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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 1 year

Text

what he deserves, chapter 3

Sanji x Reader, a bit of Law x Reader

Warnings: angst, one-night stand, not really a love triangle – law and reader are mature about the situation. Some implied smut.!!!! WANO SPOILERS!!!!!

a/n: this will be several parts. Leave comment for tags.

Summary: Witnessing all the suffering Sanji went through on Whole Cake Island, all you want is for him to be truly happy…even if it means not with you. Set after the fight in Wano, you go through the motions of an endless fight and end up in bed with the Hearts Pirates’ Captain to distract yourself from the one thing you want the most – Sanji.

masterlist

The village was lively; Otama showed you around since you hadn’t had a chance since landing in Wano. Her hand was glued to yours, pointing out different homes and who they belonged to. She went on and on about how great her big bro Luffy was and how full her belly had been from the last three days of eating. Her smile put into perspective how vast the world was and how this country, this village, was just one small story among millions. There were more stories like Otama’s, more people to help and when you glanced over to Luffy – who was busy devouring his fifth bowl of rice, you knew he’d be the one to liberate everyone. Leaving her to go to the man’s side, you wandered off toward the edge of the village – where the trees were high and shading. Needing some time alone, you walked further into the forest and then perched yourself down near a small pond. Sitting on the ground, your eyes drew closed.

Moments flashed in your mind, memories flowing like a stream. A smile burned through your heart thinking of the crew…Merry…than Sunny… All the arguing and laughing among the seas you all traveled. The best moments in your life were had on the ship but hidden in the cracks of memories were the ones of your family. Biological family. Pain sears through your soul and for a moment, you thought you could smell your mother’s perfume, father’s cigars. You loved them once and you were sure they loved you, but people can become the worst versions of themselves.

And never come back.

For years, you were always on your own. Fending for yourself – being hurt by others, sometimes far worse than what your parents did to you. The physical scars always heal but damage the heart, that was harder to mend. The pond was still, too still for your liking, so you swat a hand into it. Ripples catered to your needs, and you inhaled the air, lungs filling with relief than the tears fell from your eyes. Body shaking, fingers digging into the dirt, all you can do is just sob. Cry until you collapsed onto your back; eyes stung as you stared up past the tree line. It was getting dark, and you felt sleepy, even though you had slept so much last night. Still, there was an incredible tiredness that came over you and it only took a few minutes before you fell asleep…

Crickets woke you up.

How soft their sounds usually were, you were surprised by how loud they were when no one was around. It was dark, moon high and above the trees. Your back ached from the ground and when you sat up, your head felt dizzy. You yawned, getting up from your feet to tug on your kimono; it was dirtied from your nap. Stretching your arms, you felt energetic and started back toward the village – it was a short ten-minute walk, and the village was quiet. The streets were empty sans a few folks walking back to their homes, Luffy was nowhere to be found.

Shit. Realizing it might be later than you initially thought, you didn’t bother asking anyone if they had seen your captain or gone looking for Otama. Going back to the inn seemed like the best choice but as you moved past the homes, you noticed two young girls in front of their home. They looked no older than sixteen and when you drew closer to them, you saw that one was giving the other a haircut. You stopped and watched, the one getting her hair cut smiled at you. She looked so content and free; eyes filled with a hope of a better future and her hair…it looked good shorter. Asking if you could be next in line, the would-be hairdresser grinned. “Of course.”

An hour later, you stood in front of the inn; your once long hair cut under your chin. It was a drastic change, even a bit severe but losing those inches of hair felt freeing. Being among other women who have been ruled by others, being free by the same man that freed you – it felt electric. You needed this and when you walked into the inn, you hadn’t expected to be rushed by Nami. Her arms flung around your shoulders, and she cursed you under her breath.

“Everyone was so worried.”

Confused, you hugged her back, fingers running through her hair. She pulled back and gawked at your head, asking what you had done to your hair. You laughed. “It’s called a haircut. The real question is why you were so worried, I was only gone for a bit. When did Luffy get back?”

“Eight hours ago!”

She explained that when Luffy came back right before sunset, he said he didn’t know where you were. Everyone figured you were just around. “Or with Law but even he didn’t know where you were! He had gone out to look for you too. Sanji’s been worried, he was the first to go out to find you. Where the hell have you been!”

Chopper rushed into the inn’s entry way and summoned you to the other room for an examination – in tears, asking if you were hurt. Kneeling in front of him, you patted his head three times, just the way he liked it and told him you were fine. “I just fell asleep in the forest.”

Nami scoffed. “Apparently got a haircut on her way back too.”

“Does it look that bad?”

You stood up and looked at the navigator, she glared at you for a long time before giving into a smile. It was cute, she said, and you felt relieved – a bad haircut might set you off again but before you could thank her, Robin and Brook walked in. Both were pleased to see you; the latter urged you to go outside. “The others are on their way; they’ll be happy to see you.”

Following him outside, the rest trailed behind you – Robin noting how pretty your new locks were. Smiling, you walked into the streets and looked in the direction Brook pointed towards. The first person you saw was Luffy and before your eyes could register the figures next to him, his hands grabbed a hold of your shoulders. Knowing what was about to happen, true fear set in as he screamed your name – no doubt waking up every person in the vicinity of the inn. A unison of shouting and pleading from the crew did nothing to sway Luffy’s determination to hug you. All that there was left to do was accept your fate. Bracing yourself, your eyes closed shut and seconds later his entire body seemed to be wrapped around yours. He felt heavy but when you tripped back there were two arms holding you up. Thinking it was Robin, you giggled as you were pushed back into a standing position. Everyone laughed. When Luffy finally released you, the owner of the hands was revealed to be Sanji. He asked if you were alright, chastising Luffy. “You could have hurt her, you moron!”

He slipped his hands away from you, eyes taking in your hair. His heart galloped in a way it never had but he pushed it back the feeling and asked where you had been. You confessed the nap you had taken, and he smiled warmly. A hint of earnestness swept his eyes when you apologized for making him worry. “For making you all go out looking for me,” you added.

“As if we’d leave you behind,” Usopp chimed; you looked to him and mouthed a ‘sorry’. He knew you meant for earlier and he just grinned at you – all was forgiven. Then like the sap you were, tears started to flow alarming everyone. Zoro demanded you to stop crying, but you knew it was only because it was making him uncomfortable. Sanji told him to shut up and placed an arm around your shoulder, asking if you were hurt.

Hurt?

No, you were…happy.

Happy to be with your family and more importantly, happy to be wanted.

Brushing tears from your cheeks, you looked at everyone than to Sanji. “I’m pretty hungry…”

….

The inn’s kitchen was cozy, you sat on a wooden stool watching as Sanji cooked. He had long rid himself of the yellow yukata he had worn for most of his time in Wano; he now wore black slacks and a white, loose button up. Sleeves rolled up his forearm and the first two buttons of the shirt undone. He looked relaxed as he cooked a small dinner for you; neither of you speaking but comfortable enough to enjoy the silence. His hands moved effortlessly, and you studied his every move, moves you had longed memorized. All the times you spent with him in the kitchen, asking questions but confessing you weren’t much of a cook. He smiled when you said that.

“That’s fine, I can do all the cooking.”

Now, he worked diligently – cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth.

“We were all pretty worried when you didn’t’ come back with Luffy.” He spoke but didn’t look up from dicing potatoes for the soup he was making you. “At first, we thought you had gone out on your own, but then it took Luffy an hour to mention that he had lost track of back at Otama’s village. That’s when everyone started to freak out. With everything that’s happened…it seems we’re all on edge.”

“I’m sorry…”

Sanji looked up from his work, eyes a bit sad. “Don’t be sorry for having people that care about you.”

“Then you shouldn’t either,” you snapped back much to Sanji and your surprise. He stopped dicing and placed the knife down. Neither of you knew what to say next, but neither of you could look away from each other. It felt like a standoff with words, both of you trying to figure out what to say next. Then he resided and continued to cook, and for ten minutes no words were spoken until Sanji finally broke the silence.

