York before he flies all around the world to give presents." Said Gabriel, which perked Gabi's attention.

"Can we go! Please!"

"Of course, we can!" Said Gabriel. You looked over to Miguel who sighed to himself, only you catching it. You take his hand and give it a small squeeze, to which he smiled.

"Well then let's get all bundle up to go." You say as you stand up.

After getting Gabi ready and let her go hangout with Gabriel in the living room, Miguel joined you in the bedroom. As you pulled the long sleeve sweater over your head, your met with a kiss to your lips. Thought surprised you smile into the kiss before pulling away.

Miguel goes into his walk in closest, getting warmer clothes for outside. You walk and lean on the doorframe of his closet.

"Hey, can I ask a question?"

Miguel looks at you trying to figure out if its series are not. Seeing that it doesn't seem serious he smiles, "Of course." He says as he pulls his shirt off and puts on the new one.

"I need to start looking for jobs and grad schools in Nueva York. I don't know why I feel weird asking you this. Maybe because your my boyfriend, and I'm really acting my

age right now." You nervously chuckle before adding, "And I know you did the grad/internship program at Alchamex, well they asked you to cause you are a certified genius, before going full time there. I was wondering if you knew when they start looking for new grads and interns." You bit your lip, for some reason your nerves were skyrocketing throughout your body. Maybe because you were asking for genius Alchamex Miguel and not your boyfriend.

"Well, first off. You never should have to feel nervous with me. You know I would give you the world if I could. And I remember you were interested in working in my department at Alchamex. I can look at your resume and transcript when we get back, if you'd like?" Miguel smiled as he looped his belt around his pants before buckling it together.

"That would be really sweet of you. I would really like that. Thank you."

"Anything for you, mi amor." Miguel pulled you into his lap, as he sat down on the leather bench, his shoes and socks next to him.

"Hey, I know the topic of children has come up a few times lately." His words began to make your heart race against your chest. "And I-"

"Are you two almost ready to go?" Gabriel yelled from the hallway.

Not ready to have this talk so soon, as your 99.99% sure of what he is goi by to say. You get out of his lap, "yeah, just getting shoes on. Be right there." You say before turning to face to face Miguel, "I'll go check on those two to make sure they aren't getting into any trouble. Specifically Gabriel." You say before walking out of the closest and out of your bedroom.

"Y/n" you heard your name right when you left the bedroom, but you decide to pretend you didn't hear him as you continue your way to the living room.

After getting downstairs and walking over just a block to Central Park from the apartment and adventuring through the beautiful winter scenic view.

You walked by Miguel 's side gloved hand in gloved hand, Gabriel a few steps ahead holding Gabi's hand.

For it being Christmas Eve, you were surprised by the lack of people skating on the ice. Unknown to you Miguel had called ahead and bought for the ice skating to be almost sold out for a few hours today, letting only a few other people to skate, so it didn't look conspicuous.

"Wow, look! It's so pretty!" Gabi said as she jumped up and down in excitement. "Well he there Gabi. Don't worry." Gabriel chuckled as Gabi tried to pull him to move faster.

By the time all four of you made it and got your skates, you sat down on the wooden bench to get yours on. Miguel came over to you, looking even more like a giant as he had his skates on. After you made sure yours were tight, Miguel lent you a hand and helped you up.

You all made it to the ice rink, and despite skating every year during the holidays since you were younger than Gabi you were slightly nervous to get on the ice. But like every year you swallow your nerves and get on the ice, and as soon as you do you feel happy and relaxed.

You get a few feet from the entrance before swiftly turning around as you see Miguel help Gabi on to the ice. Just like you, you could see the worry in her eyes as Miguel helped her to step on to the ice. Then as he stepped on to the ice behind her, he began to skate over to you, his hand under her arms to help keep her up. The laughter and smiles on both Gabi and Miguel's face made your heart melt from the adorable site. You couldn't resist as you took your phone out of your pocket and took a photo of them, making sure to show it to Miguel later.

"Look Mama! I'm on the ice!"

"I can see that baby bug. You're doing great." You say as Miguel skates her over to you.

"Now Gabi, you can't lock your knees when you skate. Always make sure they are slightly bent. And don't lean back. And it's almost like walking, your feet are just slowly sliding on the ice. Just like when you slide with your furry socks on the hardwood floors. Now Mama is right in front of you. Do you want to try and skate to her?"

"Yeah!" Gabi nods. As she was told she tried to follow her father'a instructions. As soon as she got a foot away from him, you saw her nerves come back as she begin to freeze, before anything could happen you skate the last few feet towards her as you hold both her hands.

"It's ok, baby bug. I got you. But great job on trying. I remember when I was your age, it took me some time on the once before I felt comfortable enough to skate on my own."

"Like Mamita said, you'll get there when you do. But for now you can skate with us." Miguel skilled and skated up next to the both of you as he took her other hand. You and Miguel begin to skate really slow to help Gabi learn how to properly skate, and to gain the confidence to do it on her own.

After skating for a while together, Gabi finally got the confidence to try on her own, of course with you and Miguel right behind her, just in case she fell, which she did.

After a few tears were shed, and a bunch of hugs and kisses were given to make her feel better, plus a hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows made her frown turn back into her beautiful smile.

All four of you decided to take a nice walk through the park.

"Wait! Can I make a snowman?" Asked Gabi as she runs towards the vast amount of snow covering the park.

"Of course!" You say as you follow her into the snowy field. You help Gabi with forming the body of the snowman, however, the little five year old decided to gather up snow into her tiny gloved palms and form a ball.

"Mama, can we throw one at Papa?" Gabi grinned, which made you laugh. "Yes." You mimicked her grin as she passed you the snowball, and made herself another one.

Miguel's back was facing you and Gabi at the moment as he talked to Gabriel. Knowing you wouldn't be able to get close without his crazy good hearing warning you of your presence, you stop just a few feet from him.

"Ok, three, two, one...throw" you whisper yell as both you and Gabi throw the harmless snow at Miguel's back.

Miguel quickly turned around with a surprised face, a smile appearing as he saw both you and Gabi try to hide your laughter. Of course Gabriel couldn't hide his, as he burst out in laughter from his brother's reaction.

"Oh, we want to play like that. Do we know?" Miguel chuckled before he slowly began to walk over to both of you, before jumping into a sprint. You and Gabi ran in the opposite direction, Gabi squealing in delight. Of course you didn't get far before Miguel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his chest, however you both lost your balance and fell backwards into a large pile of snow, that was luckily there to make the landing soft. Gabi followed right after you by falling on to Miguel as he caught her with the other arm that wasn't around you.

All three of you laughed, as you laid in the pile of snow. "Mis traviesas niñas." Said Miguel before he pulled you both in for a hug.

"Aww, such a cute family! Makes me want to settle and have one." Said Gabriel as he took a photo of the three of you.

"Well maybe you should, so that you'll bother me less." Said Miguel.

"Nah, you would miss me too much."

Gabi got up, followed by you as you lent a hand to Help Miguel up. But you noticed the mischievous grin on his face a little too late as he pulls you back down into his chest.

"Miguel!" You giggle before they are deal by a kiss.

"Ok, you two love birds. I got a photo for the picture books, now get up. I'm freezing." Said Gabriel after taking a photo of you and Miguel knowing you both would want these sweet moments saved. He handed Miguel's phone back to him which he had stolen to take photos.

After heading back to the apartment, having dinner, and opening the presents Gabriel brought it was time to say goodnight and goodbye.

"I had a great day with all of you. I hope you have a nice Christmas and new years. I'll see you both next year!" Gabriel said as he saluted off before the elevator door closed on him.

You let out a small laugh after you saw Miguel roll his eyes from his brother's words.

You both head to the bedroom to finish wrapping presents from Santa for Gabi.

"Finally done. Now to put them under the tree." Said Miguel as he lays his head on your lap, relaxed by you combing your fingers through his hair.

"There's one more gift left." You grin down at him as he looks up at you confused.

"Where is it?" Miguel sighs softly thinking it's another large present to wrap from Santa.

"It will be here after Santa puts the presents under the tree." You say with hint of lust in your tone before you lean down and kiss him.

"I can't wait to see what it is." Miguel returns the kiss, getting the hint, as he grins and leaves your lap stacking all the presents as he quietly heads to the living room, careful not to wake Gabi.

You quickly get out of your day clothes already wearing it underneath. You had seen the holiday-themed lingerie when you were shopping, and you knew Miguel would love it.

Putting your clothes in the hamper you rushed to the master bathroom, taking your hair out of the low hanging bun, fixing it up a bit. You check yourself in the mirror happy with the final product. You were wearing dark red lingerie, with a bra that tied in to a semi large bow in the front, which once untied reveals your bare chest. To match you wore the same color panties that had a bit of tulle around it, creating a extremely short, really a skirt, skirt. But who cares, it was going to be tossed to the floor in a matter of minutes anyways.

You checked the time on your phone, it's was midnight, officially making it Christmas. When you hear his footsteps coming, you lean against the bed as soon as he opened the door.

When his eyes met yours, they widened before being filled with lust, as he made his way over to you. He grabbed you by the waist as he pulled you against his bare chest.

"Merry Christmas Miggy."

"Merry Christmas in deed, mi hermosa amor." Miguel looks you over, savoring every single detail of you. He too your chin and gently lifted it as he leaned down and kissed you, Persian galore of himself into you. Your core tightened at the feeling of his hard-on against your stomach.

"One more thing. Pull the ribbon." You smiled against his lips. Miguel kissed your lips one more time before doing as you said. In one swift pull, the perfect bow was gone revealing your chest. You could see the lust cloud his eyes more, and in a blink of an eye you were underneath him on the bed, as his lips kiss down from your neck, down to your breasts. "Tan hermosa." His lips latched on to one of your nipples, hitching your breath letting out a moan. His hand swiftly moved your panties to the side inserting a finger into your aching cunt. Another moan escaped your lips.

"Keep singing for me, cariño." Miguel con tied to mark up your breasts as he thrusted a second finger into you, curling his fingers knuckles deep.

"Mhmm please Miguel." You moaned out as you near your breaking point.

"You want to cum mi amor?"

"Yes, please Miggy." You groan as you feel the loss of his fingers. Before you know it, your straddle on top of him, as he slams you down on to his cock.

"Only good girls get to cum, and I thought you said this morning your were naughty. You want to cum? Bounce on my cock until I think you deserve your release." Miguel grinned.

You lightly glare down at him as his grin widens further. However, the need for your release was too much as you begin to move your hips. You rarely fuck in this position, so the feeling of his cock stabbing deeper into you was heavenly. Your clench against him, earning a groan from him.

"Damn baby, your so fucking tight."

At the pace you were going, your hips began to grow tired starting slowly lose your rhythm. However, Miguel being your savior grabbed your hips and began to move you up and down keeping up with your quick and rough pace. You began to feel your core tighten once again.

"Miguel please. Please." You whine out your brain begins to feel foggy only focusing on the feeling of his thick ridged cock thrusting in and out of you.

"Are you a good girl?" Miguel panted from beneath you.

"Y-yes I am. I'm a good girl. Now please Miguel." You whine out.

"Of course, cariño." Miguel chuckled as he flipped you, now in missionary as his pace quickened, pummeling his cock deep inside you as his balls slap against you. His hand lowered to your clit as he began to rub it with the same ferocity as his thrusts. Another moan escaped from your lips, electricity coursing through your entire body. Your eyes roll back as you feel your release.

Miguel continued to slam his cock deep inside you, causing you to feel your overstimulation coming on.

"Fuck, I love this damn pussy. I love you, y/n."

"I love you to Miguel." You breathed out. From your words Miguel let out groan as he released himself deep inside you, now filled full with his warm seed.

After a few more thrusts Miguel pulled out as he lied right next to you. You turned to face him as one of his arms warped around your waist pulling your sweaty naked body against his. He leaned down and captured his lips before saying, " Thank you for the wonderful Christmas present."

You wake up the next morning to Gabi jumping up on you bed, with a wide and happy smile.

"Wake up! It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

Luckily after your session with Miguel last night you both cleaned up and got into proper pjs before going to sleep, knowing that Gabi would wake up before the both of you and barge into the room.

"Good Morning princesa. How did you sleep?" Miguel said in his deep and rough morning voice as he smile up at his daughter who was jumping for joy on the bed.

"Great! Santa came! He left a bunch of presents! Can we please open them. Please!"

"Alright, Baby bug. We'll get up." You chuckle as you get out of bed and swoop Gabi off her feet to which she giggled. You set her on the ground right next to you.

"Ok, first let's make coffee for me and Papa and then we will open presents."

After getting coffee you and Miguel sit next to each other on the sofa as you watch Gabi open up her many many many presents.

After she opened all of hers she handed you and Miguel one from under the tree.

Miguel opened his which, was a gift Gabi got for him, with you helping her with the funds to get it.

"Aw princesa I love it. I'll use it all the time." Miguel smiled as he held up a coffee tumblr that read, World's Best Papa and Scientist.

"Your turn Mama!"

You smile as you read the name tag, To the love of my life. From your Miggy. You rip off the wrapping paper to see a gorgeous thin red rectangle velvet box with gold stitching. You open the box, as a gasp leaves your lips. Your eyes lock with Miguel's who smiles lovingly at you.

Before you in the box was a simple but gorgeous Cartier gold chain necklace. In the center dangled three beautiful dark red rubies. Your heart melted as the color reminded you of Miguel's eyes. Even though his were brown, you swore in the light they glistened like beautiful dark rubies. You knew you would never take this off, knowing that a part of him was always with you.

"It's beautiful Miguel. I love it." Tears brim the corner of your eyes as you kiss his cheek before giving him a hug. "Can you help me put it on?"

"Of course, mi amor." Miguel smiled bright, happy you loved his gift. You turned your back as you pull your hair to the side as he put the necklace on you. A tiny chill went up your body as you felt the cold necklace lay against your neck. You trim back around as you looked to Gabi with a smile.

"It's beautiful Mama. You look gorgeous!"

"You look stunning." Miguel says.

You enjoyed the rest of the festive holiday cuddle up next to Miguel on the sofa watching holiday movies with Gabi sitting on the ground distracted with playing with her brand new toys.

You couldn't imagine a more perfect Christmas. A Christmas spent with your new family.

The last few days went by in a breeze. When you Miguel and Gabi weren't staying in the comfort of the warm apartment, you adventure out to the various holiday markets around the city, or gaze at the stunning Christmas decorations.

Today was finally December 31st. You and Miguel decided that with the chaos and drama still being thrown at both at you through text messages and voice mails you decide to have it just be you two and Gabi.

You were in the kitchen making dinner, saying you would be happy to make some classic dishes that you've had with your family.

Arms wrapped around your waist, as a smile graced your lips from a kiss placed to your cheek.

"Everything smells very good, cariño."

"Thank you. Do you want to try some?" You say as you held up a spoon with some of the food. He happily took it and smiled. "That tastes amazing."

"Thank you Miggy."

After dinner was served and happily enjoyed by the O'Hara's you all settled on the sofa as you watch the Nueva York New Years commencement.

You look down to see a sleeping Gabi who was sprawled out on your and Miguel's lap.

"I guess it's time she goes to sleep.She's so adorable." You say quietly as you gently brush back some of her curls.

"She is. I'll take her to bed."

"Ok." You smile as you place a goodnight kiss to the top of Gabi's head before Miguel lifted her up and carried her to bed.

After a few minutes Miguel came back as he sat right next to you on the sofa, wrapping an arm around you to pull you against him.

"Did she wake up?"

"Nope still was out like a light. Nothing can wake her up if she's asleep. Reminds me of a very someone." Miguel looks at you as he chuckled.

"What can I say, I love to sleep." You smile as you rest your head on him as you both continue to watch the tv.

The count down began on the tv as thousands of voices joined together in time square.

10...9...8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2...1!

Happy New year!

You joined in with the voices on the tv as you were standing, excitement etched throughout your body. Miguel pulled you against his chest, a big smile on his face before dipping you slightly and capturing his lips with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss. A few seconds later, your lips parted, lips both slightly swollen. As the New Year's music plays on in the background from the TV all you could pay attention to was Miguel.

"Happy New Year, Miggy."

"Happy New Year, mi amor. I can't wait to see what this year has in store for us." He smiles wide, showing his dimples before leaning down and kissing you again.

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed it!💕

Tag List

@felixthemochicat @pedr0swh0r3 @thel0velykey190 @myownsimp @angel-xx-1 @thedevax @cheezit-luv3rr @comicalbliss @rjreins @incustellar @ricekrisbris @marvelofcourse @ozzmodeus-main @s0fia4 @ghost-lantern @minalovesubabes @yume904 @shinyberry69 @freehentai @livytofine @rjasmine2021 @bigbassbug @tired-writer04 @brokvnszn @isastarall @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @cold-blooded-girls @ewan-tef @bammzyboomy @icedcoffeeisyummy @scaleniusrm @jojos-wife @jakelockleysdoll @iheartlindsay @koteri @montyrokz @crimsonriot06-7 @p1nkliquor @pueduricany @l3laze @freeingrebels @facelessfionna @zoey5252 @jaxyy219 @pookiesnatcher @deputy-videogamer @migueloharastruelove @gr0vndz3ro @n1tingal3 @casuallyawkardd @heubstr @kingtwhiddleston @princesatracionera @m0stergirl @mcmiracles @keigoloveminty @jadeloverxd @veyveys @averagefloydlover @katitakenway @uusjsisj

582 notes · View notes

eddiernunson · 10 months

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 10k

Warnings; degradation/praise, deep throating, eating out, edging

Author's note: Hope you don't mind but I made the reader both a swifitie and team Edward this chapter. I do appreciate all the love I've gotten for this fic. Here's part 3!

The general reaction you’ve received over the last two weeks was Are you out of your mind?

While Bethany heard you out on how it happened and why it felt like a sigh of relief being with Eddie, your mom lost her damn mind. As you spoke to her, you did your best to have a civil conversation until it just ended up being her lecturing you over the speaker while you finished up cleaning the dishes.

When she realizes you haven’t responded in a while and asks if you're still there, you pick up the phone from the window ledge and unmute yourself. “Mom, seems like you’re not interested in what I have to say about this, only about how it looks. Until you’re ready to listen, I’ll let you go.” Your finger hits the red hang up button, noting the time to the call being 45 minutes. You told her the situation about five minutes in and ever since, she had spent her time venting about Eddie and how irresponsible you were, as if she hadn't listened to anything you had to say about it.

“Are you sure you really thought this through?” Skyler, your roommate asks you as she brings her bowl over to you.

You huff, grabbing it from her and soaking it in the hot soapy water. “Thought what through?”

“You and him. Long term.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “Who said anything about this being long term? What if it’s just for now?”

“Is it just for now? Because you went into it with Dylan claiming all you wanted was someone to commit to you.” She pauses, and you look her in the eyes as if to say get on with it. “When you had someone fully committed, someone willing to stay in it for the long haul, you left him.”

“I didn’t get scared of his commitment, Sky!” You exclaimed, a little thrown off by it.

“Really? Because you were so eager to introduce him to literally anyone?” Skyler throws at you, and she had a point. Your hesitation in meeting Eddie had everything to do with the fact that Dylan was more committed to your relationship than you were.

You were literally every guy you had hooked up with before Dylan, getting angry that he would act like a boyfriend except for the life long stuff.

Fuck. What a hypocrite you were.

“Fine, his commitment scared me a bit.” You admit, washing one last dish before draining the sink. “But it’s not why I left him.”

“For his dad.”

You sigh, eyebrows raised at her tone. “Yes, for his dad.”

“Have you considered that when you’re his age, he’ll be in his 60s?”

“So?” You ask her, moving to the couch in the living room.

“That’s not a relationship built to last.”

“Why can’t that be up to us to decide?” You ask her, wrapping the throw blanket around you and tucking yourself into the couch. “Look, I get your concern. I truly do. From the outside, me and Dylan were doing everything right. Having adventures, going Instagram official. Then we were meeting the families, getting comfortable.” You pause, rubbing your hair out of your face. “If I was 19/20, I would completely understand. I mean, I wouldn’t, but if that were the scenario, your concern would make sense. But I’m not. I’m 25. My frontal lobe is fully developed. I know that if I get together with Eddie then he’ll always be 20 years older than me. He’ll always have a different perspective on life than I do.”

“You’ll always be tied to Dylan.” She points out.

“We dated for six weeks.” You counter, a pinch appearing between your brows. “While we haven’t discussed our long term goals, I don’t see this being casual. It’s different with him. Nothing feels off about being with him. I’ve never felt safer.”

She pauses, assessing your face and the way you relax as you start talking about Eddie. “Fuck. You’ve never seemed this relaxed when talking about Dylan. Not once.”

“I wasn’t.”

The comfort of Eddie’s chest breathing in and out underneath you as you lie right on top of him on the living room couch was soothing as you watched Twilight together. It took some convincing, but he let you press play on it and smirked over your shoulder at the blue filter.

No one had ever told him that the soundtrack was so good, though.

It was maybe a half hour into the movie, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why every guy in her school just had to have her. The smile on your face as you settled into a comfort movie was worth the watch, though.

You had texted him a few days prior, Eddie having given you his number before dropping you off at your apartment to face the real world. He was due back at his shop, having to settle management bullshit and deal with an unhappy customer or two to settle their complaints over the new apprentice. Ownership was nice, when they knew how to do their job.

When can I see you next?

When the six words lit up his screen, Eddie wanted to tell you to drive on over to his shop. He wanted to get in his truck and drive over to wherever the hell you are so he could text back Right Now. He knew your words were calculated, something not to seem too desperate to see him next, but truth be told, even if you were desperate it wouldn’t have made any difference; he was already hooked on you. He texted back to tell you the following Saturday, a day he knew he had no plans for the following day, so you could spend the night.

He felt fucking crazy for thinking it, but now that he'd had you in his bed, it felt too big without you.

Now here you lay with him, he sat in the corner of his couch while you snuggle up to him, and he could stay like this for hours, the sweet shampoo in his nose and the sound of your breaths comforting. He feels you slowly relax into him, all your body losing its tension. Occasionally, your arm would tighten around his torso or you would dig into him deeper. He appreciates the feeling, rubbing his fingers delicately along your skin.

The front door opens, and he feels you tense up as Dylan makes his way in. “Oh, great.” He mutters, and turns around to head straight up the stairs.

Your body jerks to watch him, and your eyes catch Eddie’s for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie nods, seeing the fixed line your mouth made. He leans in to kiss you, an act of care more than anything else. You lean into it, your eyes closing automatically, breath hitching. “I’ll be here.”

The length up the stairs seemed to grow as you reached the top, this act something you have been dreading for days. Having told Bethany and Skyler about Eddie, they both felt bad for Dylan. In fact, your shitty attempt at an apology was met with a smack on the head with a nearby scrap paper by Sky. You knew Dylan deserved better. Fuck, did you know that.

Here you stand in front of his door, sounds of a tv show on in the background while he presumably plays on his computer. Dylan was more the type to create joy out of finding a new favourite hiking trail or to take an archery class, but Eddie has said he’s been cooped up in his room. He goes to work, comes home and says barely two words before retreating upstairs.

Not like you blamed him for it.

Before you could hesitate any longer, you finally knock on his door. The sounds of his keys stop, and you barely hear the footsteps towards the door over your own heartbeat. The door opens to Dylan, and the disappointment when he sees you is evident, his face hardening. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

He seems to think on this, and you hope the outfit you have chosen, jeans with an oversized sweatshirt and your hair in a messy bun helps with the psychology of it, but when it came down to it, it was his decision. “…Sure.” You light up in surprise, having expected to do the apologizing in his door frame. You follow him in, and it’s an awkward moment of silence before he goes to sit in his desk chair. “Have a seat, I guess.”

Your butt hits the edge of the bed, barely scraping the box spring. “Would it be cheesy if I recommended you listened to Speak Now, track 3?”

His eyebrows furrow, and it’s so like you to recommend a fucking Taylor song for the scenario. He has to laugh. “Taylor’s Version?”

“Of course.”

“Which is…?”

“Back To December.”

He tilts his head, this situation incredibly peculiar. “Remind me how that goes?”

A smile reaches your face, and you look at your lap sheepishly.

“She apologizes…and clearly admits she was in the wrong after a person treats her very well and didn’t deserve it.” You pause, looking up at him.

“A little bit.” He admits, but the first wall is down. The look in his eye when he sees you doesn’t scream rage.

“I can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.” You start, watching for his reaction. “First, for stringing you along… But, you were the best looking guy at that mixer, and at that moment in time I truly did want to know you. None of that was fake.” He nods, considering this. “Then it started to feel, I don’t know, comfortable. I had people telling me how lucky I was to have you, daily, and with the men out there, god they were so right.” You gulp, and he can’t seem to look you in the eye. “I felt like there must’ve been something wrong with me not to be head over heels for you, cause there wasn’t anything wrong with you.”

“When did you know you wanted to break up with me?”

“I can’t say for sure.” You tell him, and it was probably about two weeks ago, but that felt cruel. “But the moment we got back into your car I should’ve ended things.”

“You knew about him that fast, huh?” He asks you, his eyes appearing glossy. “You know, if you would’ve been honest I would have been absolutely choked, confused even, but I would have given you his number.”

You nod, because of fucking course Dylan would’ve been nice enough. “See, you’re so kind because that never occurred to me. I thought you would’ve dropped me off at home.”

“Probably.” Dylan admits, thinking about the possibilities if you’d broken up with him earlier. “Maybe not.”

“I’m so sorry for cheating on you, though. Of course, knowing your mom’s history shouldn’t have made a difference but—”

“Yeah. Kind of fucked me up.” Dylan leans back in his chair, and a smile reaches his face as he looks back to you.

“I know that if me and Eddie keep dating that I could never, ever even remotely be a parental figure, and frankly I’m not looking to be your mom, but I hope one day you can trust me again.”

“See, how do I know you won’t do the same thing to him?”

It hurt, but it was fair. “You made me feel safe. But your dad—” he cringes, “Eddie, he makes me feel free.”

Dylan turns around in his chair, considering this. “I believe that.”

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah. When I walked in today sure, I was annoyed. Seeing my ex girlfriend in a new happy relationship with the person she cheated on me with is kind of annoying. But you were never that comfortable with me. That look of…contentment. I’ve never seen it before.” He sighs, doing another turn in his chair.

“Have you and your dad spoken about it?”

“No. I’m pretty fucking mad at him. I’ll forgive him, one day. If you’re sticking around, I'll have to, because I’m not staying with my mom and her new perfect family. But we dated for six weeks. I was only starting to think I was falling in love with you. Thank god I never got there. Even then.”

“Don’t put all the blame on him.” You jump to his defense, and wow, did this sound bad. “I made the first move.”

“Good to know.” He pauses. “That’s all I want to know, for the record. No more details… I've heard enough.”

“I am sorry, though Dylan. In another universe, we date and I let you down properly and you meet your dad’s girlfriend a few weeks later who turns out to be your ex.” You laugh, just picturing it.

“Sounds like a rom com.”

“Honestly it’s an intriguing concept.” You get up from his bed, the conversation having met its end.

“I can’t forgive you, yet. But that was the fucking apology I deserved the first time.”

You cringe at it, this memory is something you can already see haunting you at 3am.

“Can we pretend like that one never happened?”

“No. It’s great material to have in a back pocket. Who apologizes to their ex with brand new hickeys on their neck?"

“Okay, point taken!” You yell at him as you walk out the door.

“Bye.” He calls out, and the door shuts behind you.

You meet Eddie back at the couch, the movie paused while he scrolls through his phone. “What are you scrolling on?” You tease him, sitting easily back where you were before.

“Oh the uh, Facebook videos.” He says off-handedly, and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“Who uses Facebook nowadays?” You joke, knowing full you still updated yours occasionally.

He chuckles, nipping at your shoulder. You grab the remote by his leg, pressing play. “How did it go?”

“Better.” You sigh, watching Bella awkwardly ask him to hang out at the beach. “Much, much better. Doesn’t scream pure hatred in his face every time he looks at me anymore.”

“Makes one of us.” Eddie jokes, and you grab his hand to place a kiss, comforting him.

The movie continues, and Eddie has never fully paid attention to the movie before, having come out in his late 20s. It was ridiculous, to say the least. The plot thickens as Bella discovers his true nature and Eddie can't help but notice a particular smile creep on your face as Edward mutters something about a lion falling in love with a lamb. Creepy.

“Do-do you have a crush on Edward?” He asks, his voice particularly bewildered.

Your eyes bug out, and you bite back the smile breaking out on your face with much failure.

“What? No.”

“Oh, you totally do.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“Shut up.”

Another five minutes pass and your stomach rumbles, prompting Eddie to get up and walk to the kitchen to make you something. “Want something with chicken, rice, spice, what do you want, baby?” He calls out, and you now stare openly at the tv as the baseball scene is showing, and you’ve always considered Edward just to be a bit extra hot in this scene.

His question takes a moment to register. “Butter chicken?” You ask him.

He peeks his head out to the music on the screen, and immediately sees the look on your face. A big smile is plastered on your face, chin resting on your fingertips as you sit cross legged. Fucking. Teenage Vampires. He rolls his eyes, rejecting the jealousy. He isn't going to be jealous over this. Nope.

He finishes the food, putting a bowl out for you, Dylan, and himself out. “Dylan! Food if you want it!” He calls out, and he brings two of the bowls for you and him, the smell of his cooking more than welcome. “Here baby.” He kisses your forehead, sitting next to you as you take a big inhale.

“Holy shit, thank you, Ed.” You tell him, and Eddie is perplexed at your ability to forget to eat a single thing until the hunger pains kick in. He supposes his food habits at 25 weren’t the greatest, either. Now that he thinks about it, he pretty much lived off energy drinks, coffee, and the occasional hot food Wayne would force down his throat.

You inhale the food, the empty bowl on the coffee table within minutes. “Want more?” You’re hypnotized by the screen, having barely heard him. Why did he want to fight a seventeen-year-old vampire? “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Want more?”

“Oh sure! Thank you.” The shine in your eyes brightens up as you look up at him, and it settles his jealousy. For the most part.

Eddie scoops himself and you another bowl, seeing Dylan hasn’t grabbed his yet. “Dylan! Food’s getting cold! Come eat!”

Dylan comes out, actually looking like he was in a better mood than he was before.

“Oh, shit, Twilight?” He comments, shaking his head. “She’s a hard Team Edward girl. Hard.”

“I’ve noticed. Here.” Eddie would’ve usually taken the win from his son joking with him but the jealousy that sat eating his gut was so fucking annoying. Why the fuck was he so annoyed at this stupid vampire?

“Oh it's not so fun now, is it?” Dylan calls out, running back up the stairs.

This makes Eddie smile, like things might go back to normal. The screaming match with him after you had left made him believe he truly severed his relationship with him, but this gave him an inch of hope.

Eddie gives you the second serving and you tear through it again, leaving the bowl in front of you empty. As Eddie finishes his own, he starts to lean into you, placing delicate kisses on the little exposed skin you provided for him today. He moves you so you’re lying on top of him.

The movie is about to end, Bella waking up in a hospital with frankly, an off-putting delivery of the lines she was given. His hands make their way up past the hem of your sweater, reaching to touch some skin as he continues. A pinch makes its way in between your eyebrows down at him. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to touch you.” You don't believe him, but you also don't mind the touches, as they were certainly doing their job as far as foreplay goes, so you lean back into him. Just when Eddie thought the end was near there’s a whole-ass prom scene and he nearly groans in frustration. Your legs intertwine with his, and he gets a sneaky idea, peering over your shoulder to move his leg over the teensiest bit.

He moves his leg as if he was lifting one leg to rest on its foot. He moves it a bit faster than necessary, aiming for where your ass sat lower than normal on his body.

As his knee jerks into your cunt, you gasp, a heat having already gathered from the movie alone, his teasing doing nothing to help.

“Shit, sorry baby. Was just trying to move my leg.” One look at his face tells you it was a bold-faced lie and you give him an exasperated look. “What?” A series of shots that didn’t make the movie at the end show and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Prick.” He mutters under his breath to an image of Edward on the screen.

“What was that?” You ask him, unsure you even heard him right. “Eddie, were you jealous?” You ask incredulously, the very idea of it is just bizarre.

“What? No!” Eddie dismisses it far too quickly, but the satisfaction as he turns the tv off is too much to deny.

“Eddie! He’s a fictional character. You do realize you share the same name, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes, slightly ticked off he let himself get caught being jealous. You crawl up to his face, the knee against your cunt having left a throb of more want. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of.” You lean in to kiss him, still lying on top of him. As you tilt your head to deepen it, Eddie feels weak as your tongue meets his own and the way you’re gasping into his open mouth is filthy. “Nothing.” You emphasize, biting on his bottom lip.

Eddie bites back a moan, his eyes rolling back as your teeth linger. You frame his face, kissing along the path of his stubble, his gorgeous jaw line, his freckled neck, the dip of his collarbone.

You pause, taking a quick pause to suck on the collarbone lightly, biting into it to make one little claim of your own. You sit back on it, admiring the way it's already started to bruise. You continue, your hand absentmindedly moving his shirt up his torso so you could kiss your way down. You lick across a nipple, and his chest stunts in response. Down his torso you go until you meet the treasure of all treasure trails. You pause, inhaling at the scent, and the musk intoxicates you so much that you can’t help yourself, licking at it. Fuck.

Finally, you get to his jean waistband, and you tug twice, making sure it's okay. Eddie moves to unbutton it for you, and you swat him away. “I wanna do it.” You tell him, picking up where he left off. You tug the jeans off, your fingers hooked meticulously so his boxers come off with them.

His cock springs free and you look up to his face. By now Eddie has lost all clear thought, and he’s sure it started the moment you started working on his collarbone. Somehow it just got better and better as you went further down, every touch of your tongue against his skin sending fucking waves through him. But the look of…elation that you give him as you free his cock, like you couldn’t believe you get to be so lucky to suck on it, had him in pure ecstasy.

You leaned in to take a long swipe on it, a slow lick from the base to the tip, and his cock is nearly down your throat before he could even register it. Relentlessly, you bob your head, fist gripping what you can't fit. You hear him swear loudly, and you let go with a popping sound. His hand finds its way to your face, framing it. You peer up at him, and his half opened eyes and a disbelieving smile gives you an unmatched sense of pride.

“Holy shit.” He mutters, his thumb crossing your bottom lip slowly.

You smile, lifting his hand from your face and into your hair, curling your fist over his so he would grip it tightly. You go back to work, mouth watering as you continue to bob up and down. Eddie slowly starts pushing on your head, forcing you to take a little bit more of him at a time. Your gag reflex fights it, and he can feel it.

“Relax your throat baby.” He whispers. “Just relax it.” You think about it, letting the tense muscles of your jaw and attempting to swallow the spit to soften. He can feel a shift, his cock still in the heat of your mouth. “Oh, good girl.”

He thrusts his hips up, and his cock finds itself down your throat, a feat you’ve never been able to accomplish before. The base of his cock meets your nose, and he stops, watching you adjust as tears come to your eyes from the stinging. “Holy shit, good fucking girl.” He mumbles, sweeping his hand through your hair. “So good.”

He pulls on your scalp so you move up and back down a few times, and you find it impossibly easy to submit yourself to him, allowing him to fuck your throat.

Eddie guides you off his cock, you look up at him for his appraisal and he frames your face to wonder how he was so lucky as he looks at your cocked-out eyes. “Oh, what a good little slut.” He mutters, pulling you up to his face.

You crawl up eagerly, and he kisses you gently, not chaste, but not quite as dirty as before. He breaks away, still connecting your foreheads. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

You nod readily; lust filled eyes staring back into his. You wait patiently for him to put his jeans back over on his cock and make your way back up the stairs to his room.

As soon as his door is shut Eddie rids himself of his clothes, and you end up watching from his bed eagerly, enjoying the show. He dives onto the bed, and a squeal of giggles involuntarily leaves your throat at the wild eyes captivating his face. He dives down to kiss you, his tongue delicious against your own and he sucks on it, luring a whimper right out of you. One of his hands rubs against your thigh, and this pair of pants wasn’t something he could feel you up through. Eddie’s thumb messaged extra rough, and the touch alone manages more whimpers.

“Touch me.” You choke out, breathing heavily, breathing him. “Please.”

Eddie grins, both his hands working down to unbutton the tight jeans you wore. A hand slips in and starts to tease along the slick of your folds and your breath hitches as Eddie focuses on making you feel good. He rubs them in small circles, the touch light but enough to give you release. You can tell he isn't necessarily driving you towards an orgasm and it drives a laugh of impatience out of you against his lips.

“Baby” You whine, “Fuck.” You couldn’t even put words to it, because somehow you knew he’d find a way to twist it.

Eddie leans into your neck, the heat of his cruel laughter closing your eyes. “Oh, you wanted me to touch you and get off? Well why didn’t you say so?”

The pressure increases, a defined difference in his touch as he rubs against your clit, and the sounds he draws from you was worth the tease. He hikes your oversized sweater up, revealing skin and your bra, and as his fingers move absentmindedly he kisses your stomach with light tongue, the wet warmth sending shivers up your body as the feeling in your tummy starts to pool.

He sits up suddenly, and you whimper from the loss. He chuckles at this, pride in how pathetic he can make you feel. “Aww, poor baby.” He mocks you, and your eyebrows furrow in slight embarrassment. “It’s okay, I know you just wanna cum…gonna get you to cum all over my face.” His hands tug on your jeans, and he barely needs any help from you to yank them off, unceremoniously throwing them onto the floor. “Oh, fuck, finally.” He mutters as he sees your pussy, prettier than he remembered when he jacked himself off in the shower this morning.

He leans in, sucking on your clit and the heat expands from it into your legs and the feeling in your stomach doubles. From no release to every bit, you could already feel the knot threatening to snap. “Holy shit, fuck.” You mutter, your thighs clamping against him.

He feels the intensity in your body shift, continuing to suck on your clit rhythmically. Your breathing increases, and Eddie slowly sucks harder, and harder, and as your heels dig in his upper back, he stops.

An audible whine leaves you, the edge just right there. “Fuck, Ed.” You whimper, somehow knowing it was on purpose.

He chuckles, watching your beautiful cunt react as well. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I was so close.”

“Imagine how good it’ll feel when you do cum, yeah?” He teases, still watching your face. Your leg muscles spasm and the kisses he trails down your thigh are no help.

You whine again, toes curling and the extra fabric of your sweater self consciously curls up around your fists. “Ed.”

“I know.” He says one last time, and goes in for the kill.

There was really no delay this time, the edge was only a step away and he pushed you over, his fingers fucking into you and tongue working over time on your clit, a heat into an explosion as your legs shake and pussy spasms. Eddie pays close attention to it, admiring the glisten of your slick coating you, dripping to your ass and on his sheets and it's a piece of art.

Eddie kisses one last time against your clit, crawling back up to you to assess. “Sweetheart?”

You smile lazily at him, the orgasm having left a smile on your face and a glow amongst your features. “Hmm?”

“Wanna fuck still?” He asks, his hand petting your face softly.

Your eyes fucking light up, nodding enthusiastically. He chuckles, moving the sweater slowly up and over your head. He moves around your torso, single handedly unhooking your bra, revealing those gorgeous tits.

He looks like heaven above you, a shadow of stubble, brown eyes darkened as he takes you in, and the lust in his eyes sends a pool of wetness between your legs. Your legs open, and he sits himself between them, kissing the nearest skin he can as he puts his cock into you.

Your legs close on the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. God, what a sight.

You sleepily look up at him as he puts his chest on yours, just drinking in the moment of him in you. He does the same, your hands framing his face.

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “So, so, good, Ed.” You manage out between them, sighing up at him.

He moves back a bit, thrusting into you lightly and you whimper into his mouth. He separates himself to get a good look as he continually fucks into you, and your mouth is open in unspoken words. Too fucking good.

“I know baby, I know.” He tells you. He kisses your neck, down your throat and down to a tit bouncing lightly from the impact of his cock fucking into you. He latches his tongue onto the nipple, your pussy tightening around him in response. He grazes his teeth lightly, mewls leaving your throat at the sheer pleasure mixed with pain and he lets go.

He leans up from you, taking one of your legs and placing it against his shoulder up towards the ceiling and you can feel him deeper, his thrusts starting to hit harder. Your moans are interrupted by each thrust. “Ed. So. Good. Fuck.”

His hand gently caresses your leg on his shoulder, focusing on the warmth of your pussy engulfing him. “Oh, tight pussy. So fuckable.”

“Yours.” You whine out.

“Oh, that’s right. My pussy.”

“All yours.” You choke out.

“Oh that’s fuckin right. You’re mine. All mine. My good fuckable slut.”

The words hit the right spot, making your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Ed. Cum in me.”

“Yeah, wanna be filled with me?"

“Mmhmm…”

“Oh fuck.” Eddie reaches his high faster than he was expecting, his hips jerking into you and the feeling of his cock pulsating while it spurts inside you is everything.

Eddie pants, lightly pushing your leg off his chest. He leans forward to give you a kiss, his body covered in sweat, the slick smell being something you need to memorize. “Holy shit, sweetheart."

You giggle, your legs holding him there. “Stay a while?”

“Love to cockwarm, huh, baby?”

“Only with you,” You mutter, a yawn leaving you. And if it was anything like the first time, you’ll be asleep within minutes. “So full.”

He chuckles, turning on the tv next to his bed. He tugs the blanket out from under you and pulls it over the two of you. You snuggle into his arms as he wraps them around you. “You know, we can cuddle without—” Eddie starts.

“No, no. That’s crazy talk.” You interrupt him, and he feels a smile up against his chest.

As you fall asleep, you hear one last thing from him, something you don’t think you were supposed to hear. “Beat that, you sparkly fucker.”

Somehow, the power of making Eddie jealous over a fictional vampire didn’t go straight to your head, but goddamn it felt good to be this wanted.

The tickle of the sheet against your abdomen comes to mind as you wake up on your side, calf in between Eddie’s legs and your face buried in his chest. His snoring is gentle but deep, his arm lazily wrapped around you. You figure he eventually got himself out of you, the subtle loss something you probably whined at.

You feel a smile creep its way onto your face, the satisfaction of waking up how you did fills your lungs with air. You peer your head back to get a look at his face, relaxed and unguarded, even from sex. Your eyes take in every detail of his handsome face, the slight hook of his nose, the stray hairs by his left eyebrow, the freckles scattered… God, he is beautiful.

You lean in to kiss his jawline, nuzzling your nose into the scratch of his stubble. The arm around your torso flexes, a snore interrupted. A huff of laughter escapes you, the simplicity of it just so mesmerizing. He shifts slightly, arm tightening around you as he adjusts himself. You cuddle yourself closer into his chest, inhaling the scent that was unmistakably him. No cologne, deodorant or aftershave disguising it. The smell alone makes you shudder in happiness.

You lay breathing him in for another thirty minutes before he finally stirs awake.

When he finally does, eyes squinting around as he blinks awake, arms flexing away as he yawns and stretches, you lay there patiently as he gets his bearings.

“Fuck.” His arms go limp, and he buries himself into your hair, breathing in the scent. “How long—” he yawns, cutting himself off. “How long have you been awake?”

Your shoulders shrug, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. He feels your stomach grumble against his. “Long enough, huh.” He kisses into your hair, giving you one last good squeeze. “Alright, let’s go get some food.”

You protest getting out of bed with him but the second growl your stomach makes, this one even more audible, has Eddie give a look to say it wasn’t debatable. Food first.

Down the stairs, you sit in a pair of shorts with the same over sized sweater at the kitchen island, chewing happily on the food Eddie prepared for you, a fucking snack tray. He put it in front of you, and you look up at him with an eyebrow raised peculiarly. “I fucking love snacks.” He says, grabbing a slice of cheese off your tray.

Dylan jogs into the kitchen, stealing a cracker off your plate as he dashes around the counter. “Going out with friends, be back later.” He looks dressed up for a bar, an outfit you knew he would wear to impress. It's a weird thought that you know him like this.

“Don’t be stupid, don’t drink and drive.” Eddie tells him, leaning forward on the island.

“Got it!”

“Was that good or bad, I couldn’t tell.” You ask him when the front door closes.

“I wouldn’t go towards either. He’s being civil for the sake of you but he’s much more pissed when you’re not here. Trust me.” Eddie answers you, eyes wide at the end of the sentence.

A pang of guilt hits you square in the chest. He sees your expression falter, giving you a soft look. “Don’t feel guilty. I deserve it. He damn well has a right to act this way when I betrayed him.”

Fuck, that was a level of emotional maturity you weren’t used to seeing in men. Threw you for a loop.

“So, sweetheart. I got a question for you.” You perk up, leaning towards him at the opposite end of the island counter. “Will you allow me to take you out on a proper date?”

The sentence drives your heart wild, your stomach turning itself inside out. You nod your head rapidly, gulping. “When?”

“Well it’s four o’clock now…if I drive you home so you can get ready we could probably make our 7 o’clock reservation.”

Now you find yourself in your bathroom, your makeup scattered across the counter as you dance to an upbeat playlist, your quick glance to the clock indicating you still have an hour before he comes to pick you up at 6:45.

You're driving yourself mad with the want to outdo yourself, you want a visual reaction from this man. He was kind enough to let you know it was more upscale, but that was all the detail he was willing to provide to you. You knew your initial reaction to wear something to rile him up wasn’t any good, and the warning he had given you had driven you to believe he knew you well enough to know you would if he hadn’t.

You hear the front door of the apartment close, Skyler getting home from day working at a cellphone carrier store. She hated the dumb customers but loved the commission she made when she sold plans. She places her things down, making her way straight to the bathroom to where the blaring music could be heard. “Going out somewhere?” She asks, slightly yelling to be heard over the music.

You reach to the Bluetooth speaker, turning down the volume a few notches. “Hot date with Eddie!” You tell her excitedly, leaning in to finish the last of the eyeliner.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had one planned!”

“Neither did I! He told me about the reservation just like an hour ago after he dropped me off.”

“Just like that?” She asks, leaning in.

You pause the movement of your brush on your face, using some setting powder for a final touch. “Just like that.”

Her eyebrows raised to her forehead quickly. “Okay, damn. That’s…that’s romantic.”

A smile lands on your face, and you close it to prevent the wider smile making its way to prevent teasing. “Mmmhmm.”

Face setting spray finishes your face before you run to your room to do the most daunting thing about getting ready…picking out your outfit.

It has to be something your ex hasn't taken off you either. There goes that hot blue little dress, and this green strappy number, and that really cute skirt…damn this might be harder than you thought. You used a lot of secret weapons from your arsenal with Dylan.

“I’m out of clothes!” You yell to your roommate, frustrated out of your mind.

“You still haven’t used that pretty dress you bought last month…the one still with a tag on it?” She calls out, referring to a dress you found that fit you perfectly but didn’t have anything to wear it for.

“That one is for special occasions!”

“Bitch, your boyfriend made spontaneous dinner date plans for your first date. It’s a special occasion, wear the damn dress!”

As it cascades down your body as you place it over your head, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Sitting in your living room while waiting to be picked up should not be this jittery, butterflies doing a little dancey-dance in your stomach as Skyler absentmindedly binge-watches Buffy. You sent Eddie your address at his request about ten minutes ago, and now it's just a waiting game.

Three knocks at the door find you standing in a second, tripping over your own feet to get to the door. You open it to him, standing there with a single red rose. He's dressed in a gorgeous leather outdoor jacket, one only a man as fine as he is could pull off as well as he does and still make it look classy. He wears a pair of slacks with a dark red button down tucked loosely into it, the first three buttons undone.

Something tells you he’ll be moving his sleeves up his arms later. Fuck. He has never looked hotter.

“Hi, gorgeous. Ready?”

You nodded frantically, picking the open jacket up from the coatrack you had placed conveniently by the door. You turn back to face to your roommate to tell her not to wait up and face her, her mouth wide open. “I see it now.” She whispers, her jaw dropping again.

Your eyebrows raise to her in response but a glare reaches as your face as you turn around, something in you stupidly angry about this. Good. Look from afar.

The drive down is filled to the brim with unbridled anticipation, neither one saying much as you watch the pretty lights pass by on the way to the unspecified restaurant.

He places his hand on your thigh, thumb caressing it gently. Your dress is just long enough for his pinky to touch your leg but the rest lay on the soft material. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” He compliments you, and you suddenly realize he’s barely watching the road.

“Hmm.” You answer, nodding at the road. “My heart stopped when I opened the door, you are unfairly handsome.”

“Unfairly?” Eddie asks, voice incredulous at your word choice.

“Mmhmm.”

He chuckles, suddenly making a left turn into a group of scattered restaurants and your breath hitches, wondering, no.

Holy fuck, it is.

He pulls up and you’re peering up at what is known as the most expensive restaurant in town, the kind of place you only went with when your parents were celebrating an anniversary or something and were paying.

The kind of place that had good ass food, but you need to be able to pay minimum, 100 per person. The wine is automatically served, and the only music is a light piano melody. “Wanted to take you out for a treat. Somewhere I know damn well men your age can’t afford.”

That sentence alone drenches the lacy panties you wore.

He walks to your side after getting out, opening the door for you. The act isn’t much, something a man or two has done before him, but from him, it was like a goddamn touch of Midas.

The low light and piano music engulfs you, the conversation low as you see everyone is dressed in their best. You find yourself intimidated but Eddie walks in like he belongs.

Cause he does.

He asks for a reservation under his last name, and the waitress finds it right away. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes light up and damn, you usually don’t describe yourself as the jealous type but when it comes to him it's hard not to be.

As you get to your booth, Eddie takes off his jacket, revealing his sleeves up to his elbows, and it’s literally mouth watering. He does it so swiftly, and before you can even sit, he holds his hand out for your jacket as well. You take it off to hand it over, which he hangs ever so gently over his jacket on the hook.

Your hostess asks for drinks, Eddie asks for the drink menu and some water, you ask for water as well, hoping to find a suitable cocktail when the menu comes along.

The low lighting is flattering on him sitting across from you, and all his attention is on you, even as his eyes roam the menu. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you finally ask Eddie for his story, something even through the lust you’ve had a desire to know.

He describes growing up in Hawkins, Indiana, a rebel without a cause with a touch for the dramatics and running a role play DnD group. He describes his struggles as he failed grade twelve twice due to a large population chalking it up to laziness when in reality no one listened to his inability to sit down long enough to learn anything. He tells you about this group of friends he made in his final and successful attempt at grade 12, the ones that eventually kicked his ass into gear and none of them he would’ve been here without, and though they were all older like him, you hoped one day you’d be lucky enough to meet them face-to-face.

His attempt at college, realizing it wasn’t for him and dropping out a semester in when a local mechanic he knew offered an apprenticeship spot at his garage.

2 years into it, he finds out he enjoys it and he made enough money to move out. At 22 he meets a woman who comes into his shop with a check engine light on, and that was how he met Dylan's mom. You fought so hard not to roll your eyes as he described building a life with her and finding out she was pregnant, but it was hard not to be jealous.

Apparently she was the perfect mom from the outside, her connection to her son was unbeatable. Eddie soon found out she was having an affair with one of her co-workers, the same one she had told him time and time again that, no, of course he didn’t have a crush on her, that’s silly.

(They were fucking the whole time.)

If anything, it was the reason he had let Dylan find out so quickly. An affair would’ve made it ten times worse.

He finishes off, describing how difficult it was to raise him after she ran off with the co-worker, eventually finding something that worked for them. All in all, he was proud of the person he had raised Dylan to become, hopeful for their relationship.

You hung onto every word he told you through that meal like he had hung the moon and the stars. As he finishes, wiping his hands on his napkin as he ate, your eyes fixated on his forearms flexing, he apologizes, claiming he felt bad for talking the whole time.

“Oh, I could listen to you for hours.” It falls out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Well I’m sick of myself. Tell me about you.” He comments, so you did.

You tell him about being raised in the small town in rural America, being a teenager in the 2010s a slight difference than in the late 90s. Your stupid first boyfriend who dumped you as soon as he slept with you, your mom who meant well but often valued the opinions of others over her daughters needs and wants, your stoner of a best friend who had an opinion that you valued most of all, and how you met your current roommate through a facebook ad but it turned out you really clicked.

Your story had no beginning and no end, just going off your life based on what you felt like you had wanted to tell him.

“Dylan is a good boyfriend, by the way.” Eddie laughed at the absurdity of your sentence, all plates in front of you containing any food long gone while you had your third cocktail and Eddie drank some whiskey. Were you a bit tipsy? Yes. That sentence couldn’t have left your mouth without it. “After the lack of commitment on a stupid amount of dudes, his willingness to go all in, as we said that’s what we had both wanted, was exceedingly refreshing.” You took another gulp of it, the sugary drink hitting nicely. “He was stable, kind, thoughtful, but something was missing. In him I felt safety.” You pause, looking at him. “In you, I feel freedom.”

The conversation moved away from Dylan, thank God. As he asks for one more before the bill you can't help yourself. “Where do you see this going?” You gulp, scratching your nose, and paying close attention to your glass. “If you say anything other than long term, I might be sick.”

To Eddie, your level of honesty was refreshing. “Baby, anything but long-term has never been an option to me.”

Eddie gives his credit card to the waitress, a moon eyed girl who he had barely paid attention to. Either because he was being courteous with his attention or he just didn’t bother when you were right in front of him, it didn’t matter, but the thing itself gave you immense satisfaction. (It was the latter, for the record. Eddie had barely noticed her.)

As he helped you back into your jacket, slipping on his own, a feeling of intense satisfaction, pure bliss invaded your entire system. There was no first date that would ever be as good as this one. The set up, picking you up, the nice ass restaurant, the easy conversation, and lastly, the knowledge that when you got to his, he would be all over you, and you him.

Nothing was ever gonna be this good.

Good. You didn’t want anyone or anything but him.

Your head found his shoulder on the way back to his place, hands intertwined on your lap on the silent ride home, soft rock playing on his radio. As his truck reaches his driveway, you notice it's empty. Eddie picked up on this as your head perks up upon the observation.

“Asked if he could crash at a friend’s place tonight.” Eddie explains, having placed the truck in park, sitting back in his seat. “We got the place to ourselves.”

You grinned giddily, and you weren’t sure if it was the three and a half drinks or the troublesome feeling of your lacy panties being thoroughly soaked, but you were out his truck door before he could even register it. He climbs out, quickly shuffling behind you and he makes a giggle pour out of you as he scares you as you wait patiently at the door for him to unlock it.

He kisses your neck as he reaches in with one hand to unlock the door, and you open it and turn to him, yanking on the collar of his leather jacket. “Need you.” You mutter in between kisses, only in the entrance of the house but if you took another step without kissing him, you were gonna lose your mind. “Want. You.”

Your need is outrageously attractive, Eddie leaning into every kiss you've given him with the same amount of fervor, his hands holding your waist and fisting at the deliciously beautiful dress you had worn. You just had this dress? Waiting around? And you hadn’t blessed anyone with the perfect sight that was you dressed in it until now? What a goddamn sin.

It’ll be a shame when it hits the floor but this dress is only second to how goddamn good you looked naked as far as Eddie's concerned. Speaking of which…

Eddie continually kisses you, pulling you in against him, your breath hitches pulling your coat off and letting it fall to the floor. He backs you up to the stairs, and your foot hits the first step up, and as you’re starting to climb backwards Eddie pushes his body on yours, forcing you to sit. He takes it a step further by leaning in to kiss your neck, and your back falls onto the steps as well, just like he was hoping. Your legs open, welcoming his hips into yours.

Eddie only starts with soft kisses, just to smell your perfume and to feel your skin beneath his lips. “This dress, baby, this dress.” He pauses, a look of lust deep within his brown eyes. “Oh, fuck, this dress.” He couldn’t seem to tell you anything else, but you were thankful the gut feeling that told you to buy it was right. You tug on his collar, pulling it down his back to take it off.

Eddie assists you, letting the jacket fall clumsily down the three steps.

“My dress? This shirt!” You gasp, gripping onto it softly. “You look so good. The buttons undone on the top were..” You sigh as he kisses his way down to your shoulder. “…a nice touch.”

His hand pushes up your dress, hands roughly smoothing up your thigh, and one gets to the lacey panties. As his hand brushes the panties to take them off he gives you a manic smile. He takes them off, slowly, head against your shoulder as he does so. As the pair is taken off your foot, he inhales sharply at the sight of them, holding them in front of your body where he can see them. You see his hands touch where you soaked it all night, playing with the slick that has already gathered. “You’re not getting these back.”

He tosses them back playfully, going back to attack your neck. Eventually he leaves kisses all down your torso, and he kisses down your clothed thigh before making a big show of lifting the dress hem up, kissing along your thigh again. Only this time, your thigh wasn’t covered, and it was towards your now uncovered and absolutely throbbing cunt. As he moves closer, you start to whine, as with each kiss he adds more wetness, more tongue. Finally his mouth is right next to your core, and with his head in your skirt, he reaches for each leg to put them on his shoulders.

He goes straight in, tongue attacking your clit, your still covered feet dig into his back and a choked out moan leaves your throat. Eddie’s lips leave your pussy, his shining eyes in your sight as he popped his head from underneath your dress. “Be loud, show me how much you love my tongue all over your pussy. C’mon. Wanna hear you. If I catch you holding back again you’ll be sorry.” He leans in without another thought, and his tongue takes no time to continue.

“Oh, fuck!” You felt slightly embarrassed by it, but you were more worried about what he meant at the end there, by you’ll be sorry. If he edged you just for the hell of it, what was he gonna do as a punishment? “Your tongue, feels so fucking good, Ed.”

“Tastes—” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Tastes like heaven. Love your sweet, perfect, beautiful pussy.” The acoustics of talking through your dress didn’t make sense, but you could hear him loud and clear. “Look how wet this pussy is already for me, just dripping, oh fuck.”

“Fuck, you look, fuck, so good Ed. So fucking hot.”

“You were wet from my appearance alone?” Eddie asks, peering up at you from behind your dress.

“Since the first time I met you.” You gasp out, leaning onto your elbows on the step but finding your head heavy on your neck to look up at him.

“Jesus christ.” You smiled down at him, hand reaching forward for him. He interlocks his with yours and keeps it there as he dives back in your dress. Something feels different…the heat concentrates on your clit as he feverishly attacks it.

“Holy shit--!” You cry out, jerking your upper body forward. “Ed, holy fuck keep doing that.” His other hand joins him, hooking into you and immediately connecting with your g-spot. As you get closer, he can feel your hand tighten on his own as your moans lose all inhibition and you whine, all high pitched, the sound echoing beautifully in the empty house. “Ed, fuck—” Your orgasm snuck up on you, the heat expanding through your thighs and legs until the edge hits you in a silent scream, and you gush all over his face and your dress and the stairs.

Thank god Eddie had hardwood.

He comes out from your dress, and you look at him in disbelief. “What—” you start, still unraveling. “I don’t even—”

“C’mon.” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You follow him up to his room, knees already weak but moving anyway.

Your bodies collide with one another, lips mashing in hot, dirty kisses. “Need to fuck you now.” Eddie breathes, his hands working at the zipper on your back. The dress drops to reveal what he already knew, and that it was you weren't wearing a bra. “Perfect fucking tits, fuck.”

He tugs at his belt and untucks his pants, making him look like a horny teenager. Maybe not horny, just a few drinks in. But when he had what he called the hottest girlfriend, he felt like anyone could hardly blame him. His pants fly off and he undoes the last few buttons on his shirt before he yanks it off by the back.

When he’s finally undressed, he pauses as he gets a good look at you, the both of you ridiculously exposed. “Fuck. Am I so goddamn lucky I get to spend my night with you?”

“Just kiss me.” You tell him, reaching out for him and he lurches forward, wrapping his hands in your hair and taking your lips in a wet kiss. He leads you to his bed, taking step by step as you fall backwards onto it, and none of it is awkward, just perfect. He crawls on top as your leg makes its way around his hips, and he can’t even bother to tease you because if he doesn’t get his cock inside you he is gonna lose it.

You didn’t expect it so soon, usually getting a tease but the shock pulls out a loud moan from you, Eddie moaning at the same time as he pushes himself into you. He puts his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Yours are too, taking in the feeling of his cock inside you. No matter how many times, it's like you forgot how fucking good it felt, every time.

“God. I didn’t know a pussy could feel this…fuck.” He mutters as his words make you tighten around him. “Fucking intoxicating.” He leans in to nip lightly against your neck, whispering into your skin. “Can’t fucking get enough of it. And when I—” he lips his hips out of yours, fucking into you slowly, “—fuck you, there’s nothing fucking better.”

His hips continue, his head remaining in your neck, his body against yours as he just feels you against him. Your hands roam the muscles of his back, nails digging in as his hips gradually fuck you harder. “You always take my cock so goddamn well, baby. Such a good whore for me.”

You whimper; all coherent thought gone as the feeling of him is pure perfection.

“Fucking love your cock in me Ed! Fuck, just like- just like that.”

“Oh, I know you love my cock. You moan like a whore for it. Let me hear you baby.”

The whines you didn’t realize you were holding back came out of your mouth and he grabbed your hair harshly, and you let out a higher one. “Don’t hold back, remember?”

You nod your head, a restricted move because of his hold on you. Eddie lets go, his hand framing your face delicately. He leans in to kiss you, fierce and protective. “God, you’re so much more…more than I had ever wanted…ever hoped for…” his voice is softer now, whispering into your neck.

“Ed. You’re so good…to me. So lucky.”

He places a hand on your clit, rubbing gently at it. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum. Cum with me?”

“What am I gonna say, no? To that?” you gasp out. He chuckles softly, the laughter hot against your neck.

“Close.” You tell him and he picks up the pace, holding back a bit for you. “Eddie I—” and a full moan leaves your lips and as you tighten around him, his hips rutting into you.

Eddie moans loudly as he cums, a sound you wouldn’t blame angels for if they had used at the gates of heaven.

His weight is heavy on you, having collapsed. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, your shoulder, collarbone, jawline, corner of your mouth before wrapping your lips in a kiss you can only describe as breathtakingly romantic.

Fuck were you falling, falling hard. And as Eddie lay on top of you for a solid ten minutes, caressing your skin and kissing you softly, still inside you while basking in the afterglow, he is thinking the exact same thing.

Also that he needs to clean the stairs before Dylan gets home.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

Those who requested for this fic: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @names-were-taken

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie #older eddie munson x you

745 notes · View notes

foundmywei · 4 months

Text

Buddie Fanfic Recs 2

Here are my favorite buddie fics! Now includes 40 fics~

Check Part 1 for more

10k words or under

We're Both His Fathers by thebravestthingIeverdidwasrun

(1,276 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck has his foot up on the back of the ambulance when an arm shoots across his chest. It’s the other paramedic. “Sorry, it’s family only. You’re not on this call.” --- Christopher's school bus has an accident on the freeway. Buck and Eddie make sure to save him, but just as Buck is about to join Eddie and Chris on the ambulance he gets told it's "family only." May Day parallel fic

let the choir bells sing by foxwatson

(3,486 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

All at once, Eddie has an idea. It’s definitely the stupidest idea he’s ever had in his entire life, but he has it all the same, and there’s no time to come up with a better one. He puts his hands on Buck’s elbows, tugs him in closer, and says, “Kiss me.” Based on combining the prompts "kiss me like you mean it” and “i don’t know what i would have done if you weren’t here”

Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon

(8,509 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

"Too bad we can't just date each other." Eddie laughs. "What?" "No, I'm serious!" Buck sets his beer down, the better to gesture with both hands, face lighting up, and Eddie just—he really loves the guy, okay. Ridiculous as he is. "It would be so much easier! You wouldn't have to introduce a new person to Chris—he already likes me anyway—and you could tell Pepa so she'll stop setting you up on dates that don't go anywhere—" "And what would you get out of this?" Eddie asks, grinning. - Or: Buck and Eddie try something out together.

drawstrings by browney3dgirl6

(3,736 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

“Buck?” There was more rustling before Eddie heard a, “fuck, stupid—Eddie?” Eddie laughed with a shake of his head. “You decent up there bud?” Eddie heard a loud sigh and some more shuffling before Buck answered. “Yea, mostly.” Slowly, Eddie crept up the stairs, unsure of what kind of predicament he’d find Buck in. At the top of the landing, Eddie came to a halt, a soft smile spreading across his face. Buck was sat on the edge of his bed, hoodie ridden up and exposing his tummy. His head was bent toward his waist where he was battling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants, grunting as he went. Eddie stayed where he was watching. He found the entire thing oddly endearing. —or— Eddie helps Buck fix his drawstrings. How was he supposed to know it’d lead to him sitting in Bucks lap?

i'm someone you maybe might love by allyasavedtheday

(6,580 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

She opens her locker, giving him a sidelong glance. “So does Buck know you’re-“ The rest of her question gets cut off by a quiet, disbelieving, “Eddie?” and she and Eddie turn just in time for Buck to slam straight into Eddie. Eddie takes a step back with the force of it but his arms come up around Buck immediately, hugging back just as fiercely. She catches sight of his blinding smile before he tucks his face into Buck’s shoulder and Lucy stares, can’t help it when they’re hugging like long-lost lovers being reunited. Buck pulls back first, hands still firmly on Eddie’s arms as he jostles him. “You asshole!” he exclaims with a laugh that sounds more than a littler watery. “I was literally at your house last night; why didn’t you say anything?!” “Wanted it to be a surprise,” he says, voice low and soft in a way that finally makes her turn away to pretend to be busy with her locker. * Five times someone realises Buck is in love with Eddie and one time Buck realises he's in love with Eddie.

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by trysetmeonfire

(8,303 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“It’s alright,” Bobby says, another useless lie. Eddie’s eyes open, look straight into his, and his next words are remarkably clear. “I love him, Bobby.” “No,” he shakes his head, a strange and frantic panic bubbling up inside him. “You can’t tell me this- you can’t tell me this-“ a hundred smiles shift slightly to the left in Bobby’s memory. It’s barely a surprise, really, he picked Eddie out for Buck himself, years and years ago. He thought they’d make a fine pair. “You have to- we’re getting out of here and you’re telling him yourself, you can’t-“ -- Bobby deals with the ramifications of a misplaced confession

forever, ceasing never by lecornergirl

(3,985 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Until he drifts over just a little too far and loses his balance, and instead of resting his head on Buck’s shoulder like he’d intended he overshoots and finds himself sprawled out on the sofa, his head somewhere in the vicinity of Buck’s hip. Buck’s lap. His head is in Buck’s lap. Somewhere in the back of his wine-soaked mind, he knows he should get up. That this isn’t something they do. That this is crossing a line they’ve only skirted before, with the tackling and the tickling—always measured, always with a pretext. He should get up, but Buck’s hand slides into his hair, and when he looks down his eyes are impossibly soft. “Hi,” Buck whispers.

might as well be drunk in love by fleetinghearts

(2,326 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Oh. You’re—uh.” Should he—say something? Why would he say something, though. Just because this isn’t something they do… Eddie’s clearly fine with this, initiating this, and Buck—there’s never a time Buck doesn’t want this, want this bad. So why would he say you have a bed right there and come off as a dick when they’re both perfectly fine with this. Or, worse in ways that are both hysterical and heartbreaking, come off as vaguely homophobic or make Eddie uncomfortable about the way he’s currently spooning Buck like he’s been doing it all his life. He settles for a lighthearted, “Are you drunk?” Eddie sighs sleepily, breath tickling Buck’s neck. “Yeah. Kinda.” or, getting little-spooned by his drunk best friend was not on buck's maid-of-honour checklist, but. it's happening

Java Blues by Ravens_Words

(5,530 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Bobby doesn't share his coffee with anyone. Ever. (Unless it's Buck.) Or, eight times Buck drank Bobby’s coffee, and the one time Bobby made it for him.

let me fix it for you by smilingbuckley

(10,355 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

5 times Eddie fixes or builds something for Buck + 1 time Buck thanks him for it (... sort of) -- “You look like you need a good breakfast,” Bobby says at the sight of Buck, handing him a plate highly stacked with waffles. “You can shave here if you want to.” “And risk being halfway when we get called in?” Buck snorts, “Nah, I’ll shave when Eddie fixes my sink.” “Oh, didn’t know you were a free handyman on the side,” Hen says, stretching to look at Eddie, “You know, we’ve been looking for someone to fix our backyard fence." Eddie, with his mouth full of waffles, shakes his head, “Family only.”

5 times Buck calls Eddie baby before he’s his + 1 time after by jesuisgrace

(2,314 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

The first time it happens Eddie knows that Buck is just being Buck, sweet and affectionate and funny. That he’s just matching the energy Eddie just ribbed him with when he hurls, “damn, don’t do me like that, baby!” at him over the pool table. Eddie feels himself freeze, feels his mouth fall open just a little, feels his cheeks heat. And wills himself to stop, to not make it weird, to just laugh. Because he knows how Buck meant it. But he hears “baby” in Buck’s voice, meant just for him, echo through his head all day.

don't read the last page (i stay) by screamingcolours

(9,090 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie forgets about the couch thing. And he forgets because there isn’t supposed to be anything to remember about it. Instead, he remembers Christopher’s appointments and he remembers to go to his own. He remembers to do his laundry every few days and he remembers to bring Buck his clothes that Eddie finds in the hamper every once in a while. He remembers to go grocery shopping and he remembers to ask Bobby to give him the day off for the parents-teachers conference next month. Life goes on and he grows a little softer around the edges each day that Buck spends at his house instead of the loft every time he has time off, but it’s not anything he really worries about anymore. Buck hasn’t been doing his best, and if spending time in Eddie’s kitchen cooking enough for a whole army of Chris’s for hours on end until he’s too tired to go back to his place makes him happy, then who’s Eddie to deny him that? * or: mandatory 'making buck realise everything he ever wanted is right there in front of him' fic

was blind but now i see by seraphina_snape

(6,368 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

"Who is going where with Eddie?" "Buck is trying the romantic Greek-Italian restaurant he's been talking about with Eddie tonight. That's why he's in such a hurry." Chim's jaw drops a little. "Is that the place that basically only has tables for two and where there's no overhead lights, only those little mood-lights on the tables?" "Uh-huh." Hen nods. "They're going to discuss which high school to pick for Christopher." Buck looks up and checks himself in the reflection of the locker room's glass wall. He grabs his bag. "We'll tell you how the food was next shift. Or Eds will. I think it's my turn to split with B-shift." He looks at his watch and curses a little under his breath. "All right, gotta go. Have a good night!" Buck hustles out of the locker room, leaving Chim and Hen staring after him. Chim eventually shakes his head and starts getting dressed. "I don't even know what to say to that. Is he really going to the hottest date location in town to talk about Christopher's high school options?" "Oh yeah. That boy has no idea." Hen sighs. "Neither of them do."

11k - 40k words

Left Unsaid by C_M2

(33,431 words | Mature | Chapters: 7/7)

A woman shows up at the station with a picture of Buck on her phone. It goes better than last time. OR: The discovery of a small facebook group full of tsunami survivors rocks station 118.

help me to help myself by woodchoc_magnum

(26,678 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

In which Eddie slowly figures out who he really is in the aftermath of his breakdown.

please linger near the door by fallingthorns

(12,096 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck glances at Eddie’s bedroom door one more time, almost like he’s willing it to open. But the door stays mostly closed and Buck feels himself deflate as he grabs his bag and keys. He quietly closes the door and locks it behind him, and he’s just about to turn the car on when he frowns and realizes that he left his jacket in the house. He knows he’ll probably be back at some point tomorrow to get it, but he thinks about Eddie under all that mud. He thinks of his head on Bobby’s lap and Eddie’s name on his lips, screamed into the air. He felt – He felt like his whole soul was being buried under the mud, and that’s what scares him the most. Sighing, he gets out of the Jeep and decides to get his jacket, and if he happens to listen for any signs of movement from Eddie’s room for a few more seconds before he leaves again, then that’s between Buck and God. -- Or, Buck lingers until he finally stays.

right in front of your eyes by rainbow_nerds

(15,295 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

He and Chris, and Buck. They work, they’re a unit. Why should it matter that he’s single? Buck is watching him, like he’s reading every thought on his face. “You’re already planning to lie about the date. Why don’t you just tell her you met someone yourself?” Eddie shrugs and tilts his head to the side, squinting in thought. “She won’t set me up on dates if she thinks I’ve got someone,” he muses. “But she’ll want to meet whoever it is.” “So... Introduce them?” Or: Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

a touch of someone else (to save me from myself) by allyasavedtheday

(19,390 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

Of course, all of that comes to a grinding halt when he stops outside the locker room to find arguably one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen getting changed right by his locker. He stands there, gaping and trying desperately to get his mind out of the gutter – but Jesus, those abs – when someone bumps his shoulder and he turns to find Hen sidling up to him. “Enjoying the view?” she asks with a knowing smirk. Buck raises an eyebrow, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up in a smirk of his own. “He from B shift or something?” Hen’s about to answer him when Bobby appears on his other side. “That’s Eddie Diaz, our new recruit.” Buck’s brain does some approximation of a record scratch and he whirls around to face Bobby. “New recruit? Why?” * In which Eddie joins the 118 during season 1 instead of season 2 and Buck has a lot to say about it. AKA Eddie meets Buck 1.0.

sweet summer heat by waywardrenegades

(39,748 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

It’s July in LA, there’s a heatwave, and Buck is fucking upset.

upon reflection by jeremycarver

(24,817 words | Explicit | Chapters: 7/7)

Buck doesn’t think, just says, “Hey Eds, you wanna?” Half to wipe that caught-out look off his friend’s face and half because, well. Buck doesn’t not want to. It would be fun, something to do to pass some time in the most stressful month of everyone’s lives. Eddie sits back so he’s between Buck’s thighs instead of on top of him and is slow to answer. Buck waits, and finally he answers, “Should we?” or, Buck and Eddie get into a friends with benefits situation that quickly spirals out of control.

baby, it's okay if we both end up afraid by Underhung_Aura

(28,376 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck hadn’t forgotten how cold the ocean is. He hadn’t forgotten the bite of it or how the crest of a wave can feel like the edge of a knife or how the water stings and cuts and carves and settles in the bottom of your lungs and the pit of your stomach like a handful of broken glass. But he had forgotten the water’s weight. He had forgotten how heavy it is as it clings to you and refuses to let go, something he supposes he has in common with this powerful, almost undefeatable force of nature. Letting go has never been something he is good at, in any capacity, in any situation, always clinging clinging clinging like his very life depends on how well he can hold on to all the things that want him to release them. OR buck and bobby battle their past traumas in the middle of a shipwreck. eddie pines in the aftermath. and somehow, for all of them, love endures and overcomes.

you strip me down into nothing (show me what i've been missing) by screamingcolours

(28,000 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

“You could sleep with me.” It’s Buck’s turn to choke on his drink. “Wh—what? That’s not funny, Eddie.” “I’m not joking.” “Okay,” Buck says, slowly and looking at him with so much confusion, like he’s expecting a catch. “Why? Why would you offer to do this?” That’s the part where Eddie should have a thought out answer about how this makes sense, because they’re both single and trust each other with everything or whatever, and maybe it wouldn’t be a lie. But the truth is, he’s looking at Buck right now, on the verge of some kind of breakdown over sex of all things because he needs to be told he’s good and loved and needed, and Eddie will be damned if he’s not going to give him that. “Why wouldn’t I?” or Eddie offers to sleep with Buck ~for science~, they become friends with benefits, and Eddie takes way, way too long to pick up on what it all really means.

be as you've always been (lover be good to me) by frozenwisteria

(16,553 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie looks across the sofa to see Buck’s chin cradled in his hands as he watches them instead of the screen, and Eddie hides his face in Chris’ hair because Buck can see the heat on his skin. As easy as it is becoming to let Buck in, it astonishes Eddie when Buck is so open and vulnerable with them too. He’s just spent the day taking care of Chris and now he’s smiling so softly and sincerely just watching Eddie and Chris relaxing together. Eddie’s heart beats quickly in his chest and Christopher squirms a bit when he hears it. “Are you okay, Dad?” Chris whispers. Eddie nods against the mop of curly hair that he should probably schedule a haircut for soon. “I’m really good, Chris.” or Eddie rejoins the 118 following the events of season five, slowly finds himself, and realizes along the way that he's in love with his best friend

Golden Hour by maybeamystery

(19,837 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Okay, in the cold light of day, Buck can now admit that he is totally and completely in love with Eddie. The gross, sappy, want-to-write-a-million-soft-ballads kind of love. Eddie is the first person he thinks about when he opens his eyes in the morning; when he falls asleep at night, it’s usually to thoughts of Eddie and Chris, the two most important people in the world to him other than his sister and Jee-Yun. Not for the first time, Buck wishes he had the guts to confess his feelings to Eddie and get it over with. Instead, he’s trapped Eddie in this weird dog adoption farce, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of it with his heart intact. [or Buck adopts a dog with the Diazes, and they live happily ever after.]

there's more to life than chasing ghosts by differentsnowflake

(19,955 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

"So," Eddie begins. "Let me see if I can remember. You've worked in a dude ranch, done construction work, went to bartending school, did some Navy SEAL training, tended bar in like, in a bunch of cities, and, um- I feel like there's so much more you haven't told me." "I used to walk dogs too. Oh, and work in an old book shop." And yeah, there's so much he hasn't told Eddie yet. Maybe it's because Buck doesn't want him to know about the long nights spent sleeping in the backseat of the Jeep, and the loneliness and the fact that everywhere he went he just felt like he was going in circles, trying desperately to find a place where he'd belong. He doesn't want to tell him about the uncertainty and the fear of not being able to find whatever he was looking for. Also, maybe it's because he finds the frown in Eddie's face funny, like it still bothers him not to know everything about him. In which Buck is totally not having a crisis about turning thirty, Eddie throws him a birthday party, Buck likes keeping secrets about his past, and they're both idiots who refuse to talk about their feelings.

Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars

(40,051 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 14/14)

After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

Why Not Take All of Me? by Daisies_and_Briars

(13,235 words | Mature | Chapters: 5/5)

When a small disaster strikes the morning of Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck, Hen, and Chim find themselves unwittingly caught up in an emergency across town, while Maddie and Eddie get stuck in an elevator.

Batting a Buck & Change by Daisies_and_Briars

(15,557 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 5/5)

“Do you remember that shift where Buck was off and Hen was on mandatory relaxation, and they both got drunk in Hen’s kitchen in the middle of the afternoon while we had to resuscitate a canine?” Eddie nods vigorously. “Oh, Hoover. I remember Hoover.” “Why have we never been drunk during a dog resuscitation, Eddie? Have you thought about that?” “Well now I am.” “We should call them and let them know that we can have fun on Dads’ Night Out.” Nothing could go wrong. OR Eddie and Chim embark on a “Dad’s night out” to watch baseball at a sports bar, and after a few too many, Eddie accidentally lets his feelings for Buck slip.

i wish i said it better by llovely

(12,315 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

He's surprised he made it to Buck's in one piece, driving through a haze, on autopilot towards the one person who can take the jumbled pieces of Eddie's mind and gently slot them back into place. He doesn't even register the time of day until he’s opening the door to loft with his key and saying, “Hen thinks I should go on a date with a man,” which he guesses is paraphrasing, but you know. It's what she meant. * anybody order some fake dating poker date spec 3 months too late? this was supposed to be like 2k i don’t know what happened.

Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania

(21,831 words | Mature | Chapters: 3/3)

“You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?” OR The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

dragged in dust (bathed in blood) by tawaifeddiediaz

(39,125 words | Mature | Chapters: 4/4)

I'm leaving the 118. Or, the aftermath of Eddie's decision, and what it means for his relationship with Buck.

Trying Hard to Remember, Trying Hard To Forget by kristen999

(25,499 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

Eddie doesn’t remember the shooting and Buck is haunted by it. As they struggle with their feelings for each other, Eddie and Buck grapple with the realities of trauma recovery and the understanding that everyone heals at their own pace. Coda to 4.14.

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by fleetinghearts

(14,710 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Well, we’re doing a fancy dinner and mini golf and karaoke,” Buck says, “and those are kinda date activities anyway, right?” “Right,” Eddie says slowly. “Except it’s Chim’s bachelor party, so we can hardly bring dates along, even if we could find them. That’d be weird.” “Well,” Buck says, “I was thinking… what if we were each other’s dates?” Eddie’s brain bluescreens for a moment. Buck must take his total lack of reaction for disagreement, because he hurriedly says, “Like, a pretend date. That way we could test out our, like you said, moves on each other. And then be totally truthful about whether they worked or not. So we get honest feedback and we don’t have to worry about finding someone to try them out on and we can still make it to Chim’s party. And then give Chris some advice before Sunday. Right? Does that make sense?” or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by HMSLusitania

(21,652 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie's PTSD is just that little bit worse and when he moves to Los Angeles, instead of joining the LAFD, he joins dispatch. Which is all good and fine, except for this one firefighter he keeps ending up talking to.

this must be the place by euadnes

40k+ words

(75,619 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 10/10)

Every life altering event is often led up to with a series of other important events. In this case, there were at least three: An unstoppable fire. An afternoon spent underneath a blanket of California blue sky. But firstly, and maybe the most important of all: There was the impeccable aiming of an ex-sharpshooter. *** Or, the Buck is also shot by the sniper AU that no one asked for.

What's love got to do with it? by ColorMeParanoid

(134,079 words | Explicit | Chapters: 30/30)

"Hear me out," Buck said. "Clearly, both of us are sick of dating other people. And we're a good fit, in pretty much every way that matters. So what if we're not in love? We don't need to be in love to be happy together." Eddie frowned. "So basically, we'd be boyfriends, without benefits?" "Yes!" Buck snapped his fingers. "Like platonic boyfriends! We'd get all the benefits of a relationship and none of the heartbreak." And maybe Eddie had finally lost his mind, or maybe it was from all the alcohol clouding his judgment, but the idea of it didn't sound half as crazy as it should have. *** After Buck’s and Eddie’s dates both end with disasters – proving once again that maybe dating just wasn’t meant for them – they decide to simply settle for each other. If there was one person in the world they'd ever trust with their hearts, it was each other. And who was a better person to date other than your very own best friend?

the weekly bet (but the forever kind) by theleftboobgrabber

(49,678 words | Explicit | Chapters: 9/9)

When the squad bets on how long it will take for Buck and Abby to get back together when she comes back to LA, Eddie is forced to reconsider keeping his feelings for Buck a secret. “Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face deep in his pillow, even if Buck can’t see him in the dark. “What for?” Leave it to Buck to be confused about something so obvious. “Being you, idiot.” “And again with the name calling,” he answers, content and sleepy. Nights like this, Eddie feels like asking for a miracle. But to the team, it wasn’t a matter of if Abby would take him back, but when. A matter of days.

gave me no compass, gave me no signs (were there clues I didn't see) by Kwills91

(55,596 words | Explicit | Chapters: 9/9)

Eddie Diaz is finally opening himself up to the idea of dating again when a call ends with a building collapse and trapped inside with Buck, both men have realisations about how they want to move forward. But as Buck helps Eddie recover can either of them find the courage to tell the other how they feel. *** Takes place shortly after the events of 6x14

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars

(79,830 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 21/21)

When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania

(44,415 words | Mature | Chapters: 7/7)

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” -- An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #911 fox #buck x eddie #buddie fic rec

197 notes · View notes

hellofriendhawke · 11 months

Text

yes yes i know a chapter should end at wherever the author feels is appropriate of course or just however much they want to write, I'm asking how much are you, a reader, most comfortable reading for a single chapter. Like if I had a 250k fic fully written out would you prefer I divide it into five 50k word chapters or fifty chapters all about 5k in size?

#polls #dupree #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic

455 notes · View notes

fauustic · 10 months

Text

protective miguel o'hara drabble

you didn't hear this from me but i'm making a miguel series and its taking a lot longer than i thought (first chapter already is pushing 10k words sheesh..) and i'm having possessive miguel thoughts so i needed to GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM...

If Miguel had his own way outside the Spider Society and all that, he would have Lyla escort you to and from wherever your errands took you under the guise of "needing company," or as an extra precaution of staying safe.

In reality, Miguel is an anxious man. He wants to keep everything that could possibly go wrong at bay, always trying to stay five steps ahead of whatever could possibly happen. So when he comes to find out that someone had hit on you as you were out with friends, he was livid.

Of course the one time you're not wrapped in his own embrace or cuddled up in the side of his hip one late night, someone tries to take the opportunity of seeing you all alone and a little bit vulnerable, tipsy and stumbling against the arm of your friend-- contorted in a way that would have been uncomfortable if you hadn't downed a couple drinks hours before.

You had let it slip when calling him, all giggly and oblivious to the world from being a lightweight. "Migs," you had murmured into the crook of your neck, cradling the phone that let out little chuckles from your boyfriend. He's still not used to seeing you drunk, the neither of you were really big drinkers unless you were celebrating something for work or you had been roped into a socialite outing from Miguel's position at Alchemax. The Spider Society never really had anything worth going out to drink for, or maybe Miguel just never wants to hang around them too frequently. His mood always changes whenever he brings up what he does, so you haven't brought yourself to pry any more.

His tone was lax, if not a little awake. You assumed he was driving through the midnight traffic once he heard the words, "I miss you, I'm ready to come home." And Miguel always requests for you to stay on the phone with him until he sees you, until you're swallowed into a hug that threatens to crack your back because he hasn't seen you all day and he's a bit desperate for your warmth.

"What is it, mi alma?" His voice met your ears in that playful, tired way whenever Miguel catches on that blissful, drunk tone of yours's. Raspy with a hint of sleep as if he's been trying to stay awake for you despite being exhausted after a few days of little rest. You would have felt bad for keeping him awake at a time like this had you not been thinking hazily, but deep down you know he couldn't sleep without you either.

Another giggle hissed through your dopey, toothy smile. Your happiness must be contagious because you could hear his own curl of his lips when he encouraged you to spill your thoughts for a second time when you left him hanging.

"You wouldn't believe what happened tonight, baby," you slurred into the receiver and he hummed. Your ass met the concrete hard when your legs suddenly felt like jelly, the dim street lights casting a soft ambience on the side of the bar. You only felt a little vulnerable when you found yourself alone on the phone with the little reminder that your lover is still on the road. "This, this stranger tried to make a move on me. A move!" You babbled as if it was the most surprising thing in the world, "And it's so crazy because I was like, heaving over the table like my last mixed drink was about to send me over the edge. I was not at my best."

The gentle chuckles on the other end came to a halt as soon as you brought up someone else, a stranger who you didn't even remember the name of. Miguel's quietness never caught your attention as you continued rambling on about it in your drunken state, holding your free hand to your forehead to try and stay upright against the wall of the bar.

"And, obviously I was like, 'ew, who the fuck are you? I have a boyfriend-'" You had mocked yourself in exaggeration, and when you heard Miguel's stiff huff of laughter on the other end you couldn't help but laugh in blissful unawareness. "But they wouldn't shut up and even had the audacity to pull me up towards them,"

Miguel had interrupted you this time around, an eerie atmosphere to his tone. Cold, a little distant. It put your hazy mind on edge, though he would never do anything to you. "Who was this.." He paused for a moment, and you could see the hand signals he would conjure when trying to find the word for something. "Stranger? This person?"

You caught your breath when he mentioned he was minutes away now before you answered his question, a warmth settling over your chest at the inevitable entanglement of limbs the moment you find yourself face-to-face with Miguel.

"Ah, some.." Your brows scrunched, trying to remember where the mysterious flirt was from until you realized it was a work party. "Co-worker, different department, obvious prick. Hated the way he spoke to me, was trying to explain some stupid shit at work that I obviously knew how to do."

"Love," He practically cooed into his phone, and you could see the way he shakes his head in both adoration and disbelief whenever Miguel uses such a gentle pet name. Such a simple one, but the way he looks at you as if you're the entire world and more rivals whatever paragraphs he could possibly write to express his feelings for you. "I need a name,"

"You do not need a name, Migs." You laughed, and you could hear the whiney scoff of his when you caught onto his antics despite being drunk. "That worries me. I don't need you getting hurt." And you swear you could hear a small whimper, the gentleness you give him causes his insides to twist and turn painfully. Always in a tunnel of self-depreciation, he tries his best to accept the sweetness oozing from your lips, but Miguel can't help but admit he's still not used to it.

Miguel knows he isn't perfect, the insecurities flow from his exhausted tongue frequently when he's surrounded with your touch and presence every night. But when he hears you off-handedly mention how someone tried to take you away in the unknown of their home, something inside him cracks just a little bit more whenever a situation like this arises.

"Baby," By each passing moment he stayed quiet, you felt yourself sobering up. Your worst days was whenever Miguel needed space from you for whatever took ahold of his mind, those nasty thoughts that tell him something differently than what you embed within his very being. If this conversation triggered something, you would respect it without a second thought-- but the idea of being without Miguel after such a taxing week had you hold back the emotions threatening to bombard your delicate state of mind. "Migs-- Miguel, what's wrong baby? Why aren't you talking, honey?" You pleaded into your phone, briefly checking to see if you had accidentally hung up.

"Fuck," you murmured to yourself, your phone falling to your side as your other hand met the bridge of your nose- a habit you've developed from the one you love. What a silly thing.

A car door sounded throughout the humid night air nearby, and you brushed it off as another person consumed by the nightlife. Probably going to down a couple beers to forget, is what your muddled brain distractedly made up to try and stop yourself from crying. Swiping at your cheek with a pathetic feeling pooling in the bottom of your stomach, you weren't sure whether the wetness meeting the pads of your finger-tips was the fog or tears dripping off your lashes.

Your name rings throughout traffic lights and bustling cars like a prayer, boots crunching pavement until pristine-white etched with red met tears cascading onto the curb. The breath you were close to being choked up on was caught in your throat as the calm he desperately tried to exude cracked the moment he caught the cries slipping from your skin.

You unraveled your posture, straightening your neck up to meet his gaze. Miguel didn't hesitate to drop to his knees and take you into his arms as if he was a child hugging a stuffed animal. His nose met the crook of your neck and he breathed in deeply, as if he had taken a moment longer to get here you would had slip away from him- fading into the city streets like a ghost.

"Why didn't you respond?" You practically whined in his shoulder, immature and woozy from the tipsy still lingering. He only held onto you tighter, scooping you up into his arms like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

He mumbled into your hair as you returned the hug and closed your eyes, drawing into a comfortable lull from the safety of his embrace.

"What was that?" A genuine question, you couldn't hear his grumble with his mouth full of your hair. But he only scoffed, and leaned down to brush his canines against the shell of your ear, sharp yet feathery. The contrast was like a bucket of iced water dipped over you, shocking yourself out of that drunken fatigue. His words came out of as a whisper, hint of jealousy as well as protective concern.

"Worried sick, mi corazón. I'm not going to sleep until I know that bastard who put his hands on you," It came out less like a threat and more like a promise, softened by the plush of your curls meeting his lips in a kiss. "El muchacho necesita una lección, hmm?" A chuckle rolled off his tongue as he swung open the door to his sleek vehicle, setting you down with utmost care. Before you could protest, Miguel took the seatbelt in his hands and buckled you in himself- sweet and slow and everything he wasn't implying.

"Miguel, I don't need to be waited on hand-and-foot." You complain once his left hand found purchase on the steering wheel, all for show you assume because in the year of 2099 you had flying cars and automated driving and genetic splicing. But he was smooth, you had to give him that, as his frown kept a cheeky little smirk at bay. His free hand found comfort in the fat of your thigh, thumb stroking the fabric that hugged your figure nicely. He made no move, keeping the gesture innocent with genuine affection.

Miguel's not one to really show physical affection out of the confinements of your shared apartment, but ever since you had mentioned the threat of someone else trying to dumbly scoop you up and send you on your way alongside them- Miguel had kept close. Noticeably so.

His hand found itself snaking around your back and resting against the flesh atop your belly button, wedging you within the curve of his side. Miguel had always been the one to be a bit whiney, but when you denied him the opportunity to allow him to sink his fangs into the softness of your neck and angle of your jaw, he'd accidentally pout in an unexpectedly cute way and brood like a ruffled pigeon. You never allowed yourself to tease him about it though, or else he'd catch himself doing it and stop himself. The loss of such a cute expression donning his permanent scowl would have you in shambles.

Miguel's not exactly the worst with words per-se, he could explain the parallels of universes and what exactly makes them tick in harmony with effortless ambition-- but when he's faced with the pure adoration swimming within your irises as the both of you do the most mundane tasks; cooking and washing dishes, piled up on the couch for a movie you had dragged him to watch- Miguel would grow subtly emotional to the point he would have to stalk up behind you and engulf you with a hug, a stray tear or two meeting the ridge of your shoulder. And you'd hold his arms meeting the bridge of your ribs, whispering; "It's okay, darling. I'm here, here only for you."

And he'd kiss the blemishes upon your skin in return, a silent thank you as he nuzzles into your very being- the constant need to be as close as possible undermining the physical touch he craved so desperately from you. If he could use his claws to carve into your ribcage and take shelter next to your beating heart, maybe for once Miguel would be able to sleep easily.

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara drabble

296 notes · View notes

blueywrites · 1 year

Text

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, angst, hurt/no comfort (there will be a happy ending!)

chapter ten : overcome (10k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the songs for this chapter are #29-#33. Eddie's two songs aren't mentioned by name, but the others are. #34 is a good add-on at the end if you want to cry harder.

Do you ever wonder what it’s like

Losing what you cannot be without?

I’ll keep running

Overcome — Skott

You’re staring down at the kaleidoscope of color that makes up your salad. The green of crisp cucumbers, delicate arugula, and soft, fragrant mint. The deep purple of olives. The burnt gold of rich chickpeas and toasty pine nuts. The pale cream of fluffy quinoa and the bright white of tart feta. Your gaze lingers longest on the oven-roasted tomatoes scattered like gashes of red amongst the roughage.

It's a Mediterranean salad your sister kindly prepared for your first lunch at work post-breakup, and it looks delicious— vibrant and fresh, promising a palate of savory flavors that will dance on your tongue. Yet since you sat down in the staff lounge to break for a late lunch, not one bite of salad has made it past your lips. Your elbow is planted on the table, fork listlessly poking around in the glass container as you slump, leaning your chin heavily in your hand. Your mind is far from the allure of color. It's distracted, just as it has been since the moment you woke.

You’re thinking about Eddie.

Now that your relationship with Steve is over and you’ve had the weekend to process it, your relationship with Eddie— whatever it is, whatever it could be— has been all you can think about. Longing, fear, hope, and guilt mix into a tempest while you chart patient records and call names into the waiting room. By your two-thirty lunch break, the storm has accumulated into a vague feeling of nausea that overwhelms your hunger. Your thoughts are relentless, swirling around in a looping pattern that seems never to resolve.

You dwell on Eddie’s gentle brown eyes, the softness of his kisses, and the rough pads of his fingers wiping your tears. You think about his manic smiles and his playfulness, his unapologetic dramatics and his frenetic energy. You remember the smoke words that still swirl around in behind your ribs even now. ‘I want you, y/n. I don’t want to hurt you; I really care about you. Anything for you.’ Wings flutter, your flowers bloom, and red fruit yearns to spill from your tongue.

But then the guilt resurges, sticky and insistent, mixing with the freezing bite of fear. You know you care for Eddie deeply, but how can you expect to compete with Chrissy? Saccharine-sweet Chrissy, with her powdery-soft skin, bright blue eyes, lithe arms, and delicate waist? How can you compare to high school sweethearts, to five years of history, to plans for engagement and talks of children? Five years versus five months. That’s all you’ve known him for. How could you expect Eddie to throw all of that away? You’ve told one another that you care. But when the allure of desiring what he can’t have is gone— now that you’re well and truly split from Steve— when it comes down to it, would Eddie balk at the reality of what that means?

And even if he doesn’t balk, you can’t stop hearing Steve’s words echo in your head.

‘I just feel bad for Chris.’

Despair slinks back, drool dripping from its maw to hiss as it contacts the tender growth of your green, singeing the leaves with bitter poison. Yet light and smoky charcoal— Eddie’s black and white— chase it away, nourishing the damaged leaves until all are new again, and the cycle repeats.

It circles over and over until you’re left with a final thought: Wanting Eddie to be with me… asking him to… it—

“Y/n?”

You startle, wide eyes darting to the doorway where Denise leans half-inside, stethoscope swaying. “Yeah?”

“Dr. Nichols is looking for you.”

You nod quickly, snapping the lid back on your uneaten salad. “Thanks, Denise. I’ll be right out.” You shoot her a quick smile, and she smiles back before leaving you with only the refrigerator's hum to accompany the swirling of your thoughts.

You know the loop can’t last forever; it must resolve somehow. And as you remember the hurt in Eddie’s eyes when he’d asked whether you were too busy to listen to his song, you also know you can’t leave him waiting. You need to talk to him.

So you find yourself seated at Penny’s kitchen island later that evening, facing an empty wine glass placed carefully beside the black screen of your phone. The wine bottle stares at you, and you stare back until you give in, pouring another half-glass of deep red liquid with slightly shaky fingers. The two in your stomach are already spreading warm from your belly to fuzz in your head, taking the edge off your nerves as you direct your stare down at your inactive phone.

The loop has been resolved, your decision has been made, and now, you’re just mentally preparing to ask Eddie if you can see him. The sooner, the better, you think, though the squirmy, tight nervousness has kept you from actually going through with it.

Finally, your nerves are numbed enough by the fuzz of the wine for you to make your move. You down your final half-glass of wine, dry and tart as it clings to your tongue and the roof of your mouth; the glass clinks definitively against the marble countertop, and you fix determined eyes on your phone. Before the courage can leave you, you swipe it open and find your text message chain with Eddie.

The last message is still Eddie’s song, and you try to ignore the pang it conjures as you type quickly and hit send before you can overthink it.

‘Can I see you?’

Straight to the point, no preamble. A little bald, truthfully, but it’s the best you can do.

Your fingers tap against the edge of the countertop as your eyes dart compulsively. They flick to the empty wineglass and the drop of burgundy clinging to its lip, then back to your phone, to the plants on the sill above the kitchen sink, then back to your phone. Back and forth as if you’re desperate to escape but can’t pull your eyes away from those four words for too long.

And then one more dart, from the shine of the stainless steel fridge to the screen, and Eddie’s reply is suddenly there.

‘Now?’

Your heart skips and thuds as you surge with nerves. You’d thought the sooner, the better, but you weren’t ready for that soon. You type with fingers unsteady from adrenaline. ‘Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow?’

His answer comes quickly. ‘I have a show tomorrow night. Come. We can do something after.’

You suck in a tremulous breath, stomach sinking even as you flutter with anticipation. Going out alone isn’t something you like to do; you tend to feel even more self-conscious without the buffer of a friend or partner to shelter behind. And considering the private conversation you’re planning to have with Eddie, inviting a friend only to ditch them as soon as the show is over seems selfish and inconsiderate. You chew on your thumbnail, debating for a tense moment. In the end, you think of the first time you met Eddie, how his brown eyes had crinkled with his wide, genuine smile when you told him you liked his music.

You know you can’t deny him.

‘Same place as last time?’ you ask.

‘Yes,’ he answers.

The loop has been resolved, but you’re slowly spinning as your fingers tap your final reply. ‘I’ll be there.’

–

The crumbling brick facade and fissures in the asphalt are the same as the first time you’d visited this bar, but the dry, brittle skeletons of weeds are now plush with green flesh and butter-yellow heads. When in February, the winter wind had cut through your puffy coat, your arms are now bare, skin dewy in the June heat that ushers you from your car to the front door. There are no frozen puddles for Steve to guide you around; you aren’t dressed in skin-tight white. Instead, your blue dress swishes against your thighs, and your sandals take you straight up to the front door.

You’d showered and changed after work before going out for the night, wanting to both feel fresh and use the ritual of preparing to help the time pass quicker. You opted for something light, a comfortable dusty blue summer dress with short sleeves that will hopefully keep you cool in the sticky humidity you anticipate will fill the bar during the show. Fumbling for your driver’s license in your crossbody bag, you approach one of the bouncers. He eyes you shrewdly as you finally wrench it from your wallet and pass it over. You stand with your hands clasped sheepishly until he gives it back to you, his face now impassive. Timid steps carry you inside.

You freeze at the threshold of the main room. It’s brighter inside this time; the lights have not yet dimmed for the performance, and rock music plays through tinny speakers, hushed slightly under the light buzz of conversation. It’s also much less crowded tonight since it's a Tuesday, though you are surprised by the disproportionate number of girls in the place. Generally, you’d expect to see more men than women on a Tuesday night in a seedy establishment like this. You spot the chalkboard sign beside the bar: ‘Tuesdays are for the Ladies! $6 well drinks and $3 shots.’ You suppose only ladies in college or young enough to be reckless with their Wednesday morning workdays would be willing to stay out late for cheap drinks, which explains the girlish squeals and tiny skirts lingering near the bar. They’re all clustered in little groups, pairs at the very least; a quick glance and you can already tell you’re the only girl here alone.

You inhale slowly through your nose, fighting against roiling nerves as your eyes scan the room for another reason. Luckily, not many tables are currently occupied, and you cut a direct path to the center of the room, hopping easily onto the stool and pulling your small purse into your lap. You take out your phone to check the time: it’s a quarter to eight, so you only have about fifteen minutes to wait before Eddie’s band comes out.

A peal of laughter has your eyes darting toward the bar, where many of the young women are still loitering, though some have wandered toward the front of the stage to wait for the show to begin. You turn pointedly from the bar, settling your elbows against the bartop as your knee begins to jolt. Though you know a drink would help to calm your nerves, you don’t want to be anything but sober for this conversation. It’s too important. So you weather your nerves, distracting yourself with your muted Tiktok feed until the lights suddenly dim, drawing your eyes to the stage.

Your breath quickens as the darkened forms of four masculine bodies trail out amid grinding ambient sounds, illuminated from behind by piercing red light. Feminine chatter crests like a wave as a crush of silky heads crowd together around the base of the stage. Though your view remains hazy, obscured by the harsh red backlighting, three bodies slowly materialize, gaining shape in the haze. And then, the final form takes center stage. It’s a familiar silhouette you would recognize anywhere.

A crowd of heads tips up to watch as the grinding ambient sounds fade, voices hushing until the entire room seems silent, as if put under a spell. After a lingering moment of tense quiet, two snappy drum hits cut through the air, and the front lights finally flash on as Eddie strums the first notes of the opening song.

He’s a study in black and white with a gash of red, and just like the first time, the sight of him consumes you entirely.

His legs are splayed wide, clad in tight dark jeans slung low on narrow hips. His long dark curls kiss his strong shoulders, wild and beautiful as they frame his pale quartz face. A white tank, near thread-bare and ripped, barely conceals his torso, which is branded with a tapestry of dark ink that smatters across his chest and travels down his arms like body armor. His deft pale fingers are adorned with those chunky silver rings, fingers that strum his sleek blood-red guitar with intent ease as he gazes out at the crowd. From this distance, you can see Eddie’s face clearly: sharp jaw, full lips, soft nose. Dark eyes that, despite the enthusiastic feminine squeals and reaching fingers of the women at his feet, scan restlessly until they skim yours, only to return and catch, holding fast once he realizes it’s you. You see the instantaneous shift— the way the dark umber of Eddie’s eyes lightens to honey and a corner of his lips tugs up in a crooked smile. He presses them against the mic to croon the song’s opening words: “Hey you.”

Your moth wings flutter at the intimacy of knowing that despite the multitude of women at his feet, Eddie Munson is singing to you.

As you watch Eddie perform for you, he watches you watch him. When his fingers shift on the frets, you feel those calloused pads rasp along the doughy flesh of your thighs. When his plush lips kiss the mic, you feel them brush warm along the shell of your ear. When those curls dampen with sweat, you feel them drag and tickle your soft stomach as he travels down, down, down your body. And when Eddie sings— when he drawls and croons and shouts til grit roughens and breaks the timbre— you inhale every ounce of smoke he exhales until it settles deep within you, heady and more intoxicating than alcohol could ever be.

Yet despite the charisma of Eddie’s performance, underneath it all, the writhing nerves never leave you, like you can’t allow yourself to forget the conversation that looms ever larger with each passing song.

After an extended set of seven consecutive songs, Eddie’s white shirt has gone near translucent from exertion and the humidity you’d predicted would accumulate in the room. That pale chest inked with armor is heaving, but his brown eyes are bright, lips split in a manic smile as he addresses the crowd with a hoarsened voice. “How’re we doing tonight?” He doesn’t shout; instead, he smolders, that amplified murmur almost a purr as the crowd shrieks their enthusiasm. You can feel how much they love him, and it doesn’t make you jealous; instead, beneath your nerves, you feel pleased for Eddie, warm with the knowledge that others appreciate him just as much as you do.

He continues, “We’re Corroded Coffin—”

A surge of more shrieking, and Eddie chuckles, husky and full, as his eyes flash to yours. He sees your broad smile, the pleasure in your flushed cheeks, and his smirk softens. “That’s Gareth on the drums—” Eddie gestures behind him, and it almost feels like he’s introducing you as Gareth tosses his brown hair and lifts his sticks before beating out a short, frenetic fill. “Jeff is on rhythm guitar—” The dark of his skin is broken by a flash of white teeth as he salutes before strumming a short chord, bending the strings so they whammy. “Brian’s on bass—” The larger guy with the bristly hair walks a baseline with thick, capable fingers. “And I’m Eddie.” Another round of cheers and clapping, and he grins again when you clap enthusiastically like one of his groupies.

Eddie’s grin fades, and he pulls off the mic; he says something inaudible to Jeff, who nods, communicating to the others. Before you can wonder about it, Eddie murmurs again into the mic, smoke voice low and close to intimate. “Wrote this one this weekend. Came together pretty quick.” And then he looks at you, and the expression on his face makes your throat go thick. “This is for someone sweet.”

Immediately you can tell that the mood of this song is very different from the ones that came before. Delicate and atmospheric, pensive, but not quite melancholic. You watch Eddie’s pale fingers pick the strings, knuckles ruddy above chunky silver rings as the notes ring out in the silence of the bar. And you feel it: the quiver of your roots, the stretch of your green as it strives for him. A deep, poignant yearning that mixes with a somber sort of weight as he starts to sing.

“Floating on the water, ever-changing. Picture hours out from that in tune with all our dreams.”

Eddie’s voice is always beautiful, and you told him that. But there’s something different about the smoke that flows from him now. As it rakes down your spine, its touch is gentle. As it enters your mouth, its taste is sweeter. You think it must be written all over your face, how it’s making you feel— how your white flowers open their faces even as a deep ache blooms behind your sternum, pricking at your eyes. Yet you don’t look away. You can’t look away because Eddie is singing to you.

But he isn’t just singing to you. He’s singing about you.

“The ocean takes me into watch your shaking. Watch you weigh your powers, tempt with hours of pleasure.” The intensity of your feeling increases as Eddie presses close to the mic, eyes scrunching closed as his voice goes higher, almost a caress. “Take me one more time; take me one more wave; take me for one last ride; I’m out of my head—”

He gasps a ragged breath, and your heart squeezes as the passion leaks through in that one word. “—tonight!”

The music intensifies, and the girls clumped around the stage are swaying, reaching their dainty fingers towards Eddie’s feet, hopping in their high heels to the beat. Because despite never having heard this song before, they love it. And, of course, they love it; the song is good. But you think even if the song wasn’t good, even if it was nothing more than clumsy notes spilling from trembling fingers and a cracked smoke voice, you would feel exactly as you do now.

Hearing how Eddie has interpreted and translated moments of your time together— holding each other in the ocean, trembling beneath him as you orgasmed for the first time, driving you home in his van, the only time you’d been alone together since the first night you’d met— is nearly overwhelming. It’s breathtaking; it caresses your green and pierces you at the same time.

Eddie sings about you, and as a watery smile blooms on your face, you watch him answer it with a gentle spread of heartbreaking pink.

–

When the show finally ends, the crowd at the front of the stage disperses. You remain seated on your barstool, your purse cradled in your lap, only stirring when you feel the vibration of your phone.

‘Come backstage. Use the unmarked door near the bathrooms.’

You suck in a shaky breath, trying to calm the immediate pounding of your heart. Here goes.

You venture in that direction, hugging your arms close as you skirt around bodies, following Eddie’s instruction. You duck into a narrow hallway and tentatively push open the door beyond the bathrooms, eyes darting down the darkened corridor until they catch on black and white at the end of the hall.

Eddie’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, the toe of one black boot planted against the concrete. Behind him, the door is open, and the warmth of the summer air rushes in with the chirping of crickets, soothing against your cheeks and neck as it blows back your hair. He’s cast in the glow of a floodlight just outside, which illuminates the darkness of his curls with warm light. As you approach him, fingers worrying the hem of your dress at your side, his features sharpen, growing clearer until you can see him fully.

He still looks incredibly overheated— the white of his ripped tank sticks like tissue to his abdomen and chest, and his curls are damp with sweat, corkscrewed at his hairline and hanging limp at the ends where they trail against the charcoal ink on his shoulders. You can see the visible rise and fall of his chest as he drops his arms, still panting from his exertions on stage. But his brown eyes are bright, and his pink lips are split in a manic grin. And as you get closer, you notice the wet spot on the front of his shirt, like he’d sloppily guzzled a water bottle and rushed right outside to see you.

Your heart lurches as you realize he probably did just that.

The poignancy of your yearning swiftly overtakes you. As you reach the threshold, Eddie steps forward, brown eyes warm. “Hey—”

You fall into him, arms crushing around his back, squishing your face to his sweaty chest. Eddie staggers slightly with an audible ‘oof,’ clearly not expecting the suddenness of your hug, but his arms circle you unhesitantly, holding you as you press yourself to him. You relish the warmth of his body despite its dampness; the tattoo of his steady heartbeat under your cheek; his scent in your nose, musky from exertion above notes of smoke and delicate apple. He chuckles as you cling to him, warm and husky. You sigh as his breath fans against the top of your head, and his chest vibrates under your cheek with his laughter. You hold on until you feel his chuckles subside, until the moment has lingered too long for the hug just to be a hug hello, but you can’t wrench yourself away. Eddie quiets, arms simultaneously softening and holding you tighter, and one palm settles heavily on the back of your head. It’s a comforting weight, giving you the strength to shudder a breath against his chest and finally pull away.

Eddie seems to have picked up on your nerves, and his brow is furrowed slightly even as you smile at him. “You were incredible,” you say sincerely, and a corner of his lips quirks. His fingers run lightly along the length of your hair, brushing it back from your face.

“Thanks,” he says, though the warmth is dampened by the question clearly pressing behind his teeth. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip, taking one tiny step back. Nerves wriggle up from the pit of your stomach to squirm in your chest, and you fight against the urge to fidget under Eddie’s stare.

“Can we sit in your van?” you ask, voice small as you look up at him. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” Eddie's reply is immediate despite the concern creasing his face, and he ushers you forward with a warm palm on your back, kicking aside the brick that was propping the door open. It thumps closed behind you.

The slight breeze is gone now, and the air is warm and stagnant, thick with humidity as if a summer storm is soon to come. Eddie’s boots crunch on gravel as he silently leads you to his van, parked alongside crumbling brick, waiting to be loaded after the show. He opens the passenger door for you, and you take his proffered hand, relishing the rasp of his callouses against your soft palm as he helps you up.

When Eddie clicks the door shut, the muffled silence— the sudden cut in the rhythmic chirping of the outdoors— leaves you feeling almost bereft. The chirping returns as he opens his door, stretching his lanky legs under the steering wheel as he settles into the driver’s seat. Sharply, he pulls the door closed, plunging you into silence again.

Words don’t come easy to you; you often don’t know what to say. And though you’d practiced it, these words are no different. It takes you a moment to struggle against the nerves and fear because you really don’t know how Eddie is going to react to this. It feels even harder than breaking up with Steve. Your fingers are trembling, and you clench them tightly in your lap as you push yourself to meet his eye.

Eddie still looks concerned, but his expression is open and accepting; his white is on display, and it helps you part your lips. Your voice is quiet but perfectly audible in the hush of the van. “On Saturday morning, I—”

Your words choke in your throat as your nerves spike. You push through, though you can’t stop your voice from wavering. “I ended things with Steve.”

Eddie’s shock is clear. His eyebrows jerk violently; his brown eyes widen as his face goes slack. Your eyes dart between his, anxiousness leaping into your throat to curdle there. You almost don’t want to examine his reaction, but you can’t help yourself. You watch Eddie attempt to school his features: brows resetting, adam’s apple bobbing in a thick swallow. The silence is becoming oppressive, and you almost feel the need to break it yourself, to fill it with babbling or tell him exactly what happened, every sordid detail. Anything to disrupt the overwhelming silence.

Finally, Eddie’s tongue darts out to lick his lips; they part, and he just asks one question. “Are you okay?”

His voice is such sweet relief from the tension that you release a sigh, but it’s the question itself— the fact that Eddie’s first thought is to ask you if you’re all right— that has your eyes stinging. There’s a sudden lump in your throat not borne of nerves, but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You take a deep breath, eyes darting around the cabin as you attempt to explain. “Something was always missing, I think, in our relationship. I just didn’t know any better. Steve was really my first boyfriend. I’d dated guys casually before him, but nothing was ever as serious as it was with Steve. And I thought things were good, and I guess they were for awhile. But….” Your eyes dart to Eddie almost shyly, darting away again from the intensity there. “These last few months changed how I saw the relationship, and I couldn’t pretend like everything was okay when it wasn’t.”

The flow of words slows to a drip until you feel you’ve finally released them all. You fall quiet, watching your thumb run against your fingernail for a moment until you hazard a glance up at Eddie again. When you make contact, he nods, expression open and accepting again, and his dark curls sway around his face. You want to tuck them behind his ear, but this next part is important, and you don’t want to distract from it. You hold his gaze as you add, “And you should know… I didn’t tell Steve about Friday. What we did. I couldn’t do that to him after Nancy; it would’ve hurt him so badly.”

Eddie nods again. “I get it,” he says. “I do.” And you think he does. His brown eyes flick away as he licks his lips again. “Was he… upset?”

He sounds careful, almost hesitant. You wonder if Eddie wants to ask whether he came up in the conversation, but you suspect, from the look on his face, that he already knows he did. You think of the dullness of Steve’s hazel eyes, the briny mud. You think of his mirthless chuckle, of the words he’d spit at you. ‘‘Cause then it means you can have Eddie. And you can convince yourself you don't have to feel bad about what you've done.’

You nod, and it comes out shaky and weak, just like the words do. “Yeah, he was upset.”

Eddie’s face creases further, and you think it could be guilt, that ooze you’re so familiar with. “Are you upset?”

You don’t have to wait for your answer to well up; you feel the words pooling on your tongue already. You marvel over how it should be awkward to talk about this with Eddie, but somehow it isn’t. “There is a part of me that’s sad it’s over. We were together for three years, you know? And sometimes it was really good. But after what he told me about Nancy and about—” You shake your head, interrupting yourself. “I don’t really wanna get into it, but… I don’t think Steve ever really healed after what happened. And it seeped into us. I think he did love me, and I loved him, but he was never able to be fully open and honest. And I don’t know if he ever would have gotten there with me.”

The familiar weight of sorrow coats your skin as you mourn what you’ve lost, but it isn’t as heavy as it had been on Saturday night. And you find that as you speak the words to Eddie, it makes you realize that the problem with your relationship with Steve was always as simple as that— that he wasn’t able to tend to you the way you tended to him.

Eddie nods again. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, though you suppose it isn’t out of place for the circumstances. And then he’s tilting toward you to reach over the armrest.

Your breath catches as you realize his intent; you untangle your hands in your lap in time for him to take one. His hold is soft, skin warm and rough as he anchors you with it, offering silent support. His thumb rubs slowly over the back of your hand, and the feeling makes your wings stir. When he finally speaks, Eddie’s smoke voice is quiet, still hoarse from his performance. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling both comforted and nervous. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’ll be okay.” You lean your head back against the headrest, allowing yourself a moment to indulge in Eddie’s touch before your nerves get the better of you. Gently, you pull your hand away, smiling to reassure him that you welcomed his comfort. Eddie answers the tilt of your lips with a little smile of his own.

Your eyes wander as you sit quietly in the interior of Eddie’s van, which smells like stale cigarettes and soapy, artificial pine. There’s a new pack of Twizzlers in his cupholder, not yet opened. You stare at it as you gather your courage, breath trembling in your freezing chest.

The conversation isn’t over yet.

“So—”

“Eddie, I—”

You snap your mouth shut as your voices overlap, and so does Eddie; your eyes catch, and he laughs. Though it’s a little awkward, the husky sound still hits you in that same spot inside, deep at the bottom of you. “You first,” he offers easily, brown eyes warm and glinting in the warm light of the van’s cabin.

You’re nearly shivering with the freeze that spreads along your sternum, and your heart races desperately behind your frosted ribs as if trying to escape its cage. Because it’s finally here: the moment you’ve been fearing. Dreading.

The conclusion of your loop.