“Why did Nami lie about you being there when we talked through the mirror dimension?”

Heart racing, you fought the urge to avoid his eye contact, avoid him all together and run upstairs but your feet were frozen to the wood floor. Gripping the edge of the stool, you told him you asked her to lie and when he asked why, you wished lies could roll off your tongue. “Because I was angry at you. Angry that you had no faith in Luffy or us or me to help you.”

“They threatened Zeff, threatened you all.” They being his awful family. Sanji’s head hung low, hands on the small kitchen island. “I couldn’t let them get to him, Luffy, the others…you…. I – I couldn’t…”

Your heart ached for Sanji and all you wanted to do was go to him, hold him, absorb his pain but again, you couldn’t move. A woman frozen. Dread riddled your bones as he looked up to you, eyes pleading for you to understand. God, you did, you did but…

“You were going to go through with it,” you whispered, tears forming. Letting go of the stool, you held a hand to your chest and trembled. “You were going to go through with the wedding because they wanted you to. The family that discarded you. You told me how awful they were to you, Sanji.”

“But I had to…”

“I understand why you did it,” you admitted, wiping away a stray tear. “I do. But you didn’t even give Luffy a chance, give me a chance to help you. Not from the start. Didn’t you realize that we would do anything for each other? Was not that evident enough after all this time? We are your family, Sanji. We are. Not those awful people and not that awful girl.”

Sanji couldn’t comprehend the scene before him – the tears in your eyes, the look of devastation on your face, or the pain in his heart. He couldn’t form words, let alone a sentence but somehow, he managed to speak and the instant he did, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Even if he had said it out of nerves, trying to ease the tension. It would be something he’d regret until the end of time, but he couldn’t grasp the knowledge that you might feel the same as him – couldn’t be possible.

“She wasn’t so awful.”

His response to the heart pouring you just did stun the nerves in your system and all you could do was laugh. A low, melancholy laugh. Willing the tears away, you stood up from the stool and smiled softly at the startled cook. “Well, then, maybe Usopp was right. Maybe you should have married Pudding. You’re the kindest person I know Sanji and if you couldn’t warm her heart, no one could. I’m not feeling so hungry anymore. Goodnight.”

The cigarette fell from his mouth onto the cutting board as he watched you exit the kitchen; he wanted to call out to you, beg for your forgiveness. Yet, the shame of even mentioning Pudding kept him where he stood. He listened to the sound of your sandals clicking until he could no longer hear it, and when the coast was clear, he allowed the tears to flow freely. He didn’t know if it was possible to even come back from a conversation like this one. Or if you’d ever be willing to speak to him again and he wasn’t so sure he even deserved a second chance.

......

tags:

@stuckinthewrongworld @theyluvmesblog

@synchronised-beat @hi3431

@fandomsunited @ghostercy

@yuki190 @bowscale @utakamo

@fire-child-kira @cheshireshiya

@teenyforestfairy @sukilovesyou

@69cocktimusprime @littlemissfiore @kodzuchim

@angeiisa @bitchycoffeepainter69

@secretlife028 @idiot-sanwich02

@abandonedbrat @breens-nick

@bocchi-the-heart @sseleniaa

@depression-247 @sweetgurl1623-blog-blog

@punem69 @themossiestchick @sweetcoldmelancholy

@sanjipudinzinho @baelien-queen

@kodzuchim @kfcmuncha @bloodysweetcat

@angeiisa @gingersnap126126

want to be tagged in next part? leave a comment!

if you want off, let me know!

#what he deserves series #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji #one piece #law x reader #trafalgar law

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toournextadventure · 1 year

Text

everyone but her pt.29

Summary: Wednesday's ex makes an appearance and you're not happy about it. Neither is the voice in your head. And things only go downhill from there.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, murder, hallucinations, injuries, police Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Joel?” You asked.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Joel said, his eyes still glued to Wednesday. Why was he looking at her like that?

“Since that second summer at Camp Chippewa,” Wednesday said with the slightest tilt of her head. Why was she looking at him like that?

“Camp what?” You asked. Everyone seemed to be trying to follow the conversation same as you; it didn’t make you feel any better.

Your migraine got worse.

“You staged a getaway again, same as the first summer,” Joel continued.

“What is going on?” You asked.

“Come join us,” Wednesday said as she moved aside.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself as you watched him sit right by your girlfriend. Why was he so eager? What the hell was he doing?

He made her tilt her head, the voice in your head growled, loud and booming. It almost felt like it was rattling your brain inside your skull before pulverising it with a meat tenderiser. Even though it worsened the migraine, you knew the voice was right. This Joel character, whoever the hell he was, had made Wednesday do the equivalent of a smile. You could barely even do that.

You watched - and seethed - as Joel and Wednesday started talking as if they had known each other for centuries. She doesn’t talk to you like that, the voice said when Wednesday started rambling about whatever thing she had learned in her Lit class that, coincidentally, he was also taking. They were bonding.

Get angry, the voice said when Wednesday very nearly smirked at something he said. She didn't, but she nearly did, and that was bad enough. Images flashed in your mind, images of your hands around his neck. It would be simple, you only had to reach over the table. You just looked back down at your food and stabbed your spoon through your rice.

"Seems Wednesday finally has a friend," Divina said from her spot beside you.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

His pulse weakening beneath your fingers as you squeezed harder-

-you blinked to clear the image away. You didn’t need to kill him, especially if he was a friend of Wednesday’s. She didn’t have many friends, you needed to calm down and let her live. Wednesday Addams had no keeper, and even if she did it certainly wouldn’t be you.

“How do you two know each other again?”Ash asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You stabbed the spoon into your food once again; you weren’t hungry anymore.

“My Aunt Debbie deceived my parents into forcing Pugsley and me to attend a summer camp a few years ago,” Wednesday said with another tilt of her head. You roughly grabbed your coffee, suppressing your cough when the liquid was still just a bit too hot when it hit your throat.

“You have an Aunt Debbie?” Bianca asked.

“Picture a grown Enid, but more homicide and mania,” you said with a shrug. Not that you had met her yet, but you had heard stories. After all, she had married Wednesday’s favourite Uncle.

“We were always in trouble for not being like everyone else,” Joel said. He needed to quit looking at Wednesday before you ripped his eyes out of his skull.

“What rebels,” you mimicked, ignoring the look Yoko sent your way. “Practically anarchists.”

“Wednesday was my first kiss, actually.”

You choked on the coffee you had just attempted to drink. She was what? With wide eyes, you looked up to see Wednesday looking at you with a passive face, aside from the slightly lowered brows. Oh she was not giving you that look, not when you were just told Mr. Happy Go Lucky over there had kissed her.

“Oh shit,” Yoko whispered.

Even with your eyes glued to Joel, you could feel everyone else’s eyes on you. Watching you, waiting to see if you would snap. Is that what your life had turned into? One where everyone was just waiting to see what would be the straw to break the camel’s back? Worried that just one wrong thing would cause you to break and lose your temper?

They should be worried, the voice in your head taunted. You’re a loose canon.

No you weren’t.

A liability.

No.

A death wish.

“So you two were together?” Ajax asked, his eyes still closed from the hangover no doubt plaguing his body.

“As well as two children can be,” Wednesday said.

“For about a year and a half or so,” Joel said with a nod. He wasn’t even giving you the respect of looking at you.

A death wish.

“We were, what, 12? 13?” Joel asked as he looked at Wednesday with the beginning of a smile.

Tick tick tick.

“I believe so,” Wednesday said with a slight nod.

“Shit,” Yoko mumbled again.

You’re gonna snap.

“And you actually, like, had a good time?” Kent asked Wednesday.

Tick tick tick.

“I would say it was rather enjoyable, yes,” Wednesday answered.

Boom.

You slammed your hands on the table and stood up quickly. The ringing in your ears grew with each second that seemed to crawl by at an agonising pace. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a full breath. It felt like you were trying to breathe underwater, each breath heavier and more painful than the last. You were acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on you as the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Defend what’s yours.