“Eddie,” you say, “I need to be honest with you.” The impact of your words is immediate; the lingering smile slides from his lips. Despite yourself, you pause for a moment to memorize the way he looks before everything changes.

Eddie Munson is beautiful. His eyes are deep like warm honey, wide and framed by long, dark lashes. You remember how they crinkle when he smiles. His nose is soft, soft like the dark bangs that feather across his forehead. You remember how he buries it against your skin when his face finds the crook of your neck. His lips are pink, so plush and full. You remember how they feel trailing tenderly across your skin. His jaw is strong and sharp, and his neck is pale and corded. You remember how his throat rumbles against your lips when he hums contentedly. Eddie’s curls are wild and dark, and they skim the ink that darkens the pale quartz of his skin. You remember the black and white that has always drawn you in, the smoke of his voice that, from the first moment you heard it, called to something deep inside you.

Your eyes want to dart away, but you keep them on beautiful brown. “Part of why I broke up with Steve is because….” Your voice wobbles, but you steady it. “Because of how I feel about you.”

Your words fill the space between you, and you watch that beautiful brown go wide. And when it transforms— when it starts to melt, to spread gentleness onto the tops of Eddie’s cheeks— you hurry yourself along. Choking out the next word.

“But—”

The freeze of Eddie’s expression, the sudden arresting of his features, pierces you. But it doesn’t change what you realized. What you’ve decided.

You think of the loop: the poison of doubt dripping from despair’s maw, the hope of Eddie’s light and charcoal repairing its damage. But Eddie isn’t the only person that matters.

Chrissy matters, too.

When you pictured the beloved face of your friend, the charmingly crooked teeth in her broad smile, the sound of her giggle and her sweet voice… it wasn’t the sourness of jealousy that resolved you. It wasn’t the fear that you can’t compete with five years and talks of girls and boys or the insecurity that you’ll never be as beautiful as she is. Instead, it was the injury you knew you would inflict, the haunting question you couldn’t dismiss. You’d finally realized the indisputable truth.

Wanting Eddie to be with me, asking him to…

It isn’t right.

It’s nothing but selfish.

Selfish to want to take this man from your friend, a person who has never been anything but good to you. Selfish to break her heart for the sake of yours.

So you finish your sentence.

You look into Eddie Munson’s gentle eyes and whisper, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Eddie’s head jerks back; he recoils as if you’ve slapped him. His voice is no longer hoarse from the exertion of his performance. Now, it’s dry and cracked. “What? But—”

You rush to cover the cracks of his voice with your own. You know you can’t give Eddie a chance to say anything that might change your mind; this is already too hard. You picture bright blue eyes pierced with hurt. “What we did… it wasn’t right. Not to Steve, and not to Chrissy. We should never have betrayed them like that.”

Eddie’s mouth works soundlessly before he stammers, “I, I mean, I don’t… y/n, I don’t regret what we did. I’m—”

You cut him off again, pleading for him to understand. “I can’t get in between you and Chrissy, Eddie. You’ve been together for five years. You’re high school sweethearts!” Your chin begins to tremble. Earnestness becomes tinged with desperation as you admit your selfishness. Your shame. “She told me how— how you’re gonna propose to her soon. How excited she is to be your wife. How she wants a boy, and you want a girl. You’ve made plans for the future, and she was so excited, so happy.”

The impact of your betrayal hits you fully, and your lips press tight to contain a dismayed whimper. Horrible guilt oozes, crawling up, up, up to press against your teeth, to coat the back of your tongue until you feel ill with it.

Eddie looks pained. He looks nearly as ill as you feel. And you suppose it's finally hitting him, too— what the two of you have done. The realization only resolves you in your decision, and you let the ooze of your guilt leak from your lips, dribbling out to coat the center console that separates you. Your voice is thick with it. “She told me all of that, and then I still—”

You choke on the viscous ooze, unable to voice it: that you knew how much your friend loves Eddie, and you fucked him behind her back anyway. Your eyes sting with tears more insistently than before. “I know— I know you think you want me, Eddie, but we can’t do this to Chrissy. I can’t—”

You break off, shuddering a breath as you fight against your tears. You blink up at the ceiling, and as you wait for the tears to recede, your eyes are drawn to the warm light above. The one that glints off Eddie’s dark curls, haloing them in a bright glow. It burns into your retinas, darkening a rectangle in your vision, but you can’t tilt your chin back down. You can’t look away. Not until you feel the caress of smoke from Eddie’s quiet voice against your cheek.

“Is this what you want?”

Almost by instinct, you breathe the question in; almost by instinct, your eyes seek beautiful brown. Your growth quivers, reaching, striving. Your ripe fruit trembles on the vine, begging you to let it fall from your lips.

You want to say, No, Eddie. I just want you.

Instead, you say, “Yes. It’s what I want.”

And then he’s nodding like he had before. Accepting your words; never pushing for too much. Tending to you always. "I understand," Eddie tells you, and the lack of resistance brings relief and pain.

After all, it’s what he said. 'Anything for you.'

Eddie splays his fingers, holding out his hand palm up to you. A silent offering.

Lip wobbling, your eyes run over the callouses on Eddie’s fingertips, the glint of chunky silver on his fingers. His touch calls to you, and you give in. You allow yourself this last thing.

You take Eddie’s hand.

You weave your fingers with his, slowly, slowly, relishing the rasp against your soft skin, the warmth of his broad palm. And then, when your eyes turn from your clasped hands to his face, Eddie squeezes your hand. And he doesn’t release his grip; he keeps your hand squeezed tight. And so do you; you squeeze Eddie’s hand, and you keep it squeezed until the pain of your grief and yearning burns like a deep ache in your chest. Until it’s so unbearable that you can’t stand it anymore.

Only then do you break the silence. “I should go,” you whisper.

Your hand slips from his, and Eddie loosens his grip. You wrench your eyes from beautiful, glossy brown, and Eddie blinks and looks away. You find the door handle, and when you push it open, the chirp of crickets floods the silence. Eddie’s voice doesn’t join them. You breathe the balmy summer air and it chases the scent of smoke and apples from your lungs.

You shut the van door, and Eddie doesn’t stop you.

As you cross the cracked asphalt, leaving black and white behind, your leaves droop. The vines that hug your ribs sag as if shuddering a heavy sigh. Your blooms close their faces; your petals wilt, turning down toward the earth. Roots curl into themselves, seeking respite from peat now sapped of nutrients.

Because the source of your light has gone, and in its place, a full moon rises.

–

You don’t see Eddie Munson again for four months.

By the time summer’s heat has cooled and fat yellow dandelion heads have puffed white and blown away, you’ve grown used to the moon. But it wasn’t always so. The loss of those two men who once were so important in your life stirred up your dirt, leaving spaces needing to be filled; the earth within you shifted, groaning as it adapted to its new normal. It had been difficult at first. Their absence, the disruption of your daily life, was felt keenly. No longer did you reach for your bedside table upon waking at one in the morning to see the screen lit with a song. No longer did you exchange soft giggles with a dear close friend. No longer did you know exactly what you’d be doing on Friday nights— week after week spent tangled pleasurably with expensive perfume, citrus and sea salt, and smoke and apples. No longer did you stretch against the cool sheets of a king-sized bed; instead, the cheery window in Penny’s old office cast thick stripes of morning sun across your twin comforter. But the change of scenery did help. You established a new routine; there wasn’t even any reason to venture into the city aside from the weekends you’d spend leaning into old friendships you renewed with vigorous attention. Gradually, you eased into your new normal, and soon, the absences were no longer keenly felt. By fall, your moth wings have settled, adapting to the deep twilight that bathes you in a cool glow. You’d spent the first twenty-four years of your life illuminated by the moon, and you’d been content. You would be so again.

Never mind that contentment means cold. It means frost on sluggish wings. It means dormant growth, leaves curled towards stems, and fruit desiccated on the vine. Never mind that, because at least the ache has been numbed until it can no longer be felt. There’s a kind of peace in the coldness of the full moon.

And you’d just grown content with living without the light when it returns suddenly and without warning one innocuous Friday evening in late October.

The dusk casts deepening shadows over the couch in Penny’s living room, and the curtains stir in the crisp breeze where you’ve thrown open the windows. You’re seated at the kitchen island. A bouquet of flowers rests in a glass vase in its center, faded just slightly now, bought last week at the market on 28th Street. Paper plates form a ring around your cutting board, holding mounds of chopped carrots, red bell pepper, and onion that will be added to your stir fry. Your sharp knife raps rhythmically against worn wood, shearing broccoli into little crowns as your speaker cycles through your Liked songs on Spotify. Air So Sweet by dodie complements the peace of the moment— the smell of autumn leaves seeping into the deep mahogany of Penny’s kitchen cabinets, the rhythmic thumping of your knife, the words falling from your lips as you sing quietly under your breath, your voice high and delicate. “The air so sweet, I gulp and gasp for more—”

Three sharp raps cut through the peace, and your eyes snap to the locked front door.

You balance your knife against the edge of the cutting board, sliding off the barstool with a fond if exasperated sigh as dodie eases into Before the Fall. You pull your loose flannel tighter around you, gliding in your socks and worn, stretchy leggings toward the front door. Penny has been a wonderful sister for these last four months of living together, but sometimes, she can be a difficult roommate. For one, she is very particular about the organization of the fridge, and she has a strict and somewhat complex schedule for laundry and dishwashing that you have struggled to get used to. Despite her meticulousness in other areas, this wouldn’t be the first time she’d left her house key behind and needed you to let her in. Not a shoe is out of place in the rack near the front door, and yet Penny can’t be bothered to hook the key back to the keyring after getting a copy made for you.

You reach for the handle, huffing your tease through the wood. “Again, Pen? You know, I could just leave you out here. How much do you love me—?”

Your words die in your throat as the door swings open to black and white.

Eddie is standing stiffly at your door, hands jammed deep in the pockets of his tight black jeans, his wallet chain caught on his pale wrist. He’s wearing short sleeves despite the weather, the ink of his armor on full display, arms pimpled with gooseflesh in the autumn chill. You’re staring at the deep burgundy of his band tee, the first color you’ve ever seen him wear. His chest expands with a deep breath, and at the motion, your eyes flit to his almost by instinct.

Eddie’s dark curls frame his pale quartz face like a wild stormcloud. The softness of his nose, the plush pink of his lips, the brown of his eyes— they’re all exactly how you remember. A gust hits him in the back, and as his shoulders scrunch toward his ears, it carries the scent of smoke and apples.

When you look at him, Eddie’s mouth stretches in a twitchy, crooked smile. One booted foot taps out a frenetic pattern against the brick of your front stoop. When you look at him, moth wings twitch, awakening. They stir powdery snow, which falls silently to frozen earth.

And then Eddie speaks, voice like smoke incarnate. “Hi.”

You tip your chin up, and the smoke passes through your parted lips, sinking into the frozen earth at the bottom of you. Four months, and that’s all it takes: one glimpse of light in brown eyes, one caress of smoke against your mouth.

You thaw. You yearn.

You swallow down the surge of feeling inside you to hush a greeting back. “Hi.”

As you stare at each other, Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. He seems hesitant, unsteady, shifting his weight as if he’s uncomfortable in his skin. Another gust of wind wracks his lanky form, and his sudden shiver draws you out of your daze. You nearly trip over your words to ask, “Do you wanna come in? Come in—”

You step back, and he ducks inside, long limbs jerky like a newborn colt. You close the door against the wind, pausing in the tiny foyer that connects branching rooms. The paper plate vegetable mounds peek from the hallway in front of you; the kitchen speaker is muted by distance, but you can tell that Before the Fall’s acoustic guitar has subsided into the lonely piano and haunting vocals of Overcome by Skott. It’s exactly as you left it, that room, but when you glance back, the man now inside is suddenly sucking in all the light, standing like a gash of black and white stained red in the foyer of your sister’s condominium.

You don’t know what to do with him.

Your voice is a soft hum, almost sounding hesitant to draw his attention. “Um—” He’d been glancing around inside, but at the sound, Eddie’s brown eyes flick right to yours. “I was just making dinner—”

“Oh,” he says, face creasing ruefully, “shit, did I interrupt you?”

You rush to assure him, melting further as he winces. “No, no, it’s fine….” You edge toward the hallway to the kitchen, and thankfully, Eddie gets the hint without you needing to say more. He follows you, bootsteps heavy as you shuffle on your socks back into the kitchen. He’s behind you, but every sense is honed to his presence— the swish of his clothing as he walks, the hush of his breath. The hair on your arms stands on end as you gingerly pull your kitchen stool out, intending to sit back in your spot before second-guessing it immediately. You’re melting, you’re yearning, but nerves begin to squirm low; your fingers twist as you cast for something to say.

What would Penny do?

You find yourself blurting, “Do you want a drink?” Your brows pinch at the sudden shrillness of your voice overtop the soft vocals from the speaker. ‘Some lights are a different kind, never burning out,’ she sings; your gaze darts to Eddie’s eyes and away again.

“No, I’m okay.” Eddie’s typical confidence seems dampened; his voice is stilted, and his posture is stiff. He hovers somewhere between your fridge and the island. His awkwardness— the thought that he feels just as tense as you— is the only thing that keeps your nerves from becoming overwhelming.

Eddie speaks suddenly, and it nearly startles you. “How’s your car been?”

“...It’s fine,” you say, wondering if that’s why he’s here— to check in on your car, which broke down four months ago. Penny had picked it up for you; when you’d explained what you’d done, tears of shame pricking your eyes as you told your sister why you didn't want to go yourself, she hadn’t hesitated to act in your stead. Mercifully, though you know she hadn’t approved of how you’d betrayed your friend, she’d held her tongue. She could tell that any criticism of your selfishness from her would be nothing compared to your own.

You keep following this precedent of asking questions. "How did you find me?"

Eddie shrugs, a jagged little thing. Grinning now, casual— but his eyes say something different. "Just asked around."

You nod slowly. "So, how are you?" you try, pulling your flannel sleeves over your hands. “How's…?"

Her name sticks in your throat, conjuring imaginings of strawberry-blonde waves and soft smiles. Imaginings of dainty fingers painted red, a diamond glinting from her ring finger, brilliant as it shines in the light. Your eyes scan the rings beneath Eddie’s ruddy knuckles. All are the same, but then again, they would be.

Men don’t wear engagement rings.

There'd been a time you and Chrissy had shared part of life together, and now you haven't talked to her in months. You wonder if she'd been confused about the distance between you, how one day you’d just never spoken to her again. But she'd never reached out to you, either. You assume she must know you’d broken up with Steve by now; it must be old news—

"Y/n."

It stalls your train of thought entirely. The way Eddie says your name— like a tortured sigh, like rain after a drought, like the whisper of eyelashes against your cheek— makes you instantly silent. Your heart skips in your chest as you register the look on his face.

Eddie’s jaw is twitching. The cords of his neck are stretched taut, dark brows knitted over honey-brown eyes. Not angry, but bothered. Maybe anguished. He licks his lips, and despite the moisture, his voice still comes out hoarse. "I've been trying to do what you said. I've tried for the last four months."

Your breath catches, but the smoke sinks right through your flannel and into your chest, settling rich and heady behind your sternum. You’re standing beside the barstool, and you search for it with your fingers without moving your eyes from Eddie’s face. As he continues, your fingertips brush wood; you clutch tight to anchor yourself, each word cracking your ice to shards.

Eddie stares intently into your eyes as if his words don’t communicate enough. “I missed you. Every day, I missed you. And I tried to forget, to bury it, but I can’t….” He sounds so earnest that your brow crumples and your eyes sting. Eddie sees it and steps closer around the island, narrowing the gap between you. Honey brown holds you fast as he rasps, “Y/n, I can’t stop thinking about you. I care about you so much. So fucking much it hurts.”

Eddie looks down into your face, and he’s so close you can almost feel the tickle of his curls against your cheek, the brush of his plush lips against your forehead. You can almost taste the smoke and apples, the spice of his mouth. His hands outstretch, hovering near the softness of your flannel as if he wants to clutch at the curve of your waist. You nearly press forward to feel them, but you can’t. Not until there aren’t any diamonds in your mind’s eye.

Yet you can’t stop your ice from melting. And as it dissolves into water, roots absorb it greedily. Leaves perk, deepening to verdant green. The water surges through them, through stems and along vines, flooding into desiccated fruit. Red flesh plumps, growing sweet again. Waiting to be tended by calloused fingers. It bends, seeking him. And so do you; as if by instinct, you lean towards the light, swaying on your feet until you feel the heat from Eddie’s calloused fingers against your waist, urging him with your body, with your eyes, with your heart to touch you.

But Eddie doesn't touch. Instead, he speaks. “That’s why I…” He swallows thickly, eyes flicking between yours imploringly. “I wanna break up with Chrissy.”

I wanna break up with Chrissy.

The words echo in your head, and you blink. Your confusion is clear; your questions are simple, like a child’s would be, asked in a small voice. “You want to? Why haven’t you, then?”

“I—” Eddie scratches the back of his hair, all frustration and sharp edges. All flashing eyes that dart from yours. “She’s— she’s just got a lot going on right now, with her mom, and… next week is finals for her classes, and I’ve just… I’ve been working overtime—”

Your heart shrinks from every word until it’s cowering behind your ribs. Eddie pulls roughly at the neck of his shirt as if it’s too tight for him, and you see the truth behind the tar of guilt oozing beneath his collar. Eddie does want you, but not enough to forsake five years. Not enough to crush plans made for boy or girl. Not enough to rend his flesh, to wrench the claws from his back by force. Claws that will never retract on their own.

You force a weak smile to cover the wobble of your bottom lip. A smile of understanding. Quietly, you say, “You don’t need to explain, Eddie.” You nod, bobbing your head as if you’re agreeing to something he’d said. “Thanks for coming over to talk.”

Eddie must see the conclusion written all over your face; his contorts with distress, with urgency. He’s pleading with his eyes for you to understand. “No, y/n, I—”

Each word makes you shrink further. You try to force your voice to raise, to be firm, but it comes out wobbly anyway. “You should go, Eddie,” you tell him, eyes darting from that pleading expression. From the light in brown eyes. Because if you look too long, you’re afraid your moths will disregard the danger, flutter up, and chase it forever.

Eddie’s hands are still hovering near your waist, extended as if in entreaty; he dips them, and your breath catches as he boldly grasps your hands, squeezing tight. “Please, I really do.” His voice is a husky whisper, the timbre thick with yearning. “I wanna be with you.”

A flick of wings; a flutter, and then another. You look into Eddie's eyes and tell him the truth, even though your chin wobbles. “You can’t have us both,” you whisper, and he looks even more pained.

“No, I know,” he says, squeezing your hands so tight it’s almost painful. “I know. I don't…” He breaks off, voice trembling. “Can I please just… can I just hold you right now?”

It's so tender, the sound of his voice. It’s so poignant, his request. It’s so hard to resist the promise of Eddie’s warm body against yours, his arms holding you close, his heart thumping against your breast, his plush lips skimming your brow, his hand cradling your head as you dig your nose into his neck, breathing him in. And you could let him hold you; you could pretend, for a moment, that there is no Chrissy Cunningham.

You could pretend, but you don’t. It’s hard to resist Eddie, but you do.

“No, Eddie,” you whisper, pulling your hands from his. He lets you go, but reluctantly; when your hands drop to your sides, and you step back, his fingers outstretch as if by impulse. “I can’t,” you choke. “Not if—” not if I can't have you. But you can’t say that; you would crumble under the weight of those words. “We can’t,” you say instead, entreating him to understand.

You look up into Eddie Munson’s face, and every fiber of your being yearns for him. Your green quivers, reaching. Your wings flutter, seeking. The fruit of your soul is on your tongue.

You want to say, Please, Eddie. Touch me. Hold me.

You want to say, Please, Eddie. Love me.

Love me.

But you don't.

"Go home, Eddie," you say, and you try to be strong, but you can't help it; you never can when it comes to him. All the water within you— in your leaves and stems, in your flowers and fruit— rushes up to flood your eyes. It spills over, and with a tiny whimper, you start to cry.

Eddie’s instant distress is hard to endure. His broken voice begs, “No, no—” He closes the gap you’d widened easily, and you sniffle, inhaling smoke and apples as, in his haste, he misjudges the distance and brushes against you. Calloused fingers reach for you; they wipe your face tenderly, trembling thumbs swiping tears that fall and fall and fall with no reprieve.

And you shouldn’t, but goddamn you, you let him.

“Please don’t cry,” Eddie whispers, sounding utterly distraught.

But you can’t obey because everything inside you is crying out. The smoke is leaking from your pores— you're surprised Eddie can't see it clinging to you. It's condensing into fat drops of charcoal tears, running tracks down your face. Because you want him so desperately, but not like this.

It's not enough— to be with Eddie, but know he isn't yours.

You back away, and Eddie’s hands fall from your face. Three big steps, a gulf of distance between you. Words are hard for you, and there are none you can say right now.

Eddie’s face is creased. Those beautiful brown eyes are big and glassy, and there’s misery in the corners of his lips.

You’ve never seen him like this, but then again, he’s never seen you like this, either. He's never sounded like this— smoke voice thick and tight as if he’s barely keeping himself at bay. “Don’t cry, sweet girl.”

The sound of Eddie’s name for you fractures you further. You shake your head as if trying to shake the name free from your ears. Your tears still flow silently; your body trembles as you try to keep from losing control. You feel it pushing up your throat— a desperate cry. Despair. Not a hound, but a snarling wolf, growing fat off the verdancy of your green, now reawakened in the presence of beloved light.

As you shake, breath hitching, tears dripping from your chin, Eddie must finally realize the futility of it all. Abruptly, he fists his fingers in his hair. “Fuck,” he yelps, frustrated, helpless. Afraid.

He stalks away and back again, pacing restlessly as you hug yourself, trying to press the despair back in. No words to say. Just thick drops of charcoal tears.

And then, you hear a tortured sigh, like the way he’d said your name. You glance up, and Eddie’s smoke voice whisps from his plush lips, tight and thick and high, lingering in the gulf between you. “Fuck, I’m— y/n, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your face screws up, breath hitching and catching. Words finally come; you push them out. Firm, loud, and clear. “Just leave, Eddie. I can’t see you anymore. Just go—!”

As soon as you say the words, you feel it. The growl, the gnashing of teeth. You grit your jaw against it, nostrils flaring as you avert your eyes to your socks. You listen, and you wait.

Slowly, so slowly, Eddie’s heavy, slumping footsteps retreat down the hall. You’re fighting, nearly whimpering with your effort. The doorknob jiggles, and you suck in a desperate breath. The door creaks, and then softly, so softly, it closes.

Finally, you're alone, and finally, you release it. The wolf howls; its cry explodes from you in a ragged sob. And once you start, you can’t stop. Not until Penny tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, eyes widening as she hears the anguished sounds echoing down the hall. She finds the vase of flowers, the plates of carrots and bell peppers and onions, the mound of broccoli, and the sharp knife. She finds you collapsed on the kitchen floor, red-faced and howling in a puddle of your charcoal tears.

Eddie’s visit was cruel, but it was cruelty unintended. Eddie could never be cruel to you, and you know that. And you know something else. Something you didn't want to acknowledge, something you'd been trying desperately to numb in the cold of twilight, though seeing him tonight confirms it.

Eddie Munson planted the seed in that dark place at the bottom of you, the one you didn’t know existed. He tended it with his gentle touches and his quiet words. And now, your growth is firmly rooted. It has grown tall, weaving around your sternum, vining through your ribs, sprouting through your center. And it’s not just at the center of you. It is the center of you. The fruit of your soul, budded and ready to thrive; the source of your love, one and the same. Under the full moon, it had gone dormant, but it could not be uprooted.

And perhaps, in time, your green will cleave from the one who’d cared for it. But it’s clear to you now.

It will take much longer than four months for your love for Eddie Munson to wither.

#blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic

508 notes · View notes

j-eryewrites · 5 months

Text

Endure and Survive

Chapter Five of " A Sinner's Redemption"

Previous | Next

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 14.4k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Infected, descriptions of gore and violence, death, character deaths, suicide and mentions of suicidal ideation, the pieces finally click, LOTS of angst and little comfort, guns and other weapons (let me know if I mentioned anything)

Author's Note: I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday season! I was planning on this chapter to be around 10k but it ended up being 14k (I got a little carried away hehe) Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it! Feel free to leave comments and reblog! I love hearing your thoughts. Thanks for your support!!

Sleep had come easy to Piper. It was a foreign feeling as peace swept over her mind and body. And for the first time since she was twelve, Piper dreamed. The dream wasn’t unique; She sat on a porch watching the sun go down, taking a rainbow of colors with it. Hues of pink and orange flooded her view, and for once in her life, she felt alive. Of course, it wouldn’t be a dream if she was alone, so sitting next to her was Ellie. Her younger sister was bright, and her skin glowed under the departing sun. It was her and Ellie. Ellie and Piper.

Piper leaned into her sister’s shoulder, and a smile formed on Ellie’s face. She was reading her joke book. Ellie always had it with her. Piper peered at the pages and snickered when she found a horrible joke. Then, another figure sat down next to her. Piper was puzzled as she turned to her right. Joel. It was Joel. Joel was in her dream. Whatever confusion Piper felt washed away at the sight of him. She felt oddly at home. Dazed, she looked at Joel, Ellie, and the sunset. It felt unnatural not to have adrenaline pumping through her veins or her mind and heart running a million miles per second. She wasn’t on guard. She wasn’t FEDRA’s child soldier. She was just Piper, and next to her was just Joel and Ellie. They were happy, but what disturbed Piper the most wasn’t that she was delighted; she felt like she had found a home. This was her dream. Joel, Ellie, and her are safe, happy, and together at home.

But dreams do not last forever; before she knew it, the steel walls around her mind built up again. Her thoughts turned back to themes of violence and survival. She woke up and joined the war once more.

“Piper,” Ellie whispered when she saw her sister wake up. If it hadn’t been for Ellie’s hands holding Piper’s shoulders, the young teen would have collided with her sister.

“Ellie? What’s…” Piper followed Ellie’s worried gaze to a man standing behind her.

Forcing Ellie’s hands off her, Piper sat up and faced the man. He raised his gun and warned her not to make any sudden movements, or he’d shoot. Piper’s eyes grew cold as her instincts kicked in. The man, whoever he was, was nervous. His hands shook as he directed the gun at Piper. In any other scenario, she’d attack him then and there. However, there was another in the room. A kid, whom Piper thought to be about six or seven years old, held a gun at Joel.

“Els, wake up, Joel,” Piper calmly said as her eyes never left the gun before her. Her chin slowly jutted up as a sign of her cautiousness.

“Joel, wake up,” Ellie said. He lay sleeping. “Joel.” No response. “Joel!” Ellie yelled and grabbed onto the man’s jacket, shaking him awake. It was then Joel finally began to stir.

“Joel,” Ellie’s lips parted in relief as she saw the old man rise. Joel blinked his eyes slowly, with the fog of sleep still on his mind. Once his dark orbs landed on the silver metallic shine of a gun, his muscles tensed.

“Eyes on me,” the man said to Joel. “Eyes on me. You don't have to worry about what to say. We don't wanna hurt you. We wanna help you.”

Joel raised a brow at the man, and Piper held back a scoff. He wet his lips as he awaited the young man’s following words.

“Okay. Okay, um… I don't know what the next step is with something like this, but if I lower my gun… we didn't hurt you… so you don't hurt us… right?” The man’s gun lowered slightly.

“That's right,” Joel said. The words left his mouth too soon to convey genuity.

“That's a weird fսck¡n' tone, man,” the man with the gun said. His hands began to clam up, and his knuckles turned three shades lighter. If they gripped the pistol even tighter, Ellie was sure that lights where the man’s knuckles were would illuminate the room.

A gasp left Ellie’s mouth when the gun inched closer to Piper’s temple. Her sister, however, didn’t flinch. “That's just the way he sounds. He has an asshоlе voice. Joel, tell him he's okay,” Ellie begged.

Joel glanced at Piper and Ellie and then back at the man. “Everything is great.”

“Dude,” Ellie hissed with desperation.

The man’s movements were becoming more frantic, and Piper knew they’d probably all be dead if she didn't pounce. “Fսck! Okay… listen… I'm gonna trust you,” the gun lowered to his side, and Piper’s shoulders relaxed. ”Yes. But if either of you guys try anything…” he raised the gun again, alerting Piper. “Yeah? Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded.

Briefly, Piper peered over at Joel. Her eyes communicated her distrust in the situation; however, Joel’s warm eyes gave her a sense of ease. They would see where this went, and if things went wrong, they’d fight.

“Can I sit up?” Joel asked. His eyes darted between the older guy and the kid.

“Yeah. Slow. Get up slow,” the man instructed Joel before looking at the kid beside him.

“Who are you?” was the next question Joel asked.

“My name's Henry,” he introduced before pointing to the younger kid beside him. “That's my brother, Sam. I'm the most wanted man in Kansas City. Although right now…” Henry’s eyes scanned the three of them. “My guess is you're running a close second.”

Joel’s brow tensed. It was a subtle change that only Piper and Ellie picked up on. To Henry and Sam, he was still the man glaring at them.

“So…” Henry muttered, “truce?” Henry held out his hand as if Joel was going to shake it. Joel did no such thing. Instead, Joel’s posture tensed as Henry’s dark hand waved in front of Joel. Henry’s lips drew into a tight line before directing his hand at Piper. He got no response from her. However, Ellie stood up and grabbed Henry’s hand, agreeing on a truce for her two stubborn guardians.

“Truce,” Ellie mumbled before plopping back down and reaching into her bag to cover up the shaking in her knees. In the next moment, her hands were full of food. She tossed some to Henry and Sam.

“Where'd you get these?” Henry asked. His mouth began to water at the sight of the stale sandwich.

“From Bill,” Ellie replied, digging into her sandwich. “He's dead.” Feeling Piper's irked stare, Ellie rolled her eyes as she shoved a sandwich into Piper’s hand. The older teen’s stomach rumbled, betraying her cold stature. Reluctantly, Piper began to eat, slowly cueing Joel to partake in the meal.

Once they were all eating, Sam turned to his brother. His little hands twirled and waved, fingers bending and straightening to create symbols. Henry’s eyes followed his brother’s movements as everyone’s confusion grew.

“He says thank you,” Henry translated. He nodded as he gazed down at the food. “I'm guessing you don't have much, so… this means a lot,” he smiled.

Ellie grew curious, looking at the younger boy. His hand movements only intrigued her. It appeared to be a secret language. Her mind began to whirl with thoughts on creating her secret language with Piper and how cool it would be to torment Joel. “How old is he?” Ellie asked.

Henry placed down his sandwich and created some hand movements to communicate with Sam. The young boy nodded and replied. “He's eight,” Henry noted.

“Cool,” Ellie beamed as her eyes squinted, trying to interpret the language. “I'm Ellie!” She watched as Henry relayed the information back to Sam, trying to copy the signs subtly. Still, they were over before she could move her fingers in the correct position. Sighing in defeat, Ellie peered over at her sister.

The muscles in Piper’s jaw clenched so tight that Ellie thought she could throw a piece of coal between her teeth and find a diamond in five minutes. Quickly nudging her sister, Ellie saw Piper’s jaw unclench as her older sister flashed her a look of annoyance.

“You gonna introduce yourself?” Ellie asked, placing all her body weight on Piper’s side, nearly knocking the teen over.

Piper’s arm ached from the sudden force, and it took everything in her not to wince at the recent pain from the bullet’s trace on her arm. Quickly, Piper angled her shoulder to shove Ellie's offer before sending her another look that said she wasn’t planning on saying anything soon. Ellie huffed, the sound mixing a laugh and a sigh of disappointment.

“That’s Piper. My sister,” Ellie said, pointing to Piper. Piper whipped her head to Ellie. The tension in her jaw returned, and her eyes burned with the offense of being betrayed by her sister. Her internal vow of silence broke.

“Ellie!” Piper hissed.

“What? That’s your name unless you want to go by Annie Reaction,” Ellie replied.

“Fucking hell,” Piper cursed. “Of course you–”

“Jesus, you two stop it,” Joel grumbled. The girls grew silent. Meanwhile, Henry felt a wave of awkwardness grow between the group. Being a witness to the scolding of others was always strange, and he was unsure if he should disappear or contribute to the conversation.

“I'm Joel.” Joel scrunched up the wrapper holding his food and shoved it back into his backpack. He linked his fingers together and placed his gaze on Henry and Sam. “Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other; let's call this a win-win and move on.”

Henry’s face paled. Piper wanted to scoff at the young man. He had no clue how to deal with situations like this. “Well, I'm betting…,” Henry said, gathering his thoughts. “…That y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up, I'll show you one.”

Joel leaned back. His dark eyes scanned Henry’s for any sense of a lie. He found none in the young man’s honest demeanor. He glanced over to Piper, who had come to the same conclusion. Henry was right. They needed to escape the death trap of a city, and he just offered them their salvation.

꧁_____꧂

“Welcome to Killa City,” Henry announced as his arms parted to the panoramic view of the city that the building provided.

The view was not much compared to the sights Piper had already seen. It was a city. Buildings were crumbling and rotting underneath the strain of time and neglect. Dust was everywhere, placing the city in a tinted haze. As the young teen’s eyes scanned the view, she saw what had drawn Joel’s attention: the center of black in the middle of the city. The center was even worse if the rest of Kansas City had seemed barren. It was torched, leaving everything a charcoal-like color—a midnight graveyard. The sight made Piper shudder.

Joel was grateful he didn’t have to crane his neck to look outside the window. His back, neck, and other muscles were stiff and sore. They refused to move properly. It was another sign Joel was getting old. He let Piper fall asleep on his shoulder as they were sitting guard, and now his body was paying the consequences. Not that Joel minded providing a stable shoulder for the young teen to rest her head on, even if she was adamant about staying awake with him. The thought of Piper’s stubbornness almost made Joel chuckle if it weren’t for the scorched center of the city.

“No FEDRA,” Joel muttered. The view of the city did little to ease the knot of nerves growing in the pit of his stomach. These were the people they were hiding from, who set the Kansas City QZ ablaze. Who knows what else these bastards did and are capable of?

Henry nodded as he spotted what Joel was eyeing. It was the old QZ, burned to the ground. “Not as of ten days ago, no,” Henry confirmed.

There was a shuffling behind the two men as Piper leaned back onto the table in what was supposed to be a conference room. “We always heard KC FEDRA was…,” Piper began. Her voice was soft and almost indecipherable from the noises caused by Ellie and Sam.

“Monsters? Savages?” Henry finished. His wide eyes glanced back at Piper as he answered her. His dark pools reflected the horror and fires that set ablaze ten days ago, and she forced herself to look away. “Yeah, you heard right. Raped and tortured and murdered people for 20 years. And you know what happens when you do that to people? The moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you.”

“But you're not FEDRA,” Joel noted as he looked Henry up and down. Joel knew what FEDRA looked like, and Henry, well, he was in no way the FEDRA image.

Henry’s eyes glanced down, and his shoulders slightly caved in as if making himself physically smaller would help lessen the blow of his following words. “No…,” Henry shook his head, “worse. I'm a collaborator.”

Piper and Joel’s eyes widened at Henry’s confession.

“I don't work with rats,” Joel spat. His brows were furrowed, and eyes narrowed in on Henry.

Upon hearing Joel’s words, Piper felt her stomach churn. Her feet stepped back from the conversation as her arms defensively crossed over her torso. Joel didn’t know she was one of them, that she was FEDRA and had been for years. Suppose he was this pissed off at Henry working with them; who knows what he would do to her. She gulped, and her eyes blinked rapidly as she turned away from Joel, an action that did not go unnoticed by the man.

“Yeah, you fսck¡ng do. Today you do… 'cause I live here and you don't,” Henry hissed. “That's how I followed you here. I know this city, and that's how I'm gonna help you get out.”

A vein bulged in the middle of Joel’s forehead, deepening his wrinkles. “Why help us?” Joel asked.

“I saw what you did… the way you killed those men,” Henry mumbled. His voice was quiet as if he didn’t want the kids to overhear him. “Now, I know where to go, but I don't know how to make it through alive, not if it's just me and Sam.” Henry glanced behind to look at his brother, who was smiling as Ellie scribbled on his scratch pad.

“You seem capable enough,” Joel noted. “You're armed.”

Henry’s body shook in disagreement. “You're wrong and wrong. Never killed anyone. And pointing an unloaded gun at you was the closest I've ever come to being violent.” He let out a nervous chuckle at his admission. “So that's the deal. I show the way… you clear the way.”

Suddenly, a burst of light laughter filled the arm, drawing the attention of Joel, Henry, and Piper. It was Ellie and Sam. They were in a fit of giggles at something one of them had said. Henry’s anxious expression gave way to a soft smile. The creases on Joel’s face relaxed, and Piper’s arms unfolded themselves, resting at her sides.

“Haven't heard that in a long time,” Henry muttered. Piper nodded. It had been a while since Ellie had laughed like that. How long had it been since she laughed like that? Yeah, she played along with Ellie’s antics, resulting in a giggle here or there, but it was a real laugh where her chest tightened because she could no longer breathe. A real laugh where her eyes watered, and the sound no longer became aesthetically pleasing to the ear. If it was a laugh like that, then Piper hadn’t laughed in a long time. She thought back to last night. Joel had almost made her laugh like that. Piper’s chest clammed up on her heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe. She was getting weak. She was letting Joel in.

“So how are we gettin' out?” Joel questioned, his reluctance destroyed by the children’s laughter.

Knocking on the table, Henry got Sam’s attention, and with a few signs, a paper and crayon were placed in front of the three of them. “Highways…,” Henry took the crayon and began to sketch on the paper. “Downtown. Us. This whole area belongs to Kathleen.” He pointed out each area.

“She's in charge?” Joel asked.

Henry nodded. There was a fear in his eyes when he mentioned Kathleen. “Leader of the resistance. You can see the way highways bound us. They got people posted all around the inside perimeter. If we get close, we get caught. No question. So how do we get across?”

As Henry explained, Joel glanced over to Piper. She was oddly quiet. Yes, Ellie was the more vocal and talkative of them, but even so, Piper would chime in and comment here or there. Now, it appeared as if Piper wasn’t even breathing.

Again, Henry pounded on the table. The vibrations reached Sam. Some more signs were exchanged, and then Sam began to write. Joel tilted his head like a dog trying to understand the English language. The scribbling stopped, and Sam held up his pad. “Tunnels,” it wrote. Ellie peered over Sam’s shoulder to look at the answer.

“Boom.” Henry made an explosion with his hands to emphasize his point.

Joel’s confusion only grew. “Kansas City has a subway?”

“No,” Henry elaborated, “but they have maintenance tunnels. There's a bunch of buildings all put up by the same developers. And they share these tunnels, including… a bank building here.” His finger pointed to a square on his drawing, representing a nearby building. “So we enter the tunnels here… travel underground, and pop up here. Westside North. Residential. There's an embankment on the other side of the houses. We head down, a pedestrian bridge over the river… free as a bird.” He smiled and peered up at Joel and Piper.

“You're right. It's a great plan,” Joel agreed, and Henry’s smile grew. “So, what do you need me for?” The smile was gone.

Sighing, Henry began to tap the tabletop with his fingers. “You noticed anything strange about this city? I mean, other than the strange sh¡t you've already seen?”

Piper broke her silence. “No Infected.”

“Oh, there's Infected,” Henry explained. Joel and Piper realized that they didn’t like where this answer was going. “Just not on the surface. FEDRA drove them underground 15 years ago and never let them come back up. It's the only good thing those fascist mοthеrfսckеrs ever did.”

“So you want us going into a tunnel full of Infected?” Piper was already shaking her head at the idea.

“Everyone thinks it's full of Infected, including Kathleen,” Henry said. “Which means that we're not going to be running into any of her people. But you see, what I know is… it's empty.”

“You've been down there?” Joel interrogated. He was with Piper on this. They’d have better chances of taking the alive humans than a horde of Infected underground.

“…No,” Henry hesitantly said, “but the FEDRA guy I worked with told me that it's clean, completely clean. They cleared it out. All of it.”

“When?” Piper asked.

“Like… three years ago,” Henry replied.

Piper scoffed, and Joel began to step away from Henry. “Three years ago is a long time,” Joel noted.

“Okay, maybe,” Henry yelped, reaching out to the two of them to hold their attention. “There's one or two, but you handle it.”

“What if there's more?” Joel asked.

“Or one of those blind ones that sees like a bat?” Ellie interjected from the other end of the room where she and Sam sat.

Henry’s eyes widened with shock. “Wait, you… you ran into a Clicker?”

“Two of 'em,” Piper muttered. The mention of the clickers made the bite mark on her arm burn. She raised a hand to soothe the phantom pain.

Henry’s shoulders rolled back. “And you're still alive. You see? You're the right people. If it gets bad down there, we turn around and run back out the same way we came.”

“Oh, that's your great plan?” Joel sarcastically said.

“No,” Henry spat. “That's my dicey-as-fuck plan. But as far as I can tell… it's our only shot.”

A dull thud came from the table. Sam had his fist on the wood, waiting for their attention. He waved his hands around as Henry’s eyes carefully observed. “They're saying they're going to help us escape,” Henry said as he signed back to Sam. Ellie smiled at Henry’s words and playfully nudged Sam’s shoulder, asking him to continue their conversation via the scratchboard.

“You’re gonna help us, right?” Henry said, lowering his hands and praying that his words reached Joel.

“Joel?” Piper whispered, waiting for his answer. She knew Henry was all they had right now, and she couldn’t say no. Not when Ellie had a friend. Not when Ellie was smiling and laughing like she did before Riley died, before all this shit that has happened to them. This was how Ellie was supposed to be, not that Piper had her Ellie back; she was determined to keep it that way. Joel’s brown eyes looked down at Piper. Her eyes glowed with an eagerness that tugged at Joel’s heart. He knew he couldn’t say no, just like he couldn’t brush Piper off his shoulder the night before. As Joel agreed to the dicey-as-fuck plan, he couldn’t help but feel like a tiny sliver of the man he was before the Outbreak returned.

꧁_____꧂

They were running again. With the addition of two bodies, the group darted between garbage containers and squeezed between alleys, ducking low whenever necessary. The old bank building wasn’t far from where they had sought shelter before, but not far; it still seemed like a lifetime away as Kathleen’s men scoured the street, hunting them down.

It had felt like years had passed by the time they all had reached the bank. The interior of the building did little to conceal the five fugitives. Windows that were untainted by the dust allowed crystal clear visibility both ways, boxed in on the ground floor. Piper’s stomach hurled at the thought of being vulnerable from all sides. Her eyes twirled around frantically, looking for some possible escape for cover. Ellie clenched her hands, burying her nails into her palms. Piper’s worried expression only added to her own. Ellie trusted Piper’s gut instincts more than anything in the world, and if Piper was on guard, then something was not right.

“We need to get outta sight,” Joel harshly muttered to Henry. He sensed the girl’s unease. It was a mutual feeling.

“Uh… I,” Henry turned around, scanning the open floor. “I-I think it's this way.” His long legs quickly led the others to a set of stairs. Once the windows were exchanged for solid concrete walls, Piper felt slightly more at ease.

They descended the stairs. Their hurried footsteps clambered over each other, creating a loud noise. A large steel door with “Exit” written on it appeared. Henry was the one who pushed the door open, revealing a parking garage. A cool air hit the group, sending shivers down their bodies from the temperature change.

“Jesus, it’s cold,” Ellie shivered.

Piper glanced towards her sister before quickly shrugging off her jacket and handing it to Ellie. “Take it,” Piper insisted, and Ellie did. Piper wasn’t cold. She couldn’t be when her heart was running a million miles, pumping adrenaline into her veins.

“This should be it,” Henry announced as they approached another steel door. The labeling on this door was too faded to read. “You ready?” Henry asked Joel.

Joel’s unwavering eyes scanned the door in front of them. “Girl’s,” this caught Piper and Ellie’s attention. “Get your guns out,” Joel instructed them.

They didn’t need to be told twice to retrieve the weapons and flashlights. Henry eyed the guns but decided not to give them a second glance as he reached for the door handle and swung it open. Joel entered first. His flashlight and gun were in hand as he scanned the area. Next were Piper and Ellie with their respective guns and lights. There was nothing except water dripping as the droplets echoed throughout the tunnel.

“You see? It's empty! The plan is good,” Henry cheered.

Ellie, Piper, and Joel all winced at Henry’s volume. “Shh,” they all hissed at Henry, and his face faltered.

"The plan is good? We've been down here two seconds. We don't know anything,” Joel spat.

Henry bit the inside of his cheek. The tunnels were clear; anyone could see that. “Your dad's a pessimist,” he whispered to Piper and Ellie.

“He's not my dad,” they instantly replied.

“I'm not their dad,” Joel said simultaneously. They all glared at Henry for even suggesting such a thing. Henry’s eyes widened as he raised his hands, suggesting his regret in implying anything. “Just point your lights forward… and be ready to run,” he told the group.

Slowly, Joel turned around to face the long tunnel ahead of them. He waited for a few more moments. His mind was ready for sudden movements and the sounds of screeches and clicks. Nothing came, so he took a step forward and then another. The rest of the group followed behind him.

When Henry mentioned tunnels, Ellie thought there would be many twists, turns, and dead ends, like the mazes and labyrinths she had read about in some of her comics. However, these tunnels were straight and covered with many different pipes. “Tunnels” wasn’t even the right word; he should have said tunnel because there had only been one so far. There were no turns, dead ends, or monsters in the middle of the maze. Ellie was glad about the no monsters part. She could live without seeing another infected for the rest of her life. The no turns or dead ends were a buzzkill. Only so long could one walk straight before they started to think they were crazy. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Sam had been writing to her. They conversed via the scratchboard and imagined what it would be like if the tunnels were like those in the comics. The two talked about the rats that occasionally scurry between their feet or the few turns the tunnel now had. Ellie noted how much broader the tunnel was getting. The ceilings grew up a few feet, and she was sure they all could walk side by side with how far apart the walls were.

Soon, Joel’s pace began to slow, bringing the pace of everyone else behind him to a halt. There was another turn in the tunnel. This time, it led to a tiny hallway that, if Ellie reached out her arms, she could be touching both sides. It was darker than the rest of the tunnel and made her and Sam forget about the latest topic of debate on the scratchboard. The tunnel continued like before, but the claustrophobic enclosure gave way to a vast opening. The group stilled and stared. Something had caught their attention.

“Whoa,” Ellie gasped as she flashed her light around to look at the walls. They were covered in drawings of rainbows, flowers, children playing, and there was even a castle. The colors illuminated underneath the flashlights’ glow.

“Does anyone else think this is fucking creepy?” Piper whispered to the group. Something about the vibrant colors and the plastered smiling faces drawn onto the wall by children unnerved her. She grimaced as goosebumps formed on her arms, and she now regretted giving Ellie her jacket.

Sam was amazed at the bright colors and art. It reminded him of the pictures he made with Henry on the walls of their confined make-shift home a few days ago. In front of Sam was the door to the castle. He smiled and reached out a hand to open it.

“No,” Joel quietly said as he shook his head and pulled Sam away before taking his place and opening the door. Together, they all winced as a bright light blinded their view. There was light in this underground bunker.

One by one, the group scattered about the room. The walls had the same sort of drawings present in the tunnel before. Buckets of toys and books were lined up against the walls. On the far end of the room was a large drawing of a goal with the word “GOAL” written in all caps. On the other end was a kitchen filled with pots and pans.

“I heard about places like this,” Joel commented. “People went underground after Outbreak Day. Built settlements.”

Piper’s eyes caught sight of a giant whiteboard on one of the walls. Pieces of paper with children's drawings were taped alongside the “house rules.” Her dark eyes read down the list, her mood souring. It felt like she was invading a grave and was not welcome.

“What happened to them?” Ellie asked.

Piper peered closer at one of the pictures on the whiteboard labeled “our protectors.”

“Maybe they didn't follow the rules, and they all got infected,” Joel replied.

“Mm,” Ellie hummed before dropping her sack on the ground and picking up a toy car. She whirled it around the air and then dropped it on the table before Sam. They shared a mutual smile.

Suddenly, Sam reached the ground and picked up a worn copy of a comic. He began to flip through the pictures before Ellie burst with excitement.

“No way! I love these,” she exclaimed. Sam just nodded his head and smiled. Realizing her mistake, Ellie shook her hands in the air as if she was writing on paper. Sam understood and handed her his scratchboard. “I have issues… four, five, six, 11,” she wrote.

Sam replied with the issues he had.

“Ah. So cool,” Ellie replied. Leaning close to Sam, she slowly said, "To the edge of the universe…and back. Endure and survive." It was the signature catchphrase from the comics. Sam’s brow furrowed as he tried to read the young girl's lips. Gradually he started to sign along, understanding what she was trying to say.

“Endure,” Ellie muttered as she copied Sam’s sign for the word. “Survive. Endure. Survive.” Ellie was now doing the signs as Sam had taught her. “fսck yeah, man!” She raised her hand to give Sam a high-five. Once their hands collided, they giggled.

“Hey, keep it down. We're not out yet,” Joel reprimanded the young teen.

Ellie rolled her head back in disappointment. “Ah, c'mon. Can we just rest here for a while? There's, like, actually sh¡t to do here.”

“Wouldn't be so bad to wait the light out a bit,” Henry commented. Safer in shadows when we pop back out on the other side.”

Ellie’s eager eyes glanced over to Joel, who bit his lip. He looked over to Piper, who couldn’t care less if they stayed a while, before shrugging his shoulders and finding a comfortable place to sit down.

“Yes!” Ellie cheered before dragging Sam along to the painted soccer goal to play some ball. The two passed the ball between each other as a warm-up until they were ready to start playing. Ellie began to shoot into the goal. With one swift kick, the ball went into the goal.

“Let’s go! Come on! Yeah!” Ellie raised her hands triumphantly in the air. “Come on. Pass it back,” she motioned to Sam.

A few feet away sat Joel and Henry. They were situated around what Joel thought to be the meal table. He watched as Ellie and Sam passed the ball back and forth. It reminded him of…No, he wouldn’t let himself remember. Instead, he turned his sights toward Piper. It took him a moment to find her, but she was in one of the far corners of the room. Her back leaned against the wall as her eyes followed the ball as it was passed back and forth. Joel saw Piper grow smaller at the sounds of her sister’s laughter. Her lips drew into a tight line. She looked confused and uncomfortable as her eyes withdrew from Ellie and Sam. Piper looked at the shelves filled with books; her brows furrowed as her eyes glanced over the titles and authors of each book. Joel couldn’t help but think that Piper should be playing with Ellie and Sam. Yes, she was older than them, but Piper was still a kid. Kids loved to have fun, and soccer was fun. Especially the way Ellie and Sam seemed to be playing it. Yet Piper sat with her legs drawn into her chest, trying to, well, Joel wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to do. All he knew was that she wanted no part in the play.

A soft chuckle came from beside Joel. It was Henry. From the corner of his eye, he saw Henry smiling as his brother played.

“If you were collaboratin' to take care of him, I… I shouldn't have said what I said. I don't know your situation. And I'm not sayin' they should let it go, but…,'' Joel began his attempt at apologizing.

“Ah, that was awesome!” Ellie beamed as Sam made his own goal on the post.

Joel’s eye flitted back to Henry. “all things considered, seems kinda cruel…To send a whole army after you for that.”

“You know, I wasn't, uh… exactly telling you the truth before…,” Henry confessed, causing Joel to raise his brow. “About me not killing someone. There was a man, a great man. You know, he was never afraid… never selfish… and he was always forgiving. Have you ever met someone like that? Kinda man you'd follow anywhere. I mean, I wanted to. Well… I would've. Yeah, but, uh, Sam, he, uh… he got sick. Leukemia.”

Joel’s eyes glanced towards the ground as he felt his heart hurt.

“Yeah, anyway, um… there was one drսg that worked, and, whoa… big shock… there wasn't much left of it, and it belonged to FEDRA. And if I wanted some… it was gonna take something big. So I gave them something big. That one great man. The leader of the resistance movement in Kansas City. And Kathleen's brother,” Henry said. He cautiously looked over to Joel. “Yeah, so, you still think they should take it easy on me? Or am I the bad guy?” Joel shrugged as he thought of an answer. “I don't know what you're waitin' on, man. The answer's easy. I am the bad guy because I did a bad guy thing. But you get it, though. You might not be their father… but you were someone's.” Joel’s jaw clenched at Henry’s words. “See, I could tell,” Henry muttered.

A loud, playful roar erupted from Ellie’s mouth as she chased Sam around the room. The game of soccer was forgotten. The two of them darted past Joel and Henry, and as the wind from the children’s speed blew past them, Joel’s reflective daze was broken.

“We've waited long enough,” Joel muttered, snatching his flashlight and gun as he stood up.

꧁_____꧂

Ellie was trying her darndest not to laugh, but with how Piper’s sleeping face twitched as she dragged the felt tip marker across it, Ellie couldn’t help but giggle. Come on, it was peak comedy for the eight-year-old. Her masterpiece was almost done. All she needed to do was draw on the final touches. Then Piper’s nose scrunched. Her head jostled, ruining Ellie’s perfect line as Piper’s movement dragged the marker across her face. Ellie quickly pulled the marker back from Piper’s face as her sister raised a hand to wipe away the midday nap from her face.

“Els?” Piper groaned as she arose from her slumber.

Quickly stuffing the marker in her pocket, Ellie smiled innocently at her sister. “Good afternoon, shithead.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Ellie, what did I say about swear words…”

“Only use them when necessary,” she sighed.

“Good.” Piper sat up and glanced back at Ellie. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Piper asked quizzically.

Ellie’s face faltered as she tried to cover up her smug smile. “Looking at you like what?”

“Like…like you’ve–what did you do?” Piper’s brow raised, and her eyes grew serious.

A red tint appeared on Ellie’s face as she scooted back and began to reach for the bunk bed railing to help her stand up. “Nothing. I swear on my fucking life.”

“Ellie,” Piper said, disappointed.

“What, you not believing me is a good reason to swear,” Ellie noted.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she smiled.

“See, I told you that–”

“Ah ha!” Piper exclaimed as she snatched the marker hidden in Ellie’s pocket.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Ellie cried out as she tried to grab her marker from her sister’s hands.

Waving the marker in the air, Piper smirked. “What exactly were you doing with this marker?”

“Uh…drawing. Duh,” Ellie said. It wasn’t a lie so that Piper would believe her. Ellie hated how Piper could always tell when she was lying. She was trying to get better at it. Riley was even helping her here and there, giving her pointers. Which all worked on the FEDRA teachers, but still, not one had worked on Piper. She was just too good. Ellie couldn’t believe it. Piper was eleven and reading her like she was a book. It wasn’t fair.

“…Okay,” Piper sighed. “I believe you.”

Ellie smiled. Half-truths may be the way to go with Piper.

“What were you drawing?” Piper asked.

Ellie’s face fell. She was screwed. “Um…something. It’s a surprise.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?! I’m serious. I’ve been working really hard on it,” Ellie whined. She had been. Piper had been asleep for about an hour, giving Ellie ample time to plan her artistic masterpiece. About twenty minutes of the hour were dedicated to putting her idea to work. Twenty minutes was a long time. It was far more time than she had ever put into a work of art.

Piper raised her brow, and her eyes were full of skepticism. “You serious?” Ellie frantically nodded, and Piper sighed. “Alright, but you’ve got to show it to me when you’re done. ‘Kay?”

“Totally,” Ellie snickered.

There was something in the way Ellie stood in front of her with her hands fiddling with her shirt that tipped Piper the wrong way, but she chose to believe Ellie, giving her the benefit of the doubt. “Well, we’ve got to get to the dining hall,” Piper said, shrugging the sleep off and pulling on her shoes. They were worn to the sole, and the heel would have fallen off by now if it weren’t for the duct tape holding it together. She’d have to get new shoes soon. Maybe Levi would have some for her, Piper thought.

Feeling tiny static hairs at the back of her neck, Piper headed for the mirror to fix her bedhead. Ellie saw her sister’s trajectory and darted to the door of their room. It flung open with not much force, and Ellie entered the hallway. “Race you there, Pipes!”

Piper chuckled at Ellie’s antics. It only fired her will to beat Ellie to the dining hall. Hurriedly, she glanced in the mirror. She froze. Her hair was fine. It was hardly amiss. That was not what was wrong. Looking in the mirror, Piper saw Ellie’s masterpiece. All over her face were little squiggles and drawings. Some were hearts and stars, and even a mustache tinted bright pink. The cherry on top was the crooked lettering that spelled “Dummy.”

By the time the two girls showed up in the dining hall, they both were adorning the loving title of “dummy” on their foreheads.

꧁_____꧂

A chilly night air blew over the group as they emerged from the tunnels. Henry was right, there were no infected. Joel eyed the young man as he smugly led the group through the neighborhood.

“Do you know where we are?” Joel questioned. He eyed the abandoned homes. Their windows held the ghosts of a time before the outbreak. They stared as he walked along the once clean paved streets and litter-free sidewalks. His spine pricked as the eyes of the past washed over him.

“Yep. The other side.” Henry looked back at Joel and slightly snorted. “No. No one is here. No one's gonna be here because…,” Henry turned humbly and triumphantly shrugged his shoulders. “My plan worked.”

“So much goddamn talkin',” Joel groaned.

“I'm just saying I delivered. Make this right, go down the street, embankment behind the last house, and we're out,” Henry said.

They were almost out. Ellie softly smiled and peered to her side where Sam strolled. They were almost out, and she’d have to say goodbye to her new friend. Biting her lip, she thought of an idea; maybe she didn’t have to say goodbye. “So we cross the river, and then what? Where ya gonna go?” Ellie asked.

“Don't know yet,” Henry replied.

“Well, we're goin' to Wyoming.” Joel glared at her. Piper just sighed and rubbed her arm. The pain had returned, and she worried it was infected.

“What?” She defended, “It's a huge state. It can fit two more people.”

“Yeah,” Henry solemnly nodded. He glanced at Joel in understanding. He didn’t want a few extra people, and Henry wouldn’t force the older man. He didn’t think he’d get far since their deal was just getting out of the city. “Maybe we just call this a success and say our fond farewells.”

Ellie frowned. “No, he'll change his mind. Trust me. This is how it goes.” She cleared her throat and patted her chest with a fist, preparing her vocal cords to speak lower, and in a deep voice, she said, “He's like, "No, Ellie. Never, ever, ever happening. And then I'm like, "I'm gonna ask you a million more times." And he's like–

A shot fires near them. A dust kicked up, and the group ducked down low. Piper gasped, grabbing the roots of her hair.

“Move, move! Go!” Joel ordered as more shots were fired. Quickly, the group huddled behind a rusted car.