“Hey,” Divina said softly. You couldn’t help but flinch when her hand rested on your forearm. She can go too. “You okay?”

“I’m gonna head out,” you managed to choke out past the lump in your throat.

“Are you feeling ill?” Wednesday asked.

Finally she was looking at you with something other than indifference. Outwardly it would almost seem angry, but you could see the lack of a glare in her eyes. She wasn’t looking up at you, but looking at you with the slightest downturn of her lips. You knew what care looked like on her, and for the first time all day, it was what she was showing you.

“I have a pocket pharmacy,” Joel said quickly, “did you need something specific?”

Kill them all.

“I’m good,” you said harshly. Break his spirit. “I’ll see you guys at the dorm.”

“Did you-”

-you didn’t wait to hear what Yoko was going to say before leaving the booth and heading out of the little restaurant. You gave a tense goodbye wave to Chung on the way out the door. The migraine continued to pound against the inside of your skull, worsening when the sunlight hit your eyes.

Go back in there and show him who’s the boss.

“Shut up,” you said through clenched teeth as you started walking aimlessly down the street.

The voice continued to rage inside your head, mixing between threats and images that, try as you might, you couldn’t shake off. The sound of Joel’s gasps for air or the feel of him desperately trying to claw your hands off. It was too much, you didn’t want to hurt him.

Yes you do.

“I don’t,” you said aloud again, ignoring the look a random woman gave you as you walked past her.

Your feet carried you until you reached the taller buildings in town; the high rises that truly weren’t very high. With only a quick glance around, you stepped into one of the alleys and stopped midway. Your fingers shook as you slid your shirt off and unbuckled the harness, exhaling through your nose at the sudden lack of pressure against your back.

Stop running away.

There was a slight pressure in your back as your wings expanded before you pushed yourself off the ground, propelling straight into the sky until you could land on the top of the highest building. It was a nice place, plenty secluded and you had even managed to sneak a few things up there. There was only one door and it was always locked, so you could keep your things nice and secret.

Breathing continued to be a struggle as your feet touched the rooftop and your wings folded back securely in place. The tips of a few feathers brushed against your arm and you frowned for a moment. It was about time for a dust bath; they were feeling a little unkempt. A problem for another time, of course.

You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth in front of one of the walls that was covered in the reflective glass. Sometimes, during the summer, it nearly turns you into a roasted chicken. But now, during the middle of winter, it was a nice change of pace and-

-a familiar head of unruly curls reflected off the glass.

Your body turned so quickly you nearly slipped on the slick gravel. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest when you saw him in the glass, looking at you with such pity you wanted to scream. Tears didn’t bother welling up in your eyes, instead just pouring over until you could feel them nearly freezing on your cheeks from the temperature outside.

“What have you done?” Nicky asked with a tilt of his head and a frown.

You shook your head frantically. You hadn’t done anything, that’s why you were up there. So you wouldn't do anything!

He’s right, the voice said.

“I’m so disappointed,” he said.

The glass shattered before he could open his mouth again, the sharp sound causing you to flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. A pain radiated through your hand. For a fleeting second the migraine vanished before coming back with a vengeance. You choked back a cry before opening your eyes.

Nicky was gone.

The panel of glass was in shards on the ground, now nothing more than a metal backing. Something warm dripped from your hand. You let your head fall and saw the red dripping down your fingers to the gravel below. It was almost hypnotising. Beautiful even.

He’s disappointed in you.

“Stop,” you mumbled as you lifted your hands to cover your ears.

He knows what you did.

“Please stop.” The lump in your throat grew with the tears that continued to fall onto the gravel, mixing with the droplets of blood.

He would hate you.

You tried to say something but the words got caught, coming out as nothing more than a strangled sob as you fell to your knees. The gravel dug through your pants and into your skin, but all you could feel was the weight of Nicky’s disappointment weighing heavy on your shoulders.

It was unclear how long you sat up there on the roof, covering your ears and crying, the cold winter air burning your lungs with each shaky gasp. You were barely even aware of the air getting more crisp, stinging your cheeks and nearly freezing the tears to your skin.

At one point you just let your hands drop and rest on your thighs. Your left hand was caked in dried blood that cracked when it moved. It didn’t hurt anymore, not really. It just rested on your leg as you stared at the gravel, focusing on the singular black pebble you had found in your daze.

"Y/N?"

You didn’t even flinch at the voice behind you; truthfully you weren’t even surprised she had managed to get through the locked door. It was on par for her, that was for sure. Had she brought her new toy with her? Was he going to follow her every move as if his life depended on it?

You do the same.

Yeah. Yeah you did.

“Mi amore,” Wednesday said in a voice so soft you felt a fresh wave of tears fall.

A pair of soft hands held your face firmly before you actually saw Wednesday in front of you. Her eyes were wide and looking over every inch of you. She would hate what she saw, you knew that much. You looked pitiful and weak and broken and that wasn’t acceptable.

Joel isn’t broken.

“You’re freezing,” Wednesday said in that painfully soft voice that you were growing to hate.

She uses it because you’re weak.

“Enid made stew,” she said as if she wasn’t watching you kneel on the precipice of a breakdown. “It should help warm you up.”

She straightened in front of you without letting go of your face. The slightest pull indicated she wanted you to follow, but you just couldn’t get up. Nicky’s face was stuck in your mind, that look of disappointment haunting you. It left your head reeling and had your mouth filling with saliva; you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Cara mia?”

Don’t, you thought, don’t call me that. Her eyes were gentle, and all she had to do was tilt her head before you choked out a sob. As uncharacteristic of her as it was, her hands left your face to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you forward until your head rested on her stomach and you had her unspoken permission to cry.

You’re weak.

That simple fact made you cry harder into Wednesday’s stomach, your hands lifting to grab her jacket so tightly you felt the skin split on your knuckles once again. It was right; you were weak. You couldn’t even handle her seeing an old friend again without completely losing every bit of sanity you had left. How were you going to do anything for her if you couldn’t even do that?

And the fact that she still held you tight while you cried? Showed such a shameless display of weakness and vulnerability when you knew she hated such things in people? Especially such visible displays of those emotions. And yet there you were, crying into her clothes with blood on your hand because you couldn’t stand looking at a fucking piece of glass.

“Would you find comfort in talking about it?” Wednesday asked when you finally settled into little more than the occasional sniffle.

Would you? Possibly. But how could you admit anything that had been going on in your mind? The voices, the jealousy, the insecurity. Nicky. There was no way to talk about any of it without coming across as crazy, and you weren’t crazy. Or maybe you were, you weren’t so sure anymore.

The migraine got worse.

“No,” you said with a long exhale through your nose before pulling back. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Very well,” she said.

She stilled for a moment, and you wondered if she was going to berate you. Tell you to straighten up, keep going, move on. That’s what your dad would have said. It’s what your mom would have said too. Her family was unusual with emotions, maybe she was going to tell you the same thing.

But then you felt her lips press to the top of your head, lingering for far longer than necessary, and it was your turn to freeze. When she pulled away, her gaze had softened and you were looking at your Wednesday. Your Wednesday, who secretly enjoyed receiving affection and even found pleasure in giving it back.

“If you would wish to talk about it, you may,” she said with a tilt of her head. “I would appreciate forewarning so I may prepare,” she blinked once, “but you may.”

You looked up at her. Well, you tried; truthfully she wasn’t much taller than you even when you were on your knees. Just the sight of her was enough to have your heart trying to jump out of your throat; even at night, in the current situation, she looked stunning. No contrast at all to the dark sky above her, simply blending in with the natural beauty surrounding her.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked.

“No,” she said quickly.

“What?” You asked with furrowed brows. “Why not?”

“We are on a freezing rooftop in the middle of winter,” she said, “you can kiss me at home.”

“Bet you kissed Joel in the middle of winter,” you grumbled as Wednesday steadied herself to help you to your feet.

“Not on a freezing rooftop.”

“So you did kiss him in the middle of winter,” you said quickly.

You were upset. Drastically upset, and nothing was going to change it. But the tension of the situation was getting to be far too much, and you were far too tired to keep up with it. Nicky’s face faded into the back of your mind and, though he was still there, he didn’t seem quite as disappointed. At least not at the moment. You could work with that.

“Is Joel the reason you stormed out of the restaurant?” She asked with her own raised brow. “Because if so, it’s rather immature.”

If anyone else had been around, they would have thought she was treating you like an imbecile. And she was! But the slight tilt of her head and the smallest tug at the corner of her lips was a dead giveaway. No one else would have noticed except possibly Enid - and the rest of the Addamses of course - but you did. It eased that ache that had settled in the hollow of your throat just enough to be tolerable.

“I’m not scared of some nerdy kid,” you grumbled even as you reached over and pulled Wednesday to the ledge of the rooftop. She was going to hate you in a moment. “I’d beat him to a pulp.”

“Do not fly me down to the ground,” Wednesday warned you with her genuine, murderous glare. It was lovely.

“Payback for kissing someone before me,” you said with a cheeky grin as you held her close to your chest and tipped backwards over the ledge.

She didn’t scream, which was an improvement from the past few times you had forced her to fly with you. But she most certainly gripped you with nails that could sever a jugular, and the sting of them digging into your skin was rather delicious. There was no doubt when you landed that you would have crescent shaped wounds on your back. It was okay though; it was hot.

“You’re a menace to society,” Wednesday said as she attempted to fix her now-windswept hair.

“But I’m your menace to society,” you said with a shrug.

She simply grabbed your hand, intertwined your fingers, and started pulling you to the dorm.

It was a quiet walk, and most of yours and Wednesday’s walks tended to be. And as much as you wished for her to talk, to say something to keep you out of your head, you kept your own mouth shut. After all, you certainly had nothing to say, so how were you going to expect her to keep up the entire conversation on her own? It was Wednesday Addams, not Enid; it simply wasn’t realistic.

“So,” you started. “You and Joel, huh?”

“Do not start,” she said with a quick shake of her head.

“You know about Ash,” you grumbled, “why can’t I know about him?”

“Because I wasn’t the one who looked like they would murder the other one.”

“You know I have issues,” you said with a huff. “Besides, I didn’t do anything!”

“I will not be the cause of a murder,” Wednesday said as she squared her shoulders. “At least not this one.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll find you someone worthy of your murderous hands,” you said.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she huffed, but nonetheless stepped closer to you until her arm was pressed against yours.

“But like, back to you and Joel.”

“Do not-”

“-hey kid.”

Both you and Wednesday slowed to a stop before turning around to see who had called out. A police officer was quickly approaching. Your eyes instantly fell on the way his hand was resting on his gun. It was too dark outside for anyone to come by and see what was happening, if anyone came by at all. As discreetly as possible, you pulled Wednesday slightly behind you until you were between her and the cop.

“Miss Smith?” He asked, his eyes on you.

“I go by Johnson,” you said quickly, your eyes darting between his gun and his face.

“I have orders to bring you in for some questioning,” he continued as if you hadn’t just corrected him.

“About what?” You asked. Behind you, Wednesday squeezed your hand.

“You were at the Pi Beta Phi party last night, correct?” He asked.

“Yeah?” You said slowly; an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. “Why?”

“Two young men were found murdered this morning,” he said with a raised brow. His hand tightened around the gun. “Witnesses say you got into an altercation with them during the party.”

“Shit,” you sighed.

“I need you to come with me for questioning,” he said with a shrug.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not at this time,” he answered a little too quickly.

You turned your head just enough to look at Wednesday, who was glaring at the cop without the least bit of shame. In other circumstances you would have admired it, joined in, even. But now? No, she needed to behave and you very much needed to get him away from her. There was no way he was going to treat a Latina properly, with or without witnesses.

“Call Señor Moreno,” you said as you stepped back, “and I’ll see you at the dorm.”

Wednesday gave you a singular nod before letting go of your hand so you could finally walk off with the officer. She looked furious, but more importantly she looked scared. It always appeared differently on Wednesday; she straightened her shoulders and held her chin higher than usual. You didn’t blame her, you were scared too. But you hoped she would just head home and wait for you.

The police officer opened the back door of the cruiser and helped you in; it was far too tight of a space for you and your unharnessed wings, but you supposed you could make do. He didn’t say a word as he got into the driver’s seat and sped off. You barely had time to see Wednesday through the window as you passed, heading straight for the police station.

You thought back to the previous night on the drive. They had been pricks, and you didn’t even feel the least bit sorry that they were dead. But you hadn’t done it and everyone knew it. You had been with someone the entire night aside from maybe five or 10 minutes, and how could you have killed two people in that time? At a party? It wasn’t possible.

They’re targeting you, the voice in your head said tauntingly. They know you have a record. True, but it hadn’t been you. Everyone knew it, and the police would know it soon enough too. They were just going to ask their questions, realise you were innocent, and let you go back home as if nothing had ever happened.

The sounds of the station were enough to have your skin crawling when you finally arrived; your last experience hadn’t been a pleasant one. You could almost even feel the sharp sting of Erin’s fist again. But you stood tall and followed the officer, letting him lead you to a small interrogation room that was too tight and had your head reeling.

“Have a seat, kid,” he said before pulling his own chair up. You sat quickly.

“Gonna read me my Miranda Rights?” You asked before he could even get settled.

“You’re not under arrest,” he said with a shrug, “you’re free to go at any time.”

“If you end up arresting me without reading me my rights, you’ll lose a case.” You sat back and crossed your arms over your chest. Cool it, you thought to yourself, you’re sounding too defensive.

Don’t cool it, the voice argued back, make it worse.

“I can tell this isn’t your first rodeo,” the officer said as he mirrored your position.

“It’s not,” you said; you readjusted your jaw and broke eye contact first. “Please ask your questions so I can go home.”

“Did you have an altercation last night with Mr. Burton and Mr. Holland?” He asked, getting right into it.

“I got into a fight with two frat boys last night, yeah,” you nodded. “But I didn’t stop to ask their names.”

“What was the fight about?”

“They were being homophobic pricks to my friends,” you said. “As well as throwing around a few choice insults about Outcasts.”

“So you started the fight?” He wrote something down on a piece of paper. You did your best not to look.

“They started the fight when they called my friends faggots,” you corrected. “I only retaliated physically after they threw an insult at me as well.”

“But you started the physical altercation?” He asked as he looked up at you.

Lie, the voice in your head said. It’s a trap. But you didn’t want to lie; if you could tell the truth and prove that you hadn’t done anything, then they would let you go. That was how it was supposed to work, right? Innocent until proven guilty? You hadn’t done anything wrong and you knew it, you weren’t going to let them just take you down a second time.

“I threw the first punch, that’s correct,” you said with a nod, immediately clenching your jaw to try and ease the anxiety bubbling up in your chest.

“And what injuries did you inflict on them?” He pushed.

“I cold cocked one of them, headbutted the other,” you started with a sigh, thinking back to what had happened. What had you done to them? “A few more punches.” Oh yeah. “And I kicked one of them in the balls.” You had to fight not to smile at the memory.

“You kicked him in the testicles?” The officer confirmed with an uneasy face.

“Yes sir,” you said simply, “pretty hard, actually.”

He squirmed in his seat and exhaled harshly through his nose.

“Can someone corroborate that story?” He asked.

He doesn’t believe you.

“A lot of someones,” you said quickly. “We all live in the same dorm, I can give you their names.”

The officer nodded and started jotting on his piece of paper. At the go ahead, you gave him the names of everyone you thought wouldn’t be targeted by the police; you made sure not to mention Wednesday, Bianca, or Yoko. If anything were to go downhill, they would be the first to be brought in for questioning. No, you would rather die than have the cops after them.

“And do you have an alibi for the entire night?” He asked after getting everyone’s names and numbers.