“The fսck is that comin' from?” Henry hissed.

“Shut up,” Joel spat as he peeked over the car's hood. His eyes narrowed. The dark wasn’t making it easier to see where the shots fired. A spot of bright light flashed from the upper window of a home. A bullet shattered a window in the car.

“fսck. Let's move. Let's go,” Henry whispered before he grabbed Sam’s hand and began to run the way they had come.

“What are you doin'?!” Joel yelled.

“Gettin' the fսck outta here!” Henry replied. A shot fired in front of them. “Oh sh¡t, oh sh¡t!” Darting back to the safety of the car, Henry turned to Joel. “What do we do?”

Piper nodded her head, wanting to hear what the plan was. Her gun felt heavy in her hand. She could do that. She could find the guy and shoot him. She could hunt him down. She never missed.

“All right,” Joel breathed. He shuffled around and solved his pistol into its holder on his side. “Stay here.” He crouched down low and shifted his weight forward.

“What?” Piper and Ellie blurted.

“If you don't move, he's not gonna hit you,” Joel explained. The girls were shaking their heads. “I'm gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back, and then I'll take him out.”

“But if you go out there, he's gonna kill you,” Ellie pleaded.

“Joel, I can do it. I’m smaller and–”

“No. I’m going.” He saw the fear in the girl’s eyes. Piper’s dark eyes concealed it better, but Joel knew. “Look, it's dark, and he has sh¡t aim. Nobody's gonna kill me.” He tried his best to reassure them.

“Then he's gonna kill us,” Ellie whispered.

Joel’s chest tightened. “Do you trust me?”

The girls shared a nervous glance. Ellie reluctantly nodded. Piper bit her lip and scowled. Her nose and eyebrows scrunched together as if it pained her to say yes, but she did. In her softest voice, she said yes.

꧁_____꧂

Joel was breathing hard as the shot kept on coming. Each wisp of air as the bullets hailed down only made his heart beat faster. It was his luck that the street was littered with cars, each big enough to cover his body. However, if luck had been on Joel’s side, then someone wouldn’t have shot at them in the first place. He knew no infection in the tunnels was too good to be true. Something had to go wrong eventually, and it just happened to be right before they reached freedom from this hell hole of a city.

It was like a dance how Joel maneuvered between the cars and the occasional mailbox along the side of the street. Each time he ducked, he was one step closer to the house, to the window where the culprit was shooting from. It was the last house on the cul de sac, standing tall and brown in the dark of the night. At least, Joel was pretty sure that the house was a shade of brown, but he could be wrong. He was convinced that this whole neighborhood must have been something to see in the days before the outbreak, but now it was a war zone. Now, someone was using the home to shoot at him and the girls.

At a certain point, the shooter had stopped. Joel wasn’t sure why, but they had. Joel hoped that it was because of a lack of bullets, but his fears came true when he heard the gasps of the girls, Sam and Henry. The shooter was targeting them. He had to hurry. As he darted between the bushes and trees on the lawn of the brown house, he caught sight of the bridge. Water rushed underneath it, echoing a calming symphony of nature. They had to cross the bridge, and then they’d be free. Joel could get to Wyoming; the girls could go with the fireflies. Everything would be alright. Except now that Joel thought of it, his stomach churned.

He broke into the back of the house and climbed the stairs. Joel’s gun was raised close to his torso as he checked his corners before proceeding. He had to get this right. He had to save them, to protect them. Another shot was fired, and Joel’s heart lurched out from his throat. Joel held his breath while creeping towards the room at the end of the hall. Brushing the door to the side, he aimed his gun at the man sitting in the chair by the window.

“Put the gun down, slide it over to me, and then stay up here for another hour,” Joel calmly said; however, nothing about him was calm. “That's all you have to do.” The man turned around and peered up at Joel. His shaking old hands changed grip on the gun as he turned around to look at the intruder. “Please don't do it. Please,” Joel begged. But the man did not listen. Another shot rang out in the air. Joel’s hand ached as he lowered the gun from the slumped-over body.

Suddenly, a static noise pierced Joel’s ears. “Anthony? Anthony? Anthony, hold them where they are. We're almost there.”

Joel’s eyes widened. “Fսck.” He clambered to the window and stuck his head out, and with a guttural desperate cry, he yelled to the girls. “RUN!”

꧁_____꧂

Ellie’s fingers fiddled with Pipers. Her smaller digits weaved around her older sisters. Each movement brought a sense of control to the young girls. They didn’t dare think about the silence after that last shot. They didn’t dare get their hopes up.

Piper’s ears twitched as she peeked out from behind the car. Joel was in the window where the shooter once was. She couldn’t help but beam at the sight, but soon her smile faltered. His arms were waving frantically at them, and he was shouting something.

“What’s he saying?” Ellie wondered as she stood next to Piper. Henry and Sam soon stood up as well. Each of them was confused at the sight until the final piece of the puzzle was placed: the sound of the revving of cars. They froze as Joel’s words now clicked.

“RUN!” He screamed.

Panic coursed through their bodies as they stood there, the ground now rumbling and the horrific roaring sound pounding in their ears. Then they ran.

“Go! Go, go, go, go!” Henry shouted as the group darted from behind the car and towards the house, towards Joel. Soon, their shadows stood tall in front of them. The light behind them grew brighter. Ellie cried out in fear as she turned around with her gun in hand to shoot. She hadn’t expected the car to be so close. She couldn’t see anything, yet her legs kept running. She raised her gun and shot. It missed. She fired the weapon until it was empty. The car was closer. She was going to get run over. Another shot rang out, and the car swerved off the road into one of the wooden houses on the side. Whipping her head around, she saw Joel in the window with a rifle. He had made that shot. He had protected them.

“Ellie!” Piper gasped as she ran back for her sister in the chaos of the crash. Ellie hadn’t even realized her legs had given out. “You okay?”

Ellie’s head nodded in a jagged motion before her lungs could produce enough air for a singular word. “Yeah.” With confirmation, Piper dragged Ellie over to where Henry and Sam hid. The four of them ducked down behind a nearby car as the street was illuminated from headlights.

“He's up there,” A voice said. “Fսck.” The voice was close. Too close for Piper’s comfort. She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed her gun. Her hands were shaking. “Two and two! Around the back, take him out!” The voice instructed. Her eyes shot open as she glanced at the house to Joel. The marching footsteps of the people faded as they approached the house at the end of the street. Piper bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Joel could handle himself. He had to.

“Dead end, Henry. Gonna step on out? Save us some time?” It was a female voice. Ellie hated to admit it almost sounded comforting, like a mother. “No? That's all right. Doesn't matter.”

Henry glanced at Sam, Ellie, and Piper. He could do it. He had to save his brother and the others. Henry’s eyes met Pipers. She shook her head at him, and he only smiled.

“I'll come out! Just let the kids go!” Henry yelled from behind the car.

“No. Sorry,” Henry’s face paled. “The girls are with the man who killed Bryan. And Sam… Well, Sam's with you.”

Henry shook his head. “You don't understand, Kathleen!”

“But I do,” the woman named Kathleen smiled. Piper could hear the chilling grin in the woman’s voice. “I know why you did what you did. But did you ever stop to think that maybe he was supposed to die?”

“He's just a fսck¡ng kid!” Henry pleaded.

“Well, kids die, Henry. They die all the time,” Kathleen said. “You think the whole world revolves around him? That he's worth… everything?” Piper looked over at Ellie. “Well, this is what happens when you fսck with fate.”

“Get ready to take him and run,” Henry whispered to Ellie and Piper. Ellie shook her head. “Yes. Do it.” His eyes turned to Piper. She couldn’t bear to look at him. They were the same. They’d do anything for their little siblings, so Piper agreed. She grabbed Ellie’s hand and then Sam’s, who looked confused as his brother stood up and out of the cover of the car.

“It's time, Henry,” Kathleen said.

“Enough! Okay.” Henry had stepped out and raised his hands. With teary eyes, he looked up at Kathleen. The burning home behind her framed her as she raised her gun at Henry.

“It ends the way it ends,” She whispered. Her finger cocked back and then hovered over the trigger.

There was a crash, and dust fell over the mass. The burning house collapsed, and the ground had caved in. Wood, tires, and the car had fallen in with as the fire crackled around. A colossal explosion fired up into the air, and all fell silent. Everyone froze as a deep rumbling came from the earth below them. Piper thought it was an earthquake for a moment, but the noise told her better. It was growling. An unearthly snarl escaped the pits of the ground. After all, it’s where they were buried—the infected.

All at once, wave after wave, they climbed out of the hole. The monsters screeched as they ran to the nearest human. They were fueled by a desire to kill and to spread. A rainstorm of bullets fired as fear overcame Kathleen’s men. All thoughts of killing a group of five were forgotten. The only drive was to survive.

Screams of “No!” fell from people’s mouths as Infected leaped upon them, tearing out their throats and opening their jaws to feast on their flesh.

“Run 'em down! Run 'em down!” A voice commanded, and cars began to drive down the street, taking out groups of infected.

꧁_____꧂

From the safety of the brown home, Joel watched as hell came thundering down on the street below him. The fires spread from home to home, painting the scene as a sight from hell itself as people were carved open by the hands and teeth of the Infected. Raising the gun, he peered into the scope. His eyes moved around until he had found them. Henry had run back to the cover of the car, grabbing Sam’s hand tightly. Next to them were his girls, Piper and Ellie. He would keep them safe. They would get back to him. They would cross that bridge. Cocking the gun, he fired. The bullet lodged into the head of an Infected, who jumped on top of the car, reaching for the group.

Henry and Sam ran away from the vehicle. Piper and Ellie ran the other way. Joel followed his girl’s movements and took out each predator. No matter how they grabbed, leaped, and screeched, he would never let them touch the girls. The first few shots had startled the girls, but with a quick, grateful glance up at him, they knew who their protector was. His gun followed the girls as they ducked behind cars and raced away from the bloodied mouths of the infected. His gun kept firing, taking out the monsters, until one shot was met with silence. The barrel was empty.

Joel’s shaking hands dug around for another cartridge, for more bullets. His eyes tore away from the window to re-arm the gun. When he looked back, Piper had shoved Ellie towards a van as an Infected pounced on the girl. It knocked her to the ground and growled. Its head whipped around to the younger and prepared to jump when its body fell limp. Joel held his breath, and it only returned when Piper shoved the monstrous body off of her. She was alive. The girls exchanged some words before Piper pushed Ellie into the van. The younger girl makes it in. Joel kept firing, giving Piper more time to seek shelter when she stopped. There was a roar that shook the whole street. A towering blob of infected snarled as it stomped towards the van, towards Ellie and Piper. Joel fired at the thing, and the infected howled each time the bullets hit.

Suddenly, Piper was gone. Joel scoured the crowd to find her. The light of the fire blinded him. Muffled shots were fired, and he whirled around to find it. Piper was luring the thing away from Ellie. He watched as she opened her mouth to scream at it before shooting it once more. Its pace picked up as it charged. Joel cocked the gun once more, but it was empty. He cried out as he watched Piper scurry away. Her body was hidden from view behind two cars. It was too late. The infected raised its arms up high and roared as they came down. ꧁_____꧂

“Hurry and get in!” Piper hissed.

Ellie whined. As if she didn’t already know what was awaiting them outside the van.

“I’m trying!”

“Ellie!” Piper glanced behind herself and froze. “Ellie,” Her tone hardened.

“I’m in! Piper, come on, let’s go–”

“I can’t.”

Ellie’s brows pinched together. “What do you mean?” There it was, that sickening roar. It made Ellie shiver. As she peered through the muddied glass of the van, she gasped, although the sound was more like a scream.

“Piper!”

Her older sister glanced back at her. Piper’s dark brown eyes were glossed over as she flashed a shaking smile. “Ellie,” Piper whispered. “I need you to–”

“No!”

“Ellie! I need you to hide. Stay low and quiet. Joel will–”

“Fuck Joel,” Ellie hissed. “You’re my sister. Remember? Me and you till the end.”

Piper bit her lip and cast her eyes downward. Her hand was still holding Ellie’s, although at this point, it was more like Ellie clung to her sister.

“Yea, me and you. So you’ve gotta keep goin’. I’ll live on with you. Just get out of here.”

Ellie was crying now. “No, Piper, no!” But it was no use. Piper had yanked her hand away from Ellie. Her sister’s screams challenged the Infected as her shots drew it away. Away from Ellie. “PIPER!!” Ellie cried as her eyes trailed her sister’s movements.

Piper’s sights were on the monster. The firelight illuminated the tears on her dirtied face like stars in the night sky. Ellie banged at the van window, slowly moving her body to keep her sights on Piper. The monster roared at Piper, and Ellie shrieked as Piper’s back hit two cars. The trucks caged Piper in, leaving her no room for escape as the Infected hunted her.

The Infected was mere feet from Piper. She had nowhere to run. Ellie wailed and screamed as she banged against the van. Piper’s name kept falling from her bloodied lips. As the monster raised its arms, Ellie watched Piper turn her head to the side. Their eyes met in a weak attempt to say goodbye. After that, Ellie could only hear the never-ending screams and sobs that were squeezed out of her lungs.

It was these cries for her dead sister that drew in a hunter. The tiny Infected clicked and screeched as its ears attuned for fear were lured in. Ellie gasped as the monster’s body twisted like a spider. The van rattled with the newest edition. That little huff of air sealed her fate, and the Infected lunged. Ellie cried out in terror as the infected struggled to climb over the mountain of seats to reach her. In the front of the car, Ellie used her legs to kick open the passenger side door of the van. With one powerful kick, the door swung open. Ellie fell out of the van and slammed the door behind her. The Infected shrieked, and its claw-like nails scratched at the window.

From behind her, a familiar voice yelped. “Get it off!” Henry yelled as his legs frantically kicked a snarling Infected away. Sam was beside whimpering as a second Infected was reaching for him. Ellie wiped away her tears and scrambled over to the monsters. Her pocket knife was in her hand as she stabbed the infected, grabbing Henry. A shot rang out as Joel took care of the one attacking Sam. Her hands reached out to take hold of Sam’s and Henry’s before pulling them up when all she wanted to do was crumble to the ground and cry.

“Thanks,” Henry said. “Hey, where’s Piper–”

“Gone,” Ellie said. Henry’s eyes filled with pity, but Ellie didn’t want his pity. An Infected screamed and jumped towards them before Joel shot it down. “Come on, come on!” Ellie waved her hands for Henry and Sam to follow. “Go, go!” She yelled as they made their way to the house at the end of the street.

Joe stood outside on the lawn. His gun was aimed to shoot any approaching Infected. Upon seeing Joel, Ellie let go of Henry and Sam’s hand and ran to him. His somber eyes only made her cry as she clung to his coat. Henry and Sam stilled at the sight. Joel lowered his gun and patted Ellie’s head. His words wouldn’t do anything for her. He knew that. His eyes met Henry and Sam, who shared the same solemn look.

“Stop!” A sheer voice cried out. The group whirled around and found Kathleen. Her gun was raised and aimed towards Henry. Joel’s grip on Ellie tightened. Kathleen chuckled. “You think you’ll get awa–”

Blood spattered on their faces as a bullet lodged in Kathleen’s head. The woman’s body fell limp, collapsing to the ground in a pile of sprinkling blood. Behind the deceased stood a trembling figure. Blood, ash, and dirt covered their body from head to toe, almost making them unrecognizable. Their dark eyes glistened as the weapon lowered to their side.

“Pipes?” Ellie whispered.

꧁_____꧂

It was black. Piper’s mind was constantly replaying her last few moments. Her desperate goodbye to Ellie as she ran away, shooting at the monster. Each shot hit. She’d never miss, not when it counted. She only wished Ellie could get away, that Joel would protect her.

Piper was expecting death to hurt a lot more. She had seen how the monster after her had torn off a man’s head before doing the same to the rest of his body, but nothing came.

The terrors that were occurring on the street still reached her ears. The pleading screams of men and women as they were scratched open, the infected’s hand burrowing into them. Gunshots firing in a feeble attempt to save oneself. But what she heard the most was heavy breathing. It was her own. She was still breathing.

Unclenching her body, she opened her eyes. She covered her mouth to stifle the gasp that tried to flee. The infected stood before her. The two cars trapping her were demolished by the brutal force of the Infected. It stood before her; its fleshy chest heaved as it looked down. Piper was scrunched into a tight ball as she stared at the monster before her. It was watching her–the mushrooms, where eyes should be, followed her movement. She gulped. It stood still, waiting for something. A shaking breath left her lungs, and the Infected leaned down low. The potent smell of death and decay flew into Piper’s face as it snarled. She pushed herself as far as she could into the bent-up cars behind her. Her eyes widened to the size of boulders as it opened its mouth. Its teeth were rotten and covered in blood, and its throat opened up enough for her to see the tiny spiral of fungus climb out of its mouth. The thing was reaching for her. She cried out and crawled out from under the Infected. It made no motion to stop her.

Swiftly, Piper rolled underneath one of the cars and watched the Infected roar again before its thundering feet chased a new victim. As quickly as she sought shelter under the car, she rolled out. Pushing herself off the ground, she observed the horrors before her. Infected screeched and preyed after the people. Fires raged on, burning the neighborhood to the ground.

A burning sweat made Piper’s tangled hair stick to her neck and head. Her shirt was torn and bloody, and her knuckles, elbows, and knees were bloodied and tainted with bits of gravel. Choking on her breath, her feet began to move. Piper’s eyes scanned the terrors for any sight of Ellie, Joel, Henry, or Sam. An ear-splitting screech impaled her ears; Piper jumped back to find an Infected. It stared at her before turning the other way. More monster screams, and rasps were cut short as the Infected fled from the stumbling girl. She watched as these things parted the seas of torching fire, death, and rot.

She watched as hell fell down on the people who were bent on killing them. The Infected ripping them apart. She passed by men who cried out for her to save them as the monsters feasted on them. Their skin squelched as decaying teeth bit down. In her daze, Piper’s feet knocked away a pistol. The handle and barrel were drenched in blood and chunks of human flesh. Reaching down, she picked it up and wiped away the gore. The reddish handle glowed in the firelight as she caught a look at her tainted reflection in the handle. Blood trickled down her nose and mouth. Her skin was scraped, bleeding, and covered in dirt. Her eyes were cold and lifeless as her freckles disappeared under the dark of the night. Looking in the handle, she couldn’t figure out what she saw, but it wasn’t her–it wasn’t Piper.

“Go, go!” Ellie screamed. Piper’s eyes whipped around, searching for her sister. Ellie was alive. Ellie. Piper found them at the house. Henry, Sam, Joel, and Ellie. They were all there. They were safe. The weakness in her legs vanished as she ran. The sight of them was all she needed to keep going. Her family. Joel and Ellie. Her home.

꧁_____꧂

The adrenaline depleted from Joel’s system as he leaned back on the wall of the motel room. It was the least smelly of the ones on the first floor, and the carpet wasn’t as moldy as the others. The room would do for the night.

From the side room, Ellie's voice was heard as she read the comic book to Sam. "Pew. Pew. As the Raven 01 approaches the red planet.” Ellie’s finger traced the words, letting Sam know where she was. Their eyes scanned the pages of the comic book, inhaling the magical world within its pages.

Henry glanced down at his food and decided he should save the rest for later. Wrapping it up, he sighed. “You think they'll be okay?”

Joel’s ears perked up. “Yeah, I think…,” his eyes trailed off to peer into the room. “…it's easier when you're a kid anyway. You don't have anybody else relying on you. That's the hard part,” Joel said.

His words conjured up thoughts of Piper. She had it hard. She was still a kid and had to go through everything with Ellie clinging to her hand. The teen in question had been silent the entire journey to the motel, and before anyone could ask the burning question of her survival, she excused herself to go find some mattresses for them to sleep on. She mumbled something about not wanting to sleep on the sketchy green carpet.

“Well,” Henry chimed in, “I guess we're doing a good job then. Piper too.” Joel nodded. “What's that comic book say?”

"Endure and survive,” Joel repeated from memory.

"Endure and survive?” Henry cocked his brow. “That sh¡t's redundant,” he laughed.

“Yeah, it's-it's not great,” Joel agreed, and for a brief moment, a faint smile appeared on his face.

“No, it’s not, “ Henry said.

As an uncertain silence fell between the two men, Joel observed Sam and Ellie. They looked content. Two kids doing what kids do best. His heart swelled at the sight. This is how it should be, thought Joel. His dark eyes lit up with an idea. “Look, I don't know exactly how I'm gettin' to Wyoming. I'm probably walkin'. But… you know,” Joel muttered. “If you want to.”

Henry bit his lip to stop the smile from spreading. “Yeah. Yeah. Um… Yeah, I think it'd be nice for Sam to have a friend.” He nodded his head in a feverish manner to hide his excitement. “I'll tell him in the morning. New day, new start.”

Joel nodded along. It was a good idea that would be the best for the girls.

Standing up from his seat on a wooden chair that was much too stiff for his liking, Henry pointed to the room. “I’m gonna go check on them.”

“Hm?” Joel’s eyes followed Henry’s direction. “Yeah, I should–I should check on Piper. See where she’s at on the mattress situation.” Grunting, Joel pushed himself off the floor and left the room in search of Piper. Meanwhile, Henry turned back to his brother and Ellie.

"Bingo! Should we knock?” Ellie read before turning to the next page of the comic book.

“Hey,” he muttered as he knocked on the door. Ellie tapped Sam’s shoulder to let him know his brother was there. “You need sleep,” he said and signed at the same time.

Sam sighed before rolling over on the bed and tucking his legs in tight. The pink plaid blanket did little to ease the discomfort from the decades-old mattress. It smelt of things that Sam had never smelt before, but he knew he didn’t want to smell them again.

Seeing Sam tucked in for bed, Henry turned to Ellie. “You should–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellie said. “I’m going.” She closed the comic book and placed it on the side table. Then, lying down on the bed, Ellie settled in for bed. Satisfied with the situation, Henry softly closed the door and left Ellie and Sam to sleep.

꧁_____꧂

The night air had gotten chillier the moment Joel had stepped outside. He wished he brought his jacket, but checking on Piper was a greater need. A slight tremor spread from his fingertips to the rest of his body, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed. Everything hurt, and Joel had to raise a hand to the wall to stop himself from crashing into it. Oxygen seemed to flee his lungs all because of her. Piper. The girl he thought died. He had seen it. She had been cornered with nowhere to run. The bloater was after her, and it was out for blood. He saw the cars crumple up as if they were soda cans under the force of the creature’s arms. Wincing as his breath came back to him, he heard a shuffling in a nearby room.

The room was only two rooms over from where they were, but it was still too far for Joel’s comfort. Stepping forward, his hand pushed the door open with a creak. Immediately, his eyes caught sight of the dim light of a flashlight.

“Kid?” Joel called out. He entered the room and glanced around. It was like the room they were staying in, except the ceiling had more water damage and mold. “Kid?” He repeated after hearing no response.

“ Room 4 has two mattresses in decent condition,” Piper muttered. Joel turned to find her unpacking her bag and laying out her sleeping bag. “You could drag ‘em over.”

Joel felt that same tense feeling enter his body from before as he saw her settle her things. “Kid.”

Fluffing up one of the pillows on the bed, Piper ignored Joel. Her face was still like that of a statue. Her eyes were cold and hard. Joel was sure if he reached out his hands to freeze.

“Kid, what are you doing?” Joel asked.

Piper scoffed. “What does it look like I’m doing? And I’m not a kid.” She still hadn’t looked at him.

His arm reached out, and his hand felt like it burned as he latched onto her shoulder, pulling her away to face him. “Look, I know what happened must have been–”

“Terrifying? Yeah, you could say that.” Piper bit the inside of her cheek. Her dark eyes still refused to look at Joel.

Joel held his tongue. He wasn’t sure what to say as his eyes took in Piper’s disheveled state. She looked awful, and it hurt him more than he’d like to say. “Hey, I’m trying here,” finally, she peered up at him. Her eyes glossed over. “Just…how did you–I saw that bloater–,” Joel whispered for fear she’d blow away if he spoke any louder.

“So that’s what they’re called.”

“I thought you died, kid,” Joel confessed. His eyes watered over, and his grip on her shoulder tightened.

Piper’s eyes briefly widened before she turned away, brushing Joel’s hand off her. “Wish I did,” she muttered.

“No,” Joel shook his head. “don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

Piper’s face tensed, and every line became visible. Her eyebrows clenched together so that they became one as the pain in her broken soul was revealed. “Then what do I get to say, Joel?! That I’m a monster! That the Infected treated me like their own! That they didn’t touch me! That they can’t! It’s because I’m like them. I’m a monster. I’m infected–”

Joel’s brows raised in confusion. “No, you’re immune. Just like Ellie.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Piper spat. “I’m nothing like Ellie. The infected still go after her. They will always go after her, trying to rip her apart, but me…? They just walk by as if I don’t exist. I’m one of them, Joel. It all makes sense. They were all after Ellie.” She tucked her arms close to her torso as she stepped away from Joel, putting too much distance between them.

“You got bit in the museum. You–”

“It was trying to bite Ellie, and my arm got in the way. Not that it mattered,” Piper explained. “I’m a monster.” Her eyes glanced down at the scarred bite mark from that day.

“No,” Joel said. He reached out to her. “You’re Piper.”

“And Piper’s a monster!” Piper sobbed. Her whole body shook as shaky breaths entered her lungs, fueling her pain.

“Kid, let's get back to the group. Ellie’s–” Joel tried to reason.

“No!” She yelled. “I’m not going anywhere near them, Joel! What if I….” Her voice grew soft and vulnerable. “What if I kill them? You said it yourself. I could still turn. Doesn’t matter if it’s days, months, or years. I could– I could go after Ellie. I could.”

Joel took a step closer to her, and Piper took one more back. Determined to keep distance. “You’re immune, kid. You’re immune, and even if you turned, you’d never hurt Ellie. I know it.”

“Bullshit,” Piper cursed as her back hit the wall of the room. Her knees crumbled underneath her, and her legs smashed against the floor.

“It’s not,” Joel comforted. “Come, kid. Let’s go.”

“I’m staying here,” Piper hissed.

“It’s not safe,” Joel pleaded.

“I’m not safe. I don’t feel safe in this skin.” She began to pick and pull at her skin. The wounds from earlier opened up, and fresh blood began to taint her skin once more. “I don’t feel safe around you or Ellie,” She choked on her sobs. “I–I should’ve died. I was supposed to die. I–”

Joel leaped forward and encased Piper in his arms. She tried to fight him. Her body twitched under his hold before the attempt to free herself stilled. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair.

Slowly, her trembling hands wrapped around his arm. “I’m so tired,” she breathed.

“Sleep,” Joel said as he lifted Piper off the floor. “I’ll watch over you and make sure nothing happens.” With an arm under her legs and another supporting her back, Joel carried her out of the room.

“If something does happen?” Piper whispered. “Will you shoot me?” Joel’s throat constricted. “Joel?”

Examining the girl in his arms, Joel’s eyes held a mix of fear and sadness. He’s been here before. His memory proved to be too powerful. Pulling Piper closer, Joel sighed, “Just go to sleep, kid.”

Piper was too tired to push the subject further. It would be something unspoken between the two. Joel prayed it would stay that way, for he knew his answer. If she had asked him that question in Boston, he’d have no issue with her request. But they weren’t Boston anymore. Joel wasn’t who he was in that city. He was someone else, someone familiar. It was as if he had discovered a pair of clothes from his past and decided to give them a try once more just to see if they fit. As he held the teen in his arms, it was no surprise that it did. Those clothes would always fit so long as Joel was willing to wear them. As for Piper’s request, he could never. He would never.

꧁_____꧂

Ellie couldn’t help but smile as Henry closed the door. He let them keep the light on. Everyone knows you’ve got to turn the light out when you leave a room where kids are supposed to be sleeping. Snatching the comic book from off the table, Ellie tapped Sam on the leg. He whirled around, eyes wide, until he saw her waving the book at him. He smiled and sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed to see better. Ellie cracked open the comic book and held the pages open so that Sam could see. Her thin finger traced the word bubbles as she softly read them. Her face was animated as if she was a part of the story herself.

"I don't see any weird movements. "Stiff? Negative. Damage here in Sector 153. Stella, can you hear me? I read you. Okay, from here…” Ellie read.

Raising his pointer finger up, Ellie paused and placed the comic book down. Sam reached to his side and pulled out the scratchboard. His small hand took the pencil and began to write.

“Are you ever scared?” he asked.

Ellie read his message and grabbed the board to write her reply. “Do I not look scared?”

Sam shook his head. "Never."

Ellie’s eyes fell, and she picked up the scratchboard. “I'm scared all the time…,” she wrote.

Sam scoffed. Ellie softly smirked and continued to write.

“… of scorpions!” She flashed the scratchboard, and Sam and Sam raised a brow, unamused.

She erased her message before writing her truest fear. “I’m scared of ending up alone,” she wrote. Her eyes began to water as she thought of today’s events. Sniffling, she wiped away a tear. She’d almost lost Piper, and she’d already lost so many others: Her mother, Riley, and Tess. Who else was going to be added to that list? Maybe Sam? Joel? Henry? Piper? “What about you?” Ellie wrote.

Sam took the board in his hands and slowly wrote his response. “If you turn into a monster, is it still you inside?” He asked.

Ellie’s brows furrowed in confusion, but her confusion faded as Sam raised the hem of his pant leg. The light highlighted the bloody bite wound. Tiny veins reached out from the injury, but Ellie knew better. Those weren’t veins. It was the fungus. She saw Sam’s expression falter, and without thinking, she pulled back her sleeve. She stuck her arm up to the light, and Sam gasped. She had a mark just like him.

“My blood… is medicine,” Ellie wrote on the board before showing it to Sam. He tilted his head. Quickly, Ellie fetched her knife out from her bag and cut her hand open. Sam raised his hands up in protest, but Ellie ignored them. Carefully placing her bleeding hand on his wound, she mixed her blood with his. Sam winced as her finger dug into the bite. But as quickly as it happened, it was over. Sam’s pants returned to cover his wound as Ellie bandaged her hand up.

“Stay awake with me,” Sam wrote.

“I promise,” Ellie replied.

Raising up his hands, Sam signed the word “Promise.”

Ellie followed suit. Her fingers mirrored Sam’s as she said, “Promise.”

With the promise to each other, Sam and Ellie hugged. Their bodies rocked back and forth to bring a sense of comfort. Ellie held onto Sam tightly. She wouldn’t lose him. Her blood was the cure. It had saved Piper after she got bit, so it had to work on Sam. It had to.

It wasn’t long before the light of day broke through the window of the motel room. Ellie jolted awake as the sun’s beams fell on her face. She groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eye. Looking on the bed next to hers, she found Sam. He was sitting up, looking out the window. The morning sun had painted a picturesque scene outside. The sky was a grayish blue, and the grass was a deep green. Ellie was glad to see green again instead of steel-gray buildings and dust.

“Hey,” she called out to Sam. Once the words left her mouth, she smiled, realizing her mistake. Shuffling, she got out of the bed and walked towards the young boy. He was humming a song she hadn’t heard before. She wondered how he even knew what he was humming but figured she could just ask him. Reaching out her hand, she tapped on his shoulder.

Sam whipped around. His eyes were dead as they scanned Ellie. Immediately, he raised a hand to scratch her. His mouth opened and snarled. Ellie screamed as he pounced on her and knocked her to the ground. The force broke down the door, landing them in the other room.

Ellie struggled to keep her hands up to keep Sam’s gnashing teeth away from her. Her whimpers and cries reached the ears of Joel, Henry, and Piper as they were shaken awake. Immediately, Joel and Henry reached for the gun lying between them. It was closer to Joel, but Henry was faster. Jumping to his feet, Henry aimed the gun at Joel and then at Piper as they tried to approach Ellie and Sam.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Henry discouraged.

“Joel! Piper! Joel!” Ellie pleaded. Sam’s deadly eyes bore into hers. Her friend was gone. She had failed him.

There was a deafening bang, and Sam dropped to the floor. A pool of blood spilled from the young boy’s head, turning the sickly green carpet a scarlet red. Henry gasped, and Ellie screamed. Piper’s body could no longer hold her up, and she fell to the floor. A permanent expression of shock was carved onto her face. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t–

“Ellie,” Joel whispered. “Are you okay?” He held his hands by his head as Henry’s gun trailed his motions.

Ellie peeled her gaze away from Sam’s dead body to look at Joel and Piper. Silent sobs fell from her lips as a flood of raging tears trickled down her cheeks.

Henry stepped back, pulling Joel’s attention. The young man’s body was eerily calm as his eyes conjured up a storm. The seas of Henry’s dark eyes crashed and shook.

“Easy, easy, easy,” Joel muttered. He took a step towards Henry, who had brought the gun to him. “Henry, gimme the gun.”

“What did I do?” Henry sobbed.

“Shh,” Joel soothed.

“What did I do? What-what-what did I do?” He looked back at his younger brother. Where there was once a bright smile now sat a gaping hole where the bullet had entered. Sam was dead, and Henry had pulled the trigger. “Sam?”

“Henry, gimme the gun. Gimme the gun. Gimme the gun, Henry.” Joel was begging now. “Gimme the gun.”

Henry did no such thing. Slowly, his steady hand brought the cool metal of the gun’s barrel to his head. His desperate eyes met Piper’s. It was only a brief glance, but it was enough for Piper to understand. In the storm of Henry’s eyes, Piper saw the girl in the abandoned mall. She saw the young girl tear into her own flesh, begging the dead monster to have bitten her instead. She saw the gun that had a bullet promised for her brain if Ellie was taken by the fungus. She looked at Henry and understood. Closing her eyes, she knew. Moments later, she felt the warm droplets of blood on her face and the bang of a gun. Her arm was burning now. The very arm where her teeth had dug into her flesh months before. It was scalding as Henry’s body fell to the floor. The very floor where his brother met his demise seconds before.

“Oh God,” Joel gasped. A prayer or a cry of shock, none of them knew.

A few hours. That’s all it took to dig the graves of Henry and Sam. They laid to rest in fields behind the motel. Piper had found some sticks to make gravestones with. Sticking them on the ground, she silently turned back to the motel to retrieve her things. She had said her goodbye, so there was no use sticking around, no need for tears, and no need for mourning. Ellie had followed suit, grabbing her and Joel’s things. The girls returned to find Joel patting down the soil. Heaven forbid if any animals got into the grave and made a dinner of the bodies of the people they could have called friends.

Dropping Joel’s jacket and bag at his side, Ellie placed down her bag. In her hand, she held Sam’s scratchboard. She crouched down at his grave and picked up the pencil, writing one last message before placing it down. Picking up her backpack, she threw it over her shoulder and turned to Joel.

“Which way's west?” Ellie asked Joel. The wind had started to pick up, and the pleasant weather from before had started to turn sour. It was going to rain soon.

Joel’s eyes squinted, and he looked around before nodding in the direction. His lungs were still trying to recover after digging the graves.

After getting her answer, Ellie started to walk, leaving Sam and Henry behind. Piper followed. The girls walked side by side, together but feeling forever alone. Joel wasn’t following them.

“Let's go,” Ellie hollered back to Joel. He removed his gaze from Sam’s grave to look up at the girls. They stood waiting for him to move on. They didn’t have time to waste. After all, a storm was coming.

Joel shrugged on his jacket and backpack before taking one last glance at the graves. The message Ellie had written would forever be burned into his brain.

“I’m sorry.” ꧁______꧂

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Previous | Next

Tag list:

@angelmenace

@mimi-luvzyu

@d4rno

@lizlil

@winterschildren17

@bartokthealbinobat

@sunsumonner

@lovelyygirl8

@homeslices

@guacala

@emsownuniverse

@thetiredtoad0-0

@galacticstxrdust

@jackierose902109

@stilllivindue2spite

@cowboypascal

@opalmanic

@kitdjarin1

@auggiesolovey

@soldierheart

@opalmanic

@mattmurdocksstarlight

@elegantfacetree

@pookiesmookie69

@scoliobean

@millie-mei

@kodzuvk

@graciesbow

@cozyphine

@celsmsowb

@your-shifting-gurl

@lol6cats

@severussimp

꧁______꧂

98 notes · View notes

ficsforeren · 2 years

Text

Our Little Secret - Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Spider-Man/Spider-Girl AU, Fluff, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger, a 21-year-old virgin college student who loves his camera a little bit too much, has a crush on you. Every night, he switches on his camera and talks about you but he never could find the courage to speak to you in real life. Strangely enough, he finds it easy for him to befriend Spider-Girl, the crime fighting vigilante, not knowing that you both share the same identity.

Chapter Summary: Due to some miracle, Eren finally gets to go on a date with you, and you look so pretty, so cute, he doesn't know if he can survive the night without drooling all over his shirt. He doesn't know that you're Spider-Girl, the same woman he's been spending so many wonderful hours together. You want him to find out about it, but at the same time, you know it's wiser not to say a word. But when one thing leads to another... Can you really keep yourself silent?

Content Warnings: explicit sex scene (happens at the end of the series, can be skipped if you want), swearing, mentions of characters going through depression, traumatic past events

Word Count: 10k

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter

The Coffee Club. 8 PM.

My first date ever.

The last time Eren ever felt this excited in his life was when his brother Zeke accidentally left his credit card on the coffee table. It was the best day of his twenty years of living, truly. Eren spent five hundred bucks to get himself a geometric wolf tattoo on his left forearm, and a full black tribal band tattoo on his right bicep. He wasted a few hundred more just to be a dick and get back at his brother for catching his private session on camera.

When Eren came home later that night with the biggest wicked grin and a shopping bag practically the size of his fridge, Zeke swore that from that day on, they were no longer brothers. “Oh no, I’m going to cry,” Eren faked a pout and a whine, going as far as puffing out his cheeks and pushing out his lower lip, but when he slapped back his credit card to his brother’s chest, Eren tossed him a demonic smirk. “Fine with me, Monke.” Zeke tried his very best to ignore his baby brother for, at least, a month. But only two days had passed and he came barging into his brother’s bedroom, hugged him from behind—causing Eren’s character on screen to get shot by this jackass named Noobmaster 92 (fuck you, Noobmaster92)—and cried out, “Please tell me you still love me! PLEASE TELL ME YOU STILL LOVE ME, EREN!”

So, yeah, that happened. Wait, what were we talking about again?

Oh, right! The date!

Eren has fantasized about going on a date with you ever since he got his first wet dream (he got it pretty early when he was still, like, twelve—probably because he kept stealing Zeke’s hentai mangas and read them in secret). At that time, the only female he had ever interacted with so intensely in real life was the little girl he met during his stay at the hospital (a.k.a you). Eren knew he had a crush on you from the start. He just didn’t know that he was down for you so bad that you began to take form in his dreams too.

To be honest, if he could select the girl he was going to have sex with in his dream as easily as he picked a character in his favorite game, he wouldn’t have chosen you. Of course, he would love to see himself, for the lack of a better word, fucking you in his dreams. Hell, maybe God would be kind and He would let you motorboat your tits too. But his dreams are filthy. Even filthier than his wildest imaginations and that’s saying something. And you don’t deserve to be treated like a prostitute or a sex doll. You’re a princess in his eyes—a goddess even, and that’s why you need to be worshiped. He wants to make love to you, not just to fuck your brains out in the nearest alley. Fucking is for bunnies. Or Muffin and that ugly pug that keeps trying to get inside his backyard just to get a quick hump. Eren isn’t like them. Eren is—

Damn it, we keep getting sidetracked.

So, about his date.

Eren has his thumb between his lips, teeth grinding against his nail as he sits on the bench that stands right across from the coffee shop where you’re supposed to be meeting him soon. He takes a glance at his phone screen, a smile naturally graces his lips when he sees his wallpaper—your pretty eyes looking like the most beautiful pair of crescents, your lips pulled back in the cutest grin. He notices that he’s an hour early (poor boy is too excited for his date), and that means he has to wait for another hour with his leg bouncing restlessly against the concrete, his nose turning a shade redder every time the night breeze kisses his cheeks. Spring is about to come to an end in a few more weeks, and yet here he is, still shivering like a baby deer.

He’s okay with being cold, he just doesn’t like it when the wind blows too hard because my Lord Jesus, I love you, but I spent literally an hour of my life trying to style my hair like this, so can you take it easy with the wind tonight, please? Thanks. It’s really nothing special, actually. He just tied his hair up like usual but instead of sporting that messy man-bun because he didn’t care, he’s going with the stylishly messy man-bun, as in he spent an hour in front of his bathroom mirror trying to trim and comb his hair here and there to make it seem like it already looks that good even without him doing anything. He had to watch a thirty-minute-long tutorial video called “How to Get a Man Bun like Jungkook from BTS” on YouTube to get his hair done right.

He’s dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans, a slim-fit white sweater, a nice jacket to keep him warm, and a great pair of boots instead of his usual sneakers to showcase effort. Eren still low-key thinks that he should’ve worn his suit but then again, he doesn’t want to seem too overdressed.

He’s brought you some flowers, a whole-ass bouquet called Grape Bubblegum, full of sweet colors and matches—the most playful type of bouquet, they said. The florist told him, “Judging from your story, I can tell she’s a very energetic person so I believe this one suits her best. I can guarantee that she's going to have the biggest smile on her face when you give this to her. That’s the best way to start your romantic journey together, don’t you agree?” It’s most likely bullshit—just another one of her marketing scams—but Eren snapped his fingers in the air, shouting, “Bitch, I’m sold. Take my fucking money.” Of course, he didn’t actually curse. Eren would never do that to older people. To his three years older brother Zeke? Sure, yeah, definitely. But to a sweet, sweet old woman who looked like she needed to settle in a retirement home for good? Nope.

Of course, Grape Bubblegum doesn’t look as playful and beautiful anymore when some jackass—who probably weighed a hundred pounds more than he was—accidentally sat on it on the bus. Never in his life had Eren ever felt like he was about to commit genocide from the amount of rage burning in his chest, but at that time, he really did. But no, instead of lashing out, he just said, “Dude, get off my flowers!” The two pink roses—which are supposed to be the highlight of Grape Bubblegum—are ruined but Eren continues to hold the bouquet close to his chest, not knowing what else to do since he hasn’t prepared another gift for you.

Should I run to the nearest store and grab some chocolates for her? He thinks, biting harder against his nail with his eyes glaring at his dark combat boots. No, that would make me look like I'm being half-assed about it. God, that’s the last thing I wanna do—to look like I’m—

“Hey, you’re early.”

“—BEING HALF-ASSED!” Eren jumps from his seat, his mouth spouting the last line that runs through his head as he’s shocked by the sight of you standing not a meter away from him. You’re just as surprised, taking a step back in reflex to avoid his head bumping against your chin.

“Sorry,” you say, raising both hands in the air to calm him down. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eren didn’t catch a single second of sleep last night trying to come up with the right words to say upon your first meeting. He has prepared a whole speech, something that goes along the line of: “Hey, you came. You look so beautiful. Is that a new dress? Looks pretty on you. Me? No, I just got here. Oh, right, almost forgot, I bought you some flowers. No, it’s okay, it’s nothing. My aunt is a florist so it really wasn’t a big deal. I just hope you’ll like them. You do? You love them? Oh, thank God. I was really nervous about this whole date. Yesterday was a mess and I don’t want to repeat that mistake again. Why am I going this far for a first date, you ask? Well… Isn’t it obvious? I really like you. You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I adore you with all my heart. Everything you do drives me insane and I just hope you’ll give me the chance to be closer to you. To understand you better. And to make you feel… my love.”

Okay, maybe it was a bit too much for a greeting—and corny too, probably, but if Adele could sing that line in a song, why can’t he say it to the girl who owns his heart? Nevertheless, it would still be a thousand times better than him spitting on your face—almost literally—while shouting, “BEING HALF-ASSED!”

“What did you mean about being half-assed?” And you had to ask about it too. Great. You could’ve just let him go, saved his poor soul by pretending like you didn’t hear him. But no, you just had to humiliate him even further this way. Because that’s where you find your enjoyment, isn’t it?

Eren, as he tries his best to stop himself from lying down on the pavement—crying his heart out—offers the bouquet to you with a pout and his shoulders sagging forward. You blink twice, a bit stunned as you’ve never received flowers on a first date before. You thought it was going to be a casual date—just two friends hanging out, trading coquettish smiles and flirty banter over a cup of coffee. But no, apparently for Eren, this is serious.

“Some fat guy sat on them when I was on the bus,” Eren murmurs with his chin tucked, his invisible puppy ears going down. “I’m sorry. I wanted to buy you something else but I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it on time for our date. I thought about getting you chocolates from the store, but I didn’t want to seem like I was being—"

“Half-assed about it,” you finish, accepting the flowers from his hands. Happiness glows inside you. He doesn’t need to bring you flowers to make you smile. Just seeing him like this, with his blush painting his cheeks and a pout growing prominent on his face, this is enough. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring me anything. I already feel so happy knowing that you put that much thought into it. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.”

“Is there anything I could do for you?” You offer him a benign smile. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

Eren swallows, his mind coming up with a thousand different answers at once. Of course, he has something he wants you to do for him. He has a lot of things he wants you to do, to him, for him, and with him. But one thought stands more vividly than the rest, especially when he rakes his eyes over your appearance. You’re wearing a soft pink trench coat above your black skirt and chiffon blouse, and a pair of boots that accentuate your legs. On top of your hair is a beanie—the cutest one he’s ever seen—to keep yourself warm, and a patterned navy blue scarf to protect your neck from the night wind. You look like you’re walking out of a romantic movie, a true heroine of a beautiful love story.

“Can I, umm…” He tightens his grip around the strap of his bag that’s hanging on one shoulder. “Can I take your picture? I-if you don’t mind.”

“You mean right now?” You look around to take a quick scan of your surroundings. A few people are walking down the pavements, mostly young couples sharing giggles between conversations as they hold each other’s hands.

Eren notices how you seem a bit uncomfortable by the thought of striking poses in public. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he hastily adds.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, smoothening down your skirt. You move closer to the streetlamp to get better lighting, standing a bit awkwardly as you hold his flower tightly in your hands. “Like this? Let me know if I look weird, okay?”

“You’re beautiful,” he says without even giving a second for his brain to digest your words. Retrieving his DSLR camera from his bag, he takes off his lens cover and offers you a sheepish smile. “You’ll always look beautiful to me, no matter what you do. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“That’s…” You can already feel your heart pounding like a drum and your date just started literally seven minutes ago. “That’s too much, but thank you.”

Seeing how your usually confident self is turning diffident, Eren feels his cheeks getting warmer. Ah, she’s so cute, he wants to shout it to the world. “I will, umm,” he clears her throat, bringing his camera closer to his face. “I will just—“

“Yeah, just take it.”

It feels so awkward having him take pictures of you on the street like this as you are more accustomed to striking poses while keeping your identity hidden underneath your Spider-Girl costume. You feel bare and exposed, feeling how intense his gaze is even from behind his camera. After a few clicks, Eren brings his device down, taking a quick look at the photos.

“Do they come out nice?” You ask him.

“Yes.” He seems immensely pleased, looking like he just had his wish granted after years of waiting, which in a way, is true. “You look perfect.”

Ignoring the way your stomach somersault from his comment, you take a stride toward him. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who gets photographed over here.” Eren watches you take out your phone from your coat pocket. “Can I? To commemorate our first date.”

Eren, realizing what you’re planning to do, nods shakily. “S-sure.” Never in his life had he thought he would have the chance to take a selfie together with you but there he is, standing close enough for him to get a waft of your shampoo.

“Maybe it’s better if you hold it since you’re taller than me,” you say and he nods again. His words have left him for good. Your scent’s too intoxicating for him to think.

Taking a hold of your phone, he bends down a little to fit his face right next to yours in the frame. “Okay, uhh, on three,” he says, sounding noticeably nervous and you refrain yourself from giggling. “One, two…” He taps his thumb twice on your phone’s screen before he hands it back to you. You take a look at them together, with Eren, who’s standing close behind you, grimacing right away at the sight. “Ugh, I look so weird.”

“No, you’re cute,” you correct him, turning his body stiff when you suddenly look up at him. The proximity you’re in is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and while you do feel your heartbeat escalating just a tad faster, Eren’s is soaring through the roof. “You’re the cutest boy I’ve ever taken a selfie with. Thank you, Eren.”

“Umm, yeah…” You can see his eyes drift down to your lips before he averts his gaze. “Y-you’re welcome.”

“Is it okay if we take another one?”

She’s planning to kill me, she really is. “Sure.”

Eren is somewhat right because you do have a plan, not to kill him, just… tease him a little bit. “Ready? One, two…” Right as he clicks the shutter button on your screen, you stand on your toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. Eren’s eyes widen in surprise, the camera catches a picture of it. Your phone nearly slips out of his grip when he backs away from you, face flushed. “What—why—did you just—” he stammers, his thoughts scattering all over the place.

Giggling, you snatch back your phone from his hand, going through your gallery. “Hey, it looks perfect!” You chirp gleefully while Eren is still trying to collect himself. You hook a hand around his arm, tugging him close until his shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t we look cute together?” You show him the picture of you looking like nothing but a pair of lovers with scarlet cheeks and an innocent kiss. Eren is blushing hard enough for his ears to buzz. He still can’t believe this is happening. “Do you want me to send the pictures to you?”

He gives three little timid nods. “Y-yes, please.”

Cute, cute, cute, cute, he’s so cute. “Okay, done. Now we can have matching wallpapers if you want.”

Fourteen minutes into the date and this is already the best thing that’s ever happened in his life.

As he places back his camera into his bag, You take a moment to breathe in the scent of roses and lavender from the bouquet he’s given you. You have the most radiant, expressive smile breaking on your lips as you close your eyes, reveling in the fragrance.

Watching you like this… Eren feels his heart singing again. You look so small, so delicate. Graceful too with your fingers pushing a lock of your hair so it won’t fall over your face. You leave him dizzy, breathless even, just by the mere sight of you looking up at him from underneath your lashes. “I’ll put this in a vase when I get home. They say fresh flowers could last up to twelve days if you take care of them properly. I’ll try my best to make them last.”

God, you would look so pretty in a wedding dress. “Y-you don’t have to. I will get you new flowers when they’ve withered away. I can send you a bouquet every week if you want.”

“How very committed of you,” you croon, pursing your lips in a way that makes his flush spread to his ears. “Why don’t we just focus on getting through the night for now? If you’re on your best behavior, maybe we can arrange a second date.” You don’t even have to add a wink to give him a heart attack. Your words already did that for you.

“I—Really?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by how his entire face just brightened at the thought. “By the way, when did you get here? I thought I was early but you already got here before me. Did you wait long?”

“N-no.” He looks away, rubbing the tip of his nose. “I just got here.”

You’re a terrible liar. “And when was that exactly?”

“About…” He grows nervous under your gaze. Wincing, he decides to tell the truth. “An hour ago?”

“Oh my God—really? Why didn’t you go inside the coffee house? It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m not cold.” He tries to convince you by straightening his back, even though his hands are shivering inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Your nose is red, dummy.” You shake your head, pushing back the bouquet to his chest. “Hold the flowers for me?”

“Umm, okay,” he complies although his forehead creases in confusion. “What are you—”

Without waiting for him to finish, you quickly untangle your scarf, standing on your toes to hook the wooly fabric around his neck. Eren holds his breath, his eyes turning round. Tugging him closer by the scarf, you force his body to lean toward you. He catches a whiff of the perfume you wore for the night, even when the wind is blowing hard enough to raise the tiny hairs on his nape—or maybe it’s because of how close you are to him.

You toss him a smile, feeling satisfied when you witness how much effects you have on him. “Do you know how to tie a Parisian scarf knot?”

Your voice is thick with charm in his ears, melodious and a bit… seductive. He swallows his breath, fingers curling into fists as he tries to stop his eyes from wandering anywhere else but your eyes. Your lips look so inviting, but he doesn’t want to look more obvious than he already does. “No, Ma’am.” He discovers his voice again after spending what feels like forever trying to process your question.

“Well, it’s really easy. Fold your scarf in half widthwise.” You practice directly on him, doing the same thing your lips instructed you to. “Then fold in half again lengthwise. Drape the scarf over your neck, and then—bend down a little for me?”

Eren’s face is burning bright but he follows. This time, he can’t stop himself from gazing at your lips. He can tell that you’re wearing a different shade of lipstick tonight. You keep your make-up to a minimum but you applied bold red lipstick to grab his attention. And boy, you didn’t just steal his attention. You’re taking his entire breath away.

“Then you bring the loose ends through the hole,” you continue, pretending like you’re oblivious to the thoughts of him wanting to get a taste of your lip gloss. “Tighten the scarf around your neck and voila.” You beam at him with a youthful grin, patting your hands once against his chest. “There you have it. A Parisian scarf knot. Does it feel warm, big boy?”

Warm? He’s about to burst into fucking flames. He shakily nods. “Yes, Ma’am, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin, taking the flowers back from him.

“What about you?” Eren asks, eyebrows stitched in concern. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, the scarf was just an accessory.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, if you’re that worried,” you roll your eyes playfully at him, shifting the bouquet to your right hand while you offer him your left one. “Here.”

Eren just stares at it like the idiot that he is. “Umm… Do you want your scarf back?”

“No, silly.” You snatch away his hand, lacing your fingers together before you bring them inside the pocket of your trench coat. Eren’s jaw hangs slack on his face but he’s not given the time to react when you take a step forward, walking toward the path you were coming from.

Eren, low-key panicking (actually, maybe high-key), follows after your trail as he’s left with no choice. His hand is probably sweaty and gross but you hold it firmly as if he’s the other set of puzzles you need to complete you. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?” He asks with a quiver in his voice. “L-like, your hand in my pocket instead of mine in yours?”

“True, but let’s not get too predictable.” This time, you do hurl a wink at him and a little bit of his soul just ascends to heaven.

“Where are we going?” He tries not to think too much about how your hand fits his perfectly or how delightfully warm you are. “I thought we were going to get coffee?”

“I’ve changed my mind. We’re gonna catch a movie instead. You like watching movies, right? Except for the scary ones.”

“Yeah…” But then he furrows his eyebrows, suspicion in his gaze. “Wait, how do you know I don’t like scary movies?”

Oh, shoot. “Well, I mean…” You hope your giggle would be enough to mask how tense you are. “I… have been doing research about you.” What am I even saying? “I mean, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while too. Isn’t it natural for me to want to know what interests you and what doesn't?” Okay, to be fair, that makes a lot of sense but God, that was so embarrassing!

But if your goal is to divert his attention away from the topic, it works perfectly. Right now, Eren is taking a trip over the moon, his spirits flying high at the thought of you asking around about him because you’re interested in him. “Do you, umm…” He wets his lip, his heart thrashing wildly inside his rib cages. “Do you… have a crush on me?”

Are you for real right now?! Who asks that kind of question?! But you’ve got no other choice but to say yes. You have to make your previous sentence believable, don’t you? And it’s not like you’re lying about it. You do have a crush on him. Actually, it’s even bigger than that. You’re probably in love with him at this point. But admitting it out loud to the person you have feelings for? Doesn’t that mean you’re going to do the same as he did on the rooftop, telling stories about you to Spider-Girl? Except you’re going to sound like a bigger idiot this time since you’re not going to accidentally tell him about your feelings just because you happened to be clueless about his secret identity. Eren’s alter ego is a giant pervert and you already know that from day one, and now you’re going to admit your feelings to him like this.

I hate myself.

You sigh, glaring into the night as you admit bashfully, “Yeah. Kinda.” Ah, I want to die.

You’re not sure what you expect him to say. Maybe you want him to be honest too? Make this a little less awkward and humiliating by saying, “That’s good because I have a crush on you too. And it’s so bad that I had to jerk off to your pictures and tell the town’s most famous superheroine about it.” or something like that. But of course, that only happens in your mind because now silence comes third-wheeling on your date, and you’re this close to shooting your web and swinging away from the scene.

Then you hear him sniffling.

Spinning your head so fast, you almost give yourself a head rush. “Are you crying right now?”

He is. He so is. Well, not actually crying like how he bawled his eyes out when he watched Hachiko—that movie had no business being that sad and depressing. But yes, Eren may have gotten a little bit emotional by your confession. Could you really blame him, though? Adoring someone from afar for two fucking years without doing anything but secretly taking your pictures is not an easy feat. Eren really thought he would never find the chance to talk to you, let alone go on a date with you like this. And now you’re telling him you’ve got a crush on him too?

“N-no,” he mumbles, tossing his face to the side as he rubs the back of his hand against his nose. “I’m just—I’m cold.”

“You literally just said you weren’t cold.”

“Yeah, but that was just me trying to look strong.” He sniffles again. “I’m actually very sensitive to cold.”

He really can’t lie to save his life, but that attempt deserves a reward so you bump your shoulder against his in a playful manner, letting out the softest laugh as you do. “You’re blushing so hard right now, I can tell.”

“I know,” he admits with his head hanging low. “I’m so pathetic.”

“I think you’re adorable.”

“C-calling a grown-ass man adorable isn’t really a compliment, you know.”

“And yet, it makes you blush even harder. I say it is, big boy.”

Your smirk is supposed to seem evil but to Eren, you just look so titillating, his brain immediately takes a snapshot of your expression for his, uhh… late-night entertainment. “You’re going to kill me someday,” he mutters, his pout returning to his lips.

“Well…” You release his hand only to hug his arm against your chest, your cheek grazing against the fabric of his jacket as you walk side by side with barely a centimeter separating you. “Let’s just hope someone will be there to save you.”

At this rate, even Quicksilver can’t be fast enough to save him from dying. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

***

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”

That’s what you’ve been saying for the last fifteen minutes as you walk out of the theater with one hand holding your bouquet and another one cupping your face, fingers tapping lightly against your cheek so it would stop feeling like it’s catching on fire.

You had a plan. A very thorough plan involving you leaning your head against his shoulder as you both watched a romantic movie playing on the big screen; you giving him signs that it would be okay for him to hold your hand and maybe, just maybe, he could lean in to kiss you too. Not wanting to sound desperate or anything, but you have been thinking about doing intimate things with him for a while, especially after he confessed his whole feelings to you—well, to Spider-Girl—on the rooftop two nights ago. You can’t help it. After knowing that he likes you so much, it’s impossible for you not to expect something to happen tonight. Especially since you knew that he’s been thinking about you in sexual ways too. If he had one hand wrapped around his dick just from being aroused at the thought of you, obviously he would want to do something more than hold hands, wouldn’t he?