“Those same people,” you said with a gesture of your head toward the sheet of paper. “I was with at least one of them all night.”

“And after the party?” He asked.

“We all left at the same time and went home,” you said. “And I slept with my girlfriend all night.”

“And all of these people will tell me the same thing?” He said with a raised brow; he still didn’t believe you. “That you were with them at the party and after?”

“Yes,” you said with the utmost confidence you could manage to convey. “Because it’s the truth.”

The officer sat back in his chair again and stared at you. He’s testing you. You knew that, you could tell, but he wasn’t going to win. You had nothing to hide. There was nothing they were going to find, and you were going to go home and go to sleep with Wednesday, just like every other night. They weren’t going to trick you like they had after Nicky.

“That’s all the questions I’ve got for you tonight,” he finally said, causing your shoulders to visibly fall. “If I have any more I’ll give you a call.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod as you stood up from your seat. The officer did the same. “Thank you.”

“Hey kid,” he said before you could start walking down the hall; you stopped and looked him in the eyes. “For the record, I don’t think you did it.”

“You don’t?” You asked incredulously.

He’s lying.

“I knew those boys,” he said with a shrug, “they were always causing trouble.” You nodded once in acknowledgement. “Go on home, it’s late.”

“Yes sir,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded at you and gave you a polite smile before gesturing forward, following you through the hallway until you were at the reception. You gave an awkward smile and wave as you exited the station and inhaled the crisp winter air. It stung, but at least it wasn’t suffocating.

He was lying, the voice said, he believes it’s you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled to yourself as you made your way down the street, heading directly to the dorms.

You very much needed a long night’s rest. Wednesday had better give you that kiss.

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

Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove @karsonromanoff

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #everyone but her au

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aaliyg · 4 months

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Liyah and KK Sister Dynamics HC's

Warning: cursing

Dialogue Color Code: KK, Liyah, Ice

Kinda short but ayee

(basically little sister KK, big sister Liyah 😊)

She's stealing Liyah's food most definitely

"Aye KK have you seen my chipotle?"

"...No."

"...Why is there rice on your cheeks? Nobody cooked rice today- Kamorea."

"I THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T WANT IT!"

"WHY THE FUCK- bitch you're paying me back."

"I don't have the moneyyyy!!"

"Figure it out then."

Liyah is a decently early sleeper (like 10:30 the earliest) so uh... KK has ALOT of candid pics that she uses as memes in the gc

Aubrey: When I say I slept like a BABY last night....

Liyah: You and Aliyah was having fun huh 🤭

Aubrey: stfu

KK: Aubrey rn: *insert pic of Liyah sleeping*

Liyah: ...if u don't delete that rn istg

KK: hmmmmmmm no💙

Liyah: i hate you.

KK: oop not the punctuationnnn...love you too bookie 🤭

Liyah: 😒 Aubrey how bad would it be if i committed murder

Aubrey: honestly i support it

KK: AUBREY

KK is THEE biggest Liyah+Azzi truther Lizzi™ for short (yes KK did trademark it. deadass.)

"Soooo how are you and Azzi doing? Yall kiss yet??"

"Girl wtf- no..."

"Are you gonna?"

"Please leave me alone man."

"Aww trouble in paradise?"

*Liyah side eyes her*

"My bad girlie my bad."

EVERY SINGLE TIME Uconn mics KK up there are two people on the top of her hitlist: Ice and Liyah (free them)

"We back with another videoooo!!"

*in the background* "Oh God.."

*side eye* "ANYWHO let's go ask the people some questions. SO Icey Baby. Ice Cube if you will-"

*Ice side eyes tf outta her*

"....sassy much. Anyways what song are you listening to right now?" *leans the mic*

"Um Snooze by SZA."

"Ouuuuu I CAN'T LOSE WHEN IM WITH YOUUUU!! I like it I like it." *bolts over to Liyah*

"Heyyyy big sister!!" *purposefully looks down* "Or little sister..."

"Aight now what do you want?"

*looks at the camera* "You see how she treats me yall? Anyways...why did you eat the last of my pringles?"

"You literally told me to?"

"..."

"ANYWHO-"

KK will always drag Liyah into a tiktok dance. Liyah doesn't mind, but KK starts regretting it when Liyah starts making the dance even more complex

"Ouuu we could do it like this..."

"Liiiiiiiii PLEASE it's just a simple dance."

"But it could be SO much better. Let me cook dammit."

"Oh my fucking God." *throws hands up in surrender*

KK almost busted her ass once 😭

If Liyah is driving KK is GLUED to that passenger seat. She loves it there

"Hehe yeahhh I get aux." *shuffles music and plays God's Plan by Drake*

"Playing Drake during these trying times huh?"

*busts out laughing* "Don't blame me blame Apple!"

"Mhm.."

KK will always brag that she has scary big sister privileges and she's not wrong at ALL

*Aubrey and KK play fighting a bit TOO hard*

"Aye cut that shit out."

*Aubrey and KK IN SYNC* "Yes ma'am."

*cue Ice cracking up in the background*

#kk arnold #uconn wbb #ice brady #aubrey griffin #headcanons #original character #azzi fudd

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unnaturalequilibrium · 1 month

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She is the Milky Way on its way to ask for a second mortgage at the bank. And just like Galileo - I too love the stars. So me and homeboy Galilei are going to just roll around in bed and kick our stubby little legs in excitement while we spend all night with our eyes glued to the night sky watching the constellations. Hoping they secure that second bank loan.

I kind of love this one, not just because she’s the starry night and just as beautiful. It’s a classically cut suit and the pattern and colour combo - the impression of bedazzling usually isn’t high on my list of things signifying high class, but somehow? Somehow it works. It’s probably my star fetish doing a lot of heavy lifting, but it’s a good stylish suit that makes her look really fucking good. Put together, but not severe. I mean, it’s not an outfit for every occasion, like I wouldn’t roll down to the corner shop to pick up can of Monster and a package of rice cakes in it, but if you own a small village and are a boss as bitch - yeah, this is top notch.

And those fifties white shirt collars where it looks like you've just splayed a book wide open across your collarbones - yeah that shit gets me going.

the Milky Way look - [9.5 out of 10]

#Unsanctioned SDL Fashion Report #marta de la reina #suenos de libertad #marta belmonte #meanwhile I'll be in my bunk contemplating those veins

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giggly-squiggily · 10 months

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An Attack In The Night (Blue Lock)

Hi hello yes HI! :D This is the unplanned but then planned and now after months long delay sequel to "Lessons In English" I had an urge to make Lee!Rin and here we are :D I hope y'all like it!

CW: Swearing

Summary: Rin doesn't take Isagi's threat seriously and lives to regret it.

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13 @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @riisada

“If you dare choose to tickle me today, I shall find you in your bed at the wee hours of the night and tickle you until you’re pleading for the Soccer gods to strike you where you stand.”

Rin- looking back at this situation, probably should have taken that threat more seriously.

After the whole English lesson fiasco, the day went on normally. Aryu rambled on about glam, Tokimitsu spent a solid ten minutes debating whether or not he was going into the workout room, Bachira and Isagi were glued to the hip, and Rin just kinda wandered about with his daily regime. At one point they were sat down for more English tutoring, but this time a woman was on the screen guiding them through the worksheets. Anri, was it? Rin couldn’t remember her name but he was grateful nonetheless.

The week went on without incident, and yet Isagi’s little remark hung in the back of his head. Surely he wasn’t planning on actually going through with that? It’s childish and stupid- not to mention it’d wake up the rest of the room.

Bachira he could see going through with it, sure- but Isagi?

No. No way. He probably just wanted to live his little anime protagonist moment. Rin shook his head around his miso soup, annoyed with how much thought he was giving such a dumb bluff. He wasn’t going to do anything.

Isagi caught his eye from a table down, squished amongst his former teammates and Bachira. He smiled, a small polite gesture he was sure.