You’re both still in your early twenties. It’s natural to have your hormones going crazy at the thought of being in the dark with a cute boy. Boys might not know this, but girls think about sex just as much as boys do, don’t they? It’s been a while since you’ve let loose and made out with a handsome quarterback at the back of his car. It doesn’t help that you’re still a virgin too, just like Eren. You have a desire burning inside you, and an endless amount of curiosity needing to be answered. But it’s not just physical contact that you crave, it’s the emotional bond too. You want to feel like you’re in love. You want to be loved, and Eren, you know for certain, has so much of that to give you. If only you had followed your plan, you might have been able to have all that. Because the movie date was supposed to be cute, with him stealing glances and gazing at you with those lovestruck eyes every time he caught you smiling at him, but no, what happened was—

“I think it’s cute that you were already snoring in the first ten minutes,” Eren simpers.

Fire burns your cheeks. “I did not snore.”

“You did. Pretty loudly too. There was this couple sitting in front of us that kept looking back to check up on you.”

“Oh my God.” You rub a hand over your face, hiding your lower half behind your palm. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Eren laughs wholeheartedly, placing his hand above your head just like how a big brother would tease his sister. “Guess being the top student can be pretty hard, huh?”

Being a top student? Nah. Running around the town catching drug dealers and stopping car chases at three in the morning? Yeah, probably. “I’m so sorry,” you vocalize with regret in your tone. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Studying?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “There’s this science olympics I have to participate in next month and I’ve got so many things to prepare. I need to land first place or my dad’s gonna kill me. My body must have given up on me.”

He stops walking, taking your hand so naturally this time that it leaves you—the one who took the initiative—flustered. “Are you okay?” He asks, concern overtaking his face. “I can take you home if you want to rest. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

Your heart melts a little. He’s always like this. So attentive, so caring, putting your needs above everything else. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “I slept like a baby for two hours just now—I’m fully recharged. Thank you for lending me your shoulder the whole time. Is your arm okay?”

“Yeah,” he tosses you his lopsided grin. “Just a bit smelly ‘cause you drooled all over my jacket.”

“Shut up!”

Conversations start to flow naturally as you both grow more comfortable with each other’s presence. The initial awkwardness has vanished without a trace, transforming into a sense of familiarity that shrouds you as if you were two friends who had been spending time together for weeks. Which, of course, you are, but Eren doesn’t know this.

He doesn’t blush so often anymore but you, on the other hand, are becoming worse and worse in that department. The more comfortable he is with you, the more honest he becomes, and the more he feels like he can say anything he wants to say. He told you how he really liked it when you wore your hair up in a ponytail, how it made you look sporty and fresh, and even a bit sexy (he still turned red at the last part, but he didn’t stammer like a five-year-old trying to tell a story). He told you how he liked the scent of your strawberry shampoo—how it suited your sweet and cheerful personality, and how he always thought of you these days when he was out shopping for groceries and he saw strawberries sitting on the fruit counter. He told you that you have a beautiful laugh, the kind that can elevate people’s moods, like sunshine seeping through dark clouds. Everything he says sends blood pooling on your face. It doesn’t help that he never lets go of your hand as you walk down the street, doing the same thing you did to him earlier—interlacing your fingers together and sticking them inside the pocket of his coat.

“Warm?” He asks, his smile is sheepish but his pretty green eyes are radiant, glimmering under the city lights.

You nod, heart palpitating. This doesn’t feel like a first date. It feels like you’ve been lovers for months.

How perfect is this? Fate came in to introduce you to one another when you were children, and now it’s doing the same thing by reuniting you with him again. Not to mention that your alter ego, Spider-Girl, also met him by accident and now she’s playing a huge part in his life as well. It’s like the universe wants you to be together. But as you fall harder for him with every second passing by, Eren is feeling the opposite.

Unbeknownst to you, Eren hasn’t been a hundred percent honest tonight. He’s said the things he wanted to say but there are still some matters that he holds to himself, and that is the fact that he keeps seeing Spider-Girl in everything you do.

It’s weird. Maybe even sickening at some point. Because how can he think about another girl when he’s going on a date with the girl he’s been secretly in love with for years? He can see Spider-Girl in the little gestures that you make. The way your hands move animatedly in the air when you get too excited as you retell your story; the way you snort and say something witty or sarcastic whenever he’s being a little bit corny. But ultimately, Spider-Girl comes alive in his mind every time you laugh. He can hear it. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine it was Spider-Girl who was chortling at his joke. Even the little giggles you let out ring familiarly in his ears too.

But why? Why can’t he stop thinking about her when he’s with you? This isn’t right. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. He’s supposed to be head over heels for you and only you. Eren shouldn’t let himself feel like this for a second longer but the more he tries to forget about Spider-Girl, the more his mind does the opposite.

There are two logical explanations to elucidate the emotion he’s going through: a) for some bizarre reason, you are indeed Spider-Girl herself or b) he’s…

I’m in love with Spider-Girl too.

Eren feels something weird crawling up his chest, something he can’t really describe. It feels both like dread and also joy. It feels so wrong to admit it to himself, feels even worse that he just realized it now. He’s trying so hard not to believe it that he forces himself to return and think further about his first option.

You’re Spider-Girl. God, even saying it in his head already sounds so ridiculous to him. How can you, one of the university’s best students, have the time to fight crimes? Or even the motivation to sacrifice your life every night to fight a gang of mafias or the Lizard? You just said it yourself that you had to stay up all night to prepare for the olympics. Plus, You’re so different compared to Spider-Girl. You’re much more feminine, even clumsy at times too, while Spider-Girl is this badass fighter with fast reflexes and superhuman strength. Of course, you being clumsy is just a part of your cover, but how could Eren know that? How could he know that the personality you’re showing right now is a part of the illusion you create to make you seem more normal? You’re not this feminine. You’re not this graceful. You don’t laugh with a hand covering your lips to be polite. You laugh with your head thrown back and your eyes shut closed. The real you—the one who has your true personality—is Spider-Girl.

“Hey, are you okay?” Even with your gentle call, Eren still flinches as if you just shouted at him. “You’ve been quiet for a while. What’s wrong?”

He’s staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost and for a moment, you feel your chest tightening too. Has he realized it? Has he figured out that I’m Spider-Girl? Fuck, what gave me away? I thought I was being careful all night. But that’s not it. Eren isn’t panicking because he’s learned the truth about your identity. He’s freaking out because he’s starting to believe that he really is in love with two women at the same time.

This is bad, he thinks, fidgeting as the words sink even harder. This is so bad.

“N-nothing, sorry,” he forces out a laugh. “Should we go, umm, get some coffee?”

***

“I had a great time today,” you say, turning around on your heels to face him with the sweetest smile you can offer. Standing on the crosswalk, your bodies are bathed in the yellowish glow of the lamppost, two pairs of eyes locking together as the world turns blurry behind you. The digital clock on your phone screen shows that it’s a few minutes away before midnight strikes. The peaceful town has turned quiet. Stores are closed. Most of the locals have returned to their families, all warmed up in the serenity of their homes. There are still a few cars passing by, shining headlights and casting shadows to stretch under your feet. It would’ve been comforting, this atmosphere between you, if your heartbeat didn’t chime so clamorously in your ears.

You’re still struggling to wash away the anxiety in your chest, worried that he’s found out about your secret. But if he did, why doesn’t he say so? Is he waiting for you to make the first move and tell him the truth? It doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he be happy to know that you were the same girl who’d spent countless hours with him, talking your heart out every night? Or is he embarrassed over the fact that you already knew about the feelings he had for you—the real version of you?

Oh no, you almost gasp in shock. What if he’s angry at me for keeping my identity a secret? What if he’s upset that I didn’t stop him when he talked about his crush—about me? What if he thinks I’m annoying for messing around with him? What if he hates me now?

Your head is going round and round and round that you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. But when you tilt up your chin to meet his gaze, Eren doesn’t seem like he’s vexed. Rather than angry, he just seems… conflicted. About what, you’re not so sure.

“Me too.” Eren smiles, answering your earlier question. Now that you’re about to part ways, he releases your hand. It feels strange to have spaces between your fingers again, as you’ve grown too comfortable from having his lean ones filling the gaps. “Thank you for lending me your scarf. I’ll wash it before I return it to you.”

“You can have it.” You beam at him, hoping that it would look natural. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He still turns abashed like he always does, but it doesn’t last long. The next time you blink, he returns to his distraught state.

You’re both too caught up in your own thoughts to form words but you’re recovering faster than he is. With turmoil sitting heavily inside your chest, you feebly ask him, “Is there… something wrong?”

He blinks. “What?”

“It’s just…” You take in a sharp breath. “I feel like something is bothering you, and I keep rewinding everything that we did, trying to figure out what I did wrong but… Are you angry at me..?”

His brain stutters for a moment, every part of him goes on pause as his thoughts catch up. Shit, what have I done? “Nothing’s bothering me!” Eren claims a little bit louder than intended. “I’m so sorry for making you feel worried. I’m not angry at you—I would never—you could never anger me. I’m just… I have some… thoughts, that’s all.”

Okay, that’s a relief. You can sense honesty both in his voice and his expression. “About what? If that’s okay to ask…”

Eren bites on the corner of his lower lip, anxious. “I’m—” He parts his lips but nothing comes out. What am I supposed to say to her? I’m in love with you but I feel like I’m also in love with someone else? “I…”

It’s nerve-wracking to see him this way and you can’t stand the tension. What if he’s about to say something you don’t want to hear? “You know what, never mind, it’s okay.” You end your sentence quickly with a peal of laughter that sounds too strained even in your own ears. “I didn’t mean to pry. So, uhh…” You hook your hands between your back, fingers tied around the bouquet to stop him from seeing how jittery you are. “Do you… Do you still want to do this again?”

“Yes,” Eren answers instantly, his breath quickening for some reason. “Yeah, of course. If you want to, I would love to go out with you again.” Maybe if I spend more time with her, I can make sure of my feelings. “I really enjoyed our date tonight. Truly.”

Your smile is genuine but it doesn’t lift the heavy anchor resting in your chest. “Cool. Maybe next time we can have, like, a study date? Finals are coming up soon. We can study at your place if you want.”

“M-my place?” He asks, stupefied. “Umm… Okay. Just the two of us?”

“Do you want me to invite someone else?” You wanted to tease him but your tone sounds flat as if you’re enervated.

Eren’s fingers curl against the side of his jeans. “No…”

“Then I guess it’s just gonna be you and me. I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, actually. I’m free after I’m done with my ballet practice. Maybe… I can visit your house after that?”

Eren gives two little nervous nods. “O-or I can just pick you up? I’ll borrow Zeke’s bike and we can grab some takeouts before we go to my—” He clears his throat, face aflame. “My house.”

“Okay.” You didn’t feel awkward at all during the date, and now awkwardness is all you feel. “Okay, yeah, that sounds great.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again for the flowers.” Your eyes shift to the same spot of his skin where you brushed your lips against just a few hours before. It’s supposed to be easier the second time, but now you can’t even lean close to give him a friendly hug. Restraining a sigh from fleeing out of your mouth, you toss him one last smile before you pivot on your heels.

“Wait,” Eren calls out, his fingers clamping your wrist. “Let me walk you home, please.”

“No, it’s all right, I’ll take a cab.” You tug your hand gently, enough for him to get the message and let you go. He’s about to protest when you repeat, “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

The roles are now reversed. Eren can tell there’s something you’re hiding behind your smile, but he’s too much of a coward to use his voice. What if you feel like he’s invading your privacy too much?

There he goes again, worrying. You realize maybe you’ve come out a bit too strong. Gathering as much courage as you can, you take two quick steps toward him, yank him down by his scarf and place another kiss on his cheek. You can hear him stifling down his gasp as you sweep your lips against his smooth skin. When you break away a second later, you keep your fingers around his scarf, keeping his face hovering just a couple of inches away from yours as you whisper, “Good night.”

Bewitched by your beauty, he finds it hard to breathe. “G-good night.”

You release him. Your smile will be an everlasting memory in his mind. And as you walk away, Eren keeps his eyes trained on your figure.

There’s no doubt that he loves you. Otherwise, how else can he explain this rapid beating of his heart every time he caught a glimpse of you? How else can he explain this sense of elation and gratitude that flowed through him every time you cast him a smile? But why…

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

Why can’t I stop thinking about Spider-Girl?

***

Eren has been spending the last twenty minutes of his bus ride home just staring at the window with vacant eyes and a storm churning inside his chest. He has taken off the knitted scarf you wound around his neck, his fingers laid idle on the wool as he sets it down on his lap. The scent of your perfume still lingers close but instead of giving him the sense of longing to see you again, it leaves him at sixes and sevens. He thought joy would be the only thing that filled the depth of his heart after his first date with you but now it seems like it’s something intangible. Every time he thinks about you, he thinks about Spider-Girl too, and remorse floods his chest. He folds the scarf and tucks it inside his bag, hoping that he could wash away the guilt that way, even if it’s only for a moment.

As he walks away from his bus stop, Eren retrieves his camera from his bag and wears the black strap around his neck. With his shoulders hunched forward, he switches it on and goes through the pictures he’s taken of you a while ago. His smile still blooms on his face at the sight of you smiling a bit awkwardly to the camera, but it’s faint, barely visible. He clicks on the same button repeatedly, going from one picture to another until his gaze lands on the candid photos of Spider-Girl that he took. He feels his heart jolt. Flashback of the night you shared with him on the rooftop—the way you sounded when you laughed, the retorts you made as he told you his jokes… His smile turns a bit wider this time. For the first time in his life, remembering Spider-Girl spreads more contentment in his chest than the thoughts of you.

Because to him, Spider-Girl feels more… real.

Thunder rumbles above his head, flashing silver light across the night sky. Knowing how it’s about to rain, Eren swerves to the right, stepping inside an abandoned alley that he’s walked a thousand times in his life. It’s a shortcut that takes him right to the road that leads to his house. He’s never bothered by how eerie and quiet it is, not even perplexed by the thought of being alone in the dark with only the moonlight guiding his steps. Except the moon is hidden behind the dark clouds tonight, and he fastens his steps, trying to get home as fast as possible before his body is drenched by the rain.

But he’s forced to slow down the second he crosses paths with a few men covered in tattoos and piercings.

A man, a few inches shorter than he is with bleached hair, purposefully bumps his shoulder against his, almost causing his camera to slip off his grip. Eren stops walking, lifting his head as the other man turns around to cast him a wicked grin. The other three males sneer, tossing their cigarettes away to the ground and crushing them under their boots.

“What do you have over there, champ?” The man with the bleached hair asks, yellowish teeth peeking behind chapped lips. “Looks expensive.”

Eren’s cautious eyes drift down to catch him sliding his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie. He’s probably going for his knife, a voice inside him tells him to be prepared. Eren feels his muscles tautening, his heart gradually pumping more blood through his veins as the four men begin to circle him, leaving him with no way to escape.

“Hand us the camera,” another man says, this one has a barcode tattoo on the side of his neck. “We’re gonna need your phone and your wallet too.”

Rain starts to pour. Eren feels the droplets sliding down his cheeks before he can see them. Switching off his camera, he tightens his grip around it. “Look, man,” he says, “I don’t want any trouble here.”

“Give me the camera then.” The tallest one among them suddenly takes a closer step, giving him no choice but to back away. He has his spine glued to the wall, his heart pounding in his ears but he keeps his jaw clenched tight.

“No,” Eren utters through gritted teeth, and within a split second, the taller male has a pocket knife pressed against his throat.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, voice hoarse and grating.

Eren doesn’t blink or cower in fear. He faces the man right in his eyes. “Ganging up on me like this. What are you, a bunch of pussies?”

“You fucking—”

Eren knees the man right between his legs hard enough to give him a moment to escape. He ducks his head down, the tip of the man’s knife only missing a few millimeters from slicing his skin. He knows that his chances of winning the fight are close to zero. So instead of holding his ground, he chooses to flee. Still with his camera dangling around his neck and his bag slinging on one shoulder, Eren sprints away as fast as he can.

But the ground is dark and slippery under the rain, and he misses his footing. Falling to one knee with his palms scratching against the pavements, Eren gets himself pulled back to his feet by one hand tugging at his roots and another slithering around his throat.

Fuck. Terror rises fast in his chest. His brain can’t think fast enough to find a way for him to escape. One man is holding him from behind, the other two are closing in on him, while the tallest one moves to loom before him.

“You’ve got a pretty face for a man,” the tall man grins, pointing the tip of his blade toward his cheekbone as Eren tries to break free. “Why don’t we put a smile on that face, yeah?”

“Get off me, you fucking—”

The rest of his sentence is followed by a silent gasp when a lump of web shoots over Eren’s shoulder. It covers the tall man’s face with a force hard enough to knock him off his balance before another thick string of web, sticky and unyielding, glues him to the ground, keeping him immobile. Before Eren can process what’s happening, another man falls to the earth with a broken nose, screaming in agony into the night. The man that was holding him from behind has his body smashed against the wall, and Eren can see you—Spider-Girl—aiming your wrist forward and shooting enough chunks of web to trap the man to the bricks behind him. Now that he can’t move, it leaves you one more opponent to take care of.

This is the first time Eren sees you in action. The way you hold your fighting stance; the way you drop down to the ground with one leg bent on the knee and another one stretched out; the way you hold your balance with one hand in the air and your other one settled on the concrete only by your fingertips—you’re beautiful. You’re deadly and graceful at the same time, like a ballet dancer performing the third act of Swan Lake. Within seconds, you knock the last gang member unconscious. Eren is about to call out to you when the man with the broken nose returns to his feet and hooks an arm around his neck.

“Don’t move or I’ll slit his throat,” the man with the bleached hair threatens with his teeth bared, and you freeze.

The rain is tapping against your hood, your costume glistening but not soaked. You raise your arms in the air, keeping your lips tightly pressed as you straighten your back. You watch Eren through your lenses and you see no fear in his eyes even if the tip of the man’s knife is digging dangerously into his skin. You, on the other hand, are nervous. Fear can turn someone as harmless as a baby lamb into a cornered wolf and by the look of it, this man is terrified by the things you can do. One stupid move and you’ll risk Eren’s life. If the man adds just a little bit more pressure onto his knife, Eren will have his white sweater soaked in red.

“Let him go,” you carefully say, not wanting to startle him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” the man says, his voice muffled by the amount of blood clogging his nose. When you don’t budge, he starts to scream. “Are you deaf?! I said, get the fuck away—”

To his surprise—and yours—Eren slams his elbow against the man’s stomach, successfully knocking the wind out of his lungs in one try. Now that he’s released from his headlock, he grabs the man by the shoulder and takes a small step back to unbalance him. Quickly turning around as he maintains a strong grip on his body, Eren pulls his arm as far over his shoulder as he can. It sends his opponent sailing over his head and landing flat on his back. He finishes with a hard punch to his face and the man is laid out cold on the ground.

Your eyes are wide open, baffled by how swift and precise Eren’s movement was. With that amount of muscle in his body, you could tell that he could win his fight if needed. You just didn’t think that he’d perform a complete martial move on him.

“Wow,” you say, walking through the rain to get to his spot. “Didn’t think you could pull that kind of stunt. I’m impressed.”

“Fuck, that hurt,” Eren hisses, clenching and unclenching his fist as his knuckles throbs with pain. Massaging his hand, he replies to your comment, “Yeah, I took a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class one time out of curiosity. That’s the only move I know how to do. Didn’t think it would work.”

“Well, you did great.” Now that you’re just an arm’s reach away from him, you gently take a hold of his wrist, bringing it closer to your face so you can inspect it further. You can feel him stiffen under your touch but none of you act on it. “This is gonna bruise tomorrow. You better treat it before you go to bed. Wrap an ice pack in a towel and leave it in place for about ten to twenty minutes. That will help you reduce the swelling.”

Eren watches the way your fingers move delicately against his, the material of your spandex gliding against his skin as you try to soothe his pain. His heart throbs again but it has nothing to do with the amount of adrenaline that rushed through his system merely a minute ago.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice as quiet as the rain that still pours lightly above you. “For saving me.”

“Yeah, you have a knack for getting into trouble,” you snort, acting aloof as you don’t want him to witness the amount of relief that washes over you.

“Well, fortunately for me, you seem like you have a knack for saving my life.” Seeing you here, hearing your voice, Eren burns with fierce joy. He turns a bit playful, his heart grows enamored at the sight of you.

You can sense the changes in his tone and the way his fingers move slightly against yours as if he’s trying not to be so obvious but also giving you a hint that he wants you to hold his hand tighter—to touch him longer.

You release him, not wanting to be ensnared by his spell even further than you already have. You relocate your hand to your hip, scolding him like a mother. “Seriously, I left you for one night and you almost got stabbed to death. Can’t you give me a break?”

“It’s not like I was looking for trouble. Shit just happened.”

“You’re lucky you have me saving your ass.”

“I am. I’m glad I have you with me.” The corners of his mouth turn up, bedazzling you with a saccharine smile until he leaves you dumbfounded, the rest of your body immobile save by the delightful swirl dancing in your stomach. “Seems like I have a superheroine stalker.”

Why are you looking at me like that? You muse, your eyes taking in every bit of his expression from behind your lenses. Why do you look like you’re… Your thought is left unfinished when your memory resurfaces. Eren is displaying the same gaze he showed you when you talked to him for the first time on the day the cherry blossom petals were dancing in the wind. That dazed, besotted look on his face as if you were the most gorgeous thing his eyes had the pleasure to revel in. But why? You’re not the most gorgeous thing he’s seen, at least not now when you’re buried underneath your costume. He should’ve had this look when he bid his farewell to you an hour ago, but he didn’t, did he? You made his heart resonate with joy when you granted a kiss on his cheek but he didn’t even hold your hand to stay longer. He didn’t perceive you with this gaze. He doesn’t look like he’s madly in love with you. Not like this. Not like now.

You’re paralyzed for a second when it dawns on you.

Oh, shit.

He likes Spider-Girl.

And everything clicks. The way he seems perplexed when you kissed him on the cheek, the way he didn’t ask you to stay longer. Perhaps it’s also the reason why he’s no longer wearing your scarf.

No wonder he looked so distraught before! He was trying to sort out his feelings, wasn’t he?

When you told yourself a couple of months ago that it would be funny if Eren fell for you and Spider-Girl at the same time, you didn’t think it would come true. Because why would he? Why would he be in love with Spider-Girl? He doesn’t know your true identity. He’s never seen your face, never seen you in other clothes except for this skin-tight spandex you’re wearing. You’re like a comic book character, walking in real life and spouting cliche lines as you save little kids from the street. If what he feels is simply admiration, sure, you can understand that. But that’s not what it is. This is affection. This is infatuation. He’s in love. But how come? All he knows about Spider-Girl is your personality—the true version of you instead of the delicate, feminine young lady you exhibited during the date. He only knows the stories you told about your first kiss and your first biking accident, the fear you faced when you were fighting for your life, or the way you laugh like a child and sit like a man, and—

Oh.

Your heart pulsates harder. Your joy streaks through you like a comet.

“Hey,” Eren calls, tilting his head a little in concern. The sprinkle of rain makes the little baby hairs that fall out of his bun stick to his temple, droplets of water sliding down from his high cheekbone to his chin. “You okay?”

Your thoughts are loud. The voices in your head are screaming one line after another, telling you this is it. This is the real thing. You have no reason to doubt his feelings anymore. Eren loves the real you. Every little part of you. He loves you despite not knowing how you look. He loves you simply because you’re… you.

“I, uh—” Never have you felt so much joy expanding within you before. “Sorry, I have to go.” I can’t talk to you right now. I already feel like I’m going insane just standing right next to you like this.

Because you know if you stay even a minute longer, your mouth will betray you and you will tell him the truth. You will tell him everything: how you’re the same girl he was with an hour ago. That you’re the same kid he was spending his blissful days with when he was a lonely child sitting inside a hospital ward. That you’re the same girl who saved his life and whose heart was saved by him. And that you feel the same way about him, that you fell for him twelve years ago, that you fell for him that night on the rooftop, that you fell for him again just a few hours ago, and how you fall harder for him now. And how much you want to come out clean, take off your mask, and bury your face in his warmth.

I can’t do this. The moment’s not right. I’m just going to freak him out if I do this now.

I need to prepare my words carefully. The last thing I want to do is upset him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you say in a hurry. Not giving him a chance to react, you stretch out your arm toward the sky, shoot a rope of web from your wrist, and lift your body off the ground.

“Wait!” He shouts from below, head facing the black clouds as he tries to locate your figure, your body concealed by the night and the fine rain. He’s calling you again and there’s something in his tone, desperate and frantic, that steals your heart and possesses your body to move back into the light. Chewing on your bottom lip, you decide it’s not fair if you just leave him like this. Perhaps it’s okay if I just listen to what he has to say?

With an uncertain heart, you spin a web and reel yourself down to street level, your body descending until you have your face hanging a few inches away from his. You’re clinging upside-down on a rope of web with the balls of your feet locked around the silvery threads.

“What?” You question him, trying to keep yourself reticent even if the words, “Eren, it’s me!” are rising threateningly close to your lips.

You see him drawing a sharp breath. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he clenches his fingers into fists, gathering as much courage as he can.

Okay, what do I say to her? Eren muses, his thoughts running like a bullet train piercing through the wind. Should I just tell her the truth? Say, ‘hey, this might sound weird, but I was on a date today with the girl whom I thought I was in love with but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and now I’m thinking that maybe I like you too—I like you much more than I’m supposed to—and I’m low-key freaking out because I don’t want to be that guy who’s in love with two girls at the same time but I really feel like I am. I’m in love with you.

“Eren,” you urge him gently. “I really have to go…”

Fuck this, he curses inwardly. Just stop thinking for a second. You’re an idiot, thinking wouldn’t do you any good. Just do what your heart tells you to do. Just…

Try.

“Can I…” He wets his bottom lip, his voice quavering. “Can I try something I’ve never done before?”

With your heartbeat blasting in your ears, you feel like all of your senses are screaming at you at once, your blood boiling in anticipation. You can feel it in his voice, the desire and longing he holds for you, the same ones that match the intensity of your own.

Eren removes his hands from crumpling the side of his jeans, shaky fingertips reaching forward to touch you. He stops mid-air when he sees you stiffening. “Do you trust me?” He asks, barely audible.

“I…” Even upside down like this, face glistening with rain, Eren still looks breathtaking. “I do.”

At your permission, he curls his fingers into the seam at your throat, slipping them beneath the fabric to graze the underside of your jaw. You shudder, breathless as soon as you know what’s going to happen. If he takes off your mask, then so be it. You don’t care anymore. You want him to find out.

Slowly, Eren rolls back the fabric of your mask, revealing a portion of your skin and your lips. He stops right after your nose, careful not to go any further.

You have your lips slightly parted, so inviting and smooth, with his name resting heavily on your tongue, itching to be spoken. Both of you are coated by the drizzle that pours over you. “Ren—”

Eren leans in, eyes drooping as he rests his hands on each side of your head, pressing his lips tentatively across yours. It’s a chaste kiss, rain-wet and cool, and you feel your breath strangled in your throat even when his lips only brush lightly. He misses the spot, just by a few millimeters, his body so tense, his lungs forgetting how to breathe for a few seconds.

Eren has always imagined that his first kiss would feel like a dream. Something magical, something that he wants to last forever, something that he’d share with the love of his life at the end of a perfect date. He thought that moment when you bid him good night under the lamppost—that was it. That was the perfect moment to have a perfect kiss, but even if his body wanted it, his heart told him to stay still. His body wanted you, but everything else belonged to Spider-Girl.

You, right now, are the girl who owns his heart. Because kissing under the rain in an abandoned alley with a girl in a superhero costume is the exact opposite of everything he has imagined and yet, this… This right here… This feels right.

This feels like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

His lips only stay briefly, but even then, you’re having the hardest time opening your eyes. It’s as if you had fallen into a deep sleep and you’re suddenly pulled back into reality. His thumb strokes your cheek, his next words not more than a whisper. “Was that… okay?”

You wet your lip, unintentionally making it harder for him to stay still and listen to your answer before he leans in again. “Kiss me again, Ren,” you murmur, your voice almost drowned by the rain but he can sense the yearning within you and he’s only eager to let you find out how badly he wants you too.

The second kiss has more zeal, lips parted and teeth threatening to clash. Once it gets a bit intense, Eren finds the strength to break away, his mind reminding him to check on your reaction before he goes even further. But neither of you wants this magic to shatter, not yet. He pulls away only to dive back in with more emotions, more honesty in the way he moves his lips. Splaying his fingers to trap your face, he closes the distance with a soft groan erupting right at the second your lips collide once more. He has his eyebrows furrowed as he sets you ablaze with his avidity, applying more pressure to his lips, more yearning, more burning desire. He lacks experience, but he makes it up with his passion. When you gasp slightly in surprise, Eren captures your bottom lip between his. His kiss, though arduous, is also gentle—just like how he is as a person. It’s sweeter than the ones you’ve experienced. Addicting. Intoxicating. And maybe everything feels this way because you have blood pooling in your brain, but you don’t care. Just like him, this moment feels right.

It’s only when you hear the siren of a police car passing down the street that Eren stops, pulling away but remains close enough for you to have his warm breath caressing your skin. “Shouldn’t you go?” He asks, voice sounding hoarse as if he hasn’t spoken in years. But despite his words, he closes his lips around yours again, clamping around your top one this time.

“Yeah,” you breathe out between heavy kisses. “Kiss me again.”

You part your lips wider to welcome him deeper, and you can feel just a little bit of his tongue swiping along the seam of your lips. Your stomach flips, a faint moan escaping you and Eren tastes the rain, tastes the flavor of your chapstick, tastes you.

The siren blares through the night again. “They need you,” he whispers.

You have one hand framing his face, stopping him from ending his kiss. “There are other superheroes in town.”

Eren chuckles, kissing you a couple of times more before he leans back, his teeth catching the corner of his bottom lip, his eyes hazy as he watches the way his thumb glides across your lips. You’re about to close the gap again when he titters. “Baby,” he says, the pet name he gives you sends shivers down your spine. “You should go. We can do this a million times more when the city is safe.”

Your smile is about to break on your lips but you quickly replace it with a pout. “I hate you, Tarantula Boy.”

You pull on your web, your body returning to the air before you swing away and disappear into the night. Eren watches you still, his smile perpetual.

His lips, even if it’s only in a whisper, they form the words he’s been dying to say.

“I’m in love with you, Spider-Girl.”

***

AN: Hey, everyone, thank you for reading another chapter of my spider-girl AU ❤️ I'm so sorry if this is bad writing Ice & Fire gives me zero energy to write eren x reader fics these days 😭 but I hope you still enjoyed it hehe

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader fluff #eren x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #aot fluff #snk smut #snk fluff #our little secret canon

774 notes · View notes

marximoff · 2 years

Text

déjà vu | w. maximoff

summary: as you slowly reconnect with Wanda, you feel a familiar feeling of déjà vu.

warnings: heavy make out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving) mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, angst.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 10k

A/N: this chapter sure was long awaited (i know it was you horny gays) but before the hot sapphic sex everyone wanted (emo wanda my beloved), this chapter deals with a character study of both r and wanda, to understand a little more about who they are rn as people

((by the way, I'll be taglisting the chapters from now on, so if you want to participate, just say something in the comments

enjoy!

|series masterlist|

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

A carton of almond milk, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a can of peas, a bag of soft multigrain bread and a sizable bottle of wine are the components of the plastic basket that Wanda carries slung over her right arm.

She doesn't know that she forgot to get a can of corn too.

But the basket is kind of weighty and she might as well use her magic to levitate the items around her own silhouette, but she prefers that way, holding them down herself with her own arm strength.

Sometimes it's good to keep the sense of normality active. Even if normality just means carrying a basket full of groceries around the supermarket.

She then looks at the face of the brown watch buttoned at the base of her left wrist and checks the time, blinking her greenish eyes after squeezing a long, full yawn in the back of her throat.

A gray-haired old lady (Mrs. Sharon Davis, an elderly widow, all wrapped in her pale blue cardigan) in front of her appears to be in a conflict with herself to find some of the change interred in the lowest of her silver wallet.

And Wanda scrutinizes the establishment around herself, between the shelves stocked with groceries and the glossy linoleum floor; the weary gaze wavering absorbedly over her own white-fabric sneakers and contingently fixing on a dark, even smear on the floor between them.

Old Mrs. Davis still hasn't spotted her desired coins, and she's been digging into her wallet for the silver pennies for a good few minutes now.

Wanda listens over her shoulder as someone pulls into a shopping cart right behind herself and lets out an audible groan, evidentially annoyed at the delay of the old lady with her change, but Wanda doesn't see the point in bothering to torment herself.

It's not yet six o'clock and she'll be peaceably walking home, for Westview is a small, undisturbed, reticent suburban town where everything is so close and easy to find. And she knows that, with her house being just a few blocks away from the locality of the modest market, she won't be long in coming to prepare dinner for her and her boys (whom she has left securely at the house, both doing their math homework).

She smiles tenderly to herself when she thinks about Billy and Tommy.

After all, she knows she's never loved anyone as passionately as she loves those two little boys (the grace of her life, the reason for her morning smile and for the blaze of keenness pulsing within the fond fortifications of her warmish heart).

For her they are everything, and that is why she would do anything for them – they are the epithet of the purest form of love that Y/N had ever gifted her with; the culmination of their love converted into two vulnerable little creatures that are made up of the best of the two of them.

She just knows, like a good mother who understands both her children so well, that at that moment, the twin boys are probably watching some silly cartoon on the television set beside the broad fireplace found in the corner of the commodious living room.

And she is placid in a supermarket line, getting a whiff of the eccentric consequence of the odd combination of the full-bodied aromas of cleaning product and some sturdy feminine perfume – an even slightly nauseating aroma, kind of overpowering and suffocating.

(In some aisle away from her, a child is heatedly asking his mother to buy him some treats)

Wanda then ponders about making something a little special for dinner, and recalls about the delicious kugel recipethat her mother used to prepare in the length of her childhood days, back in devastated Sokovia, so many years in the remote past that encompasses the beginning of the disasters that marked her life.

The memory that gushes over her is sentimental and bittersweetly recurring to her core; she deliberates about the sporadic months of starveling and a small humble family of four, when her father was lucky with his sales and there was a sufficient amount of money left to buy the soldiers' leftover ingredients.

But then, she retrieves back to the years of her late youth, all lived in the restful caresses of the compound in upper Manhattan. She was still understanding about how to breathe without having Pietro to hold her hand. She was learning to live on her own.

She was coming to terms with the truth that living didn't inevitably have to be a bad experience at all; not when Y/N showed her that there could still be delight in the little things in life.

And it was Y/N who used to marvelously praise the dish when Wanda found comfort in the act of cooking, and she always repeat a few slices every time Wanda cooked it so long ago, when they were just two teenage lovers (and eventually also young wives, both living in a small bubble of love and companionship on the edge of a comfortable wooden cottage surrounded by dozen of yards of apple orchards).

There was the sweet virtuousness of the warmth of two young girls' lives at that time. It was the first time that Wanda was really fond of being young (of breathing and having a beating heart, of having a life to live valuing every little detail of it).

She memorizes the exultant smile of her ex-wife, looking so light and beautiful even while talking with her mouth full (a half-crocken smirk drawn to her left-side, like the smirk also articulated in the innocuous characteristics of her little Tommy after he was born, which reminds her so much of the radiance that used to gleam in the sweet features of her former companion).

Her ex-wife wasn't always a lonesome and distant creature creeping in the corners of her mind, and it genuinely aches inside her chest to remember that.

Y/N always devoured lavishly every traditional Sokovian dish she has ever prepared and promptly asked for more – and then thanked her with a chaste kiss placed on the pulp of her lips, which promptly evolved into the building of an intimate, sweaty moment with two bodies rubbing greedily against each other.

But she soon lets out a crestfallen, rather disillusioned sigh, repressing herself for having gone back to those secluded memories amorously stored in the edge of her brain in the first place (of the concept of two adolescent girlfriends absorbed in love in the purest sense of the word, emulating the seriousness of a relationship with adult bearing, but never losing, at its core, the youthful sweetness worthy of teenage lovers). Two girls playing love in a world that was a little too hard on them.

She glares ruefully at the bulbous base of the red wine bottle and then lets out a sorrowful exhalation.

Her relationship with Y/N felt like it was straight out of the old sitcoms that she always appreciated so much, where no problem was a genuine obstacle and that, by the end of the day, the two lovers would be in each other's affectionately secure arms again (and that perhaps she let have an effect on her a little too much, when dealing about decisions made early on in her adult life).

But then she reminisces that she was merely turning eighteen years old when she became a wanted on an international scale, and that, prior to that, she had also grown up in a war-torn country.

She never knew how to behave like a normal person per se – whether that was before or after she became able to expel bolts of magical energy from her fingertips. She never quite knew how to fit into the role of a child or a young adult in the first place. Not by herself.

There was no time in Wanda’s life to understand precisely how to fit these labels (she was protesting with so much loathe constricted within her heart, volunteering to save her homeland, being made of little more than a lab rat by the clutches of a bunch of mad men, being used by the being that promised her greatness, but only ended up costing her the life of her darling brother).

In the cramped confines of a bleak, sullied cell, with only a modest television in the corner to entertain her mind away from the needles and the brutality, there were not many allusions of love and passions that elapsed through her life outside a square screen.

Wanda was aware that she just mimicked other people's movements and transcribed them into her own actions, as if it was all just a show and she was its young star, trying to intomb in her core the path of catastrophe and violence that had always shadowed her closely; it was only the years of strict therapy, self-knowledge and self-care, right after being blipped and coming back, that edified her to be her own person in a truly healthy way. There would be no more extremes in her life.

Her cohabitation with Y/N at the time facilitated, of course – even though her wife had changed a lot in the time that followed since the blip, at first, things had worked out well between them. Or as well as possible under the anomalous circumstances.

The two of them took care of the (still) newborn twins and of each other, always with great tenderness and affection while they did it. At least that's how it worked for the first year after their reunion – until Y/N got into alcohol's graces for good, that is.

Their relationship had always felt rather light and jovial before Thanos snapped his fingers. And after that she might even have come back, but it was indeed her marriage that had turned to dust in that remote dreary day in Wakanda. In all honestly, she's not quite sure what's changed in that meantime that she's been away (dead, she was dead). And it's uneasy to ponder about it, but sometimes she does – she can’t help it.

Her corporeal existence had disintegrated into a sift of life, crumbling into her own ashes. There was color, and then the dreadfully wide expanse of emptiness (death); she, as a self-aware being, ceased to exist with just a thought and a snap of two fingers.

Her consciousness faded before she could even realize she was doing it – the palms of both her hands constrained firmly against the wound in YN's stomach that was leaking bundles of fresh blood. And Wanda never relatively questioned her existence before that (she only questioned why she ceased to exist in the first place). Returning to dust, as people of faith would say.

Five long years that slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the floor in the form of a veil of dust.

It still feels odd in her guts, even ten years later, to remember that there's a void somewhere in her life that would be filled with the time that was thieved from her by the Infinity Gauntlet. A void that had once been filled by the subtle presence of Y/N's love.

(Once, when the twins were about a year old after the blip, Y/N drunkenly knelt down with her face defectively reclining on Wanda’s thighs and questioned her as to why Wanda and the babies where the ones erased from existence while she stayed behind, abandoned like an old piece of furniture that no one wants to use anymore. Wanda never knew how to answer it, but they got divorced about a month later)

But she imagines that it, the crumbliness of their relationship, has something to do with the fact that they were both a little precocious in getting married before their twenties properly speaking; maybe if they were older and more experienced before doing it, she thinks, standing in line at the supermarket, maybe then they wouldn't have had the sorrowful culmination that they did (the crying faces and the broken hearts).

Maybe they could have risen together, and not just drifted further and further away as the days passed.

Maybe Y/N didn't feel guilt-ridden every time the twins cried in need to be held or fed. Maybe Wanda wouldn't have queried her for the love she no longer knew how to give – she is fully aware of the fact that she has always had a somewhat pushy nature, after all.

Maybe this, maybe that.

She doesn't know why she's been thinking about maybe so much these past few days. But it's not her fault that her ex-wife happens to be so pleasing to the eye.

The person behind her in line grumbles again, and there is a mischievous chuckle that reaches her ears with airs of grace. Wanda is sincerely considering summoning some coins with her magic for Mrs. Davis.

“Oh my God, this wine is divine!”

It is Sarah Proctor who addresses Wanda, the key to undeniably everything in this town. Wanda knows it's the other woman because a sudden pulsing urge to fade away takes over her nervous system as soon as the voice echoes behind herself.

She is the high-nose blonde woman who lives up the street, is a devoted member of the Westview Elementary School parent-teacher association (in the year before Wanda had witnessed her make a young teacher leave the room in tears after a meeting), proudly cultivates the most exquisite yellow roses in the neighborhood and wears a pair of classy yoga pants that would fit a young teenager with half of her age. A self-proclaimed wine mom.

Her daughter is a classmate of Billy and Tommy, and the children often attend both the Proctor and Maximoff residences – which occasioned in Sarah a vague idea of intimacy that only endures in the head of the blonde woman with bobbed hair.

She has already invited Wanda several times to Westview Pool Club girls' gatherings, but Wanda politely declined with an odd smile and a trivial wave of her hand, because she's never been the socially outgoing kind of type—and she's always been under the impression that every attempt Sarah made from approaching her were due to the fact that the other woman knew of her past as an Avenger (as did most of the small-town citizens), and so was trying to turn her into a kind of living-tourist-spot for the eyes of the rest of the world to witness.

(Rumors had it that Sarah would run for mayor in the upcoming election, and having a former Avenger as the face of her campaign certainly sells well with the predilections of the American public. Little does she know that Wanda won't vote for her)

“Oh yes, it's one of my favorites” Wanda retorts, talking about the dark tall bottle of red wine prudently deposited inside her plastic basket “It's been a while since I've had a drink, so I decided to buy a bottle to open this weekend”

“Some special occasion, I suppose?” Sarah articulates a suggestive grin, but Wanda just frowns uncertainly, half squinting at her neighbor.

“What- no, no. No” she flashes a half embarrassed, half awkward smile, chuckling nervously while doing so “Y/N is staying with the boys for the weekend, so it's just a special little thing for me. All by myself. A quarantine-style staycation. A whole weekend... just to myself"

“Y/N, huh?” Sarah raises a well-crafted eyebrow in a pique of curiosity “Your ex-wife, right? I remember seeing her at the twins' birthday party. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but she's quite the quiet type, huh...”

“Yeah, she was never one to talk much… but neither am I, honestly"

“A pair made in heaven, indeed” Sarah then flashes a smile, but the taste that slides across Wanda's tongue is bitter and kind of hard to swallow.

She shifts her body weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“But wait, she's also an Avenger, isn’t she? Yeah, she's the one in the black and white outfit! Oh my God! Who wore a jacket over it and had that kinda mean attitude, all punk rock and stuff?”

“Herself” Wanda agrees, pressing her lips together in a long, clumsy line. She just wants to go home and cook her damn kugel.

“Oh my, how did I not notice this before? I remember seeing her in the news once, when I was in college. I also had a taste for delinquents back then, if you know what I mean”

Wanda feels a hot twinge high in her face and she bites the inside of her cheek in a rather timid act (but there's no denying that Y/N's somewhat rebellious attitude has always had a lewd effect on her legs as a young teenager with a schoolgirl’s heart).

“She and Black Widow, I think, saved the life of the mayor in that bombing on the Fourth of July in... 2015, 2016, maybe? Yeah, I remember that! She's the one who's super strong, isn't she? Who held up a scaffold once and saved those kids”

"That's her, yes"

The brunette muss in a limp voice, which seems to draw a slightly indecent laugh from the blonde woman with her shopping cart full of knick-knacks and silver hoops clicking in her earlobes. It is from her that the aroma of sturdy perfume comes.

“Well, I imagine that super strength of hers comes in handy in some… situations”

“Situ-“ but then she blinks just one time “Oh”

Mortification hangs over Wanda like a bucket of paint spilled over her dark-haired head.

She opens and closes her mouth like a golden fish, frowning, and her cheeks don't take long to reach strong shades of scarlet, glowing red like one of the tomatoes inside Sarah's cart.

It's inappropriate, and she knows it, but she can't help but feel a certain tingle in her breasts as lapses of memory enlighten her thoughts with the ghost of touches coursing along her body. Then she thinks of Y/N's warm, measured breath against her earlobe (of strong hands pinning her wrists above her head, of a tense, impassive hip against her own hip, of the cracked headboard and the broken bedframe). A movement and a moan. An electrical discharge in her bowels.

And then, fuck...

Just Y/N tearing her insides apart.

The other woman smiles viciously, and Wanda suddenly wishes she hadn't put on a sweater before leaving the house, because she can actually feel herself starting to perspire at the expectant look her neighbor bestows on her.

She's never been one to deal with such intimacies with anyone other than her ex-wife (merely some casual, unsuccessful and sporadic blind dates that's never been more than a few kisses and a few touches here and there, by no means ending up in her or anyone else's bed).

But she permits herself only to flash a wan grin towards the other woman when she realizes that, in front of her, the old lady has lastly found her damn change.

Fucking finally.

And then, with the memory still boiling hungrily in her innards, like a hungry beast devouring her from the inside out, she takes a large step in the other direction, trying to walk away from Sarah as humanly possible, as if the other woman carries with her a toxic cloud that sickens everything that comes in contact with her.

If Wanda couldn't probably get a nice lawsuit for that (or worst), she'd turn Sarah into a disgusting slimy frog.

“Well, I, I, I need to go, Sarah, but it was really nice meeting you around here. Bye” the enchantress raises her wrist, bidding the blonde woman goodbye with a wave of her hand and a small, introverted (half-awkward) grin.

There is barely time for an answer to be formulated on the part of the housewife. Wanda's cheeks are still red hot as she (virtually) dashes through the small supermarket's automatic double doors like a fugitive on the run. Mrs. Davis drops a coin on the floor on her way out.

ᗢ

You don't know exactly how long you've been raising and lowering the joint of your bent elbow above your head. It doesn't feel right to do it, just as it doesn't do it if it feels wrong. It's just necessary – it’s like cracking some eggs if you're in the mood for an omelet for breakfast.

You just have the fullest conception that a few good minutes have passed since the beginning of all the activity, and as in the rehearsal of a play, you are repeating the gestures until you overcome them with great proficiency and your culmination comes out perfect, from your liking.

And you don't bother to intend to stop doing it anytime soon – such a guttural, animalistic and barbaric action. At this point, the movement is already instinctive after being recorded in at the core of your memory, an automatic message engraved between the ligaments of your neurons.

You've done it innumerable times before, and you know you'll do it a few more times after this one.

You lift your right arm, lowers your implacable fist constricted like a steel ball, the resonance of smashed cartilage and wrecked bones echoing in your eardrums, all instructed by the figure of a bloodthirsty invisible conductor within the ramparts of your own cranium.

The face of the bewildered guy lying beneath you looks like a loaf of raw, misshapen meat as you repeat a cadence of sequentially delivered punches against his facial bones.

And he, who is at least twice as big as you, lets out a piercing howl of pain from the cavernous depths of his throat, as even a wild bear would do if attacked deep in a forest.

But in that alley on Long Island there is not a soul available to help him to get rid of your uncomplacent fists – not at the end of a passage that is unpopulated, far from prying eyes that could creep in your direction during the action which takes place there, a beacon of environment squeezed between two amorphous walls of scorched bricks, which gives the illusion of a single long, damp, narrow street.

A sphere of blood is clotted on your face, like an eccentric gemstone, a dark red pearl splattered under the arch of your left eyebrow. And you pant heavily, your veins stiffening.

You've never been one to refuse punching a motherfucker in the face – your forte has always been pounding up things, whether on the countless missions conveyed alongside your teammates or at work during your teenage years, taking advantage of your inhuman gifts to have something to eat at the end of the week.

You've never had a dilemma in whacking someone’s ass. Even more so when that said someone had committed a hate crime against a racial minority and got away with the trial, because that's the way it is in New York City.

The recurring metallic scent of fresh blood squirts in a jet of reddish color, thick and gleaming across your rigid, compact knuckles. The gruesome fragrance is no stranger to your sense of smell, and you're not quite sure whether you want it to be or not.

But it is what you are; as an inherent component of your biological chemistry (like the serum gushing through Steve's veins, altering him from inside out, or the magic pulsing within Wanda's core, changing the structure of her brainwaves), you know that hostility is a primeval part of your nature longer than the placid ends of an ordinary, quiet life.

The peaceable domestic life lived alongside Wanda is long gone, and desolation and wrath are your only roommates within the walls of your morbidly valueless apartment.

You've been living like a cornered animal for fifteen years in programmed mode, always exposing your fangs and your claws at any sign of danger, just self-destructing, dying little by little, not craving to exist for one more day after laying your head on the blandishments of your pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling, whirling through your usual drunken state. Just desiring to somehow wreck your imperishable body that can't be cut or torn by human hands or tools.

People much well-intentioned than you are long gone, and you, by some implausible probabilities, were (cursed) fortunate to have endured thorough all the catastrophes that life directed at you.

The car accident as a child. The blip as a mother and as a wife, as a friend.

The damn journey by the mountain of Vormir, in which three of you went in the grip of that appallingly isolated planet, and only two came back with a chest full of oxygen and life pumping through your nervures. The avid combat for proprietorship of all the six Infinity Stones, and the provenance of the final snap that brought back peace to the equilibrium of the universe by eliminating the existence of its greatest known threat at the time.

You just seem to live confined in this unbearable cycle of misfortune, and it's not fair to others that you are the person left to tell the story of those who are gone.

If only you could, you would swap places with the true heroes who gave their lives for the greater good. You would even be honored to do so yourself.

Your chest heaves and deflates severely within the molds of your leather jacket fitted around your shoulders over a short-sleeved plain shirt, your veins bulging with rushing blood, and you rise to your feet, setting up your knees, and step back to inspect the big man who lies defeated to the floor of the alley, amidst a pool of his own blood and filth typical of places like this — your jacket sleeve shimmering with bundles of fresh blood, a coat of gleaming sweat limping glistening on the beam of skin on your forehead, near your hairline.

He is still alive, groaning in a vital position, and is severely battered. And it was never your intention to kill anyone. He probably learned his lesson. Maybe you should break his legs, just in case.

A tremor rolls under your black sneaker feet as a loud motorcycle passes by in the distance. Sirens also pass presently afterwards, coming and going with their blue and red outcome.

But there, squeezed inside the claustrophobic walls of the dim alley, you are far from any possible intervention. You then register a single shake that travels along the outline of your left leg as your cellphone pulses inside the back pocket of your old jeans, shivering against your hip bone.

You take an elongated gulp of air before diving into your flickering pocket and hooking the device through your fuming, blooded finger length. You know your pupils are dilated and dark.

Your gaze is empty and brittle as you scrutinize between the digitally formed words before your motionless eyes.

Frequent bursts of oxygen are a method of neutralizing the pulses of adrenaline throbbing in the artery inside your neck. But the taste that slips between your teeth is acid and sour, and you lock your jawbone at the information that is cognitive to you.

Hey, Y/N. Are you really going to come get the boys tonight? I saw in the weather forecast that it will rain later, so I wanted to check with you just to make sure

(seen)

It’s Wanda

(seen)

By the way

(seen)

Yes, you know it's Wanda (your sweet Wanda, the trace of humanity lingering inside your icy chest), that she texted you. And it doesn't astonish you at all (not anymore), because not many people contact you lately during the sunny period of the day.

You two have been keeping in touch the last few days, after all, you told her that you wanted to be more present in the twins' lives. And it's not an untruth at all, but your sly creaking anxiety makes you feel like it's a kind of uncertainty inside your throbbing stomach walls.

Maybe it's not the right decision, the voice inside your head spoke. Maybe at this point in life they don't need you anymore. Maybe this is a breakthrough, or even the commencement of a calamity worthy of a Greek novel, you're not quite sure yet.

You turn on your heels and spin your back on the battered man, so you can send your reply to your ex-wife's number without looking at the ferocious outcome of your latent tantrum.

yup, your avid thumbs type along the digital keyboard provided on the screen of the small electronic device, i’ll be there in 1 hour or so. hope they like cheeseburgers.

And then you slide your upper teeth along the flesh of your lower lip, somewhat unsure of how to proceed.

try to enjoy your staycation btw. you deserve it

(seen)

You don't know why you sent her that stupid emoji.

It's not like you're a teenager reproducing a failed flirtation attempt with the girl you have a crush on anymore.

But a lapse of realism is present as your vision aims on the blood folds on your stinging fingers folded around the cellphone, and you feel a heavy ball of constricted lamentation taking shape in the back of your throat when your sorrowful eyes scrutinize thorough the lines of your hands and find there only odious signs of a cavernous viciousness (a raw, physical cruelty also reflected within the mirror of your shattered soul).

In the background, the man is still groaning in pain. And you're not sorry you broke him in a beating. No, no. You're just sorry for yourself, because you didn't bat an eye when you did it.

Vaguely the memory of Wanda placing chaste kisses along your hands invades you, and you realize you wouldn't want her to kiss your unseemly fingers right now (because you find her too pure to dwell on the filthiness of your touch).

The skin on your hands abruptly itches and feels dull, and you don't feel like having those plagued fingers around your children’s immaculate faces anymore.

ᗢ

The twilight of dusk breaks with the trepidation of an ingrained thunder, which rumbles all in a glow of white light that splits along the longitudinal path that comprised the pleasant suburb that is Westview.

So, this is an opaque afternoon resulting from the middle of the rainy day, gray and hazy in its chilly essence, with tenuous threads of a torrential drizzle protecting the foundations of the two-story house on the slopes of the street, making the dewy ivy rustle on its ground, dripping slowly from the eaves of the ceramic tiles.

Standing on the porch of Wanda's house, you ponder that you should have listened to the weather forecast when it was said that during the afternoon there would be a period of rain. Your dark hoodie is really soaked through and your hair, pulled back in a high half ponytail, is damp against the skin of your own forehead. You feel kind of stupid.

Compact, opulent, slate-colored clouds were uneven against the emerald green of the panorama of howling houses, hills and trees, like the leaning of thick smoke from a desolate fire.

A fierce storm, nevertheless, is not anomalous in the face of the oscillating spring climate of the state of New Jersey, which is not a real stranger to the rainy weather of the season. Thus, the nonstop drizzle is not the atypical episode of the day altogether.

The conquering event of such a rank happens when Wanda opens the door and finds you there, standing with your elbows dripping cold droplets water in the light wood entrance, and then pulls you into the cozy embrace of the pleasant climate established within that domestic environment of her own home.

“For God’s sake, Y/N, you're soaking wet!”

She reiterates, surveying you with an apprehensive gaze that runs the length of your head to toe, her slender ringless fingers still pressed worriedly around the outline of your right forearm tucked beneath the humid fabric of your damp blouse – but Wanda doesn't seem to realize as she's still carries with the action, and you kind of don't want her to let go of you anytime soon, so you say nothing about the warm touch tingling on your cold skin.

“Yeah, the rain started when I was halfway there and there was no way for me to avoid it, so I just went with it” you mutter, with a certain lack of interest smoldering in your quiet voice “Sometimes I wish I still had a car...”

“But you didn't bring an umbrella?” Her gaze is accusatory in your direction, the tone of voice sounding dangerously concerned inside your ears.

“Well” you kind of sigh, shrugging your shoulders within your hoodie, without looking her straight in the eye “You see, I, hah… I didn’t think it was actually going to… you know… to rain”

And then you look at her, and the exact facial expression you'd expect to find there makes its way until it slides all over her face. She’s pissed off.

“But I told you it was going to rain!” she then frowns at you, looking a little exasperated while doing it, her beautiful features drenched in an irritated tone of incredulity “Seriously Y/N, you need to listen to what I say more! What if you get sick?”

You flick an eyelid at the grumpy figure of a very upset Wanda standing right in front of you, exhaling aromas of tea and crimson color. It's funny how the pique of nostalgia slips through your bones – there is an air of familiarity when a subtle sense of déjà vu settles into your cognitive system, like the feeling of coming home after a long trip. You feel at home. You feel belonging.

This image is very cherished to your spirit, and you can't help but to articulate a small grin that feels light in your heart in front of your ex-wife, who then aims towards your gaze with a gleam that is an assortment of misunderstanding and irritability flickering in the greenish irises, the color that look like two emerald stones embedded within her eyeballs, curving a single one of her sharp dark eyebrows in an high arching cut.

You feel married to her again for half a fraction of a second – it's like your remote newlywed routine all over again. And the feeling is actually good.

She looks so pretty. It's like you could kiss her lips right there.

“What? What's so funny?”

Wanda questions you in an almost petulant way, and you let out a pleasant chuckle as she tilts her head slightly to the side of her right elbow, her chin pointing toward the tip of your nose – her typical irritating movement as the harbinger of an angry reaction to anything that troubles her spirit.

“You know I'm physically incapable of getting sick, don't you?” you declare, still with a smile carved along the outline of your own lips, and Wanda crosses her forearms close to her chest in an even vaguely embarrassed way in front of you.

She was always a stubborn bratty type anyways.

“It's that super durability mutant thing or some shit like that. At least that's what Banner told me once, and he's a smart guy, so I believe him” you casually shrug, “I haven't had a cold since I was, like, thirteen. Shit, I don't even know if I remember what it's like anymore. You don't have to worry about me, Wanda"

“W-well,” she exasperated in a timidly cute way, even a little childish in essence, pressing her open palms against the sides of her hips well-guarded by a pair of pale mom jeans – the attire so far from the miniskirts and chains and torn clothes she used to wear when she was younger, at the apex of her mean girl phase.

Today isn't the first time you've noticed that her waist got wider as a result of the prudent ripening endowments of late adulthood blossoming into her beautiful body-type. It suits her well. You want to touch her skin through the fabric of those flimsy jeans and the thin white cotton blouse; your fingers itch to do it.

“Just because you don't get sick like other people it doesn’t mean you can walk around in the rain whenever you feel like it. You look like a wet dog right now, you know”

“Alright, alright, I get it” you raise both your hands to shoulder height in a placid gesture of surrender “No more walks in the rain”

“You're impossible, Y/N” she then rolls her green eyes into their sockets, but you just smirk jokily at her reaction.

It only takes a nonchalant magical flutter of Wanda's wrist, with her right five fingers all enveloped in a fading mist of crimson steam, for the well-versed witch to make your garments still swell on your body, expelling from the bristles of fabric, as even in a chemical separation reaction, the water molecules that soaked them in the first place.

It's like a huge hair dryer blowing hot air the entire length of your body and then unexpectedly stopping as if pulled from the socket, making your skin temperature pleasant again like a sunny embrace all around your body.

You find yourself dry in a matter of seconds, from your socks to your underwear, thanks to her remarkable magical gifts.

The tingles consequential from the scarlet mist touching your skin still slither down the length of your body. It is familiar and eccentrically comforting – it's like eating again a candy that you used to eat during the preludes of your childhood; tastes like home and happiness.

“You know what, your powers come in handy sometimes, I’ll give you that” you say in a mocking tone of voice, and she raises a single eyebrow in response.

"I'm still considering throwing you out for dripping water on my carpet, just so you know"

Wanda just casts a weary glance in your direction, but there's a slight lighthearted tone that resides in the green outline of her graceful irises, as if an inside joke has taken hold between you two.

She smiles, and so do you, because you feel comfortable while doing it – a pair of complicit grins from someone whose chest is filled of joy and fullness. The atmosphere that sets in is comfortable, and you feel more relaxed being close to her.

You don't really do it, but it feels like your fingers are entwined with the fingers of her own hand – the specter of touch is written between the two of you, and it's as if your soul can really feel hers at its core, like two magnets that can't stop attracting each other instantaneously. You've always gravitated towards Wanda's overwhelming presence, and things won't be any different now.

“Come on, the boys are watching cartoons in the living room” Wanda says, then turning her back on you so that you follow her lead to the intimates of the house, “You can stay until the rain stops”

You follow after your ex-wife without further circumlocution, the two of you passing through the small and comfy entrance hall as you go after Wanda into the large rectangular living room, your hands always tucked inside the single pocket of your hoodie as you accompany her with phlegmatic steps in your essence.

Your shoulders feel even lighter as she turns to you and casually offers you the sweetest smile you've ever seen in your life.

Torrential rain is still pouring down from the sky outside the house, and the boys Billy and Tommy can be seen wearing warm, comfortable clothes, both the twins snuggled up against the back of the gray linen sofa, their little smart eyes looking smilingly at each other’s faces and not towards the television screen, where some cartoon that seems unfamiliar to you is shown.

They seem to share some secret that only two people with some primal connection as to what unites them would be able to do it, but the sounds of banter irrigated in the air of childish shenanigans reveals the mockery between their giggles.

They are brothers and they are twins, yes, two parts of a whole, born of the same womb that they shared from the beginning of their existence as two living beings, but you were always a little happier to realize the closeness established in the friendship between your children. Billy and Tommy are each other's best friends.

The pair then seem to make themselves aware of the presence of their two mothers as they enter the room, and the smiles of both children scintillate in enthusiasm as the pairs of eyes look up and acknowledge your appearance a little further behind Wanda's still figure, following her very closely, ceasing the small section of chitchats they had between the two of them.

"Mom!"

"Mommy!"

From the sofa the boys joyfully call out to you, beaming in your direction. You can't help but do the same to them.

“Hey, my demons spawn. What are you up to there, huh?”

“We were preparing something! Okay, so, mom,” Billy speaks in response, barely seeming to be able to contain the glee of excitement inside his tiny body.

"Listen to this-!" Tommy complements his brother's phrase, in a tone of enthusiastic anticipation.

"Hey, I want to start it!" but the other twin intervenes promptly, almost indignantly.

Tommy frowns, turning up his freckled little nose towards a rather annoyed Billy, who is sitting next to his left elbow. The little boy briefly tilts his head to the left side towards his brother, and you know you've seen similar action in Wanda's characteristic mannerisms.

“No, I want to start it!”

"I want to start it!"

“But I want to start it!”

“I want to start it!”

“Why don't you both” Wanda then promptly interferes with the small disagreement between the boys, increasing her mother's reproachful tone of voice a little, preventing, at the beginning, that the intrigue takes a somewhat bigger proportions “Start it together?”

“Yeah” you support her in a complacent tone of voice “You two came up with the idea together, so the right thing would be to do it together too. Whatever it is, I mean”

"Okay"

"Okay..."

The two of them mutter almost in almost defeated tune, fidgeting together on the couch. You think that they look cute while they're there, tiny and sitting like two baby rabbits.

"You ready?" Billy questions in a low voice, turning to the brother beside him.

“Yeah” Tommy mussed back, nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” says Billy then, almost proudly, “Three, two, one, go”

And then, you can barely contain a smirk when the boys, in different and discrepant voice tones, begin a silly chant in their thin children's voices. In the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice that Wanda also lets out an amorous smile, melting into a comfortable puddle of kindness, dying in love with her two singing little children sitting across from the two of you.

“We like ice cream like any child should” they hum together, vocalizing playful tones as they proceed through the song's component words, “And if we get some ice cream, we pro-mise to be… good!”

Then they look towards the two of you, displaying expectant smiles written all over their childish faces. And you and Wanda exchange glances, and the smile she offers you is very similar to the one that graces the curve of Billy's lips.

"Nice try, smarty-pants, but you haven't even had dinner yet"

“But mama” Tommy replies in a pleading tone of voice “We really want ice cream!”

“Yes, we want ice cream!” exclaims Billy in agreement "We can't wait!"

“Well, we can have dinner first, then ice cream. What do you guys think?" you offer them, your eyes darting towards Wanda's face "But you need to have dinner first to grow to be strong and healthy, and ice cream is for dessert only. Right, mama?"

Wanda looks in your direction, and then smiles. And you smile back, because the situation is prone to do so. You, for the first time in so long, feel welcomed and hassle-free in the presence of others.

The air inside the house is blissful and warm, so unlike your empty, disdainful apartment forgotten somewhere on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan. Wanda doesn't feel like your ex-wife right now – at least, that's not how she looks at you.

“Right” her eyes flash pale green beams towards you “Let's have dinner first, mommy”

ᗢ

You wake up in the middle of the night, but maybe you just haven't fallen asleep at all.

The sheets that grace the bottom of your body are soft and comfortable, and the pajama set you wear is not your property. It's late in the course of the long night, and like so many that have passed before this one, you just know you wouldn't be able to rest your relaxation anytime soon.

How could you even do it? Perhaps you stayed longer than you realized detailing the gloomy ceiling of Wanda's guest room, counting in your mind as you scrutinized every passing second so that you still had control over something (time being something), so that you wouldn't go mad at being dismembered alive by each of your own inner demons.

If the beginning of the night was watered in jubilation and a serene comforting coziness on your part, the firstfruits of the dawn soon came to frustrate you in the form of intrusive thoughts quite harmful to your twisted mental health.

The torrential rain didn't stop anytime soon, and after having dinner with Wanda and the boys (in a very warm congregation, you were sitting at the table with your family, eating the same food as them and breathing the same oxygen, always supported by grins of pleasure as you chatted eagerly with each other), and the twins were slow to fall asleep after two generous mugs of chocolate mint ice cream each.

Your ex-wife insisted that you stay for the night after the two of you carried them upstairs and deposited them in their respective tidy beds, showering each of them with chaste kisses to the tops of their childish heads – Wanda's little staycation was long-forgotten by then.

You let out a disturbed sigh, both palms of your hands polishing the length of the dull face of yours.

What the fuck, you think, what the fuck are you doing there? This may even be your family, but this is not your house. It's not your home. Not anymore.

Reverberating through your insides you find the throttling need for a drag of a cigarette eating away at the bottom of your lungs like a harmful parasite sucking the life from its source, and then you get up to do it, because lying down feels like it consumes you from within in a profuse haze of bubbling anxiety that bursts from your stomach to your mouth, making you feel so weak inside.

It has always struck you as a somewhat ironic cynicism on the part of the universe that you, who are possessed of an impenetrable shell on the outside, suffer so much from the brittle fragility of your own interior – hard skin does nothing to protect a broken mind.

The lavender bedclothes had begun to tighten the muscle in your neck after a while, and in the room just down the hall, you assume Wanda sleeps comfortably cuddling in her bed.

When searching inside the single pocket of your hoodie, the well-folded garment on top of a plain desk in the corner of the room, soaked in the darkness of the shadowy environment, the absconse pack of cigarettes from a brand that you are quite familiar with, that keeps you company in the acrimonious moments of solitude, you take a single cylindrical unit towards the spaces open to your drooping mouth and then you find the cold lighter with your fingertips, leaving for the entrance door of the room offered to you by your ex-wife.

After descending the stairs, stepping one step at a time with your bare feet, you are surprised that the door leading to the backyard is already open before you are even there, and the cold night wind has blown inside the house like a curious, invisible animal, installing an icy feeling of dysphoria within the broad walls.

But before you could search with your watchful eye for some intruder who went beyond the icy specter of the night, in avid state of alert, you notice an apollonian silhouette hunched outside, sitting on the step outside the door, with a long waterfall of soft hair in the color of a raven's down running halfway down her spine.

The restlessness that weighed heavily on your shoulders eased as the familiar full-bodied scent of hibiscus tea mixed with the sweetness of a mild strawberry shampoo slithered into your nostrils and filled your lungs thirsty for smoke and tobacco.

As you approach, you see that Wanda, wearing a sheer silk robe over a red nightgown, is accompanied by a large cup that exhales small clouds of steam, with the tiny bundle that carries the tea herbs submerged into the hot water inside the dark container.

"You really have loud thoughts" Wanda's small, soft voice ripples through the air and then hugs your body as your ex-wife turns toward you with a lingering slowness that, to you, is as familiar as the taste of your unsmoked cigarette.

Her eyes glow an intoxicating green hue amid the darkness of the night, only supported by the silver light of the moonlight coming from outside the residence.

You feel like a frog being studied on a silver platter in some high school biology class.

Wanda's diligent gaze always seemed to be able to penetrate through the cracks of your soul – she always understood you as if she were an expert when dealing with any subject concerning you.

You let out an uneasy sigh, oddly scratching the inside of your throat as you do.

"Sorry if I woke you up, it wasn't... it wasn't my... intention"

“It’s okay” she mumbles serenely over a sip of hot tea, the pulp of her nacarine lips being moistened by the hot liquid she's ingested.

“I still haven't been able to sleep anyway”

And it's no surprise to you, because you slept and woke up next to this woman for several of the component years of your life span, and it was always well known to you that Wanda is a woman quite affected by long sleepless nights, not being able to afford to actually close her eyes and be fortunate enough to have a good night's sleep.

Countless were the nights turned to morning dawns, when you both resided under the same roof in the compound back at the Avengers Tower, so many years before you were there, standing in the middle of her kitchen, silently watching her perform the simple act of drinking tea at her backyard door.

“Still having trouble sleeping?”

“Once in a while”

Wanda answers you, and with her eyes she indicates the empty space next to her right elbow so you can sit there.

“Sometimes I need to relearn how to sleep all by myself”

Without saying a word, you cross the entire length of the kitchen, passing by the island and the marble sink, to be seated on the marble step that freezes your warm skin, next to the woman who smells of hibiscus with strawberries and deep scarlet tones.

Her eyes recognize the figure of the unsmoked cigarette between your fingers, unlit and forgotten like the insignificant little rolled-up tobacco paper that it is, and then she looks toward the profile of your silhouette, blinking once with her thick eyelashes as she does so.

“You start smoking again?”

“Yeah, it's been a while, actually. Not that I'm proud of it”

Your gaze shifts to the small cylinder, turning it between the digits of your index and middle fingers of your tender right hand.

“That shit helps me calm down, I guess. Or at least I like to think so. I don’t know"

Silence touches both of you shoulders, and there is a moment for Wanda to sip more of the tea that has spilled into her cup. When the drink is gone, then all the way into her stomach, she places the container on the floor, close to her left ankle like a tame kitten, safe from her company.

You are still hesitating in the uncertainty of whether or not to light up that damned tempting cigarette.

“Earlier today,” she begins, immediately drawing your attention to her pretty face, and you're met with her pink lip as she clamps her upper teeth over the contour of her wet mouth.

“You and me and the boys... it was good. They like having you around. And I... I like it too, Y/N”

She hums in the sigh of the night. You feel a crackling feeling swelling inside your swollen chest, but you don't say anything in sequence, because it's Wanda who continues to converse in the silver moonlight.

“I had forgotten what it was like. Me and you acting like family. It's good, It’s… really good"

You choke relatively. For Wanda, a heartbeat rumbled in her ears. And then she looks at you, and you look at her.

And suddenly, you don't want to light that cigarette anymore – because she leans her chin forward, leaning her head towards you, and you do the same when your body cries out for her, lips colliding in midair like the consolidation of a wish, a scarlet fever supernova bursting within your own chest.

And then, the full-bodied freshness of hibiscus darts into the half-open breach in the gap between your lips, pressing a velvety tongue against the slit between your teeth, discharging into your mouth a red-sour-sweet flavor, definitely good though, but rougher than usual as the two of you now share a needy, somewhat sloppy, even animalistic kiss.

Even if there is indeed a need on Wanda's part, and you just need someone to scare you away from the evil inside your head.

Your ex-wife, in a thoughtless act, dives with her clever hands into the thin fabric of the tank top that clothes your impenetrable skin, grabbing the sides of your waist in a needy way, as if all she wanted at that moment was to feel you, as if her entire existence existed based on physically feeling you snuggled into her icy body.

She blinks, consenting to the overflow of her feelings, enraptured by the image of your cheeks burning and your chest heaving.

And she does what she thinks is right to do, which seems to be the only option possible in this small moment of affection and dedication, filled with an ember that if she could name it, she would call it love - because she knows she love you, even if she didn't say it out loud yet.

You are the love of her life, and she is the love of yours.

Wanda then hurls herself even farther forward, a nymph figure smitten with idolatry, and takes her prize, pressing the commission of her red lips against the outlined mouth with the flavor of melancholy that could belong to none other than you, so exotic, and never the same.

You feel the smart hands rest at the end of your spine with an almost practiced disregard, seeking nothing but feeling at first, far from the lascivious idea of consolidating the carnal act. Wanda just wants to feel you close, all to herself, comfortable in her grip.

Between a set of pink lips, a tongue is present, and this tongue curls up in another in a not hasty and exaggerated way. It's elegant. It's careful. It is harmonious.

But a slow kiss unravels, and Wanda holds her breath and returns in search of more of her favorite flavor to keep in her mouth, only to be promptly reciprocated by a devoted you, a soft nostalgic familiarity edging your silhouettes connected by the lips beneath a star-studded sky, with an absorbed perfection that no one else but the two of you would be able to achieve.

Up and down, side and side; surrounded by genuine attunement, lips moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictates your not so reckless actions.

A waltz of delicate, tangible lips that still fit together so perfectly, so neatly, that you might as well cry.

But the pacified kiss soon takes the form of a fervent kiss as you pant hot against your ex-wife's lips, and the fervent kiss becomes little kisses sprinkled around her neck that soon dissolve into a hollow moan, into a world where there didn't seem to be any more worries as long as you were in each other's arms.

In her own time, Wanda drags her teeth along the lower lip of your mouth, which groans deeply in response with a tingling in your throat, a tiny fraction of time passing until, like a buzz, quick, rough lips take refuge again in a tongue inside your mouth, and you feel an icy hand grasp your breast in a primitive way.

Clever fingers, soaked in crimson, traveled to your scalp, and a light mouth caresses yet another moan of yours. In a heartbeat, Wanda swings a leg over your knees and sits right on top of your lap, grabbing your wrists to put your hands around her waist.

The feeling is familiar. Toxically familiar.

It is the red invading your senses, intoxicating you with dense doses of scarlet.

You know very well that, even before the enticements of alcohol and cigarettes, your primary vice has always been the crimson sweetness of Wanda's body.

And, well… you're not known for being resistant to the temptations of your addictions.

ᗢ

A crimson marble glow glistening under the palms of both your hands. Sweat glistened in the hollow of your groin across your burning hips.

Wanda riding on your lap, naked as a Renaissance painting displayed in the dim light of a museum, her chest heavy like a marathon runner. The long, thick length of the red strap brushed against a specific spot on her inner walls that made her delirious and increasingly pivot her hips toward you, seeking more, brushing against each other like two animals in heat.

There was nothing rational in that animalistic act.

The symphony in the room was that of skin beating wet against skin; of her lascivious wetness voraciously swallowing your cock.

You could see it from the single, retracted drop of sweat that poured into the valley between her own swollen breasts, the two mounds swaying just before your lascivious eyes; a delight modulated to your stormy gaze, profuse as sea water, which clouded your young girlfriend's body with a predatory look, immersed in illicit labor.

Your insides tingled in a white-hot tingle, both clits sliding through the material of the strap, the insides of your thighs strong and wet against Wanda's pulsing center.

Her tight pussy pressing against the erect silicone phallus between your legs, the red of the material buffed with the sticky juices from inside of her. That was her bed, her sheets wet beneath your sweaty bodies, the walls of her room reverberating the pornographic grunts and moans from deep in her throat.

“F-fuck-!” she clenched her teeth, her nails lacquered with black nail polish carving red paths in the muscles of your back, “Y/N, fuck, right there, ah-!”

Her thick Sokovian accent spilled into your ears, and something primal and cavernous rumbled inside you, like a spark that explodes in a raging fire.

You wanted to own her.

You wanted to consume her.

You wanted to eat her alive; fuck her until the mold of your strap was forever etched into the walls of her greedy cunt, which was increasingly squeezing the silicone phallus, a delicious pressure forming a red knot just below her belly button.

“Ah-! Ah-!, pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta-!” she gasped in her native dialect, loud and clear against your ear as you fucked her as hard as possible “Trakhni menya... ya pochti u tseli, ya po-pochti u tseli... Ugh, dorogaya!”

“Fuck, are you close?”

“U-uhum! ” she kind of moaned, both eyes squinted two lewd lines “Please don't stop, don't stop Y/N, ah-!”

The scream was loud as you dropped her suddenly onto the sheets, her sweaty back slamming against the thick material of the mattress, her dark hair spilling across the pale material of the pillow.

You slipped your hands between the folds of both her knees and brought her lower back close, barely giving her time to miss your strap inside her dripping cunt before guiding the red material between her sticky folds, resuming the vigorous action of fucking your way against her coccyx.

Your strong hand pressed itself (as did the bone of your jaw) against the upholstered headboard, and there a rip was deferred by your own touch – as it had done to a plucked pillow, and a lampshade shattered to the ground.

The lamp above your heads flashed white. Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse scarlet that swallowed the moss green of her irises, the darkening of her dilated pupils making her eyes look like two bottomless wells of lust.

You buried your face against the beam of sweaty skin that joined her neck to her collarbone, and placed a generous, savage bite there.

"Fuck- I’m cumming, I'm cumming!" she decreed, panting against your bare neck, pressing her fingers against your buttocks in an incitement to the act they so indomitably committed.

“Cum for me Wanda” you murmured against her ear “Cum on my cock, pretty girl”

The bed hit the wall again. And again. And again.

You didn't stop at the first orgasm. Nor in the second. Nor on the third.

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

1K notes · View notes

sadhours · 11 months

Text

simmer down - chapter one

billy hargrove x hagan!oc

read on ao3 • masterlist • requests are open!

a/n: here is the rewrite!!! hope you all like it.

warnings: slow burn, secret crush, oc x steve, angst, underage drinking

word count: 10k

Gina Hagan had things easy. She knew she was pretty, she’d been told so her entire life. And okay, so Hawkin’s was a small midwestern town, maybe the bar was pretty low but she still had smooth sailing because of her looks. Her brother being popular helped. Freshmen year at Hawkin’s High was nothing short of a breeze. It meant a guaranteed spot with the cool crowd. People flocked to her because she was Tommy’s sister and who was his best friend? None other than the King himself, Steve Harrington. Hawkin’s one and only golden boy. His parents were filthy rich, rumors always swirling about their professions but Gina had the close connection to know the truth. His dad came from old money, had a shit ton of real estate across many states but was bred and born right here in quaint little Hawkin’s. He wanted his son to have a similar upbringing so well, they stayed here. However, with Mrs. Harrington’s job, once little Stevie could take care of himself, they were never in Hawkin’s much. Two months of the year, really. July and Christmas. They didn’t like winters in Indiana, so in all honestly it was about a month and a week. Barbara Harrington was a lawyer and a damned good one. Big corporations had her on the payroll and Steve says there’s a lot of schmoozing that comes along with the job. Gina’s met them a handful of times, mostly when she was a kid but they were always kind. She has a distinct memory of clinging to Tommy’s side when the Harrington’s bought them winter jackets.

Gina remembers feeling inferior to the Harrington’s when she was kid. Steve had called them poor a number of times. He’d say his parents were doing their charity when they brought over Christmas presents to the Hagan’s. Barbara told her she’d always wanted a little girl and so each year for Christmas and Gina’s birthday, she’d bring over at least ten gifts for her. Clothes, expensive clothes and shoes. Her mom was hesitant but Gina was excited to wear them to school.

Her parents were as well off. They struggled when her and Tommy were young. However, thanks to Tommy’s insistence on Steve in grade school, James and Barbara Harrington became close with her parents and offered them jobs. Their dad managed one of James’ properties and their mom practically ran Barbara’s headquarters here in Hawkin’s. Their families were close, they celebrated Christmas together. Steve was practically a brother. Except Gina had been harboring a fat crush on him since he was twelve and she was ten. A crush that got obsessive but she’d managed to keep under wraps until she was about fourteen. Damned her and Tommy’s unexpected little sister. Bridgette Hagan was born six years after Gina, a total whoops baby. In fact, their mother was scheduled to get her tubes tied but the doctor cancelled last minute and Bridgette was conceived shortly after. So one night at dinner, Steve was staying over and the spunky eight year old had spilled Gina’s dearly kept secret.

“Gina likes Steve!” she had proclaimed before digging into her mashed potatoes.

Gina about died. Her smattering of freckles disguised behind the redness of her face. It was the most humiliating moment thus far. Tommy had seemed just as embarrassed, telling Bridgette to shut up as Gina stood up and ran to her bedroom. Only for Steve to appear minutes later and tell her everything was alright and he didn’t hate her.

Then, Gina turned fifteen. Her parents threw her a sweet little party. A nice dinner at Enzo’s, the guest list included their five piece family, Steve, a few of her friends and Tommy’s girlfriend, Carol. It was nice, she felt fancy and pretty in her formal black dress. Carol had styled her hair that night, showed her how to do makeup. Gina loved Carol. She was like a big sister. Even if Gina got grossed about her and Tommy, she still felt wonderfully close to Carol. After dinner, they went back to the Hagan’s house for cake and once their parents went to bed, Steve had swirled his keys around his fingers and told Gina and everyone he had an after party waiting at his empty house.

Gina was nervous to drink that night, she’d never really had much alcohol except for sips off beers Tommy had offered. But Steve had mixed her a couple of cocktails, simple ones; vodka and juice. And Gina had never felt more special than that moment, her and Steve Harrington alone in his kitchen as he told her she’d like the drink and then tucked her curly brown hair behind her ear and told her she had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. He was so wonderfully handsome, big brown eyes and floppy hair.

“Come with me,” Steve had said, “I wanna show you something.”

Gina had followed him up to his pristine room, the one with plaid wallpaper. Steve bought her a pair of earrings. He put them on for her and kissed her. It wasn’t Gina’s first kiss but it might as well have been. The first French kiss she’d had. His tongue felt magical against hers, Gina was sure she’d combust right there on his bed when it’d happened. Never in her life had she’d felt that way from a kiss. Steve ignited every nerve ending, she almost cried when he pulled away and told her how beautiful she was.

Losing your virginity to Steve Harrington was something special, even if she knew of five other girls who’d had the same fate. She didn’t even think about those girls when it happened. Steve had made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. Made her feel like a woman. It was gentle and sweet and everything Gina had wanted. Afterwards, he told her Tommy couldn’t find out and she was on board. She knew he’d be upset, wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize his long-standing friendship with Steve. But after that, Gina was addicted. Infatuated. Steve Harrington was a God that walked among men.

Gina would fill her diary with how handsome and funny Steve was. An entire page was dedicated to her practicing her signature with Steve’s last name. Gina Harrington scrawled out repeatedly in her most practiced cursive. She remembers one time Steve found it, teased her about it until he straddled her on her twin size bed and kissed her dizzy.

They continued sneaking around for almost a whole year. Whenever Steve spent the night, Gina could expect the lanky brunette to creep into her bedroom and make her feel on cloud nine. It was a blissful seven months. That was, until her classmate, Nancy Wheeler caught his attention. The worst part was that Steve never broke up with Gina. Not that they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend but things just abruptly shifted. Steve stopped sneaking into her room when he spent the night, his eyes no longer found hers in a crowded room. But Gina held on. Steve would spend the night and she would lay in bed and wait for what once was. It never came.

Steve dove head first into Nancy. The real kicker was when Gina sat with Tommy, Carol and Nancy’s friend Barb in Steve’s backyard while he added Nancy Wheeler to the notches in his bed post. It was excruciating. She was just as miserable as Barb that night. Perhaps it was a lord opportunity to make a new friend but Gina didn’t want to be friendly with Barb that night. She was a gear in the workings that ruined what was most important to Gina.

Gina withdrew. She’d broke down one night and confessed everything to Carol, who held her close and told her Steve was the biggest asshole in existence. Gina couldn’t find it in herself to agree. Steve had made her feel so special. Carol had formulated all these plans to ruin Steve’s life, break him and Nancy up and make Steve regret ever hurting Gina. It was sweet. Carol was the best big sister, even if she wasn’t really.

It was much easier when Steve had gotten into a fight with Tommy. Her brother never told her exactly happened but Gina knew it was bad because Steve started acting like they didn’t exist. And the boys fought a lot through out the years but nothing like that time. It had to do with Nancy. That much was clear, but Tommy and Carol wouldn’t talk about it. Gina thinks it was because they’d done something horrible. Perhaps because Carol knew how much Steve had hurt Gina and she had to get revenge, even if Gina insisted she didn’t.

Therefore, it’d been a whole summer without Steve. Gina’s first since she was in grade school. It wasn’t that drastically different than the summer before— parties, swimming and lazy days lounged on the couch. Except this one was empty. No brown eyes and floppy, big hair to gaze at. No empty house to relax at. The swimming she’d done had been at the community pool and not the Harrington’s. The parties lacked one exceptional guest. Lazy days were lonely without Steve’s jokes and lingering touches. The boys she’d fooled around with never gave her the same feelings Steve did. Gina didn’t get the tingling in her fingers and toes when any of them kissed her neck. Her thoughts didn’t fizzle out when they went down on her. She’s slept with a handful of them but it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it was with Steve. They didn’t make her feel special. She didn’t want to even look at them whenever it was finished. But she remembered always cuddling with Steve, joking around and the compliments Steve would give her. No one compared. She’d found love and she’d lost it just as quick.

Carol and her grew even closer, but Tommy got upset when she didn’t join in on the shit talking. Gina couldn’t even find the energy to hate Nancy, as much as Carol insisted she should. Nancy wasn’t the problem here, she had no idea what secrets went on between Steve and his best friends little sister. It was pointless to hate her.

Even if Gina was bitter. She’d compare herself to Nancy but would be at a loss. Steve had told her how beautiful she was, how smart she was, how funny she was. Gina hadn’t changed, but Steve had. Steve was the problem here and the quicker Gina accepted that, the better.

;;;

“Hurry up!” Tommy bangs on the bathroom door.

Gina huffs as she grabs the wide tooth comb and rakes it through her tangle of loose chestnut curls. She was about due for another perm but that was a problem for another day. She’d overslept and would have preferred to shower but wouldn’t have the time. She’d washed her armpits and nether regions with a washcloth at the sink, Carol referred to this lovingly as a whores bath. Gina thinks Carol’s really funny and she’s pretty sure Carol thinks so too.

When Gina swings the bathroom door open, her equally as freckled brother pushes past her and shoves her out of the room before slamming the door. Their relationship was an interesting one. They were attached at the hip most their lives, the photos decorating the hallways show a young Tommy holding an infant Gina with adoration in his eyes. Their mom says he was infatuated with her when she was a baby, doting on her and it only started to waver when he started going through puberty. It felt like rejection at first but the older they got, the better they got along. When she started high school, Tommy made sure she sat with him and his friends at lunch. He brought her along to parties and always included her. He wasn’t necessarily protective but if Gina needed, she knew he’d punch in any man’s face who hurt her. Especially Steve Harrington. But that would mean admitting she betrayed her brother by falling in love with his best friend, and she couldn’t do that.

Gina dresses in a white tennis skirt, a striped polo and slouchy socks with her pink Ked’s. She puts on minimal makeup, a bit of rouge and mascara. It’s October, a skirts not the best choice but Gina loves wearing them enough to suffer through a bit of chill. She shoves her arms through a lavender colored zip up hoodie and ties half her hair up with a matching scrunchie. Tommy’s waiting impatiently at the door when she exits her room, mumbling under his breath as he opens the door for them and locks it. He’s always complaining about her being late.

His Toyota is messy, Gina steps on paper bags and cups as she climbs in the front seat. Any comments to clean it would fall on deaf ears. A rebuttal that she could walk her ass to school would be made if she said anything. It was a hand-me-down from their uncle, Tommy’s sixteenth birthday present. She remembers how he grumbled about Steve getting a brand new BMW for his and Gina didn’t complain when she wasn’t gifted a car on her sixteenth birthday. She didn’t have her license anyways. The hundred dollars from her parents was a nice enough gift. She purchased a Walkman and cassettes with it.

They pick up Carol on the way and Gina’s sentenced to the backseat which is even messier than the front. All is well though. She feels good about today. No reason to aside for handing out fliers her and Tina made for a Halloween party. Tina’s parents are going to a party in Indianapolis so it’s the perfect opportunity. They’d planned it as soon as they found out the girls’ house would be empty for the holiday. Gina liked planning parties, though it wasn’t much planning. The kids coming would bring the booze and they didn’t exactly decorate. Gina liked to be involved though. She was kind of close to Tina. They weren’t best friends and Tina was friendly with almost everyone at Hawkin’s High. But there were many a drunk night spent between the two where they told secrets. Like how Tina had slept with Tommy during one of his and Carol’s many break-ups and she really didn’t want Carol to find out. Gina didn’t tell her about Steve, though. But she told her a secret about one of her embarrassing hookups.

When they arrive at the school, Gina and Carol find their way to Tina, Becca and Stacy. The five girls lean against Tina’s car while Tommy talks to his basketball buddies. Gina watches as Steve’s BMW pulls into the lot, Nancy in the front seat and she tries not to let her disappointment make itself known on her face. It’s been long enough. She should be used to it at this point. It still stings. Gina wishes she was in Nancy’s place.

A rumble of a loud engine grabs everyone’s attention. A pretty night blue 79’ Z28 Camaro drives by and into the spot opposite the girls. Everyone’s eyes are glued on it. No one in Hawkin’s has a car like that. It belongs to an outsider, a stranger. Gina’s in love with the car the second she sees it. It’s fucking awesome. The California plates catch her attention. PCE 235. It’s hard to read until it comes to a stop. The loud music erupting from the car cuts off and the drivers door swings open.

Worn motorcycle boots and thick denim legs emerge, Gina couldn’t look away if she wanted to. The man who emerges from the Camaro literally takes her breath away. Blonde, curly mullet and a hint of a mustache. He’s fucking gorgeous. A young redhead climbs out the passenger side with a skateboard, she’s wearing a red Adidas sweatshirt. She throws the board down and skates up to the middle school. The guy takes a pull from his cigarette, gives a little smirk to the four girls and then tosses the cigarette before strutting towards the school.

Gina’s breath catches in her throat. An immediate attraction to the boy. The Scorpions song he was blasting helps. They clearly have a similar interest and she’s floored with the possibilities that could be. She wants to talk to him so bad.

“Who is that?” Stacy asks what they’re all thinking.

“I have no idea,” Tina replies, “but would you check out that ass? Just look at it go.”

Oh, Gina is. His Levi’s are so fucking tight, they show off his thick thighs and perfect ass. She’s almost embarrassed by the physical reaction she’s having to the newcomer. Tommy’s jogging over, looking amongst the girls.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asks, face all contorted in excitement.

“We don’t know,” Carol says.

“His car is fucking bitchin’,” he gushes.

;;;

Tommy moves fast. Gina realizes as much when she’s walking up towards their house and sees that gorgeous Camaro parked on the street. Her heart flutters when she sees it. The chance to meet the stranger is exciting.

She’d just been at the music store, used her allowance to buy a record and a cassette. They were the same album. She wanted one to listen to at home and another to put in her Walkman.

Gina passes by her parents as she makes her way up the sidewalk. She smiles at them. They’re preparing for the cold months about to come. Uprooting the plants that won’t make it, unhooking the house and whatever else.

“Tommy’s got a new friend over,” her mother says.

Gina points at the Camaro, “I see that.”

“Seems like a nice kid,” her dad offers, “Very respectful.”

“Yeah?” Gina smiles.

Her mom gives her a knowing look, “You think he’s handsome?”

“Well, he is,” she gushes. “I haven’t talked to him, yet. He was nice?”

“Definitely. Complimented my roses as I ripped them out,” her dad says. “Nice car too.”

“Really nice car.”

“Why don’t you go and introduce yourself?” Gina’s mom insists, “Ask if he’d like to stay for dinner.”

Gina nods with a grin before opening the front door. She’s greeted with the sound of Metallica blaring out of Tommy’s room. It seems he’s trying to impress the new guy with the only metal album he owns. Suddenly, she’s nervous. That boy was so handsome she felt on fire when she’d seen him. And now he was in her house. Hanging out with her brother. It was almost too good to be true.

She takes a deep breath before making her descent down the hallway. Gina stops at Tommy’s room and peers inside. Carol’s laid out on the floor, checking her nails while the blonde and her brother sit on the edge of Tommy’s bed. The gorgeous boy has a cigarette perched in between his lips while he nods along with the baseline of the song. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously. Her parents smoke in the house so that’s not an issue, they just don’t know that Tommy and Gina also smoke. She wonders what they’d think of this kid their age, smoking in their house.

The stranger notices her and pinches his cigarette between his fingers as he pulls it away. His lips curl up and he drawls, “Hi.”

Gina’s throat tightens as she matches his gaze. His voice is like honey. Thick and sweet as it sends excitement between her legs. She gives a shy wave as her brother and his girlfriend notice her. Carol beckons her inside and she steps inside.

“Oh! Billy, this is my sister, Gina,” Tommy introduces her.

“Hi, Gina,” he purrs and extends his cigarette out for her to take.

Gina accepts it, taking a drag and tries to ignore the burning feeling on her lips. Or the fact that if her parents saw her smoking, they’d kill her. The panic is quickly squashed by the handsome blondes icy eyes on her. He’s even prettier this close. He’s got a hint of a mustache, it’s mostly rough stubble but it’s clear he can grow facial hair and that rouses something in Gina.

“Hi, Billy,” she says and passes the cigarette back.

He presses two fingers to the paper bag she’s got clutched against her chest, “What’s this you got?”

“An album.”

“Which one?” he raises an eyebrow and it feels like a test. Gina hopes she passes.

She pulls the record out of the bag, displaying Ratt’s Out of the Cellar for him. Billy grins wide, standing up and taking the album from her hands.

“Atta girl,” he praises and fuck, the praise goes straight between her legs. “I love this album.”

Gina would give anything to impress him more. He slides his thumbnail against the sleeve, slicing the cellophane open with the motion and walks over to Tommy’s record player. Carol grabs onto Gina’s wrist and pulls her down, giving her these eyes and Gina doesn’t miss the intensity in Tommy’s eyes as he shakes his head at her. Billy plops back down on the bed, oblivious to the silent interaction the three of them had. He pulls a can of beer from the sixer and cracks it open before he hands it to Gina. She accepts it with a small thanks. He’s got a little dangly earring and it catches on his curls. Gina has to stop herself from leaning forward and fixing it. She’s eager to touch him.

Billy sings along with the first track, low but Gina still hears him. She loves the sound of his voice. It’s sexy. She’s so close to turning into a puddle on her brothers floor.

“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Gag me with a spoon!” Carol gossips as she gestures gagging herself.

“I know,” Tommy scoffs.

“What’s the deal with that guy?” Billy asks, eyes trained on Gina like he expects her to answer.

Tommy sighs, “He used to fucking run school. King Steve. Then, he stuck his dick in the priss and he changed. Man’s totally whipped.”

“He used to be our friend,” Carol offers.

“Everyone was telling me about him,” Billy replies, “Said I’m gunning to be the new King. Whatever the fuck that means.”

“He’s an asshole,” Carol rolls her eyes. “But you are, this town needed someone with an edge.”

Billy snorts, eyes darting between the two girls on the floor.

“Steve’s nice,” Gina says meekly, staring at her knees as she speaks. No matter what, she couldn’t really bare them talking bad about Steve. He was nice and well, she was still in love with him.

“Whatever,” Tommy huffs, “He’s different. He used to be cool.”

“So you like metal?” Billy changes the subject as he nudges the toe of his boot against Gina’s knee.

She beams up at him, “Yeah.”

“Me too,” he smirks, biting his lip.

“Cool,” Gina’s sure she’s actually the lamest person he’s ever talked to. His eyes are the prettiest color she’s ever seen. She gets lost in them while he turns his attention back to Tommy, asks him where he can find weed.

“Oh, the freak, Eddie Munson,” Tommy answers but he’s up on his feet and walks over to his dresser. The freckled boy retrieves a joint. Gina and Carol meet each other with equally annoyed expressions. They’d had plans for the joint.

Tommy extends it out to Billy, “But here, you can have this in the meantime.”

“Ha, alright! Thanks man, I really appreciate it,” he beams as he tucks the joint in his pack of Marlboros. “Think we’re best buds, now.”

Tommy beams at the prospect, sitting down with a shrug, “Ah, it’s no big deal. A welcome gift.”

“Oh,” Gina interrupts, looking at Billy, “My mom wanted me to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner.”

“Wish I could, darling but, I better get home before my old man does,” the blonde says with a slight wince.

Gina stands up so she’s out of his way, but he stands up and they’re a little closer than Gina intended, almost nose to nose. She takes a step to the side and tucks her brown hair behind her hair, awkwardly smiling up at him. He smirks, biting his lower lip as his eyes scan her face. His gaze is pretty intimidating, she wants to crawl out of her skin from it.

“It was nice to meet ya, Gina,” he purrs.

Gina has to hold in the squeal threatening to escape, “You too.”

Once the front door shuts, letting them know Billy’s left, Tommy points to his younger sister.

“Off limits,” he says seriously, “I like him, don’t fuck it up.”

Gina holds up her hands defensively, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“I saw how you looked at him,” he argues with a tilt of his head.

“Oh, stop,” she sighs, “I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Yeah, right. I have eyes, ya know? He’s a good looking guy,” Tommy quips.

“Ya going queer on me?” Carol teases, “You don’t want Gina to go after him ‘cause you want a chance first?”

Tommy shoots her this flabbergasted, borderline disgusted look, “Get over here and I’ll show you how untrue that is.”

“Ew, disgusting,” Gina snarls, “I’m leaving.”

She shuts the door behind and goes to her room, trying not to think of Billy while she gets started on her homework. It’s a moot point. His eyes, thighs and bouncy curls flood her mind while she does her algebra.

;;;

Billy’s nice. He keeps Gina company while Tommy and Carol suck face, just like Steve used to do.

“They always do this?” he asks.

Gina nods, “Yeah. You’ll get used to it.”

He’s funny, likes to people watch. Right now they’re doing it, sitting on the hood of his Camaro at lunch. They share a cigarette and Billy points at a group of boys talking about fifteen feet away. He does funny voices while he makes up what he thinks the boys are saying.

“You’re not sensitive enough, Toby,” he puts on this whiny, exaggerated voice as one of the boys talks excitedly, “That’s why you can’t get a girlfriend!”

Gina giggles, not confident enough to join in with him but Billy’s funny enough on his own.

“Shut up,” he does the other kids voice now, “I don’t get girls because I eat my boogers.”

Another eruption of giggles come from Gina, she shoves Billy’s shoulder and covers her face. He chuckles and snatches the smoke from her fingertips, bringing it to his lips.

“You know those kids?” he asks.

She nods, “I had them in all my classes in elementary school. You’re spot on. He really does eat his boogers.”

The older boy cackles, “Yeah, he looks like he does.”

They’re quiet for a beat, Billy seems to be scanning for more victims but Gina interrupts him, “Are you going to the party tonight?”

“Yeah, think so,” he finishes the smoke and flicks it away, “Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?”

“I helped plan it,” Gina admits and then shrugs, “They’re usually pretty fun. All the parties around here kind of bleed together. There’s gonna be a keg though.”

“Yeah? You do keg stands?” he snickers, lips pulled up in the cutest smile she’d seen.

“I have not tried,” Gina admits with a giggle, “I struggle enough shotgunning.”

“I’ll teach ya,” he insists as the warning bell rings. He stands up and looks over to Gina, “So I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah, see you there.”

Gina huffs as she attempts to curl a stubborn chunk of her hair. She really needed to get another perm. Reaching for the mousse, she sprays a glob of it and scrunches her hair up with it until she’s satisfied. She stands up and assesses her “costume”, it’s just a short skirt, fishnets and a ripped up t-shirt. She’s not necessarily trying to get Billy’s attention but she doesn’t mind if she does.

Carol saunters into the doorway, donning a similar outfit, “And what are you supposed to be?”

Gina scrunches her hair up some more, “Hot.”

“Maybe for a particular blonde with a great ass?”

Turning to Carol, she rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket, “He’s off-limits, remember?”

“Fuck Tommy,” Carol snorts, “you deserve to have some fun and he looks like he knows how to have it.”

“He’s so out of my league, anyways,” Gina shrugs on her jacket and reaches for her purse.

Carol stops her, placing her hands on Gina’s shoulders and looking at her, “That’s so not true, Gina. You’re totally gorgeous.”

Her cheeks redden at the compliment, she can tell that Carol really means it. She smiles at her brothers girlfriend, “He kind of did like give me a look in Tommy’s room, didn’t he?”

“Totally. He was undressing you with his eyes, I say go for it,” Carol grins.

Tommy yells from the living room, “How long does it take to get ready?! I’m ready to get drunk!”

“He sounds like he already is,” Gina grumbles before following Carol out to Tommy’s car.

Tina’s house is absolutely packed. It’s a struggle for Tommy to find a spot to park on the lawn. He grumbles something about Gina taking forever and making them late.

Carol shoves his shoulder, “It’s important to be fashionably late, moron. We’ll look like losers if we’re on time. Gina’s doing us all a favor.”

Gina rolls her eyes, her stomach is a bit upset due to her brothers rather erratic driving. He was a little too tipsy already and she’s hoping Carol will drive them home. Once he parks, she climbs out of the car and stands beside Carol.

“The whole fucking school showed up,” Gina notes, eyes scanning the front yard.

Just then, Billy comes barreling toward them before jumping on Tommy’s back. Billy’s dressed like the terminator, black fingerless gloves, a leather jacket over his shirtless torso and really tight jeans. He’s pretty clearly tipsy and Gina wonders how long he’s been here. He jumps off Tommy, wrapping his arms around Carol and Gina’s shoulders and guides them towards the house with a slurred, “My favorite girls!”

Gina tries not to focus on how close his lips are to her ear, it was like he was whispering that just for her to hear. His deep voice makes her chest and stomach tighten.

“You ready to take the new Keg King title?” Tommy asks, urging the group over to the side of the house where the keg is set up.

“I was born ready,” Billy says smugly, hands on his hips as Tommy pumps the keg up.

Gina stands next to Tina and Carol to watch. She notes Tina’s Madonna costume and smiles, “I love your costume, Tina. You look so good.”

“Thanks, babe,” Tina smiles, raising her solo cup to the girls.

After a beat, Tina groans and tells the two other girls, “Billy is so fine.” She gestures fanning herself, “God, look at his abs.”

“Isn’t he, Gina?” Carol nudges the brunettes shoulder and winks.

“Oh, shit, did you call dibs?” Tina’s eyes widen and Gina has to roll her eyes.

“No, Carol just wants to live vicariously through me. I’m not into him,” Gina explains and she’s met with two pairs of confused eyes.

“What do you mean you’re not into him?” Tina asks, “Do you need glasses? He’s literally sex on legs.”

“Tommy told her he’s off-limits,” Carol snorts, “but I say fuck him.”

Gina shakes her head, watching as they lift Billy up and he downs the beer from the tap. She remembers watching Steve do it all those times before and her heart aches.

“I’m not interested,” she insists.

“Well— I’m not gonna hold back,” Tina smiles, biting her lip.

“Go for it,” Gina says and hopes she doesn’t sound as bitter as she feels, “I’m gonna get myself a drink.”

She leaves the group and wanders inside, saying hi to classmates on the way until she finds herself in the kitchen and fills herself a cup of whatever toxic concoction is filling the punch bowl. It’s red and when she brings it to her nose, it burns her nostrils. Perfect. Gina absolutely loved alcohol. Maybe a little too much. But she had a handle on it, didn’t blackout aside from parties like this. She liked the way it burned down her throat and spread a warm, numb feeling across her chest. And Gina was pretty shy overall, she was nervous to talk to people but when she drank, the nerves slipped away and she was the biggest social butterfly on the planet. That’s how most of these people got to know her, she didn’t really talk to them at school. She kept close to her few friends, Tommy and Carol.

As Gina finishes her drink and pours herself another, she sees Nancy heading her way, Steve only steps behind her. Gina’s chest aches and she quickly moves away from the punch, rounds the counter in attempts to hide from them. She’s successful and from where she’s at, she can just see their torsos, the bar cabinet covers their faces. Nancy downs three cups consecutively and as she’s getting the fourth, Steve’s hands grab to stop her. They struggle for a minute but it ends up with bright red, alcoholic juice splashed on Nancy’s white cashmere sweater. Gina winces, there’s no way the stains coming out. Then Nancy storms off and of course, Steve’s chasing after her.

Seeing the brunette again brings all kinds of confusing feelings back for Gina. Steve had avoided parties once he and Tommy had their big fight. She’d only see him at school, in study hall where they sat next to each other. But these days, Steve didn’t even spare her a smile, a glance— anything. It was like Gina didn’t exist to him anymore. And feelings aren’t fun. So Gina wanders back outside, finds her group of friends. She wants to get wasted and forget about Steve like he forgot about her.

“So you still wanna teach me how to properly shotgun?” she asks Billy, the alcohol coursing through her makes her a lot less tense.

The blonde smiles wickedly at her, digging in the cooler for two cans of beer and hands one to her. He pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and presses the blade to the aluminum, “Right here. Steady so the fucker doesn’t blow in your face and…” he trails off as he punctures the can and peels it open a bit with the blade before he hands it to Gina.

She does as he says, but she’s not as steady as he is and when she punctures the can, beer sprays out of it and all over her chin and white top. She squeals, dropping the can and looking up at Billy with her jaw hanging open.

“See?! I suck,” she whines and wipes her chin.

He cackles, “Maybe someone shook that can up. Here. Take this one.”

He hands her the can he had prepped and retrieves another, repeats his fluid motions and then slips the knife back in his pocket. “‘Kay, you’re just gonna bring it to your lips and pull the tab. I just kind of open my throat up and guzzle. Ya ready?”

Gina nods nervously, shaky hands bringing the punctured hole to her lips and pops the tab at the same time Billy does. It’s super cold going down, Gina can’t drink it nearly as fast as Billy can, he’s dropping the empty aluminum to the floor in seconds and she furrows her eyebrows as she looks at him, guzzling her beer down. When she pulls it away, he’s raising his eyebrows and grinning from ear to ear, pretty pearly whites on display. Gina melts a bit. Wants Billy to look at her like that more.

“Atta girl,” he praises and it goes straight between her legs, “You did it.”

She clears her throat, dropping the can as she wipes the sudsy liquid off her chin, “Not as fast as you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the new keg king after all,” he winks and she giggles.

“Can I have a cigarette?” she asks, bouncing on her feet. Billy nods, pulls his pack out and grabs a smoke, brings it to his lips and lights it before handing it to Gina. He immediately lights himself one and nods his head over to a couple of outdoor chaise lounge chairs strewn across Tina’s front yard. Gina follows him to them, she sits down on one and fully expects Billy to take the other but he lounges on the one she takes, right between her legs and rests his head on her chest.

“It’s not like the parties back home but I’m having fun,” he says, looking up at Gina.

She smiles, slightly uncomfortable at his weight on her body but she doesn’t dare say anything. He’s warm, like a heater against her chest. He reeks of booze but there’s a hint of his cologne still there. She wonders if he feels as sticky as she does, with the beer splattered over both their chests. It’s kind of gross but Gina didn’t want to freak out and seem uncool.

“Me too,” she says. “thanks for teaching me how to shotgun.”

“Ahh, I have a feeling you’ve done it before,” he insists and he’s not wrong. Steve had shown her countless times but Billy doesn’t need to know that.

“Nope, I’m just good at opening my throat,” she explains and then realizes the unintended innuendo, her eyes widening.

“Oh, you are, are you?” Billy teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That sounded so wrong. I didn’t mean it like that,” she shakes her head frantically, cheeks flushed. “I just meant, I can— oh forget it.”

Billy just hums, she can hear the smile in it. She’s successfully mortified herself. Maybe she should cool it on the booze for a while. Though, Billy puts her right at ease, tilting his head up so he can look at her. The drunken smile on his face is very, very cute. She feels warm all over, a little floaty and genuinely happy. Until her mind gets the best of her again. Gina tries not to feel insecure, but she wonders how she looks from his angle.

“What are the parties like in California?” she tries to change the subject.

Billy takes a puff of his cigarette and she watches the smoke rise up and disappear, “Wild. People jumping off balconies, there’s usually live music but it’s never good. Just some assholes who think they're the next Motley Crue ‘cause they wear spandex and got guitars for Christmas. I used to go to punk shows a lot.”

“Punk?” Gina repeats, “You don’t seem the type.”

“Ah, I love punk music. The shows are something else. You get wasted and spend hours getting your ass beat in the mosh pit. Nothing more freeing,” he explains and sighs. “I take it there’s none here.”

“They might have some at The Hideout,” Gina offers, “Bands play there a lot.”

“Any good ones?”

“Not any I know,” Gina admits, though she’s never actually been to The Hideout on account that it’s a bar.

She’s incredibly tempted to run her fingers through Billy’s sweaty blonde curls. She wants to know if they’re as soft as they look or if they’re crunchy with mousse like hers.

“Maybe I can take you to a punk show, if they have ‘em,” Billy muses, sitting up and turning to face Gina.

“Maybe,” Gina smiles warmly, butterflies filling her stomach and her toes tingle. “It sounds like fun.”

“Yeah? Think you’d be thrashing around, knocking people out in the pit?” Billy cackles to which Gina rolls her eyes.

“Do you miss California?”

“No shit. This place sucks,” Billy snorts, “Nothing to do and trust me, this party is real fucking tame.”

Gina feels guilty, but she’s not sure why. It’s not her fault he hates Hawkins. Billy seems to notice her quick change in demeanor because he nudges his shoulder against hers and says, “You’re pretty cool, though. Even if you won’t do a keg stand.”

“It’s a boy thing,” Gina insists while blushing and Billy makes a confused face.

“What? No, it’s not a boy thing. You’re just scared,” he shrugs, smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“I just don’t think I could do it for long,” Gina shrugs.

“Well, yeah, there’s no way you’re beating my record. And I could’ve gone longer too, but those assholes pulled me down when I beat King Steve’s record,” he brags with a smirk, nudging Gina with his knee.

She tries not to falter at the mention of Steve. Even through his fall of grace, everyone still talks about him all the time. Even this new guy. It’s a little annoying. She wishes Steve would just disappear sometimes.

“Oh, I’m so sure,” she rolls her eyes, tossing her smoke when it’s down to the filter. Billy follows suit.

He slaps his thighs before standing, “Well, I need a beer. Ya coming?”

Gina nods, finds herself following him back to the hoard of teens surrounding the cooler. Carol’s there, getting a beer and when she sees Gina and Billy walking up together, she wiggles her eyebrows at the younger girl. Gina quickly looks around for Tommy and luckily, he’s nowhere to be found.

“Where’d you two run off to?” Carol inquires as she opens the beer, watching Billy retrieve two cans and handing one to Gina.

“For a smoke,” Billy explains, just as Tina bounces up and snakes her arm around his waist. She whispers something in his ear and he frowns, like he’s contemplating before he nods and saunters inside the house behind Tina.

Carol watches them with a disgusted look on her face before she says to Gina in a mocking tone, “Billy! Let me show you my room so I can suck you off.”

Gina shakes her head but smiles, her heart aches a bit but she gets distracted. A familiar face with floppy hair walks passed and he looks angry. Gina eyes follow him to his BMW, where he slams the door and peels out.

“Steve seems upset,” she mumbles softly, wanting nothing more than to be there to comfort him.

Carol snorts, “The princess left with fucking Byers. I’m sure he’s pissed.”

“Really? Oh, god. Poor Steve… I thought there wasn’t anything between Nancy and Jonathon,” Gina replies, eyes finding Carol again.

“Yeah, sure. Asshole is getting what he deserved. And with Nancy and Byers, I think there is,” Carol shrugs, “Come on, let’s go dance!”

The redhead grabs onto Gina’s hand and pulls her inside. They dance for a bit and it’s nice. Gina forgets about Billy and Steve for the time being. She downs a few more drinks, her inhibitions fly through the window and she becomes like a totally different person. Gina floats among groups, talking everyone’s ear that she can get ahold of off. It’s fun. She has so much fun at parties, except she never remembers the conversations she’s had.

She’s talking to someone from her English class, a boy who’s interested in her but right now, she can’t remember his name and she’s already asked him four times. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Billy walking towards her. He’s hard to miss, leather jacket without a shirt and his blonde mullet is tousled, a few curls sticking up and laying the way they’re not supposed to. He places his hands on Gina’s hips and whispers in her ear, “Smoke?”

Gina nods graciously at the idea. A cigarette sounds really good right now.

Billy looks to the gentleman she’s been talking to and grins, “Sorry. I’ve got to steal Miss Gina away. Hope you don’t mind, big boy.”

He pats the guys shoulder before he’s dragging her out the back door. Tommy and Carol are outside which is a bummer, especially when Billy abruptly pulls his hands away from Gina’s waist and tackles Tommy to the floor. They wrestle in the grass as the two girls watch them curiously.

Carol nudges her side, “Hargrove was getting real handsy with you just then.”

Gina sighs, “I’m pretty sure he and Tina just had sex. And it doesn’t matter! I don’t like him. He is very pretty, and funny, and really really nice but I don’t like him. I’m not allowed.”

Carol giggles, “You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Gina slurs, taking a misstep and stumbling down to her knees. “Ow!” she whines, but lays on the grass, staring up at the sky.

Billy and Tommy lay on either side of her, giggling like they can’t control themselves. And since Gina’s also in a drunken stupor, she starts giggling too. Carol peers down at the three of them, an amused smile on her face.

“Tommy, come here,” she says, “I have something important to show you.”

The freckled boy shoots up quickly, following his girlfriend back inside the house. Carol did it on purpose, Gina’s sure. She wants her to spend alone time with Billy.

“Smoke,” Billy says, hands reaching into his pocket to retrieve his pack. He lights it for her before passing it, head turned to face Gina. He looks as drunk as she feels. Perhaps it’s not a great idea to lay here next to him in such a state. Inhibitions are low and Gina’s scared she’ll slip up and say something she shouldn’t. Or even worse, touch him.

“Thank you,” she sighs happily.

There’s a group of kids in the backyard with them but it feels like they’re alone. The kids are wrapped up in a conversation, it seems intense, whatever it is. If Gina wasn’t so drunk and focused on the muscular body lying next to her, she would try to listen in.

“You having fun?” he asks softly.

“Loads. I’m getting pretty sleepy, though,” she admits, turning on her side to look at Billy. He does the same, eyes scanning her face.

“We could crash right here. Sleep on the grass,” Billy mumbles, a smile twitching at his lips.

Gina giggles, “That wouldn’t be very comfy.”

He purses his lips, “I’m pretty comfortable.”

“We’d freeze,” she points out, bringing the cigarette to her lips and tilts her head to blow the smoke up.

“That’s probably true,” he admits and chuckles, “Maybe Tina has a blanket we could use.”

“I’m sure she’d just let you sleep in her bed,” Gina says, raising an eyebrow.

Billy makes a face, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows, “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gina reflects, shaking her head.

“Hmm,” Billy hums and cracks a smile, “I’m just messing with you.”

Gina shoves his shoulder and sits up, “They better hurry.”

Billy sits up beside her and snatches the cigarette, “I can take you home, if you want.”

“No, they’ll get upset if I just left and didn’t tell them,” Gina insists. “Thanks, though.”

“Is Tommy like super protective of you?” Billy asks.

Gina sighs and shrugs, “Sometimes? I try not to let him know my business. I think it just depends on if he’s bored or not. He beat up the first boyfriend I had in grade school.”

“What? Why?” Billy laughs.

“‘Cause he kissed another girl at recess and I cried,” Gina explains with a giggle.

“I’d do the same,” Billy muses.

“As my first boyfriend or as Tommy?”

“Tommy. My step sisters an annoying brat but I’d still punch any guy that hurt her,” he explains, stubbing his cigarette out.

“How long as she’s been your step sister?” Gina wonders.

Billy tilts his head, doing the math in his head, “Like four years? My dad started seeing Susan when I was 13, they got married kind of soon after.”

Gina wonders about his mom but she doesn’t want to prod too deep. She figures if he wants to tell her, he’ll do that.

“Huh,” Gina nods, “Well that’s sweet of you. A lot of brothers don’t care. Tommy and I have always been pretty close, though.”

“Yeah, I saw the photos in your hallway,” Billy says, “That’s cool. It’d be cool to have like real siblings.”

“Oh, god, those are so embarrassing,” Gina covers her face with her hands. She turns and looks at him, finding his comment about siblings a little odd. But she doesn’t know what it’s like to have step siblings. “So it was just you before your dad met her mom?”

“Yeah, just me and dad for a couple years,” he says but he sounds far away, like he’s in his head. He stands up and flicks his cigarette. Just then, Tommy and Carol come back outside.

“I think it’s about time we head out,” Carol says, “Billy, you okay to drive?”

Billy grins wide, “Peachy.” It’s a stark contrast to the stoic look he got on his face when talking about his family. Gina wants to know more because he seemed like something from his past hurt him. She can’t help but be curious, wants to know everything about him suddenly. It was like this mask fell and he was vulnerable for a second. Gina didn’t see that from men she knew. She hadn’t talked about feelings with one before but now she wants to know exactly what Billy's feeling and thinking. All of his secrets and memories.