I shall find you

Rin ruffled, nearly choking on his soup. Aryu looked up from his rice, hand ready to assist. “Don’t die- that won’t be glam.”

“Shut up.” Rin grumbled, standing up and disposing of his tray. At Isagi’s table, Bachira was trying to feed the fast redhead across the table, laughing at his scrunched face of disgust. The lazy guy was half asleep on his phone, mumbling about glazed chicken.

And Isagi- he was still watching him with that same little smile.

So normal and cheery he presented, just happy to see his teammate.

Rin didn’t trust it for a moment.

~~~

Another week went by. As of now- Rin forgot about the whole thing, his thoughts solely focused on the intensive training Ego set for them. The U-20 match was approaching, as was the fateful match with Sae. This was his opportunity to crush him and finally- finally move on. He didn’t have time for any distractions.

….Okay, maybe he had time to occasionally chat with Hiori. The cyan haired man just happened to be there when he was stretching, it didn’t mean anything-

“Die, comrade.” Isagi’s voice was in his ear, sending shivers racing up his spine. Before he could react, he was shoved into his bed, Isagi sitting on him with glittering eyes. “Told you I’d find you, Rin.”

“What?” His head was still dazed from earlier thoughts- body fatigued from both the day’s conditioning and the hot bath he had after. “Huh, what are you-”

It only took fingers pressing into his sides for the threat to resurface.

“I shall find you in the wee hours of the night and tickle you until you’re pleading for the soccer gods to strike you where you stand.”

Well shit.

“Come on now, what’s wrong?” Isagi teased, drilling his fingers into Rin’s ribs as the taller boy pressed his mouth shut, fighting down the laughs. “Too ticklish here?” He moved his hands upward, drawing small circles against his ribs and further breaking his defenses. “Or maybe you’re ticklish…here?”

A prod to his highest rib made Rin spasm, but his lip stayed sealed. Painfully so- he pressed his face into the pillow as he pressed his arms tightly into his sides, shaking his head.

“Wow, you’re stubborn.” Isagi huffed with a laugh, switching to gentle scratching, earning a muffled “ffffffmph!” “I like my rivals to be stubborn, it makes it that much more satisfying to break them down.”

Oh if he lived through this, Rin was gonna suffocate him in his sleep! The bastard looked so smug too- practically drenched in confidence! As if he knew all the answers and was just waiting for Rin to catch up. “A-Ass!” He grunted, the only word he could get out before choking on a laugh, barely keeping it in.

“It’s not healthy to keep it in, Rin. Let it out, laugh for me.” Isagi paused, both for anticipation and because he was genuinely starting to get worried. The green haired teen gasped for air, lungs crying. “Dude, breathe.”

“S-screw…you…” Rin huffed, feeling like he ran a mile. He could get through this- he was used to the feeling now. In a fit of rare boldness, he raised his chin. “Do your worst- you won’t break me.”

Isagi raised an eyebrow. Then he smiled- a dangerous one Rin saw on the field so many times. It was the smile he wore when he smelled a goal, the rush of the game and the plan set in motion.

Oh god…he was so screwed.

“I won’t, huh?” He dropped his hands, resting them on the hem of Rin’s sweatpants. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly slid them up and under his sweatshirt, trailing his nails gently along the bare skin. Rin involuntarily twitched- a full body one he couldn’t hide. “We’ll see about that.”

Rin glared, fighting down the blush creeping up his collar. He wouldn’t break- he wouldn’t-

“Gah! Shhhiiihihiihihihit!” Those dastardly hands found his ribs again. Without a layer of cotton to protect him, he was as good as dead. “Iihihiihiisagi, stahahhahhap!”

“Aww, what happened? What happened to not breaking, Mr. Cool Guy?” Isagi teased in a baby voice, kneading and pinching the warm skin in a way he knew would drive Rin mad. “Listen to you laughing so much! Aren’t you a cutie! Yes you are, yes you are!”

“Dohohohohon’t fuhuhuuhuhucking tahahhalk to me lihihihike thahahaht! I’m not a dahahahhamn dohohohohohohog!” Rin argued through his mirth, trying in vain to shove Isagi’s hands out. Every press into his ribcage felt like another cell in his muscles dying- sapping away his strength. “Gehehehhet the heheheheell awhhahahy from thehehehehre!”

“Oh? You want me to change spots? Why didn’t you say so!” Isagi winked. Then he shot his hands up to his armpits.

“GAH!” Rin squawked, nearly punching Isagi with how hard his body flailed. It wasn’t even his worst spot and he found himself laughing hysterically. Damn body sensitivity! “FUHHUCK GEHEHEHHET OUUHUHHUHUHUT!”

“Such a potty mouth! Do I have to get the soap?” Isagi laughed, proud at how flushed and giggly Rin looked. Should he? No, he shouldn’t.

“THAHAKE YOUR SOOHOHOAP AND STIHIHIHICK IT UUHUHUHP YOUR AHAHHAHAHASS!”

Oh yes. Yes he should.

“Tch. You know- back in Team Z- we had a guy who was just. Like. You.” He jabbed at his upper ribs with each word. “He’d tell us the same thing when we tickled him- you know how we handled his ass?” Isagi’s eyes twinkled as he removed his hands, shoving up the hem of Rin’s sweatshirt as he leaned down.

Oh, the look of utter panic on his face! It was so deliciously satisfying. “Oohoho no! No way- get your face away from there! Don’t you do it, don’t-” Rin tried to shove him, but it was too late.

“PFFFFFT!”

“GAH!” It was the only sound Rin could make before his laugh went silent, Isagi’s thumbs pressing into his hips as he blew another loud raspberry against his skin. He slapped at Isagi’s back rapidly- hoping the other would get the message.

Isagi sat up, giggling as he pulled Rin’s shirt back down. “Had enough?”

In response, Rin flipped him off. Isagi pinched his hips. “GAH! Fine fine, you win, now stop!” He cringed as he said it- not used to giving in. Isagi whooped before falling sideways into the bed beside him. “I hate you.”

“I love you too, Rin~” Isagi sang, laughing harder when Rin nearly shoved him off the bed. “Haha, that was nothing! You love me here- I can feel it.”

Rin was about to help Isagi feel something else when a Bachira shaped body crashed into them, earning a chorus of yelps and groans. “I found you! Here you two are, cuddling without me?”

“We’re not- Bob cut!” Rin grumbled as Bachira got comfortable, squishing them all into one clump of bodies. Isagi only shrugged, eyes suggesting he might as well get used to it.

“I hate both of you.” Rin gave up, earning a puff of giggles from the pair.

Okay- maybe he didn’t actually hate them.

Thanks for reading!

#blue lock #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #isagi yoichi #rin itoshi #bachira meguru #bachisagi #Very subtle one sided Riori cause they're my new future ship whoops #tickles for the grumpy boy lols #Rin deserves them

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years

Text

Title: Lil’ Love {One Shot} *

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Pregnancy Talk, Pregnancy Fic, High Angst, Fluff, Very Mild Implied Smut, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 8.1k

Summary: With Lewis away working and you at home you get the surprise of your life which throws you completely off axis.

Note: I got a request relating to this topic, so I decided to tackle it and include another idea I had a while ago. Hope you guys enjoy this.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate it. 💕💕

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!

****NOT Edited/Proofread****

***Interactive****

~~~~~~~~~

“Girl you lookin’ thicc as fuck!”

Your eyes widened at your best friend Majid. He sat on the barstool behind you with his legs crossed and his eyes glued to your body.

“Rice and peas ain’t miss her!”

“Rice and peas, jerk chicken, yams, mac and cheese, all-a it!”

You spun to him and narrowed your eyes. “You tryna say I’m fat!?”

“If by fat you mean Lewis has been putting in that work, work, work, work, work on that ass plumpin’ it up then yes!”

You hesitated for a minute then turned back around to the workout mirror you were currently doing squats in front of. The instructor that was mirrored in it had never stopped what they were doing, so you rushed to catch up.

“It’s not just your ass either. New bra?”

You stopped again and turned to Majid as you cupped your breasts. “N—no.”

He stood then and came to you but instead of stopping in front of you he circled you as he examined your figure. You would have cringed if you knew for a fact that you were batting for the same team. There was no part of you he was interested in.

“I know a thicc bitch when I see one. You were thicc before but now—you’re t--hi--ccc.” He emphasized the “c” in the word so exaggeratedly.

Your anxiety picked up then and you almost rolled your eyes. If your fists weren’t balled, you would have. You’d been battling anxiety on and off for the last three years. It had even gotten so bad that you’d religiously been on anti-anxiety meds for the last four years. According to your therapist, it was a process filled with ups and downs, triumphs and failures. You remembered a time where it had gotten so bad that you couldn’t do much of anything. Lewis had to be with you damn near 24/7 because your anxiety brought on acute depression. There were times you were having random seizures multiple times a day and considered a danger to yourself.

Lewis, the amazing partner and boyfriend he was, shut his entire schedule down and became your rock. Remembering the care he took with you then brought tears to your eyes. Fighting them, you cleared your throat.

“I have been eating good lately,” you said.

“If Lewis is home, you’re always eating good. Lucky!”

You grinned and turned back to the workout. You were determined to finish the last fifteen minutes of it. However, as you continued, your mind kept wandering from the moves of the trainer and back onto the words of your best friend. Had you gotten out of shape? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice a few small changes here or there. Some of your clothes were tighter, you felt more filled out in some places, particularly your breasts, hips and ass and your moods had been shit. Maybe you’d been too indulgent in your meals and too busy to take proper notice.

This was the busiest time for you at your wellness and holistic center, Breathe. To be truthful it was busy year-round. There was always a rush of customers and members who went in and out and booked appointments for as far in advance as three months. A lot of your friends thought the point of running a wellness center was for the owner to be chill and hippie like because of the nature of the business but that was not the case.

Don’t get it wrong, you loved your business, loved the roll you played, loved the day-to-day operations and interacting with members and everything that went with it, but your workaholic antics and perfectionist attitude often made it difficult for you. You strove to be on top, and untouchable in the field which meant you spent a lot of time on advancement and creative ventures which ensured you stayed one step ahead of any competitors.

“Hello, aarth to Y/N!”

Majid’s snapping brought you out of your stupor. You were squatted and paused. the burn in your thighs suggested you’d been in the position for a long time because you knew your thighs could handle a squat or two thanks to your bedroom antics with Lewis.

“Where were you?”

The workout mirror in front of you was at the selection menu waiting for you to choose your next action. Just like that you’d zoned out on the last fifteen minutes of your class. Just like that you’d lost a chunk of time again. This was not the first time, and your absentmindedness was beginning to worry you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just—dazed.”

“You’ve been dazing a lot. You sure everything is okay?”

You walked to the kitchen and grabbed the freshly juiced green and fruit juice from a few hours ago and gulped a few mouthfuls down. “I’m fine. Are we still doing that opening at Deco?”

Majid scrunched his nose. “I think I’ll sit this one out. You know me and Tuesday don’t get along,” he said rolling his eyes.

You mirrored him and took a few more gulps of juice. “It’s not even her store.”

“But she’ll be there. You need to put her in place too. I know you see how she looks at your man.”

Majid was right. Tuesday Antonio was one of those social media fitness girls who liked to post thirst traps every other day and bask in the thirsty comments of celebs, athletes, and rappers. She’s accumulated quite a reputation as a contract girl which meant she entered contract situationships with faves for money, gifts, status and attention. You didn’t knock anyone’s hustle and would never drag a woman for what she chooses to do with her own body and her own time. Pro women all day every day, but her tragic mistake was popping into Lewis’ DMs trying to entice him with spread legs. Actual spread legs.

Even though he’d promptly turned her ass down and informed he was in a committed relationship, which she knew, your ass was not in hiding, she still hung around him like a gnat circling over ripened fruit. Majid believed you should step to her and put her in her place, but you believed the opposite. Since it was Lewis who she’d stepped to with the disrespect it was his responsibility to shut shit down in a way that demanded respect for you and your relationship. He’d done that and whenever she was around at places you were together, he made it clear where his loyalties, and love lied.

“Tell me you don’t want to break that 4th nose job.”

You snorted, dribbling a little juice out on the counter. “Oh my god, Maj!”

“What? Everyone knows it. The 2nd job was botched, the third barely fixed it and this 4th, mm-nm honey child. That surgeon must have been drunk that day.”

As you wiped the counter you couldn’t help but giggle. Majid was petty, shady and rude. You loved it!

“Fine, I guess I’ll go alone,” you huffed out in an exaggerated tone before you walked off.

You knew it would be minutes before he was changing his tune.

Two hours later as the car rolled around to the store, Majid sighed loudly.

“I swear if she says anything to me, I’m going to embarrass her in front of the cameras.”

“Calm down Dawna needs this to go smoothly. She’s worked too hard.”

He sighed again then put on a sweet smile.

“Good.”

You got out of the car as a wave of nausea came over you. Pressing your hand to your stomach, you gagged it down.

“What the hell? What was that?”

“Nothing. Just—maybe the juice isn’t agreeing with me.”

Tou swallowed again fighting the ball of vomit that was threatening to spew out. After a few moments, you had it under control and was looping your arm with Majid’s and walking to the store. From the corner of your eye, you saw the paps but ignored them as you stepped inside the bustling store. All at once the scent of sandalwood and rose filled your nostrils. She’d taken your advice on the chosen ambiance of the store, and you were pleased.

“Aaaah, Y/N!”

Dawna scurried to you in her chic ensemble then wrapped her arms around you.

“Dawna, it’s wonderful in here.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much for coming.”

“It’s so packed,” Majid said as he double kissed her cheeks.

“I’ve already cleared production cost with the sales I’ve made. Everything else from three hours ago on is pure profit,” she bragged.

“That’s great. You put in so much into this venture I’m happy you’re seeing the turnaround.”

Dawna leaned in then whispered, “The rich overly tan women love them some bougie looking but ecofriendly furniture.”

The three of you cackled.

“No Lewis today?”

“No, he’s still finishing up. His flight isn’t until day after tomorrow.”

“Happy to have him home?”

You nodded while trying to keep your excitement at bay, “It’s been a long separation.”

“I do not know how you do it. I’d be traveling with my man to every race stop, every event, everything.”

“Absence makes the heart fonder,” you sing-songed.

“Be that as it may but this coochie nightly makes a heart even fonder.”

Again, you all laughed. Dawna and Majid were your best friends and throughout your childhood to now you’d always had each other’s backs and you took comfort in knowing you always would. As Dawna returned to her hostess duties you and Majid made the rounds of the store taking in every item. Dawna was right, they were eating up this bougie looking ecofriendly furniture. They didn’t even seem to care about the price.

Passing by a group of women who raised their champagne glasses at you as you did, you politely smiled and nodded your head. Just behind them you saw a beautiful room that called to you. As you approached you took in each piece, a bed, a dresser, an armoire, adornments and just to the corner you noticed a crib. It all looked so quaint and serene as if Dawna had picked it right out of a Scandinavian home. It was simplistic in an elegant way.

“Of course, you’d be drawn to this--shabby chic huh.”

You spun and came face to face with Sade. You could feel the eyes trailing to you within seconds. It wouldn’t be long until the paps drifted over.

“And of course you’d be drawn to me.”

Sade giggled and turned back to the designed room. “Tell me something, Y/N, did you come here today to help your pathetic friend out by attaching Lewis’ name to this event?”

You sighed, “Did you come to this event thinking someone who is attached to me would be here and you would get an opportunity to unsuccessfully throw yourself at him? That’s pathetic.”

The sneer she gave you told you your words made their mark. Scoffing, you looked back to the designed room and again your eyes went to the crib. A random thought flitted through your head and with it your hand returned to your stomach.