Carol doesn’t look like she believes him so they compromise. The three of them follow Billy to Cherry Lane to make sure he gets home safe, Carol keeps repeating how impressed she is with his intoxicated driving during the ride. Cherry Lane is quite a distance away from Loch Nora and truly out of the way from where the Hagan’s live but the three of them want to make sure Billy’s gets home safe.

Billy pulls up this his house, parks the Camaro and struts over to the passenger window of Tommy’s car, where Tommy is hanging outside of.

“Safe and sound,” he says and pats the roof of the car. “See you at school, amigo,” he pinches the brunette boys nose, making him jolt back in his seat and swat at Billy’s hand.

“Asshole,” Tommy mumbles behind a laugh, rubbing his nose.

Billy leans down and looks at Carol and then at Gina in the backseat, “Bye, ladies.”

“Bye, Billy,” they chime at the same time before watching him walk up to the front door, unlocking it before sneaking inside.

Carol pulls off down the street, turning around back towards the Hagan house.

Gina gushes, “Billy’s so cool.”

“Yeah,” Tommy beams from the front seat, “He’s fucking badass.”

“And he’s so cute,” Gina slurs dreamily and sighs.

“No,” Tommy scolds, “I said no.”

Gina pouts the whole way home.

;;;

This hangover is one for the books. Gina managed to sleep a whopping four hours. Yet, she somehow managed to shower in the morning and get ready. She wore her most comfortable pair of jeans and her forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. Her hair was a bit unruly but she already had a major headache, so a ponytail wasn’t a smart option.

When she makes it into the kitchen, she pours a glass of orange juice and sips it slowly. Her brother and Carol are eating a quick breakfast. Their parents have already left to take Bridgette to school. Which is good. Seeing her parents after a night of partying was the last thing she wanted.

Tommy still reeked of alcohol on the ride to school. And Carol drove, insisting that Tommy was still drunk.

Crazy enough, Billy looks good as new. Tight Levi’s and a white long-sleeve button up with his denim jacket. Gina tries not to drool. He leans against his Camaro, smoking a cigarette that he offers to Gina when they walk up.

She shakes her head, “I think I’ll barf if I have some.”

“Aw,” Billy pouts and asks in a teasing tone, “Hangover?”

“You're not?” she asks, bewildered and he shrugs.

“I don’t get hangovers,” he insists, taking another drag from his smoke as he looks over to her brother, probably taking note of his disheveled hair.

“I’m still drunk,” Tommy declares with a pleased smile to which Billy cackles.

“Just wait a few hours,” Carol snorts, “You’ll be hungover before ya know it, babe.”

Tommy frowns, reaches in his pocket and shows them the two whiskey shooters he has, “Nah, I’m gonna ride this until I have the sweet pleasure of my bed.”

Carol snatches the keys from Tommy’s other pocket, “In that case.”

Tommy doesn’t argue, he just shrugs and then snatches the cigarette from Billy. The blonde makes a face when Tommy gets close.

“You smell like a goddamn distillery, Hagan,” he quips and recoils back, pinching his nose.

Gina agrees, the whole drive to school was almost unbearable. Her stomach twisted and she had to focus on her breathing so she didn’t vomit from the smell of him.

“So, you hook up with Tina?” Tommy asks, wiggling his eyebrows and obviously trying to change the subject.

Billy smirks, shaking his head and says, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So you didn’t see her third nipple?” Tommy asks, frowning.

Billy’s face scrunches up, “She doesn’t have a third nipple.”

The freckled boy cackles, “Ha! So you did fuck her!”

Gina rubs her eyes, trying to mask the very intense jealousy she’s feeling. Carol’s laughing at Tommy’s trick but Gina can’t bring herself to. She’s just imagining Billy and Tina in bed and it’s making her even more sick to her stomach. She doesn’t want to feel jealous, knows she doesn’t really have a right to but she can’t help it.

“Shut up,” Billy rolls his eyes but he’s blushing, just barely. It’s kind of alarming to see.

“She’ll tell everyone,” Gina finally speaks up, “So like, no point in hiding it.”

She cringes a bit, the disdain is a little too apparent in her voice and her ears go hot at hearing herself. But she’s not wrong. Tina’s probably told the entire senior class already. And Hawkins is small, by the end of the day, even the middle school kids will know.

“I’m not hiding it,” Billy scoffs, “I just think it’s lame to brag about getting laid.”

“Hm,” Gina purses her lips, “I’m gonna head to class.”

She hurries towards the building, hoping none of them follow her because her heads pounding and she’s fuming with jealousy. She just wants to get the school day over with and crawl back into bed. The first four periods drag on. Particularly fourth period, which is the study hall she shares with Steve. They literally sit next to each other. If Gina leans over just enough, she can smell his shampoo. It smells like honey. She remembers shoving her face in it when they used to cuddle. Gina loved the smell of his hair and his skin.

However, that was long ago and she’s reminded of how much their relationship has changed during class. When she looks to Steve and their eyes meet, he quickly averts them and busies himself with his homework. It makes Gina’s heart ache. She wonders if he would just look her in the eye if things would change. She’d give anything to go back to how things were before Nancy Wheeler. Nothing made her feel the way she did when she was alone with Steve. He had this way of making her feel like she was the most special person. And the problem with that was how addictive it was. Gina was obsessed with Steve after the first time he kissed her and that never went away. She didn’t go a single day without thinking about him. So it stings when he acts like it’s painful to look at her.

She’s managed to go a whole two months of this treatment though. Today shouldn’t be any different. It’s probably because of the dumb jealousy she’s been harboring over Tina and Billy. A reminder of how Steve chose another woman. And well, Billy didn’t exactly choose Tina over her but she still didn’t like the thought of Billy with another woman. All throughout the day, she reminds herself how she really needs to suffocate her attraction to Billy. Nip it in the bud before she gets lovesick for two men who don’t want her.

It’s difficult when lunch comes around. Billy’s a full fledged member of their group now. Gina stands across from him, trying not to feel the effects of her hangover while they socialize. Tommy’s rambling about something or another, Gina can’t focus and he’s clearly drank both his shots of whiskey. All his words are slurred. She thinks he mentions something about ditching his last two classes to sleep in his car.

“You’re lucky you don’t have practice today,” Carol points out.

Tommy waves her off, “I could still play better than Harrington, blackout or sober.”

“Coach wants me to join,” Billy mumbles around his cigarette.

“Fucking do it!” Tommy cheers, jumping in place.

Billy cackles, looking at the freckled boy with amusement. Everyone agrees with Tommy and they all look at Billy expectantly.

“Baseball’s my thing but basketball is fun. I’m thinking about it,” he explains with a shrug.

Gina kicks the toe of her Ked against his motorcycle boot and their eyes meet, “You should.”

“Okay,” he smiles, “I’ll talk to coach.”

The moment between them is quickly interrupted by Tina swaying between the group of kids and sandwiching herself between Billy and Tommy. She leans her side on Billy and whispers something in his ear. The blondes eyebrows raise and he snorts, shaking his head. Gina turns her attention away, not being able to stomach the sight of them.

#billy hargrove x original character #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove angst

110 notes · View notes

theladybarnes · 1 year

Photo

DON’T YOU WANT ME, BABY? : CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Do you wanna dance?”

▸ summary: a final chapter ends, while a new story begins ▸ characters: steve harrington, the party, & billy hargrove ▸ word count: 10k ▸ warnings: angst, hurt, SMUT (18+MINORS DNI) p&v smut, unprotected sex, & semi fluff (forgive me for this chapter) ▸ series masterlist

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Mike cried as he continued to put supplies in the trunk of the car.

“Quit whining, and keep packing, Mike.” you called out. Wrapping another layer of tape onto the box underneath Max’s foot. It was a bit tricky with your eye still a little swollen shut, but you managed to get it pretty tight before you helped place it back on the ground. “Tell me again.” you said to Max, looking up at her.

“Left brake, right gas. Signal bar on the left, set it to drive.”

“And?” you pressed on.

“And I stop when you tell me to.”

Nodding your head, you get up from crouching on the floor to stand up again. The sudden movement makes you feel a little dizzy again but thankfully you’re able to get back into focus to place a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t gonna be like the parking lot ok? We’re gonna need to go at least forty-five to get there fast. Can you do this?”

Max gulped for a second before nodding her head. She reached out for your hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I can do this. Trust me.”

“I’m gonna have to.” you sighed, squeezing back. The other two boys came out of the house. Holding onto a barely conscious Steve. You got up from the floor, walking over to the car to open up the backseat for them. That’s when you get a good look at him.

He’s red, stained with some leftover blood, swollen, and bruising up. The two seemed to attempt to patch up with different types of bandages they must have found in the Byers’ bathroom. A cute gesture if it wasn’t such a bad situation.

“Are you sure we can’t ditch him?” Mike asked, looking down at Steve with a frown before he climbed on the other side.

“I told you, he’ll be cool!” Dustin exclaimed climbing after you both squeezed Steve in the middle.

“He’s coming, Wheeler. The guy got his ass beat all to stick up for us. No one gets left behind.” you reminded him, pushing the seat back in place.

It’s a few minutes of struggling to get the rest of you in the car. But you managed to get two in the back with Steve comfortable while Lucas in the front is on your lap. Using his eyes to help read the map since you’re not able to. After a minute of Max pulling out of the long driveway, the journey to the tunnels begins.

“Here,” Dustin said, passing a cold bag to you. “I found another ice pack for you.”

“Thanks.” you smiled, putting the cool pressure to your eye. A form of relief you finally needed.

Max surprisingly was pretty calm and collected as she drove towards the tunnels. Lucas kept his focus on the map while you told Max when to slow down or speed up. Everything was going swimmingly until a sudden murmuring from the back caught your attention.

“Hey, buddy.” Dustin said softly, followed by some shushing. “It’s okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight. You’re okay.”

Steve’s groaning caused you to try and turn your head over, but the angle did nothing with your bad eye not letting you see. So you settled with looking forward. “Dustin, you better calm him down.” you warned, knowing what’s gonna happen if Steve fully wakes up while on the way there.

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for a half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” Lucas instructed, holding the flashlight to the map.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, sounding like he woke up from a terrible nap. You peeked around to notice Max worriedly looking over her shoulder.

“Eyes on the road, Red.” you called out, tapping at the dashboard.

“Oh my God!” Steve softly cried out. Realizing what was going on. You can’t help but shake your head and really hope you aren’t about to regret bringing him along.

“Just relax.” Dustin reassured Steve. “She’s driven before.”

“Yeah, in a parking lot with your cousin!” Mike added, sounding annoyed.

“That counts!” Dustin countered. You can’t help but groan out at the wrong time for these boys to be arguing. “They were gonna leave you behind.” he continued to Steve.

“Oh, my God.”

“I promised that you’d be cool, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on?!” Steve cried, ignoring Dustin. Max took his hysterics apparently as a signal to speed more. Pushing the car’s speed from your advised forty-five to sixty.

“SHIT MAX, SLOW DOWN!” you gasped, reaching a hand up to hold onto the dashboard. The speed plus your sudden panic caused Steve to join in even more as he began to croak out. Sounding oddly like he was about to be sick.

“Oh, my GOD. No! Whoa! Stop the car. Slow down.”

“I told you he’d freak out!” Mike chimed in.

“STOP THE CAR!”

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Max yelled next, making you even more worried about getting the others to shut up. Lucas jumped in your lap suddenly, making you huff out in a pained groan as he pointed to the left.

“Oh, wait, that’s Mount Sinai! Make a left!”

“What?”

“MAKE A LEFT!”

The car veered left a bit, slamming into someone’s mailbox before Max gained control of the wheel again. She accidentally pressed down on the pedal, turning the car so fast and so quickly that all of you around her let out a scream. Holding onto anything that helped keep you balanced.

As you hold onto a screaming Lucas, you can’t help but think about the others and hope they’re doing better than the rest of you here.

By the time Max arrives at the field, you can’t help but feel nauseous at the stress and fear from being in the car with her. At one point, the only person Max listened to was Lucas as he read on the last few instructions. With a final crash to the sign on the long grass, the car finally came to a hard stop. Making all of you let out the breaths you had been holding.

“HELLO.” Steve yelled, having been losing it still the whole drive there.

Max glanced over at you, seeming to look for some sort of approval. But all you can manage to muster up is a weary smile and a thumbs up.

“Incredible.” Mike said, looking astonished at the record timing.

“I told you. Zoomer.” She shuts the engine and the rest of you pile out of the car. Lucas helped get you out quickly and you lean against the side of the car to get your heart rate back to normal. The kids ignore the state of the only two adults around to start getting their gear together.

They rush past the two of you, to get their faces covered with different forms of face masks and goggles. Something Dustin insisted considering the air must be different in the tunnels due to the connection to the upside down. It was almost enough information to make you want to back out of the plans.

Finally gaining your heart back to normal, you wrap one of the scarves you found in the Byers’ house around your neck until it’s snug around your mouth before getting what looked like an older pair of cyclist goggles. Steve is slowly realizing that everyone else is getting ready without him, causing him to freak out again.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he called out to Mike. The boy went along with his tasks with the rope. “What are you deaf?! HELLO?”

His next yelling target is Max, who just as easily ignored Steve as she joined Mike at his side. “We are NOT going down there right now. I made myself clear!”

Dustin and you share a look of sympathy. He obviously meant well. And he was most likely just upset about losing the fight. And Max’s driving. And the hole.

“Hey, there’s no CHANCE we’re going to that hole, all right?”

Lucas completely avoiding him by going farthest away from the car was the final straw as Steve stomped over and reached over for one the bundles of rope you guys put together. “THIS ENDS RIGHT NOW!” he yelled, hopefully ending the dramatics.

“Steve!” Dustin yelled. Making you jump a bit before you glanced over at him. “You’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, silently agreeing with him as you gave Steve a half shrug. He looked honestly more tired than before, but at this point. It’s all hands on for this problem.

“Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe.” he said, reaching for Steve’s bat and backpack. “So, keep us safe.”

Steve shook his head, staring for quite a minute at Dustin before his eyes glanced towards you. He raised a single brow, waiting almost for you to break out in a speech.

“Please?” you asked in a soft voice.

He sighed in defeat, reluctantly taking the bag from Dustin and looking annoyed at the handkerchief and swim goggles in his hand. You waited until Dustin moved on to join the others before walking over to cup the side of Steve’s cheek gently.

He reached a hand up to place over yours. Making the moment feel entirely too delicate for how messy you both must have looked. “Your eye..” he gasped, taking in your appearance for the first time.

“It’ll heal.”

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt. I-”

Pulling down the scarf, you lean up on your toes and press a gentle kiss against his cheek to cut off his words. Making sure not to press too hard on any part of his face that might still feel swollen. “It’s okay. Let’s go tough guy.” you murmured walking away.

The car thankfully is sturdy enough for when all of you eventually climb down into the tunnels. The low lighting casts a blue glow over everything but you can’t help feel it’s made the setting creepier. Especially when you don’t know what’s down the tunnel line.

Mike is already ahead of the group, trying his best to read the map that they put together from Will’s sketches.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s this way.” Called out Mike from the front.

Dustin scoffed behind you, not fully confident in his friend’s direction. “You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure! Just follow me and you’ll know!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, these kids are always so incredibly impatient with each other it’s a surprise they’re friends. How did any of them follow directions in that stupid game of theirs if they’re always fighting? Steve before you grew uneasy and began to stalk towards where Mike was.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey, I don’t think so!” He called out, stopping Mike from moving any further. “Any of you little shit die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?”

It was really at this point that all of you had brought Steve Harrington to his wits end.

“From here on out, I’m leading the way!” He pointed over at you, almost waiting to see if you’d rebut that. When you shook your head, he gave a small nod before turning forward again. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Steve is so bossy.” Max muttered under her breath.

“Like a damn stick up his ass.” you joked back, making the two of you snort a bit.

“I HEARD THAT!”

The group had made its way deep into the tunnels. Making you suddenly aware of how claustrophobic it felt like. Luckily the only difficult part of the journey was the uneven flooring and the sounds of the kids’ constant questioning. That is until the sound of Dustin’s screaming caused the whole group to stop. But after watching him gag over his own coughing and calmly telling the group he was fine, you all threw a parting insult before carrying on.

Thankfully there’s no mishaps after that and eventually you hear Steve announce that you’ve all found the hub. The wide space area with connecting tunnels being the dead giveaway without the map. All there’s left to do is drench the damn place with enough gas, it could light up a city.

The heavy smell of gasoline and the pain from your head has you nearly gagging once or twice as you quickly move to cover the floor up with the liquid. You wait until your pitcher is completely empty though before you join the others at the first entrance you came from.

“Allright, you guys ready?” Steve asked, crouching down near the floor by you. Everyone followed with a confirming ‘yeah’ quickly. You watched from the side as Steve pulled out his lighter from his pocket.

“Light her up.” Dustin ordered.

Steve is hesitant for a moment looking down at his hands. “I’m in such deep shit.”

Leaning his arm back, Steve gave off one hard throw. Sending the lighter deep within the hub. Instantly the fire is fanned out over the floor, making the room glow in a bright orangey light. Though there’s no visible creature in sight, the sounds of soft screeching could be heard all around. As if the room itself were alive.

“Uh, guys? The fire is getting pretty big!” you warned, standing up from the floor. The sense of urgency comes to everyone and suddenly Steve is yelling for everyone to go. Making all of you scramble out of the hub and towards the entrance again.

The screeching echoed behind the group as you all ran back, Steve barking out directions as he took over the lead again. Every step you take has your breath getting shorter. The flooring nearly has you tripping with the vines that started to come to life.

You made it over a particular step when a voice called out from behind the group.

“HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!”

“It’s Mike!” Lucas screamed, instantly turning around. Steve and Max have gone the farthest, making you have to yell out louder for them to come back. Turning, you rushed over to where Mike lay on the ground. Around this ankle is a thick vine like creature keeping him from moving.

Dustin and Lucas both grab one of Mike’s arms and tug at him before Steve eventually came back to swing his bat down on the tendril until it finally broke apart. But you’re still not able to feel relief when suddenly the familiar sound of growling approached the group.

You can’t help but reach a hand out to Dustin, noticing how much closer he is to it than the others.

“Dart.” he called out. He barely took one small step forward when the rest of the group began to freak out. You quietly watched in panic as he stepped towards the creature.

“SHH. Stop.” Dustin replied, holding a hand out.

“Dustin..” you tried, feeling your voice grow small, but all he did was hush you. Not being able to control yourself, you stretch forward to step out when Steve wrapped a hand around your arm, keeping you from moving. “If you go after him, it’ll react.” he whispered, making you feel only more nervous.

“Trust me, please.” Dustin called out, keeping his gaze solely on the thing before him. The group stayed quiet, allowing your cousin’s calm voice to be the only thing that Dart would hear. “Hey, it’s me. It’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin. All right?”

The creature approached him carefully, without a face you can’t quite place what it was thinking. But with its small steps it appeared hesitant. Dustin slowly crouched down before it. “You remember me?” It gargled lightly. “Will you let us pass?”

Dart’s face flared open, showing the thousands of tiny teeth inside its mouth. The group jolted a bit, and you tried to get out of Steve’s grasp. Pinching at his arm to let you go. But all he did was grunt softly at the pain.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the storm cellar.” Dustin chuckled. “That was a pretty douchey thing to do. You hungry? Yeah?” he reached behind him for his backpack, putting it before him on the ground.

“He’s insane!” Lucas whispered.

“Don’t.” Mike warned back.

“Shut up!” Steve whispered, looking over at them. “And stop pinching me!” he said to you, moving his hand higher up towards your shoulder.

“He’s literally giving the damn thing food!”

“SHH.”

Dustin continued on like there was no worried party behind him. Presenting the damn dog with a piece of leftover Halloween candy. “I’ve got our favorite. See? Nougat.” Dart let out a curious sound, leaning closer as Dustin unwrapped the candy for him.

“Look at that. Yummy. Here, all right?” The creature began to slowly eat up the piece, making Dustin lean back comfortably as he gave some encouragement while signaling for the group to move forward. “Eat up, buddy. Come on. Come on.”

The others carefully moved around Dart, trying their best to keep the piece while Steve practically had to lift you up and drag you to get away from Dustin. You would normally tell him off for that if you weren’t so scared of what yelling would alert the demo-dog to do.

Eventually Dustin got up from the ground. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he cast one last look over the creature. It seemed to sense his same sentiment as it gave Dustin a parting glance before it returned to eating.

“Goodbye, buddy.”

The entrance is coming up when the world is suddenly shaking, making all of you fall over on the ground. Your swollen eye has surprisingly opened up, giving you a better chance to see your surroundings while the group questioned what made that quake happen.

The sound of roaring is the unsettling answer you’re all given.

“They’re coming.” Mike declared, shining a light towards the tunnels. “RUN! RUN!”

There’s no telling how close the demo-dogs are from the sound of the roars, making the rest of you spare no time as you run the rest of the way. God willing no other things try to stop you guys this time.

“There, there!” You heard Lucas yell from the front. Down the way hung the rope from the outside, shining lightly like a beacon of hope.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Steve yelled, leading the line. He turned around when at the rope, looking at you. Not giving you a chance to even climb up, he practically lifts you off the ground, yelling for you to grab onto the rope. When he saw that you were secured and climbing, he moved onto the next person. There’s a searing pain in your arm from having to use strength to lift you up, but you ignored it once outside to grab hold of Max who followed you. Then to Lucas, and Mike after.

“Come on, guys! Climb up!” you yelled when Steve nor Dustin had grabbed onto the rope yet. Peering down, you’re shocked to see that the two of them are looking towards the deep entrance. The sounds of the beasts got louder. A new panic flooded over you when you noticed that Steve pulled out his bat. Ready for the defense.

Was he really about to take on a whole group of demo-dogs by himself? The image of him out in the junkyard came to mind again. Making your heart jump into your throat. He can’t do this!

The other three are yelling for the two, trying to reach out for them when suddenly Dustin screamed. It’s silent for one second until the sounds of the herd continuing their run took over. The two boys are still by the rope, confused by the demo-dogs pushing past them. In fact, they’re almost being shoved that Steve wrapped an arm to pull Dustin close. What were they heading towards if they weren’t going to eat the two down there?

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” you yelled, not wanting to waste time figuring that out.

The two quickly turned back to the rope. Steve helped lift Dustin up so that the rest could grab at him and help pull. The boys gave off a hard grunt when they managed to get him over. Finally, Steve jumped up, using his last bit of strength to climb the rope and get out of the tunnels for good.

You waited until he’s completely on the ground before you leaned over to wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling him close for a tight hug. “You were going to fight them.” you whispered in his ear. “You stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot. You were gonna take them all on.”

Steve stayed still for a moment. Almost shocked to suddenly have you this close. But it wasn’t long till he slowly moved his arms to wrap around you. Rubbing gently at your back as he nuzzled his face into your hair. “Yeah, I know,” he chuckled softly. “I had to.”

One of the kids coughed awkwardly and Steve gently let you go. Pulling back to get up from the floor before he extended a hand out to help pull you up. His hand is warm and squeezing yours so carefully that you’re a little disappointed when he lets go to head towards the car. But when you all slowly approached it, the headlights began to whir, making the lights blink on and off.

Everyone watched in awe as it turned from blinking to a steady beam. Eventually turning brighter and brighter until all of you had to cover your eyes. But just as fast as it began to shine, it suddenly died down. Going back to its regular glow.

“What was that?” Max called out.

“It was Eleven.” Mike answered. “She did it.”

It’s only about two hours later when everyone is reunited again. The kids and you had gone back to the Byers house to discover that not only was Billy gone, but that Byers and Nancy had returned to the house. It was a bit of a weird hour or two of catching up.

Jonathan nearly went back out to find where Billy had gone to when he saw the state that you and Steve were in. But after everything that happened. Everyone just mostly wanted to rest for the remainder of the night.

Like last year, the boys wanted to be with Will. But seeing as he was in need of proper rest, they ended up planning to spend the night at the Wheeler house. An offer Nancy gave to you as well when she noticed you might want to figure out a way to cover up most of the bruising and cuts on your face. But after thinking it over, you knew you’d be better off sleeping in your own bed.

You offered Max a ride back home and Steve a ride to his car by the tracks. That way no cars could be written off as stolen if Billy decided to report anything. Max was more than glad to end her night. She’d have some bit of trouble when she got home, but hopefully the plan you guys came up with would help her.

After saying goodnight to Max, and making sure she got back inside, you stepped back towards the car. Peeking out onto the road to see if Steve’s car was approaching. He had been behind you guys a little back, but he must have reached a red light along the way. Moving to lean against the car, you smiled a bit to yourself. Thinking about how crazy the past twenty-four hours have been.

“Give me back my car keys, bitch.”

You let out a soft gasp at the sudden sound of a deep voice. Coming up from across the street was a sweaty, disgruntled looking Billy. Holding his hand out to you as he marched over.

“I don’t have them.” you frowned, keeping your voice leveled. “They’re with Max. Inside.”

He groaned at that, moving over to slide against the car. “Great, just fucking great.” he gritted, wiping his hands over his face. “As if my night could not get any worse.”

When you don’t reply to his whining. He pulled his hands down to peek over. You don’t look back at him, despite feeling his gaze. All you do is keep your face towards the road. Knowing better than to give him attention. But with Billy, it wasn’t long for him to get under your skin again.

“Your eye,” he pointed slowly. “I did that..huh?”

The light tone in his voice has you snapping your head in his direction. He has the gull to talk so nonchalantly about it. Like what happened was in any way normal. But when you finally meet his gaze, you’re met with a small glare instead of the gloating smirk you’re so used to.

“I guess the old man taught me well, huh?” He chuckled tilting his head while he looked at your face better.

“If you’re looking for sympathy, Billy, I’m going to tell you right where you can shove it.”

He laughed a bit, clapping his hand in mock amusement before he crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t expect sympathy from you. Not for a while now.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page.” you sighed, rubbing your hand against your forehead. “Look, I already told you where your keys are. Just go inside the house and leave me alone. Ple-“

“I love you.” He said suddenly.

You become frozen in place. Unable to move at all as you repeat the words back in your mind. The words you had spent months hop- Is he serious right now?

“Yes, I am serious.” He answered. You didn’t realize you had said that part out loud.

Dropping your hand, you face him again. “Is that really the three words you want to say to me? No, I am sorry, I’m an asshole, I should leave? None of those came to mind right now?” You scoffed, pushing yourself off the car. “I mean, seriously Billy. What the hell?”

“I’m just being honest.” He shrugged. “Blame whatever it is that punk stuck in my neck. It’s a killer high but I sure as hell can’t stop my mouth from talking.”

“Well, play the honesty game with someone else. Because I don’t give a shit if you love me or not. I want nothing to do with you.” Again you peered down the road waiting to see Steve. But this time it caught Billy’s attention too and he laughed behind you, sounding more sarcastic like usual.

“He’s never gonna be over her, you know?”

“What are you talking about?” you called out over your shoulder.

“Harrington.” he spat, harshly enough that you could feel the name hit you from a few steps away. “He’ll never get over Wheeler. It’s that first love shit that chicks are so keen for. He’ll never get away from that feeling. Trust me, I’d know.” He leaned in closer to you, reaching out to touch the back of your arm but you snatched it away quickly. Earning a hard sigh from him as he continued on. “So if you think for a second he’s gonna pick you..then you’re not as smart as I remembered.”

“I don’t care if he picks me or not.” you lied, knowing full well by now there was something about Steve you needed to explore. “I’m happy knowing that whatever I have with you is over for good.”

“God, you sound pathetic. What happened to the girl who nearly crashed my car just to get me back?”

Turning around, you extend your hand out to throw a slap against Billy’s cheek. His head snapped to the side instantly. From your spot you can tell the hit was harder than he could have expected as he adjusted his jaw from the pain.

The action is so violent that you silently curse yourself for stooping so low. But a part of you that’s so angry, so hurt, can’t help but feel a bit of pride for having hit him back. You keep your face in a stern glare as you poked a finger to his chest. “She’s gone. Okay?” The breath in your voice is heavy, and wavered. You hate that he brought out this fear from you. “Do me a favor and please listen to Max. Leave me alone!”

A car horn honked loudly from down the street. Making the two of you step back from each other as the vehicle approached the side of the car. You barely looked down at the burgundy paint before Steve hopped out of his car, going around until he was able to reach you.

“God, you just won’t quit.” he scoffed at Billy, putting you to stand behind him.

Billy sized up to Steve. Giving him a look over for a moment. You think he’s going to say something stupid to Steve. Instigate the poor guy into another fight. But all Billy does is hold up his hands in defeat. Throwing the two of you a bright white smile as he backed away.

“Have fun with my leftovers, Harrington.” he said, moving towards his house. Looking over at you one more time, he gave off a smaller smile. Making your stomach turn as he called out to you one last time.

“Remember what I said, babydoll. Remember.”

Steve turned around to face you, pulling you into a tight hug as he apologized over and over for getting caught behind a couple of red lights. All you can focus on is the warmth you feel from his arms around you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, pulling back to look down at your face. Lifting a hand up, he cupped the side of your cheek to gently get you to look at him. The gesture is so delicate and sweet that you can’t help but feel the emotions overwhelm you.

“Can we just leave? I want to go home.” you whimpered, feeling your lip quiver as you tried to hold back tears. “I just want to go home.”

“Yeah, honey.” Steve sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive back to yours feels oddly similar to last year. Steve is trying to hold up a conversation, but you can’t help but reel in what happened over the events of today. Of the whole week in fact. Despite Billy being a huge asshole, who you knew you hated, he wasn’t ever one to lie.

So if he’s noticed something in Steve and told you before you got too deep. Maybe it was a bizarre sign that you read the day wrong.

The sound of the gravel underneath the car alerts you of your driveway. The lights inside are off and you’re thankful you’ll be hopefully able to get in without fully having to talk to your Aunt. For the most part, she figured you were out having a long day with friends and would be coming in late after you dropped off Dustin at the Wheelers. At least that’s what you told her on the phone.

Steve put the car in park before he killed the engine. The swelling on his face had gone down significantly, and he was able to wash most of the blood from his face when you guys had gone back to the Byers’ home. But the bruising around his eyes was still evident.

“I’m sorry.” you blurted out, feeling overwhelmingly guilty. “I feel like I’ve been the reason you’ve been getting hurt all day.”

He looked down at his lap, smiling sadly before he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s funny, I was gonna say the same thing.”

You frown at that, wondering just when Steve could have possibly put you in danger when he was always the first one to step in for everyone. “Steve, all you’ve done tonight is stick up for me. For all of us..you’re the only reason why everyone is safe.”

In the dark you can tell the words have him taken back, almost blushing through the blue moon light that seeped in through the windows. But he still shook his head. “If I had fought better..”

“He hit you with a glass plate. I don’t think that’s necessarily skill.”

“If I had fought better,” he repeated. “You wouldn’t have had to come in and help me.” Looking over, he reached out to graze the side of your face. The swelling of your eye was gone, but you know it must have looked just as dark as the ones he wore. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

“Then put the blame on the asshole that did it. Not yourself.”

He closed his eyes, letting his head sag forward as he chuckled to himself. “You aren’t going to let me win this are you?”

“Nope.”you smiled. “And you better get used to it for the future. Because I’m pretty good at always being right.”

“Future?” He asked, looking a little surprised. “So there’s a future between the two of us?”

You hate that you let that bit slip out. Not only were you not ready for that kind of talk. But now Steve might have an idea that sort of thing was on your mind. Which again you hate because boys having any sort of insight on your mind usually ends badly.

But Steve’s proving to be different. He’s kinder with that information. Instead of teasing you for it like you would have, he instead leaned in so that he could hold your face between his hands. Touching you with such a gentleness.

“Do you.. maybe like the sound of that?” You asked, holding in your breath.

You watch a content smile spread over his lips. Making your heartbeat jump a little fast inside your chest. Even bruised and broken all over Steve still managed to have a sort of beauty to his face. Something you wished you had better control over since it had you practically gawking at him. Now you remembered suddenly why people at school had been staring so much when you first arrived.

“That depends.” He finally said.

“On what?”

“If your feelings have changed since we kissed.”

You duck your head down shyly. The reminder of your actions felt a little bit haunting but he didn’t seem to think that way. He’s smiling. Pulling you in closer so that he can rest his forehead against yours.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss.” He whispered softly, fanning his breath. There’s a subtle lingering smell of mint and you smile to yourself imagining him stealing a bit of the Byers mouthwash.

“I just forced myself on you. It wasn’t right to kiss you like that.” You said honestly. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it was on the back of my mind.”

“Then how should you have kissed me?”

Moving your head back a bit, you look over at Steve’s face. Noting the smile is gone. Replaced with a look you feel you’ve seen before. It has you moving without thinking and you find your hands have crawled up from your lap to the front of his chest.

“I would have given you time to notice what I’m doing by moving my hands here.” One hand stayed on his chest while you slid up the other cup the back of his neck, allowing you to rake your fingers in the nape of his hair.

“And then?” He shuddered, enjoying the light grazing.

“I would have leaned in close,” you said, angling your head up like before. His nose brushed against yours as you kept your lips hovering over his. “Like this.”

“And t-then?”

“I’d ask you to kiss me.”

He ran his hands down to rest against your waist. The center console makes it a little hard for you two to get closer. But he’s still attempting to pull you in. “So ask it.” He requested. “Ask me now.”

“Kiss me?”

The words barely left your lips before he crashed his mouth against yours. The slight pressure of his force caused you to wince a bit, but you ignored it in favor of enjoying the taste of his lips.

It’s insane how despite having kissed him twice, it felt amazing and new every time. But this time comes with a different feeling. The first was Steve kissing you because you both were upset and he wanted to convince you that there was something there.

The second was you selfishly needing to give him a kiss for your own sake. To have him know that you did in fact feel something.

But now? Now it was filled with something you haven’t felt in a while; desire.

“Come here.” Steve said, pulling back for air. His voice was thick and hot, making you nod your head quickly while you watched him move back against his seat. He reached down the side of his chair to pull on the lever, making the back of the seat go down enough that you’re able to climb on top of him comfortably.

His hand rubbed up from the sides of your thighs until he was able to rest them on your hips. Squeezing lightly as you leaned down to press your lips against his. The position allowed the two of you to angle your faces better, careful not to press too much better in the bruises that adorned both your faces.

Cupping at his neck, you place kisses gently against his lips before trailing down his neck, giving small bites to the sensitive skin below his ear. This excited Steve, not only causing him to let out a moan, but to create enough excitement that you could feel a small bump in his groin forming.

“God,” he whispered, his hot breath hitting your ear. It made you shiver on top of him, and created a flush in your body that had you pull back to shed off your jacket. He looked up at you curiously before he grazed his hands up to go beneath your shirt, tickling the skin around your waist. “You’re beautiful.”

A new flush of heat goes over your face now and you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from grinning like an idiot. He reached his hand up from your side to tug at your bottom lip with his thumb. Letting him graze over the skin with his pad before he cupped at the side of your neck, bringing your back down. Parting your lips, he grazed his tongue against yours before sliding inside.

Your fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up a bit so that you’re able to scratch your nails against the waistband of his jeans. Without thinking, you quickly undo his belt, and then his pants. Both of your breaths have gotten heavier and you only have a second to catch it as you stopped right at the waist line of his boxers.

“We don’t have to do anything..” he said softly, gathering your hair together so he could get it away from your face. “We can just kiss or whatever feels good, baby.”

His comforting words do something to you and you go forward to roughly press your lips against his. Letting your hand stay in between the two of you and tugged down the front of his boxers. Exposing his hardened cock.

He groaned against your mouth, moving his hands now to snake inside your shirt, going under the wire of your bra so that he could cup at the round of your breast. The touch to the sensitive skin as you gasp against his lips.

Leaning back, you tug down his boxers even more, letting his cock spring out and fall against his stomach, looking red and swollen from the built up pressure. You swallow a bit, feeling the familiar dip of excitement go from your stomach to your core.

Steve looked up at you with a small smirk, amused by your sudden reaction before he reached out to your pants. Undoing the button slowly before he tugged down the zipper. “Come here, pretty girl.” he coaxed, tugging you to come back down.

The pet name has your head nearly spinning. You rise up a bit, pushing the rest of your pants down until you awkwardly get one leg free. It’s a weird look, but neither one of you cares as you laid a leg back over him. He reached down between you, rubbing a hand up from your bare leg until he reached the hemline of your underwear. Allowing only his finger tips to dip inside the edge before he glanced up at you. Silently asking for permission with a brow raised.

You nodded your head quickly, reaching a hand to grip onto his as you pushed it higher. The tip of his thumb barely brushed against your clit when you suddenly let out a moan. It’s been quite some time since you’ve last done this and you’re embarrassed to be so needy from just one touch.

Using the palm of his hand, he rubbed in a circular motion against your clit, earning another moan from you as the pleasure swept over your whole body. The car’s air is hot and musky, and it makes you feel even more light headed as Steve continues the circulation, wanting to reach you to your edge.

Placing your hand on top of his, you thrust upward a bit, using his hand to help get you in the direction of the right speed. “Don’t stop.” you pleaded, digging your nails into his arm. He switched down from his palm to his thumb, rubbing the pad quicker the more he noticed your moans were getting louder.

Your eyes snapped shut and you threw your head back as much as you could. Feeling the wave of an orgasm making its way up your body until you’re final there. Gasping some air as you freeze in place. Letting the climax wash over you. “Fuck!” you cried out, curling forward onto his chest. You can’t help but moan again when he continues rubbing your clit, playing with the sensitive bud.

“You make the prettiest sounds.” He murmured to you as he slowly pulled his hand away, rubbing a hand down your thigh.

Lifting yourself up a bit, you reached down between the two of you to grab hold of his cock, gripping the base a bit as you jerked him off for a second. His lips parted open, emitting a loud moan as he hung his head back against the seat. It would seem you weren’t the only one making pretty little moaning noises.

You give his cock a few more good strokes before leaning up a bit. Steve lifted his head up, looking down between you two before he pushed your underwear to the side, allowing you to push the head of his cock inside your pussy.

The sudden desire to have him fill you up causes you to go a little crazy, and despite his slight warning to his size, you continued to go down as far as you could, groaning at the sudden heat inside you. It has your brain going dizzy, but he’s quick to help relax you, pressing kisses along the side of your face and neck until you’re comfortable again.

“You’re so tight,” he gritted, hands down to your hips. He used a light pressure to thrust upward, fully bottoming out underneath you. “God, you’re so tight.”

For a second, you rest on top of him, allowing your heart rate to calm a bit before you look down at Steve. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of your dream the other day.

“Are you still with me?” he asked, softly, leaning up a bit to reach you.

“I’m with you.” you nodded. He smiled back at you and leaned forward to press his lips back against yours, moving his hands to your hips and helped create a bouncing friction. It made your thighs slap against his lap, battling with the slight slick noise that came from every thrust of his cock.

You let out a small cry, bouncing on top of him as he attempted to thrust up from his angle. The pressure inside you builds up again and from the way you could feel your pussy spasming, you know the grip around his cock is doing wonders for him.

The bounce has the car creaking a bit, making you extremely grateful for not only your long driveway away from the neighbors but also the fact that it was late into the night.

“Fuck, Baby. You’re taking me so good. So damn good.” he groaned, hands nearly bruising your hips as he used your bouncing to match his thrusts. “Taking all of me.”

Hearing these kinds of words from Steve is making you more turned on than you thought. Dropping your head against his forehead, you rolled your hips, trying to control your orgasm that’s dying to come again. “Fuck, Steve. I’m so close.” you whimpered, feeling his thrusts turn faster and more erratic.

“Me too, honey. Fuck, keep doing that.”

Wrapping an arm around his neck, you hold him close to your body, rolling faster to meet his thrusts. You feel him bite down on your shoulder, holding back himself before he moves one of his hands between you again to rub his thumb at your clit.

That’s all that was needed before your body tightened up again, rising up to the climax, and finally spreading the familiar feeling of ecstasy over you again. Steve was not long after, calling out your name in a chant as he continued to fuck upward, chasing his release until he was finished.

The car’s movement stopped and the only sounds left are the panting breaths of you and Steve as you both tried to calm down. Steve wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down against the seat once more so that you can rest on top of him.

He gently reached down to help pull himself out of you, making you whimper at the sudden change of pressure. Rubbing his hand gently across your back, he shushed you soothingly, keeping you close to him.

Your face feels hot again, and this time it’s from the realization of what you’ve just done. You just slept with Steve Harrington and you feel good. Like genuinely good for once.

“I can’t believe we just did that..” you said softly, shyly looking up at him. The look on his face is unexpecting. Instead of the same feeling of sentiments as you, he’s suddenly solemn. Like he was just given sad news.

“Steve? Are you oka-”

“We shouldn’t have done this,” he interrupted.

“..What?”

He carefully sat up, pushing you a bit so that you could lean against the front wheel a little as he fixed the back of the chair up. “I shouldn’t have done this..especially to you.”

You think the world could hear the sound of your heart breaking apart. But you foolishly push that thought away. “I don’t..I don’t understand..you didn’t want this?” you said slowly. Trying to piece together what he meant.

Awkwardly, you climb off his lap to go back into your seat. Shoving your foot back into your pants and buttoning them up quickly. Steve stuffed himself back in his jeans, frowning down at his lap as he sighed to himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m just..I’m not good right now.”

You can’t help but feel the glare return on your face. All this time he felt different and he waited until after he was done fucking you to suddenly change his mind? “So you just use me-”

“I’m not using you. Please,” he pleaded looking at you. “God, this is so messed up. I promise..just..” His hand reached out to you, squeezing at yours before he let go to grip the wheel. “Tonight was a lot..I just..need to get home and..think.”

You’re silent for a second. The usual part of you, the angry girl who’s quick to put people down with venomous words wants to attack him. Make him feel as shitty as you do. But she can’t come out right now, not with how much your heart hurts. So instead of the fight, you take flight.

“Have fun with your thinking.” you croaked, grabbing your jacket. Steve called out to your name, attempting to reach over for you again but you quickly shot out of his car. You don’t even bother to close the door behind you as you rush inside your home.

The sound of a slam and the car starting came through the door. It’s then that you finally allow the tears to fall. Again, Steve Harrington has left you feeling things you wished you hadn’t. And unfortunately, you don’t think the shower calling you will help wash them away.

ONE MONTH LATER

It’s thankfully a good few weeks before you’re forced to run into him again. You had hidden up your scars and bruises from your Aunt, but not your broken heart. She comes through with her kindness, giving you a good few days at home to dwell in your feelings. But not long after your break from the world, you’re getting a phone call from an old friend.

And after a small word of convincing, you found yourself at the funeral for Barb.

Nancy appreciated the gesture from you, even if you didn’t know her friend very well. But you were mostly there for your own small atonement. You couldn’t deny that deep down, even a year later, that you wished you maybe tried just a little bit harder to convince the girl to leave. But you didn’t dwell on it, and instead, silently paid your respects behind the mourning loved ones.

Steve arrived just before the sermon, taking place just off the side. He kept his head low, looking down at the casket. A part of you thought to leave, but the other part remembered how he reacted to what Nancy had said. Blaming him for Barb’s death. He was here to pay his respects and he was alone. So, it wasn’t long before you had moved over and laced your hand with his. Ignoring the pain that you were feeling from the other night to just be there and mourn with him. He squeezed back quickly, a silent thank you.

But as soon as the final prayer was over, you were quick to part ways. Ignoring the look from his brown eyes as you followed behind Jonahtan and Nancy to his car. They’re kind enough not to ask right away why you’ve suddenly given Steve the cold shoulder and take you home.

It’s a little while after that you finally run into Steve once again.

“Allright,” you sighed, putting your Aunt’s car in park. “I’ll be sticking around for you. So don’t worry about having to call back home.”

You turned your head over to Max, watching as she tugged down the hem of her shirt once again while she glanced over at the school gym. Reaching over, you placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her direction back to you.

“What are you gonna do if one of the dorks actually plucks the courage to ask you for a dance?”

Max smirked a little, thinking it over. “I’m gonna tease them, watch them squirm..”

“And then?”

“And then I say yes.”

Grinning, you reached over and pulled her into a quick hug, rubbing her back gently before nodding your head to her. “Exactly. Though if my guess is right, the certain boy you have an eye on would follow you around all night. Dancing or not.”

A small hue of red flushed over Max’s cheeks and she pushed you affectionately before she unbuckled her seat belt. “Are you sure you wanna wait all night for me? I don’t want you to get bored.” she said, opening the door slowly.

“All night? Max, the dance ends at nine-thirty. Enjoy your long night of a solid two and a half hours.” She rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car before she looked back in. “I’ll be fine, Red. Go have some fun. Please.”

The girl nodded her head in approval before finally sending you off, letting you drive past a couple of parents, including Joyce and Hopper. The older man gave you a pointed look as you gave off an over friendly smile.

Putting your car into park, you reached for the familiar tweed Chanel jacket that Steve had given you. Feeling oddly in the mood to wear it. Stepping out of the car, you carefully climbed onto the hood of the car, careful not to bang it up as you stared up at the starry sky.

“You look a little underdressed for the dance.” Said a voice suddenly. You don’t have to look over to know who it was.

“I’m afraid I’m just the driver tonight. No chaperoning for me.”

Moving over, you listened out for the sound of Steve joining you on top of the car. Putting himself awfully close as he mimicked your position. A bit of his cologne flooded your senses and you tried to focus your breathing to keep your sanity.

There’s no real way to address what happened the other day, and you know you should be upset with him. And you are, to a point. But after everything that’s happened and all that you guys have gone through. You’re finding it hard in yourself to just go back to being harsh again.

“I tried calling..” he said eventually, breaking the silence first. “And I mean, really tried.” Looking over at him you find him frowning with his lips pursed. Like he’s struggling to pick the right words. “I had the phone in my hand, ready to dial. But every time I thought to call, I just couldn’t help but remember the look on your face.”

You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to stare up again. That night did not go the way you had hoped. The memory brought a pain to your chest. “If you wanted to call to remind me how you feel, I’m glad you didn’t.” you scoffed, feeling your guard go up. It was too pathetic to feel this weak about anyone. Let alone let them know they made you feel this way.

“Don’t do that.” Steve sighed. “Don’t shut me out just yet. I’m sorry. I just- I just wanna explain myself better than how I did.”

“I get the picture pretty clear, Steve. You regret sleeping with me and don’t want to do anything with me because you still love Nancy.” You turn over quickly, carefully sliding off the car so that you can get away from being so close to him. The cold air sent a chill up your spine. “I won’t tell anyone about us.”

Steve let out a groan, covering his face with his hands before he followed you off the car. “That’s the thing. I don’t regret it. None of it. Not the sex, not the kiss, not the day, not even the night before. I wanted all of that.” He reached out to pick up your chin, making you look him in the eye. “My only regret is that I didn’t give us a good time to recover from the other shit we just went through. Well, that and also hurting you again.”

You can’t help but frown, confused once again. “But you said we shouldn’t have..that you shouldn’t have done it..how am I supposed to take that?”

“Take it as me being a big idiot?” he chuckled, moving his hand down a bit to cup at your cheek. “I’m so sorry, trouble. I hurt you again and I can’t beat myself enough for that.” Sighing, he dropped his head a bit, keeping his gaze on you. “And I know you should hate me, but I’m selfish with you and can’t let you go again. I’m just-..I’m just a guy who doesn’t know what girl would truly like him, let alone a girl like you.”

“But I do like you..”

“I know.” Smiling sadly, he rubbed his thumb at the apple of your cheek, making you rub into his palm. “I like you too. But maybe we don’t really know. Maybe we both need some time before we figure out all that?”

“Time?” you asked softly, looking at him worriedly. Was he wanting time to figure out if he liked you? Or waiting to see if you’d change your mind?

Sensing your inner dilemma, Steve leaned forward to place a kiss against your forehead. “I can hear you overthinking. I just want you to have time to figure out if what you feel is real, or just the heat of the moment.”

The soft sounds of Every Breath You Take by The Police seeped through the gymnasium. Reminding you of where you two were currently discussing what felt like the world’s biggest problem right now.

“Do you need time?”

He leaned back, looking down at you with a sad smile before he shook his head. “No. But I probably should take some time too.” Carefully, he moved the two of you around so that he could wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands on your hips. Slowly, he swayed the two of you to match the music.

You moved to rest your head against his chest, feeling the sounds of his heartbeat through his sweater. It was quick and even, making you smile a bit to yourself. “So what happens now?” you whispered.

He mused the question to himself, letting the music be the only noise for a second. “Friends,” he said finally. “I’d like us to be friends finally. If you can forgive me and my shitty timing.”Something so innocent as friendship seemed like too simple of a request. But you’d be lying if it didn’t make your chest lighten up from the aching feeling.

The two of you continue to sway to the music quietly. Allowing for you to dive into the thought process of what you wanted to do. Would being friends work out with Steve? What if he was right in things having only been because of the heat of the moment? Did you want to look at Steve differently after this? Or would this jump into friendship be the actual thing you two needed?

As the song slowly came to an end, you pulled yourself back a bit, still wrapped around Steve but enough so that you’re still able to look up at him. You were starting to think it was going to be a common thing to see his looks underneath the moonlight.

“Okay, let’s try friends.”

A small smile tugged at his lips and before he could control himself, he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips. For a moment you reveled in the taste of his lips before you both suddenly remembered what you just agreed on being. Pulling back to shyly look at each other.

“Sorry.” Steve muttered, his face was pink and glowing. You could only imagine how flushed you must have looked from the kiss. But instead of focusing on that, Steve gently reached over and pushed your head to rest against his chest again.

“Let’s just keep dancing.” you suggested.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, wrapping his arms tighter around you now. Nodding your head, you happily close your eyes and sway to the music. Keeping your smile hidden away from Steve’s gaze.

“Just keep dancing..”

a/n: AND THAT ENDS SEASON TWO. I know a lot of you might have been hoping these two would have gotten together. And after their little devil’s tango, I wanted to as well. (Also excuse my bad smut, I rarely write it but want to try and get back into it.)

But realistically, I want to follow canon as close as I can before i change things. And the end of season two, especially that night, i feel steve would be kinda messed up mentally. he’s heart broken on top of feeling something with trouble. I assure you though, they will find their way. Maybe during the ✨summer✨

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrignton x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #smut #angst #dywmb

160 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 4 months

Text

a note on asking for updates

hello. i just wanted to bring this up that while i’m really flattered to know people look forward to my updates, please do not send me direct messages or asks that specifically ask or demand them. i apologize for the delay in the next kickoff chapter, something came up in my personal, but i’ve received multiple asks mocking the fact i haven’t released the next chapter yet as well demanding that i update (adding “please” doesn’t justify a demand) which has been really anxiety inducing

i’m really happy to receive messages/replies highlighting parts of the chapters (love love love these sm they’re honestly what keep me writing lol) or to hear that you’re excited & looking forward to more <3, but short messages/asks that are just “can you update __” have the opposite effect and can be disheartening because it takes me hours of my own personal time to write a single chapter while it only takes you five seconds to demand for more w/out even acknowledging anything else about the work. if you can write me a ten thousand word ask full of prose and send that to me for why you think you’re entitled to 10k words of my time, then sure i’ll hear you out.

it may partially be my fault because i haven’t been great at being entirely accurate with my update schedule, but please understand that this is just a hobby for me and i do have a life outside of here where things come up that will always take my priority over anything else. i’ll refrain from posting any update teasers going forward to avoid that, and will most likely just hard launch chapters from now on.

obviously this doesn’t apply to most of the people i have interacted w that have been so lovely and sweet and patient, i appreciate you all so much.

anyways sorryyy for having to get serious for a sec haha i want to keep things as fun n festive over here as much as possible, but i just had to post this so i can add it to my blog’s rules.

#i’m sorry if i sound angry i’m just a bit upset 😭#just writer things #fanfiction #rules

25 notes · View notes

foundmywei · 6 months

Text

Buddie Fanfic Recs 1

Here are my favorite buddie fics! This post includes 40 of them, go to Part 2 for more~

10k words or under

the wood marked for your fire by hattalove

(10,264 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Chim. Weird question?” Chimney’s chair creaks. Buck cranes his head over the back of the couch and watches him straighten up, pop his back, close the folder. “You only ever ask me weird questions,” he says, and then crosses the loft to sit in one of the armchairs. He levels Buck with a look that’s way too knowing for the amount of words they’ve exchanged. “What’s up?” He takes a breath. “What does it feel like to be a dad?” in which buck is used to wanting things he's not allowed to have; it's just that he never thought being a father would be one of them.

but, baby, watching you blush by calvingseason

(10,100 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie opens his mouth. Closes it. Finally, he settles on, “You told your parents you’re married? To a man?” Chimney and Hen both glance at him with twin looks that clearly mean he’s on his own with telling the rest of the story. Which—they had no problem teasing and joking about it three seconds ago, but now that Buck has to really get to the heart of the issue, they’re leaving it to him? Go fucking figure. “I told my parents,” Buck says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with closed eyes, “that I’m married to you.” or, buck and eddie go to hershey for buck's high school reunion. the only problem? everyone thinks that they're married.

take my hand (take my everything) by cnomad

(10,307 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

When Buck has another near death experience, he decides the smartest thing to do is update his will. It's not a big deal, really—he just wants to take care of the people who matter most to him: Eddie and Chris. But to Eddie? To Eddie that's a pretty huge deal.

for all the perfect things i doubt by extasiswings

(5,199 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Evan Buckley is really good in bed. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

it was you, love by hammersmiths

(6,673 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie doesn’t realise the pattern until Karen says, “You’re collecting us like Pokémon.” “What, Wilsons?” Eddie says. He’s mostly distracted by Christopher on the couch, who is with Denny showing Miles, Hen and Karen’s newest foster, how to play Animal Crossing on his Switch. Miles is already developing the same starry-eyed look in his eyes Christopher himself gets around Buck. “You certainly don’t make it hard.” “Not Wilsons, dummy,” Karen says. “Lesbians.” Which is—not what Eddie was expecting her to say. “Uh. What?” or, Eddie befriends May and Linda at dispatch. Then realises some stuff.

you remind me of home (oh, baby, merry christmas) by catchingpapermoons

(7,247 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Buck, just come here,” Eddie says, and Buck feels his heart start to pound. “Do you need me to come get you?” “Oh.” He takes another deep breath. “You’re sure?” Eddie laughs. “Like Christopher won’t be over the moon that you’re here.” “For a month, Eddie.” “So?” -- or, Buck has to live with Eddie for a month, which would be fine if he wasn't in love with the guy.

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn

(7,222 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“I want someone who’s going to take care of him, love him just as I would without babying him or making him feel like he can’t do things, you know? I want someone who is going to fight for him, not against him, who would literally go through hell for him because he deserves it--” Eddie cut himself off, but Hen didn’t need him to continue. “You want it to be Buck.” Maybe she should’ve been more surprised or she should’ve asked the question instead of saying it so surely and causing the bit of panic that erupted in Eddie’s eyes, but it was obvious in everything Eddie was expressing. Or five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

someday soon i'll make you mine by lecornergirl

(2,710 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

"I didn't raise him to be this dramatic, you know," Eddie mutters as they listen to Christopher making his way down the hallway to make his entrance. "He gets this from you." Eddie doesn't seem to think there's anything unusual about what he's just said, but something warm blooms in Buck's chest. He gets this from you. His artificial, arbitrary line in the sand between parent and not is blurring once again.

you can start a family who will always show you love by fleetinghearts

(8,185 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Yeah, yeah, he’s—he’s my kid, he’s my kid,” Buck tells her, tripping over his words in the effort to get this whole process to hurry the fuck up so he can see Chris. There’s the sound of something hitting the floor from behind him, followed by what might be plastic bouncing off the shiny hospital tiles. The person at the desk looks up in surprise, over Buck’s shoulder, and he turns to look too. Eddie’s standing there, Styrofoam cup rolling at his feet, coffee splattered all down the bottom of his faded blue jeans. The plastic lid of the cup skitters over the tile before coming to a stop a few feet away. He looks like someone punched him in the gut, absolutely shellshocked, something Buck can’t quite read behind the startled expression on his face. or, buck's looking for something, and the diazes let him know he already has it

can't see anyone but you by allyasavedtheday

(4,967 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Besides,” he says, clearing his throat. “Once I’m on the date, there’s no beating me. I know how to treat a date right.” Buck tilts his head to the side, his cocky smirk re-emerging as he appraises Eddie. “Wanna put your money where your mouth is, cowboy?” “What?” “Let’s go on a date,” Buck says like it’s obvious. Eddie splutters through some attempt at a response but Buck carries on speaking before he can come up with something to say. “You show me your best date moves and I’ll show you my best date moves and whoever’s better doesn’t have to pay for dinner.” * Post 6x17, Buck and Eddie decide to go on a practice date. It goes exactly how you think it would.

something to hold onto by foxwatson

(5,185 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

There’s about a palm’s width of distance between Eddie’s knee and Buck’s thigh, where they’re both sitting on Eddie’s couch. It would barely take any movement at all for Eddie to just nudge his leg over a little further, press their knees together and let his rest there. or the one where frank tells eddie he should work on letting himself want things, and eddie starts by cuddling with buck

accidents happen ( but i will love you on purpose) by withmeornotatall

(4,425 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 171)

"Buck..." Eddie says lowly. "Did you already put a load of laundry in?" "I had nothing to do whilst Chris was doing his math homework," he explains himself, turning back to Eddie. "And my workout stuff smelt so bad, Eddie. I almost cried." "Buck, let me do the groceries then—" "No, Eddie, its fine." Buck shakes his head resolutely. "You know I love shopping, especially with Chris. And beside, you still have to do the light load and then fold it all up. Even split of chores, I promise." Buck wonders if Hen and Chim ever split their errands on their days off, before Karen and Maddie. (OR: buck kisses eddie, goes grocery shopping with christopher, then realises he's in love with eddie, in that order)

I-10 by sunryder

(6,997 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Instead of taking the 1-40 through Nashville back in 2012, Buck took the I-10 along the southern border. But once you were in West Texas, all roads led to El Paso. There was no getting out of the state without passing through it. Evan considered inevitability a pretty damn good analogy for Eddie Diaz. (Where Buck literally takes a different road and meets Eddie a few years early.)

baby, you were my picket fence by spaceprincessem

(6,179 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck is all in. He’s one-hundred percent, give em everything he’s got, will do anything Maddie asks— “You can’t tell anyone,” Maddie suddenly becomes so serious Buck feels like he has whiplash. He blinks a few times, brow furrowed, “Well, yeah I know that.” “No, Buck,” Maddie leans forward covering his hand with her own, “I mean it. No one else is allowed to know about this.” Buck opens his mouth, but Maddie reads him like the traitorous sister that she is and cuts him off by saying, “That includes Eddie.” “Maddie,” Buck whines, and he’s very well aware at how pathetic it sounds, “that’s not fair! It’s — he’s — it’s Eddie!” [or Maddie wants to propose to Chimney. She gets Buck involved. Buck can't tell anyone. He somehow proposes to Eddie instead.]

all i know since yesterday by sibylsleaves

(6,082 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck knows what he’s doing might be constituted as ‘a bit creepy,’ but he can’t really help it. He has a book in his lap, so it’s not like he’s just staring at Eddie, but—ok, so he hasn’t actually read a page in over twenty minutes, and in the meantime he has watched his best friend chop like six different kinds of vegetables to go in Bobby’s ragu. “How’s it going, Buck?” Hen asks, flinging herself into the adjacent arm chair. “Fine,” Buck says, barely looking at her. “But something’s up with Eddie.” or, Eddie flirts. Buck worries.

Break Glass in Case of Emergency by Beforeastorm

(2,894 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie’s mind wandered to the red folder, tucked high up in the back of his closet. He recalled back to a conversation he had with Buck, almost a year ago at this point:

“It’s an insurance policy; a break glass in case of emergency. A trump card.” “One I really hope we’ll never have to use.” “But if we have to, we’ll be really glad we did this.” When hospital policy doesn't allow Chris, as an unrelated minor, to visit a comatose post-lightning strike Buck in the ICU, Eddie has a solution. Unfortunately, that involves sharing some pretty personal information in a waiting room filled with the 118.

like a heartbeat racing by elisela

(3,600 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck can do this. He can totally do this, it’s just a favor for Maddie, and what’s he good at if not helping out his sister? Sure, doing a cake tasting when you’re neither the bride nor the groom is a little … unorthodox … but it’s cake. He loves cake, he specifically ate fewer carbs all week so he could pig out to his heart’s content on cake, delicious, fluffy cake, and he can do this. “I can’t do this,” he blurts out the night before, pacing the apartment with Eddie on speakerphone. “Maddie said she told them I would be coming so at least I don’t have to pretend to be Chim, but how pathetic is it to show up to a cake tasting alone?”

you were the wilderness I crossed into by rowan_wood

(9,218 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Truth.” “How many times have you fallen in love?” The table was quiet, but Eddie didn’t take long to think it over. “Three times.” “With who?” Lucy asked. “Nope, not part of the question,” he smiled at Lucy, easy as anything. Buck tried to count quickly in his head, the math not adding up. “My turn, right?” Eddie asked the group. “Chim. Truth or dare.” or: the 118 has a 24 hour shift, and zero calls. The firefam spends it playing games, and everyone takes the opportunity to tell Buck just how much they love him.

11k - 40k words

The Family We Choose by maybeamystery

(20,468 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Hey, bud!” says the scowling man, suddenly all smiles. The smile changes his face into something beautiful; Kelly realizes that this kid has not one but two hot dads. As he’s swept into the arms of his other dad and they start off in the direction of the nearest ice cream shop, Kelly says to the curly-haired man, “You two have an adorable son.” [10 times Buck is mistaken for Christopher's dad and 2 times it's not a mistake. Contains major spoilers for 5x14]

a leaf falls on loneliness by iimpossible_things

(11,163 words | Not Rated | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “I’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. Really, he doesn’t. The 118 has too many good, kind people for that. But every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to Eddie or Bobby or Hen or Chim, he hears Eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.” —you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting— So each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence.

Buy Back the Secrets by allyasavedtheday

(18,808 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 3/3)

He casts his gaze to the right, to the voice he’d heard a minute ago and the hand still on his shoulder. And, well. Okay. So Buck may have just been unconscious for an indeterminable length of time but he doesn’t think he’s exaggerating when he says the guy leaning over his bedside is one of the most attractive people he’s seen in a long time. Especially when his face splits into a smile that rivals the brightness of the hospital lights that almost just fucking blinded Buck a second ago. “Welcome back, hotshot,” the guy says and it sounds fond – familiar – and Buck honestly has no idea who this guy is. His brown hair is dishevelled on top of his head and his eyes look tired but then Buck notices the LAFD t-shirt so- alright. Someone from the firehouse, maybe? But he’s pretty sure he’d remember a face like that. * After getting hurt on a call, Buck wakes up thinking it's 2018. AKA Buck can't remember who Eddie is but he's pretty sure everyone's lying when they say they're "just friends."

you're my whole house by hammersmiths

(11,958 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie shrugs. “Christopher mentioned to Daniel that Buck and I are partners. I mean, sure, it’s a little weird that she invited him over as well, but—” “Partners,” Hen interrupts, “like work partners?” Eddie and Buck glance at each other. “Uh, yeah?” Eddie says. “What other type of partner?” Hen stares at them for a moment, before she bursts out laughing. “You dumbasses. She thinks you’re together.”

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies

(27,258 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.” Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him. “That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him. - or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

The Definition of Love and All Things Ineffable by ElvenSorceress

(29,351 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 3/3)

Maddie asks him, like she’s been waiting to ask him, “Does Christopher call you ‘Uncle Buck’?” It’s… it sounds so casual. Nonchalant. Maybe even reasonable? And like there’s something she’s trying to figure out, but why would Chris ever call Buck his uncle? He’s Jee-Yun’s uncle. “No,” Buck answers. “Why?” “He called me Aunt Maddie.” She tips her head curiously, brows knit together. “You’re far closer to him than I am. I thought if I’m his aunt, you’d have to be his uncle. Why wouldn’t you be Uncle Buck?” There are pieces of chicken mushed into Jee’s fingers and carrots sticking to the bib draped over her front and what might be peas caught in her hair. And Buck doesn’t really have an answer. It’s just. It’s wrong. He’s not Chris’ Uncle Buck. Maybe he should be? Maybe he’s supposed to be? Or maybe Chris doesn’t call him that directly because he’s always been BFF Buck or His Buck. He shrugs and uneasiness settles in his stomach. What more could he ever be to Chris but an uncle? ~~~ In which Buck processes his breakup, learns his place in his family, has a huge crisis of sexuality, and finds the truth about love beating in his own heart.

Didn't think you meant it by EtoileGarden

(33,519 words | Explicit | Chapters: 12/12)

“Y’know,” he said. Shrugged again. “That last call? I kind of thought I’d have that by now.” “What,” Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “A roof collapsing on you?” Buck grunted, elbowed Eddie. Lightly, because he did appreciate the humour in Eddie’s voice. “No,” he said. “Just - married.”

drink the river dry by Rianne

(32,215 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

It wasn’t until they were discussing his discharge paperwork and painkiller schedules that it really sunk in for Eddie that Buck would be staying with him and Christopher. That he would be around 24/7 except for his shifts at work. That he’ll sleep on the couch, where he’s been sleeping for days now to look after Christopher. The worst part is that it’s necessary—Eddie isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing for himself for the next couple of weeks. He’s lucky if he can put a shirt on by himself a month from now. Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Or: Eddie gets shot, breaks up with his girlfriend, and pines like there’s no tomorrow.

Despite it all, Because of it all by kitkatpancakestack

(23,747 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

He puts the truck in park in front of Eddie’s childhood home. Christopher shifts in the back, already unbuckling his seatbelt. Eddie is frozen with his jaw set, eyes hard and unblinking as they bore holes through the windshield. Buck was here once before, after that relief trip to Texas, but he is under no illusions that this time will be similar. For one, he doesn’t have the buffer of other firefighters to hide behind. This isn’t a visit that will last a couple hours, and so the sugary, superficial niceties will eventually crumble when it’s mid-way through the week and he’s still hanging around. There is also the shadow of everything that has happened since the wildfires skulking behind them, waiting to be found out. But, this is Eddie and Christopher, needing him to have it together, so he paints on a smile and squeezes Eddie's knee and slides out of the truck. * Eddie's dad gets sick. Buck goes with him and Christopher to El Paso.

you light the spark in my bonfire heart by woodchoc_magnum

(22,669 words | Mature | Chapters: 2/2)

A post-5b fic, in which Buck slowly realises that he's been in love with Eddie this whole time.

some day i'll fall into you by allyasavedtheday

(13,467 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

I got you. I got you. I got you.

“You said that,” he says, clearing his throat around the emotion clogging his windpipe. “In the firetruck. I heard you.”

Buck leans back enough that they’re looking at each other. The hand he’d had on the back of Eddie’s head moves to the side of his neck, his thumb pressing lightly against the hinge of Eddie’s jaw.

Eddie swallows around the lump in his throat and meets his gaze. “I believed you then.”

Buck sighs like the breath has been punched out of him and leans forward to press their foreheads together. “Believe me now,” he murmurs and Eddie’s not sure if it’s a plea or a request but he finds himself nodding anyway.

“Okay.”

A look at how Eddie deals with his recovery post-4x14.

I Know a Place We Can Go by maybeamystery

(15,580 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

“Well, that was heartwarming,” Chimney says loudly. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s go save some lives. In WeHo. Where Buck goes to gay bars because he is apparently a bisexual now.” “I’ve always been a bisexual,” Buck sniffs. “You just didn’t notice.” “There are gay bars outside of WeHo,” Hen adds. “Just saying.” [5 times Buck and Eddie get hit on in West Hollywood and 1 time they definitely do not]

Tick Tick Boom by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky

(30,439 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Did you know if you put a frog in water and slowly bring it to boiling, it won’t hop out?” Chris is chattering as Buck makes a quick dinner while Eddie argues with his gas company on the phone. He can hear the occasional swear word in Spanish as his voice raises. Eddie doesn’t like to raise his voice around Christopher – the very thought makes Buck want to kiss him full on the mouth – so he decided to take it to the living room while Chris sits with his homework in the kitchen and Buck cooks. “Hmm?” Buck asks, unable to fully pull himself out of Bobby’s baked mac and cheese recipe. It took him years, but he finally convinced the man to write it down. Bobby’s handwriting was juvenile at best on a good day, but this was nearly unreadable. Buck wonders if he did that on purpose. “Frogs?” “Yeah!” Chris states. “My teacher said that if you put a frog in a pot, you have to make sure it’s not immediately boiling. You put them in water and then slowly raise the temperature and they won’t realize what’s happening. Then once they realize, they have no place to go. They can’t jump out.” * S6 Spec: Buck decides he doesn’t need therapy, reverts to some bad habits, and explodes. Or, the Breakdown Fic.

40k+ words

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

(44,248 words | Explicit | Chapters: 11/11)

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak:

Marry Buck.

the mortifying ordeal of being known by Polish_Amber

(60,866 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 7/7

The thing was, the 118 was full of gossips. Eddie had been at the station less than a week before Hen and Chim wrangled details about his “hot young thing” from him (“Buck is only 4 years younger than me, he is not a ‘hot young thing’!” Eddie complained.) And Bobby was open about his worries for his son’s lack of direction and the secrets he appears to be keeping (“I just wish I could help Evan find the thing that gives him purpose,” Bobby lamented.) It just made it all the more ridiculous (and horrifying) when Eddie realizes he’s been dating his Captain’s son this whole time (“Defiling his baby,” Chimney cackled, because he clearly wanted Eddie murdered.) -- Or, the AU where miscommunication abounds as Eddie seeks advice about his new relationship, Bobby despairs over his adopted son's career prospects and his refusal to talk about it, and Evan Buckley-Nash juggles training at the fire academy, building a family with his new boyfriend, and trying to work out how to tell his overprotective dad that he's already chosen the life he wants, actually. It takes a goddamn tsunami, of all things, to get the story straight.

Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint) by extasiswings

(42,884 words | Explicit | Chapters: 9/9)

“Sounds like the problem is you think casual sex with a stranger or finding someone new to date are your only options.” Eddie’s brow furrows. “Aren’t they?” “I mean, there’s always…someone you already know. Who you’re already comfortable with.” “Because my pool of male friends who are single and who would be interested in having sex with me has so many options?” “Well, I don’t know about many, but you only need one,” Buck points out. “And who would that be?” “Me, of course.” [Or: Frank gives Eddie therapy homework, Eddie misunderstands the assignment, and Buck is just a really supportive friend...right?]

Don't Take My Sunshine Away by SevenSoulmates

(113,785 words | Mature | Chapters: 21/21)

Eddie is in a coma, and Buck blames himself. He should've been there to protect Eddie. The least he can do now is to be there for Christopher, even if Buck doesn't know if he has it in him to be a parent without Eddie. Buck makes Eddie a deal: he'll fight for Christopher in the real world, while Eddie fights to wake up. Eddie's come a long way since those bleak days in El Paso, listening to his parents comments about how he's not fit to be a father. How Christopher doesn't deserve to be dragged down by the likes of Eddie and Shannon. Eddie thought after moving to LA, he and Chris had escaped that. When he wakes up and finds Buck neck-deep in a legal battle with his parents for custody of Christopher, Eddie must face his own mistakes, and find the confidence to stand up for himself against his absolute worst nightmare.

i think i belong to you (hope you feel the same) by Ran

(41,111 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

Buck’s taking him to therapy, where he knows Eddie’s therapist’s name and Eddie’s entire history with him; Buck, who let himself into Eddie’s house with food from Eddie’s favorite coffee shop with coffee crafted perfectly for Eddie’s tastes; Buck, who apparently has a book on Eddie’s coffee table with so many dog-eared pages it’s like any interruption at Eddie’s house is worth putting it down. Buck, who touches him with a devotion as palpable as all the little pieces of himself scattered throughout Eddie's home. Eddie thinks he might have solved his own question, but he’s afraid to look at the answer too closely—because he’s fairly certain his best friend is in love with him, and Eddie can’t remember a single thing about him. Or, the one where Eddie wakes up from the shooting only to think he was hurt in a certain 7.1 earthquake years prior and learns to appreciate the life he's created for himself since then.

Overcome by Spicysauce

(53,697 words | Mature | Chapters: 10/10)

“I’m not leaving you, Buck.” Eddie says with a tired sigh, like he’s struggling with the weight of the world and Buck’s the one who put it there. “Just switching jobs, that’s all.” That’s all?, Buck wants to scream, because every relationship he has is tied to the job in some way, and first Maddie left, and then it was Chimney, and now it’s Eddie. But he doesn’t scream, because that would be a little bit too tragic, even for him, and nods instead. Bites his tongue. Pretends that he isn't falling apart where he's stood. *** Or, set post season 5A, where Buck is alone, and angry, and exhausted, but mostly terrified that everyone he loves is slowly slipping away from him.

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Buck by sunryder

(50,287 words | Mature | Chapters: 13/13)

Red is dying and Buck is fucked up about it. Not just about losing a friend, but about ending up like Red: dying alone without the people who used to be his team. Buck doesn’t want to go out like that. It might take him a few panic attacks, a road trip, and a book recommendation, but Buck is going to tidy his life up.

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts

(54,477 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

“It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

you and me by woodchoc_magnum

(55,411 words | Mature | Chapters: 2/2)

An alternate ending to Season 6, where Buck realises that what he's been searching for has been right in front of him the whole time.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #9 1 1 #911 abc #911 fanfic #buck x eddie #buddie fic rec

211 notes · View notes

vibrantbirdy · 1 year

Note

Hey lovely!! Could you do a Cassian Andor x (f) reader? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. I like the whole “you annoy me and piss me off” relationship that ends up in a situation where they are stuck together for something and end up in a fight where they suddenly realize they have feelings! I love allowing creators to have their own space to create, so if you wanna do something else entirely, please feel free too!!

❤️ take care of yourself

Thank you SO much, this is a great request! I am a sucker for enemies to lovers too. I hope you don't mind, but I had a similar Cassian request from Anon at the same time about Cassian x Reader having to go undercover to Canto Bight as a couple which I thought would work well with yours so I merged them. (Anon, I also hope you don't mind the merging and that you can find this ok as I don't know if/how I can reply to two asks in the same post?)

Also, I want to thank everyone who has interacted with my writing so far.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Keep 'em coming.

-Birdy

Title: Charade Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Enemies to lovers; Action/adventure; Fluff Warnings: Moderate sexuality; moderate swearing; mild violence/peril; brief mentions of loss of family/friends by Reader. Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 10k (oops)

Summary: You and Captain Cassian Andor have to negotiate your personal differences and difficult history when you are both assigned to go on an undercover operation to the Galaxy's playground for the super-rich, Canto Bight, as a married couple.

Prologue

Your first mission as a spy for the Rebel Alliance has taken you to Carida. The objective; to infiltrate and sabotage the Imperial Naval Yard there then get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

As it turns out, the mission is doomed from the outset. An Imperial mole who somehow dug their way into the very heart of Rebel Command on Yavin 4 has alerted the Empire to your plans.

Your team of six hardly made it five kilometers from the rust-bucket of a ship Rebel Leadership had assigned to you when you were intercepted by an Imperial patrol.

The firefight was brief. The Stormtroopers were green, even more so than you. You wondered with a pang of unexpected sympathy whether they'd come fresh from the Imperial Academy which was also based on Carida. There were far more seasoned combatants amongst your own unit and the fight was over before it had really began.

Still, that's when you'd lost poor Lily to a Trooper's blaster bolt. You're not even sure he was aiming at her. She'd fallen against you and you'd twisted your ankle as you'd spun to the ground following a futile attempt to hold her upright as if that would negate the fatal injury she'd just sustained.

Now, as you limp up the ridge of the hill you feel a swell of relief as you see that you are almost back to the clearing where the ship is stowed. But as you catch a glimpse of the hunk of old metal, you realise with horror that you are not out of the woods yet.

The Empire uses decrepit shuttles just like this one for for training cadets at the Academy. That's why High Command had insisted you take it - to blend in. You'd nicknamed it Tenacity because the old girl just wouldn't die and the name had stuck.

The ancient vessel doesn't do anything quickly until it's up in the air. Then she's sharp as a razor. But she has a complicated manual override for emergency take-offs whereby the crew need pump fuel round the engines a few times using an externally stowed generator.

Good for training Imperial cadets for problem solving and how to make the best of old tech. Not so good for spies who need a quick exit.

You're the engineer, it should have been you who hooked the ship up to the generator. But with your injury you are too slow and so the others went on ahead to start without you. You are sure you gave correct and clear instructions, but in his panic, it looks like Rogdul has connected the ports up all wrong. Dangerously so.

Overhead, you hear the scream of Imperial TIE fighters and you launch yourself into the nearby undergrowth. You count them. Four. They are searching the valley for you. They pass, but they'll be back in less than a minute. It's impossible that they haven't spotted the ship in the forest clearing.

From your hiding place you hear the ship's engines burst into life. Inside, you imagine Rogdul and Anya carrying out hurried pre-flight checks. Baslin is probably taking up position in the gunner's hatch, hoping to see some action.

No, you think. Not like this.

But you can reach the ship and fix the problem. You know you can. The whole thing will blow if you don't and that's not an option.

You dart out towards the Tenacity, but someone intercepts you, slamming into you with a body tackle and dragging you roughly back to cover through the mud. Soon, you're seated up against them, your back pressed into their chest, their arms and legs wrapped around you like a vice.

It's Captain Cassian Andor, you realise, your superior officer and the lead operative on this mission. You'd completely forgotten that he was even further behind the hasty retreat than you, taking up the rear and keeping watch for more Imperial patrols on your tail.

You don't care who it is. You struggle and writhe furiously against him, desperate to get away and stop the impending disaster you can see unfolding before your eyes. But Andor holds you fast against him as if you were a child having a tantrum.

"Let me go, I can fix it!" you scream over the howl of the returning TIEs.

"You can't, it's too late!" Andor shouts back into your ear.

As if on cue, the generator connected to the side of the ship starts to spark wildly, just as you knew it would. You watch helplessly as the fuel cells hidden within the Tenacity ignite with a deafening bang and whoosh of flame as the ship goes up in a hellish fireball.

A second later, the TIEs make their second pass. There's no need for them to bother firing their weapons. The devastation from the explosion is catastrophic.

They do it anyway.

Two years later

You are on approach to Canto Bight, Cantonica's capital city - the Galaxy's playground for the wealthy.

Captain Cassian Andor is in the pilot's seat, following instructions from the flight control tower. You'll sit down in a moment, but right now, you are desperately trying to sort the sticking-up collar of his cream shirt which is made of expensive looking silk.

Irritated, he tries to bat your hand away, but you are persistent.

"Kriff's sake, Andor, just let me do it," you mutter.

"I'm not a child," he says petulantly, but he relents.

There. Now he looks the part in his fine clothes. He's tidied his short beard and moustache so that the stubble is cropped neatly to the sharp contours of his chiselled face. His dark brown hair is neatly parted at the side, although it's perhaps still a little long...

You don't look too shabby either, bedecked in a knee-length silk day dress of sky blue, accompanied by a cloak of dusky purple which is draped elegantly across your shoulders. The Rebellion went to great lengths to fund this operation and they certainly didn't skimp on the provision of suitable attire. It's essential that you fit in.

"I look fine, you look fine, stop fussing," Andor says dismissively, noticing as you smooth out a couple of annoying wrinkles in your dress and swish out the skirt to make sure the fabric is lying properly.

"I think you look lovely," K-2SO, Andor's droid and almost constant companion, pipes up from the co-pilot's chair, "and that Cassian looks like he's swallowed an Endor fire hornet."

"You don't think," Andor retorts, "That's just circuits misfiring randomly in your head..."

K-2 turns to you with a mechanical whirr, and if he had the ability to conjure expressions, this one would read:

See? I told you.

You stifle a laugh and drop down into the passenger seat behind the droid.

The first time you'd met the hulking re-programmed Imperial security droid had been that fateful day on Carida. You and Andor had shivered miserably in silence for hours by the wreckage of the Tenacity as the rain lashed down, making little difference to the fearsome fuel-accelerated flames which devoured the ship. The Empire, in their arrogance, didn't bother to send out a patrol to check the site.

Then, late into the night, K-2 had finally arrived in Cassian's own ship under cover of darkness. With your injured ankle having swollen to twice its usual size, the gargantuan droid had lumbered over, scooped you up, and carried you with surprising gentleness into the vessel. Ever since, you've always enjoyed his company and his sardonic wit.

Your relationship with Andor, on the other hand, has been tumultuous since its inception. He's always been frosty and stand-offish with you. You sometimes wonder if your presence reminds him of the disaster on Carida the way his does to you.

Whatever his reasoning, his uncompromising demeanour has always brought out your worst qualities when you're around him, especially your stubbornness and your dislike of being told what to do. You've never gone so far as insubordination under his command, but when you disagree with him, you have a unique knack for finding your own way to interpret his orders. This always has the infinitely satisfying effect of winding him up.

Anyway, this time won't be like Carida. And despite your personal differences, you and Andor have worked together successfully - though admittedly never harmoniously - many times since.

Your objective is simple enough. You're looking for a business man, Dreylan Balgo. He's not yet thirty, but he's the biggest supplier of Imperial weapons in the Galaxy. You need to obtain his biometric signature and transmit it back to Alliance High Command. They'll then use it to access the designs and blueprints of the weapons his company is designing for the Empire and eventually send agents in as factory workers to sabotage various key elements.

As Andor and K-2 make the final approach to Canto Bight you look out the window. Below you, the dark sea glitters and ahead, the shining spires of the beautiful city glow golden in the evening sun.

You close your eyes as a flash of a childhood memory dances across your brain. You came here with your parents once when you were nine or ten. That's partly why you've been chosen for this mission. You used to move in these circles.

K-2 drops the shuttle neatly on to the landing pad which juts out over the water.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the droid quips as you exit.

It's winter on Cantonica. As you step out onto the platform, the breeze is chilly but pleasantly fresh and you can hear the steady crash of waves against the cliffs below you.

At the entrance to the structure, you pause a minute to take in the monolithic doors, ornately carved and inlaid with beautiful coloured glass which catches the light of the setting sun with dazzling beauty. The doors open and you and Andor step into the elaborate marble halls of Canto Bight's most luxurious resort as newlyweds Mr and Mrs Race Pax.

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

The suite you are staying in is as lavish as the rest of the place, but it is small. The coiffeurs of the Rebel Alliance do have their limits.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suddenly stopping your own unpacking to observe Andor throwing an assortment of pillows and blankets onto the ground.

"I'm taking the floor like a gentleman."

"Don't be stupid," you snort, "What if the maid comes in and sees this..." you gesture to the collection of blankets on the floor, searching for a fitting description "...gentleman's pillow fort?"

The most important thing on this mission is that your cover needs to be believable. And, perhaps tantamount to that, if Andor is tired, he'll be even grumpier than usual and you don't think you could deal with that.

He straightens and sighs, repeatedly slapping the cushion he has been plumping with unnecessary force.

One thing you and Andor have never been around each other is shy. Having spent weeks at a time together in miserable, hastily erected camps, cramped transports, and underground bunkers in the service of the Alliance, the necessity of living in close quarters with him stamped that out quick. You've learned to move in each other's personal space with ease and usually without any awkwardness, so you can't fathom why he's making a meal of it now.

He looks at you defiantly for a moment longer before accepting defeat.

"Fine," he says, as he starts to pick up the elements of his makeshift camp bed and throwing them back on the bed, "Fine, but if you snore, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

"If I snore?!"

That was rich.

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

You and Andor are attending one of Canto Bight's seemingly infinite evening soirees for the rich and powerful. A colourful sea of people in lavish dress are engaged in polite conversation and enjoying expensive beverages in one of the grandest ballrooms you've ever seen.

Dreylan Balgo is here, somewhere. Tonight is a chance to observe his behaviour, get to know his habits and make an initial introduction if possible. Anything that could help you create an opportunity to obtain his biometrics over the next few days.

You are wearing a teal halter-neck gown, a drink in one hand while the other rests elegantly on top of Andor's arm. The silk of his plush evening jacket is smooth under your fingertips and you absent-mindedly fuss with it as you scan the crowd for your target.

Someone says your name. Your real name.

Andor stiffens next to you.

Trying to keep your composure you turn and relief floods through you as you realise it's one of your mother's oldest friends, Lady Sen Prya. It's been years since you've seen her and she must be in her eighties by now, but she hasn't changed one bit. She is adorned in the most grandiose yellow satin gown you've ever seen, complete with matching gloves. Her long white hair falls, twisted in an elaborate braid, all the way down to her waist.

Quickly, you take her gloved hand and squeeze it gently, a subtle message you hope she can read.

"Oh I'm sorry you must be mistaken," you say politely and introduce yourself as Mrs Pax.

Understanding flickers across Prya's face. She always was sharp as a knife and time doesn't seem to have dulled that characteristic one jot.

"Ah of course, child. Forgive me," she says tactfully with all the grace and ease you remember from your childhood, "You look very like a dear old friend of mine. It's nice to meet you. I am Lady Sen Prya."

She reaches a hand up and touches your cheek affectionately with a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then, she reaches out to Andor who brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently.

"Race Pax, it's a pleasure," he says, and there is a genuine warmth in his voice.

He appears to have relaxed somewhat and you are sure it's because he probably recognises Prya's name. She has been funding various elements of the Rebellion for years.

"Now, is there anyone you need an introduction to, before I retire to bed like the old woman I am?"

Prya stresses introduction as if its a code word. And it is.

You look up at Andor questioningly. You hate to ask his permission for anything, but he is the senior operative here. He nods once in ascent.

"Dreylan Balgo," you say.

Lady Prya's eyes light up and you can tell that she is delighted to learn who your indented mark is.

"Well then, follow me, young lovers."

Andor gives that rare smile of his, the one you see so infrequently which reaches all the way up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. He likes Prya. Everyone does. That's what makes her so dangerous for the Empire.

You wind through the crowd, following Prya as if she is golden star leading you to your destination. You're suddenly nervous and although you'd never admit it, there is something comforting about how Andor's large hand entwines with your own as he follows your lead through the busy party.

"Dreylan! My boy!" Prya's voice is clear as crystal and cuts through the party hubbub with ease.

Balgo turns from a conversation he is having with several other men. He is a handsome man, dressed in an evening suit of black velvet. He is tall and elegant with piercing blue eyes and a mop of sandy blonde curls.

"Ah! Lady Prya! What a delight to see you," he says gregariously, stooping low to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"And you, my lad," she replies with gracious ease, "Now, I want you to meet a couple of newly weds, Mr and Mrs Pax. I'm certain young Pax here would be interested in discussing business with you boys, although I, for one, find it all very dull."

There is a ripple of smug, amused laughter from the circle of men, and you join in only because you know Prya could negotiate most of these idiots out of any of business asset of theirs she chose to.

Balgo turns his attention to you first, appraising you thoroughly before taking your hand and kissing it with an elaborate flourish. You let out a silly little laugh, ensuring your voice carries an appropriate blend of affluence and air headedness.

Less than a minute you've been in this man's company and you can already read him like a holo novel.

He then greets Andor with boisterous joviality.

"Congratulations, Pax, what a stunning creature you have caught in your net."

Andor chuckles amiably, shaking Balgo's hand.

"It's good to meet you," he says warmly.

This time, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and you notice that his hand, which has been sitting lightly round your waist, shifts down to just under your hip.

Lady Prya retires to bed soon after, flashing you a wink and a dazzling smile as she sweeps from the room, an ageless vision in yellow.

The conversation and drinks flow. All night, you sense Balgo's eyes on you. Alliance High Command don't officially approve of so-called "honey-traps," and neither do you, but you see no harm in cultivating Balgo's delusion if it opens another window of opportunity. You don't discourage him, directly meeting the furtive glances he casts your way when he thinks Andor isn't looking.

Throughout the evening Andor proves why he is so good at his job. His ability to observe and imitate behaviour is uncanny. He adopts with ease that careless, raucous affectation that only young, wealthy men seem to possess. He hasn't taken more than a few sips of his wine, but he mirrors Balgo's increasingly boisterous body language and bawdy humour expertly.

By the end of the night the two are stomping around the dwindling party with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying and laughing and singing like idiots.

The night has been a success. You've created a rapport with Balgo.

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

"Prya was a friend of your family's?" Andor's voice comes unexpectedly from the darkness, "What happened to them?"

It's very late - or early, depending on how your look at it - and you and Andor have just fallen, exhausted, into bed.

You are resting on your left side, as always, and you hear him roll over beside you, so that he is looking at your back.

You are surprised by how accurately Andor has read into the situation with so little information. You don't see any harm in telling him.

"My father owned an agricultural engineering works. One day the Empire came to his factory and asked him to design and build components for some machine they were building, probably a weapon. He refused. They executed him on the spot and took the factory anyway. I did my best, but we struggled and my mother died a few years after of a broken heart. That's when I left to join the Rebellion."

Andor shuffles, the bed shifting beneath you both and you can tell that he's propped himself up on his elbow. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

"You've never told me that before."

"You never bothered to ask," you reply defensively, "I know what you think, what you all think. That I'm a rich brat who ran off to join the Rebellion just to piss off her wealthy parents."

There's a silence.

"Turns out you're only half right..." you finish with a rather bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

To your surprise, Andor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, before you reach across your body to place your hand on top of his, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Cassian," you say.

You rarely use his first name and it feels odd, but not unnatural on your tongue.

"Goodnight."

He rolls back over and is soon snoring softly. You don't fall asleep for a long while, not until you hear the birds begin their morning chorus and the light of dawn starts to creep through the open window with the sea breeze.

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

You and Andor spend the next morning trying to locate Balgo but he's nowhere to be found. You suspect he is probably in his bed nursing a very sore head.

The last place you try is the Fathier racetrack, although you know there are no races on today. You are glad. You can't stand to see these magnificent animals forced to run like that.

Even so, you are unable to refrain from grabbing Andor's hand in excitement and dragging him over to the nearest pen where a mother and foal are resting in a patch of sunshine.

"A baby," you find yourself saying, stupidly.

Andor laughs quietly at the ridiculous, breathless joy in your voice. You wonder if he's making fun of you, but when you turn to him his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous light.

He gestures to a nearby handler, adopting Pax's air of arrogant entitlement with frightening ease.

"My wife would like to see the animal."

"Of course, sir."

The handler coaxes the foal over and it's tall enough already to reach other the fence. You pat the creature on its nose and between its ridiculously long ears and it nuzzles sweetly into your hand.

"Mr Pax?" You say as you turn to Andor and realise he's hovering a few feet back from the fence.

You gesticulate to him to come over. When else will he get the opportunity to interact with such an animal?

"Oh no, I can see fine from here," he replies with a shake of his head.

Surely not, you think, and you feel your mouth twist into a devilish smirk.

"Are you scared?" You tease.

You sidle up to him and entwine your arm in his before stretching up to whisper into his ear so that only he can hear you.

"Captain Andor?"

Unable to resist your direct challenge he offers you his hand with a resigned, slightly nervous grin. You take it, leading him back to the fence. You guide his palm up to the baby Fathier's nose and the creature sniffs it curiously. You then press it gently against the animal's long forehead. When you let go, Andor continues to stroke the animal softly, his face lit up with an expression of childish wonder.

"Thank you, husband," you say when you both turn to leave.

He gives you a subtle wink and you feel a sudden rush of something close to fondness for him.

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

That afternoon is spent sneaking around the resort's service corridors. You are right at the top of the building and the corridors are narrow and low. It's ridiculously hot and you feel stupid carrying out serious espionage in yet another one of the seemingly endless supply of dresses you've been provided. This one is a horrible pink colour that clings all over and you hate it which is why you've chosen it for this dirty, sweaty work. You know you need to wear something suitable for Canto Bight's grand halls in case anyone sees you on your way to or from the job, but it just feels so unnatural.

Hopefully this shouldn't take too long. All you need to do is wire in a small signal booster to the resort's communications lines. Then, when you obtain Balgo's biometric signature, the data pad can send a transmission to a commandeered, disused Republic satellite to confirm that the sample has been collected successfully.

Actually transmitting the scrambled data to the Rebel base on Yavin 4 needs considerably more power which means, at some point, you and Andor are going to have to hike out to Cantonica's main transmitter mast and send the signal manually from there.

You'd flown past the huge pylon on your way in to land at the resort. It's a monumental thing and you feel a rush of nausea at the very thought of having to climb it...but that's a problem for another day, you decide.

Your head is buried in a control panel, and you're trying to explain to Andor why you need to use a slightly different width of cable than originally planned but he interrupts you mid-flow.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"I can do it," you snap back.

"Then just do it, I don't care how."

Charming as ever, the morning's hard won truce between you apparently forgotten. He's nervous and so are you, so you try not to hold it against him. He just wants to get out of here quickly.

There's a sound, and with horror, you realise it's the service elevator doors hissing open. A stern male voice follows soon after.

"Lars, If you're up here slouching again, I'm going to dock your pay."

You and Andor both freeze, staring at each other like Loth cats caught in the headlights of a speeder. Then, without warning he grabs you at the back of your knee, hitching your leg up to rest on his hip, his hand travelling further up the underside of your thigh and underneath your dress as he shoves you against the wall and pushes his body firmly against yours. The other hand flies up to your face, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone.

Your gasp of surprise is muffled as he crashes his lips hard against yours. It takes you only a millisecond to understand what he's doing and you kiss him back, twisting your fingers tightly through the locks of dark hair at the back of his head.

At this, a soft groan resonates in his throat and you are almost certain this is unintended. You feel a flash of satisfaction that you've managed to affect him in such a way, then scold yourself for being unable to refrain from point scoring with him, even now.

"Get out of here," Andor growls at the hapless employee, pretending he has only just noticed the man's presence.

His voice is low and husky. As he speaks, you feel his fingertips press into the flesh your thigh. Suddenly, the combination of his proximity and his heady, masculine, familiar scent is overwhelming, and you feel something hot and fierce coil in the pit of your abdomen.

Andor - Pax - has broken away from your lips to berate the man, but he hardly deigns to turn his head to look at the unfortunate employee. You take a moment to study the fine details of his face up close. His pupils are dilated, making his dark eyes gleam like midnight. His nostrils flare slightly with heightened breathing. An uncharacteristic blush is travelling up his neck into his cheeks. You can feel his heart slamming against his chest and your own.

"Oh, uhh... yes...of course," the poor employee sounds terribly embarrassed and all the previous managerial authority has vanished entirely from his voice.

"My apologies sir..."

The man actually stands on his tiptoes and cranes his neck to see your face through the tousled mess you've made of Andor's hair before addressing you directly with a courteous nod of his head.

"Madam."

You raise your eyebrows at him politely and give him a ridiculous little wave with your free hand, the one that's not woven through Andor's hair.

You hear the employee blundering off back to the service elevator and the machinery clunks as the doors close and he disappears.

Andor's forehead is gracing your own and neither you nor he move for a moment. It's just long enough to catch the slow glint of recognition in each other's eyes that something new has passed between you and you both know it.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he finally breaks away, running a hand through his hair as if to sweep away the feel of your fingers there, "I didn't have time to ask nicely."

"It's fine," you say, smoothing your stupid dress down and clearing your throat, "Good thinking."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, as you return to your work in silence.

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

Evening has fallen and Andor and Balgo are talking animatedly at the bar. The resort is hosting another of its grand parties. You sit with Lady Prya at a nearby table. You don't talk about your new life and she doesn't ask, but the conversation is easy and comfortable and you feel a rush of gratitude that your paths have crossed again.

Once Balgo has left to mingle with other guests, you give Prya an apologetic smile and cross over to the bar where you drape yourself around Andor's shoulders. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone else, these merely look to be the actions of a young couple.

In reality, you are providing cover as Andor works quickly with Balgo's empty glass. Earlier, he'd lined the outside of the receptacle with a special gel that picks up biometric data. Once settled on a surface, it is almost imperceptible to the touch.

Andor attaches, then tears away the transfer strip from the glass and quickly places it down on the data pad's receiver. A rather sad and weary boop from the device confirms that it hasn't picked up Balgo's fingerprints.

"Kriff," Andor curses quietly in frustration, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give it," you hiss.

Uncertainly, Andor passes the various components of the device to you. You snatch them from his hand, shoving the bits and bobs into your pockets and stride away before he can stop you. The satin of your dress swishes a melody to the click of your heels. You hear Andor swear under his breath.

As you walk, your eyes scan the room, searching for your target. There. A flash of golden hair at the other side of the room. You stalk Balgo through the crowd, waiting for the right moment.

You make your approach, taking out a small mirror from your pocket and quickly squeezing a blob of the clear transfer gel onto your finger before making a performance of patting the strange substance on your mouth like lipstick. You snap the mirror closed and move in for the kill.

"Oh Mr Balgo, I am so sorry!" you exclaim, feigning embarrassment as you collide with his shoulder, jolting him arm so that he spills red wine all down the front of his pristine, white suit jacket.

"Please, Mrs Pax, it's no matter, really," he says as he stays your pawing hands and swoops down to greet you with a peck you on the cheek.

"I really am sorry, Dreylan, I will pay for the damage."

"Nonsense," he scoffs amicably, his chest visibly puffing out as you address him familiarly by his first name, "Now, where has your husband of yours got to? The fool surely hasn't let you out of his sight in that dress?"

Balgo is right, it is a nice dress. Your favourite so far in fact. It is tailored in beautiful crimson satin with a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and a plunging neckline.

"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure."

You lean in and whisper in his ear.

"But he's not here."

He smirks back at you and you see his icy blue eyes light up.

"Shall we get some air on the balcony?" He suggests.

Well, what an unexpected turn of events, you think sarcastically as you accept the proposal with an external show of flirtatious grace.

Out on the ballroom's grandiose veranda with Balgo, you look across Cantonica's seemingly endless, dark waters. The sea breeze is cold, and the businessman drapes his jacket round your shoulders. You laugh at the right times, interject an asinine comment here and there as Balgo talks about business, and allow him to explain things to you that you already know without complaint.

When the timing feels apt, and the balcony is otherwise deserted, you reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. He returns it, placing his hands on your hips. Balgo is attractive enough, there's no doubt about that, and the kiss is far from unpleasant... but it's only a means to an end. There's no passion to it, and you can't help but compare it against the ardent fervour of Andor's embrace. The heat of it.

As you pull back from Balgo with a suitably flushed smile, the gossamer curtains behind him shift in the breeze and over his shoulder you catch a glimpse of Andor across the cavernous ballroom.

He's so far away, but you see him clear as day. His eyes are searing holes in Balgo's back before meeting yours with a look of disdain. He downs his drink and slams the glass on the bar's marble counter-top, stalking off towards the elevator.

You suddenly feel a pang of irrational guilt which makes you furious with him. You're doing your job. The one he failed to do.

Balgo's self-satisfied look of victory does nothing for your vexed and flustered disposition. He offers to go and source a drink for you both. Keeping your composure - you are a spy after all - you smile sweetly at him and agree.

When he is gone, you make sure no one else is around before you take out the transfer paper from your pocket and subtly dab it on your lips. Surreptitiously, you whip the data pad out of your other pocket - thank the stars you'd insisted on dresses with pockets - and press the paper against the reader.

You wait, visualising what the signal might look like if it was something tangible and visible. A little bolt of lightning, perhaps, arcing to the closest service hatch, climbing its way up wires and cables, escaping out into the cold night and up into orbit and the decrepit Republic satellite.

Finally, the device gives you a cheerful bleep and lights up green.

Success.

You'd like to see Balgo's smug face fall when he returns to find you've disappeared, but you don't want this to go any further than necessary. You've got what you need and your sudden absence can easily be explained away as a young wife's crisis of conscience. You leave his jacket on a nearby chair and make your way up to your suite.

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

When you get back to the room, you can practically feel the heat radiating off Andor as he rips his shirt over his head dramatically in the process of undressing for bed.

Trying to ignore his silent seething, you turn away from him and lift your hair away from the nape of your neck. He automatically moves behind you to help you unzip your dress and, despite his clear agitation, his hands are gentle. The red gown drops to the floor, leaving you standing in your flimsy under-slip.

You turn back to look at Andor, taking in the familiar outline of his body. He's not a huge man, but the muscles are strong and taut in his torso, back and arms. Littered here and there are scars, testament to a hard life lived dangerously. The moonlight streaming through the bedroom window gives his tan skin an ethereal glow and illuminates the sharp, handsome features of his face.

It's not that you don't find each other attractive. You both know that there's always been some unspoken tension between you. But the tempestuousness of your personal and working relationship has always prevented you from falling into anything that might be a mistake.

You are suddenly keenly aware of the obviousness your own form as your underdress clings to the curves and planes of your body. You can sense Andor's eyes roaming across it in a way you're sure they never have before.

You think - maybe - something changed with that kiss you shared this afternoon. An embrace which began as a charade and ended as something else.

"That was a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing to do!" he finally explodes, interrupting your reverie and bringing you back down to reality with a thud.

"It was a calculated risk," you retort, furious with him and internally embarrassed by your silly romantic notions.

"And," you stretch across to the nearby dresser to pick up the data pad where Balgo's biometric data is safely stored to brandish it under Andor's nose, "And it worked."

"In case you'd forgotten, Balgo thinks you're here with your husband..."

"That's why it worked!" You exclaim, "By the Force, men know so little about their own species..."

"You could have blown our cover, the whole operation!"

That riles you. Why can't he just congratulate you on a job well done? You've just saved this damn operation. You have what you need now. All you need to do is transmit the data and you can both get out of here.

"I know what this is," you say, your voice rising in chorus with your anger.

"Oh please, please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

There's a heavy silence.

"Jealous?!" Andor scoffs finally, but the strength of his conviction has faded from his voice, "Of what?"

"You can't stand that I kissed him."

Andor steps towards you, brows furrowed, eyes alight with something that's not quite anger.

"He's welcome to you," he seethes, "The last thing I need is some highly strung rich girl playing at being a spy."

The words sting, especially after you opened up to him about your parents the other night. Even as the vague idea of restraint flashes through your mind, impulsion compels you to raise a hand to strike him across the face.

He catches you by the wrist as you lash out, pulling you even closer to him so that his sharp nose is almost touching yours.

"And so what if I am?" He continues and the change in direction is so unexpected that you are rendered speechless.

His tone is low and dangerous and his deep, brown eyes are wild, roaming your face desperately for an answer that never comes.

"What if I am jealous? What if I don't want his filthy, Imperial hands all over you? So what?"

Andor's face suddenly softens, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression of genuine turmoil. It's a display of vulnerability you've never seen from him before. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly but he doesn't let go.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"What difference does it make to you? Ever since Carida... You despise me."

It's not true, you suddenly realise. It's never been true. Not really.

You want to tell him you've never blamed him for what happened on Carida. The actions of the mole? Not his fault. The failure of that sorry excuse for a ship? Not him either. Somewhere along the way, your perception of him became warped and refracted through the prism of your own feelings of guilt.

You know he saved your life that day. He must have gone through hell in the aftermath too, dragged up in front of various different elements of High Command to explain why only two of his six operatives made it back alive over and over and over again.

More than this, you want to explain that while you were kissing Balgo tonight, you were thinking only of him. You want to say how when you took a shower earlier and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you'd seen the faint, red imprints of his fingertips still lingering like little tattoos on your skin and that you hope they never fade.

But you're just so angry with him for always having to be such a stubborn, patronising, hard-nosed bastard. So you say none of these things.

You know how much it must have taken for him to admit feelings for you, no matter how clumsy and ill-timed the execution. This man who always holds his cards so close to his chest has shown you his hand. He's given you ammunition and all you can think of in this moment is shooting him down with it.

"That's right," you say, leaning in close and whispering spitefully into his ear, "I despise you Cassian Andor."

You regret it immediately. Andor drops your wrist as if he's been burned. As he steps away from you, he looks completely lost. His eyes are cast down at the floor, full of humiliation and hurt. By the time they return to your face, they have darkened like storm clouds.

"Then, I'm glad we understand each other."

You open your mouth to say something, to take back your words and undo the damage you've wrought with your temper. Nothing comes out.

As Andor turns away, you reach out for him, try to catch him by the elbow. He shrugs you off angrily and storms out of the room.

He doesn't come back until late. You pretend to be asleep as he quietly slips into the bed beside you.

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

When dusk falls the next evening, and with Balgo's biometric stored safely on the data pad in your pocket, you and Andor set out for Cantonica's main transmitter.

You want to use the journey time to explain yourself, to apologise to him and admit your own feelings. But you are so ashamed of your careless words the night before that you don't even know how to begin.

Continuing the trend of the day, you walk the ten kilometers together in almost complete silence, trudging in single file along the rocky coastline.

Even so, being out in nature and away from the city feels almost healing to you. Most tourists only see the rugged countryside of Cantonica from the confines of a shuttle. It has a wild, mountainous, windswept type of beauty that you find exhilarating. After days stuck inside the gilded cage of Canto Bight, it is wonderful to be out in the elements, even if it is rather cold and damp.

Night has decsended by the time you reach the transmitter. It is set precariously on the cliff edge, so close to the tumultuous waters below, it seems like a freak wave could wash it away at any moment.

It looks even more imposing than you remember. A huge durasteel spike with a narrow, fragile looking caged ladder stretching up into the sky leading to a high metal gangway which looks just as ancient.

You go first, and as you climb higher, your hands and feet start to feel fuzzy and your breathing becomes rapid, escaping through your lips in short, sharp pants. You've never been good with heights.

The icy wind starts to whip unpleasantly around you and you grip the ladder fiercely with each laboured step. The damp air has made the metal slick and you gasp as your boot slips on one of the rungs.

You catch yourself before you fall, but even so, you are relieved when Andor comes up behind you and positions himself so that his solid chest presses reassuringly against your back as you take a moment to steady yourself.

"Take your time," he says and his tone is gentle, "You're ok."

You nod and exhale deeply. Steeling yourself, you continue your ascent. You can do this.

You finally reach the top of the ladder and crawl up onto the round platform which encircles the pylon of the transmitter to provide access to where the mechanics of the structure are stored.

You think for a moment that this experience is going to be marginally better than the climb up the rickety ladder. That foolish hope is soon proven mistaken. The durasteel grating beneath your feet feels precarious. There are rusted gaps in the metal here and there and your stomach flips every time you look down. The wind is stronger up here, wild and blustery, and you feel horrendously vulnerable. You just want to get the job done and get down from this death trap as soon as possible.

Andor helps you lift the heavy panel off the front of the control box. You sigh with relief. It's a standard set up, one you've seen hundreds of times before and it's easy to bypass. You set to work infiltrating the system and once you're done, you wait in suspense as the data pad blinks text at you.

TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING....

TRANSMISSION SENT.

"It's gone!"

Instinctively, you turn to flash a smile of triumph towards Andor, and you are relieved when one corner of his mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly in return. You wonder if, on the way back to the city, you might find the courage to try and make amends for your rough words the previous night.

Your hopeful thoughts are rudely interrupted when, without warning, the gangway you are standing on shifts violently under your feet. The whole structure lets out an ominous and eerie metallic groan and you realise with dread that the platform is tearing itself away from the pylon.

You have no doubt that you and Andor are the first people up here in years, and that your presence has disturbed the structure from its hibernation and reminded it of its decrepit, fragile state.

You grab at one of the rungs affixed to the main pylon intended for servicing the internal mechanisms, but Andor is too far away to reach. As the walkway peels away, he falls with it. The huge hunk of metal stops suddenly at a right angle to the structure, and the now horizontal guard railings catch Andor as he slams into them with a sickening clang.

There's a brief moment of relief when you think the worst is over, but then the structure jerks violently again as another metal bolt fails, and it tilts just enough to send Andor somersaulting over the top of the railing.

Desperately, he scrambles for something to purchase, and he manages to grasp at the guard rail with the fingertips of one hand as he rolls over it, leaving him dangling helplessly over the roaring water below.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop down towards him and your body hits the metal railings agonisingly hard. You ignore the pain and, praying that the railings will hold you, you scrabble to grab at Andor, your hands clutching at a handful of material at the front of his shirt just as his own grip fails.

Unexpectedly finding himself suspended in the air, Andor looks up at you in abject surprise. He assesses the situation and his eyes lock on to yours in alarm as he understands what you've done.

Your shoulders feel like they are slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and your fingers, numb and white, are twisted up painfully in the material of Andor's shirt. You can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs being crushed out of you as you are pressed into the railings by the pull of Andor's bodyweight below you.

You are terrified that at any moment the guardrail will collapse and you'll both plummet together into the angry sea which seems to wait with open maw like a predator beneath you. But you don't know what else to do, and you refuse to let him fall, so you cling on to him in utter desperation.

"Let go!" Andor shouts up at you, and you can tell it's an order.

"No!" You yell back.

Suddenly, the front of his shirt rips and he drops away so that he is now hanging, almost literally, by a thread. The abrupt and unexpected motion causes you to lose balance and you have to let go of him with one hand to steady yourself on the railings and stop yourself from almost flipping over them to join him.

Andor's eyes are wild and fraught now, flicking between the failing structure and your overwrought face.

"Damn you," he growls with renewed urgency, "let go!"

Your whole body is screaming at you to do as he says, but you won't. Tears sting your eyes, whether from pain or fear, you're not sure. You clench your jaw and shake your head at him.

Andor snarls with effort as he reaches behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out his flip knife. He wrenches it open with his teeth.

"Don't you dare, you stupid bastard!" you scream down at him as you realise with what he intends to do.

He looks at you for one final moment and the world seems to stop. His expression is completely open and readable to you, perhaps for the very first time. His dark eyes glint with a fear that you suddenly realise is as much for you as it is for himself.

Then, he sets his face into a mask of grim determination and with one swift motion, he severs the flimsy cord of fabric tying you together and cuts himself loose.

"Cassian!" The vague outline of his name is torn ragged from your throat in an incomprehensible shriek of despair.

Helpless, you watch as he falls, limbs flailing, down, down, down, until he hits the water below with a sickening crash and disappears into the black, unforgiving waves.

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

Unbeknownst to you, the Rebel Alliance have successfully received Dreylan Balgo's biometric signature and K-2SO is already on his way to extract you and Cassian from Canto Bight.

By his calculations, K-2 should reach Cantonica in twelve hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds. Plenty of time to mull over the conversation he'd had with Murdo the flight technician before he'd left the hanger.

"Maybe this time, eh K-2?" Murdo had quipped as he unhooked the re-fuelling nozzle from Cassian's ship.

"Maybe this time, what?"

"Maybe this time they'll finally have admitted their feelings for each other."

"That is a ridiculous observation," K-2 had said confidently, "They dislike each other immensely."

Murdo had laughed and made a comment about the droid having a lot to learn about human relationships which K-2 had thought was quite rude.

But as he barrels through the hyperspace lanes in Cassian's ship towards the Outer Rim and Cantonica, K-2 has time to mull things over.

He thinks about how on missions when the unit has to set up camp on some remote world, Cassian always leaves your meat rations on the fire just a little longer than everyone else's because he knows you like them so crispy that they're almost burnt.

Then he thinks about how whenever he and Cassian return from a mission you're not assigned to, yours is always the first face the droid spots in the hanger when they arrive back, and that once your eyes land on Cassian, you always walk away without a word, seemingly satisfied.

Now that K-2 really uses his circuits to process it, Murdo's conclusion doesn't seem quite so ridiculous after all.

"Humans," the droid muses to himself with an exasperated shake of his mechanical head.

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

Somehow, you manage to descend the transmitter, climbing and clambering down the structure in a daze. You don't bother even trying to mask your shouts of distress and frustration as your feet and hands slip on the blasted, kriffing, cursed metal all the way down.

You stagger the ten kilometers back to Canto Bight in something resembling a fugue state. When you reach the resort, you sneak through the back entry port you and Andor left through and wind your way through the maze of service passages and elevators back to your suite.

You are as bedraggled looking as you are distraught and you are glad that the corridors are as deserted as they were when you departed. You don't feel you could negotiate your way out of anything right now, despite all your training.

Once you've climbed out of your damp and dirty clothes you fall into bed. Andor's absence beside you is a stark, raw reminder of what's just happened and you finally allow yourself to cry. Somehow, at some point, as you wallow in your anguish, fatigue takes over and you fall into a torrid sleep.

When you awake, it's still dark and you have the distinct impression that you're being watched. There's someone else in the room with you. You bolt upright and almost cry out as your eyes take in the silhouette of a person in the moonlight.

The ghost of Cassian Andor is standing at the foot of the bed.

Except he's not a spectre, you realise. His outline, though swaying, is solid. He's flesh and blood. He's alive.

Once you've recover from the initial shock, you don't think you've ever felt relief like it in your whole life. You leap up out of the bed and fly to him, just as he starts to crumple to the floor. You grab for him, but too weak to moderate his own movements, he drops like a stone and his momentum pulls you crashing down on top of him.

He's all sand and salt and seawater and he is shivering violently. His eyes are heavy, like he's struggling to keep them open. You touch his face and his skin ice cold. His clothes are wet through and you're suddenly struck by the urgency of the situation. You need to get him warm. Now.

With great effort, you manage to half drag, half shove Andor towards the shower room. He's so exhausted and disoriented that even this appears to be an insurmountable task for him.

When you finally get him there, you bundle him into the shower, fully clothed. He slumps against the wall as you turn the warm water on. You start peeling off the sodden, freezing layers of his clothing.

He hisses through his teeth as you remove what remains of his shredded shirt and you see that the skin on his torso and back is blossoming here and there in vibrant shades of black and blue. You're not surprised, a fall from that height, these are probably bruises from hitting the water hard. You try to be more gentle.

Once he's free of all his clothing, you slide down behind him so that you are against the wall, and he's sat between your legs with his back pressed against your torso. You guide him to bring his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around himself pliantly, curling into a tight ball. He's still shaking uncontrollably.

You ignore your own discomfort as the warm water plasters your nightdress to your body like a second skin.

Trying desperately to aid the shower in its work of returning some of his body heat to him, you rub his back, his arms, and his chest vigorously. Every so often he rests his head on the bridge he's created with his forearms across his knees and you have to coax him gently to sit up.

"Stay awake," you plead, "You need to stay awake for me."

Finally, his shivering subsides and you sit in exhausted silence as the warm water continues to pour over both of you. Your chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Cassian," you finally say into his ear, tucking a stray lock behind it as if that will allow him to heed your words better.

He leans back into you, tilting his head up towards your face, to show he is listening.

"I don't....I don't despise you, I don't..." you trail off, silent tears suddenly mingling with the spray from the shower as they start to fall from your eyes.

Slowly, Cassian turns to you. He rolls on to his knees, and sits upright on his heels. You mirror his movements so that you are face to face and your foreheads come to rest against each other's.

"I know," he whispers, bringing a hand to your cheek, his expression soft and full of tenderness, "I know that."

He trails a series of soft kisses down your face, touching his lips to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally down until they reach your own. You melt into him.

This kiss is not like the first you shared, hasty and hurried and fuelled by external forces. This is deep and languid and deliberate, as if you are the only two in existence and you have all the time in the Galaxy to spend in this moment.

One of Andor's hands tangles up in your wet hair, the other presses against the small of your back as if willing you closer to him. You can feel his urgency increasing now. His movements are definite and purposeful as he caresses and kisses your skin.

Selfishly, you want him to continue, need him to never stop. But you also know this might not be the wisest way for him to recover.

"Cassian..."

"You told me I need to stay awake," he argues as if he already knows what you're about to say, now tracing kisses along your collarbone, "I'm awake."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind..." you protest weakly, but the breathy desire in your own voice betrays you.

"Liar," he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck and you feel him grin against your skin.

The movement of his lips makes his short beard tickle your flesh and the feeling forces a raucous laugh from your chest. It's a loud, unrestrained, joyful sound.

Cassian pulls away to look at you, wearing an expression of wonder. You realise he's probably never heard you laugh like that before. In fact, you can't remember the last time you heard it yourself.

His eyes crease at the corners and dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles widely at you. That smile, the one you realise you've adored all along. And this one is only for you.

"You're infuriating," you scold, but your voice is light and full of heady exhilaration.

You wrap yourself around him and kiss him hard, realising, finally, that it is impossible to deny yourself the joy of him any longer.

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

You and Andor step off the landing platform of the resort and up into his ship. K-2 wastes no time in piloting the vessel up and away from the city.

Compared to the sumptuous surroundings of Canto Bight, the interior of the ship looks admittedly a little dreary by comparison, but you won't miss life within those opulent walls. Not when you now know just how many of its inhabitants are within the insidious clutches of the Empire.

"Well, I hope you two behaved yourselves," K-2 greets you as you both enter the cockpit.

You and Cassian exchange a glance. He winks at you and you actually giggle, the internal glow of happiness you feel manifesting itself in an embarrassing little laugh.

"I'm taking that as a no," K-2 says, "Murdo will be pleased."

"Who the hell is Murdo?" Cassian asks and he drops into the pilot's chair beside his faithful droid.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #cassian andor fanfiction

134 notes · View notes