“You really think you’re the only one, don’t you? You really think someone like him, someone on his level someone as hot as him is only with you? I don’t know which is more stupid, you or--.”

“Your delusional ass?”

Majid slid up between the two of you so quickly you almost got motion sickness. You didn’t even notice him. Sade rolled her eyes then crossed her arms.

“Of course, you’re here too. Riding coattails of fame huh Majid.”

Majid stepped to her ready to deliver on his previous threat of breaking her 4th nose. You quickly pulled him back then stepped in front of him. It was time to end this once and for all.

“Look, I get that you think you’re hot shit. I get that you think you’re entitled to every celeb, athlete, and rapper dick in this world. I get that you live fast and don’t care about anyone else as long as you get what you want. Fine. Do you Sade. Here is what is reality though. I am nothing like you, I don’t chase dick, I chase my own money, my own business. I don’t live to put women down because I am jealous of them, I don’t find joy being a cumdump. You do and that’s cool.

She lurched for you then with her hand raised as if she were going to hit you. In seconds, you caught her hand then pulled her close, gripping the sweet spot of her tricep muscle right below her elbow where the pressure point that you knew would cause the most pain in this situation. Instantly, Sade hissed but it didn’t progress further. She knew that you had her beat.

“I know you wanted Lewis; I know you thought he’d choose you and leave me in the dust, but it didn’t happen honey. There is no way you can take my man, no way my man would want you, and no way in hell you will ever--.”

You squeezed the pressure points harder and she whimpered as she scrunched lower dipping lower than your eye level so she had to look up to you. “Ever win here. So here is what will happen, you will give up once and for all, you see him you stay the fuck away, you see me, you leave, you even attempt this shit again and this--.” You squeezed harder and now she was practically kneeling. “This will be the very least of what I’ll do. I know over 50 ways to handle you, don’t make me go to the most lethal. Consider this your final warning.”

For emphasis, you glared as primitively at her as she was at you then pushed her back before walking off.

“Hoe!”

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly after that.

~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

“They are having a field day with the pictures babe.”

“I know. I’m sorry baby.”

“Sorry? No, you don’t have to apologize. You look badass! Who knew you were paying attention when I was teaching you those Kyusho-Jitsu moves.”

“I was.”

“You looked hot doing it in your tiny shorts and heels. Fuck I wish I was home.”

“Oh yeah? Why do I feel like it’s not because you miss me, but you miss seeing my tiny shorts and heels up close?”

Lewis chuckled. “I mean I only miss em’ because they’re on you.”

“Okay smooth talker. One more day. We’ve made it almost 4 months, I think one more day is a piece of cake.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t miss me at all.”

You giggled as you rolled around your shared king-sized bed. “Plead the 5th. Guess you’ll have to get your ass back home to find out for certain.”

The way he looked at you made your heart race and your belly flip. “What are you thinking about right now?”

“How much I fucking love you. I don’t think you understand. I can’t wait to get home to you.”

You could have floated into the air right now; his words were that powerful.

“I love you so much Lewis.”

“I can’t wait for you to show me, rosebud.”

Your phone beeped and a reminder for your appointment popped up.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. A meeting reminder.”

“I hope you know that when I get home your work schedule and workload will dramatically decrease.”

You snorted but knew he was going to put his foot down with how much you were working.

“Laugh if you want but be prepared.”

“Love you, bye.”

You quickly ended the call before he fully broke his dominant side out. You knew when that happened, you’d have a harder time getting off the call.

By the time you made it to your physician’s office you’d managed to tackle five of the items on your to do list before Lewis returned and was in the midst of completing the sixth, restocking the groceries. You watched the concierge service workers from the home security feed as they finished the task.

“Y/N?”

Nurse Marlene stood beside you with a smile on her face.

“Hi.”

“Hi, come on back.”

You nodded, gathered your things then followed her to the back of the office.

“How are you?”

“Eh, all right I guess.”

“Hm, don’t worry we’ll figure this out,” Marlene assured.

Biting your bottom lip, you followed her into the exam room then filled her in on the reason for your visit. As you explained the strange things that had been going on for the last few weeks you realized it had been going on for far longer than a few weeks. With each question Marlene asked, and every answer you provided a new piece of the puzzle was revealed.

When your doctor, Dr Shullah, arrived you went over your concerns again. It didn’t take ger long to suggest an exam and numerous tests. Thirty minutes later, they’d taken more blood than you thought you possesed, every possible scan they liked and even had you complete a few paper assessments. You were losing your mind with the possibilities, and it was wreaking havoc on your anxiety. Seeing how stressed you were, Dr. Shullah decided to put a rush on your blood tests so you could get some answers by day end.

After finishing your errands and a stop at your spa, you returned home ready for a nice bath and to call it a night. It was a long bath where you got lost in work as always. By the time you realized you’d been in there for more than two hours, the water was past cold. You pushed pause on work to go through your nighttime routine and reheat your takeout for dinner. Just as you were sitting to eat, your phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, hi, it’s Dr. Shullah. Did I catch you at a good time?”

“Hi Dr. Shullah, yes the time is fine.”

“Good. All right so I put a rush on everything as you know and I’m happy they were able to get me the results this fast. I think we have some answers for you and hopefully it’ll put you at ease.”

“Oh great. You sound upbeat so I’m guessing it’s not something serious like disease?”

“No, no, not a disease and nothing serious. You’re clear there. I ran all the markers and nothing alarming for anything has come up. You’re in wonderful health.”

Relief flooded you and the tension in your shoulders fell away. Sighing, you allowed your body to relax.

“So what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You’re pregnant.”

Your knees buckled and your legs turned to jelly making you grip the counter in the kitchen. You couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in your ears and your heartbeat.

“Uh—hello? i—hello? What?”

“Can you hear me, Y/N?”

You had to sit. Staggering to the stool, you slipped into it.

“What did you just say?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“What? No. There’s no way. What do you mean? You said it wasn’t serious.”

“It isn’t something serious as a disease,” Dr. Shullah added.

“What! It’s a whole human being!” You were on your feet now.

Your voice was shrill with panic.

“Calm down, Y/N. Take a few breaths. I find it quite remarkable that you didn’t realize. You’re pretty far along.”

“What?!”

Again, your knees gave out and you were right back in the high back stool.

“Yes. The HCG hormones in your blood is around two hundred thousand international units per liter or IULs. That tells me you’re beginning your second trimester, bringing you to almost 14 weeks.”

“What? 14 weeks? That’s what?”

“Let’s say beginning your 4th month.”

“Four months? I’ve been pregnant for 4 months and I didn’t know?”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“I’ve been on birth control. there’s no way. Plus, Lewis hasn’t been around for 4 months. How?”

“This would have happened sometime in April toward the end maybe the 19th to the 24th,” Dr. Shullah clarified.

Your brain worked everything back to April. Lewis was in his race schedule, and you’d gone out for a visit. You gasped as memories from your two weekends with him from Australia and then Italy flashed through your mind.

“Oh my god.”

You’d freestyled a tour of the outback in Australia and camped overnight and made love under the iridescent star infested sky all night. Then the following weekend he had you sprawled out on display on the deck of one of the luxury yachts he’d rented for you to sail the Mediterranean. Those weekends he’d put it down so good that you extended your visit for a week at first then another because you couldn’t get enough.

“Are you sure Dr. Shullah?”

“Positive. Urine might be misleading but blood rarely lies. Congratulations Y/N!”

“How? I’m on birth control, religiously. You give me the shot every three months. You gave me the last one!”

“Have you been on any new medication? Some can interfere.”

“No. Wait the new anxiety meds I started in—early April.”

“Hmm. Sounds like we have our answer. As I remember, I told you to use a backup for the month until your levels even out,” Dr. Shullah recalled.

“Oh shit. Oh my god this is my fault. I did this.”

You could feel your anxiety piquing.

“Y/N, calm down. Everything is going to be all right. Slow steady breaths.”

Dr. Shullah talked you through your attack repeating all the calming mantras you’d said yourself on countless occasions. It took a while but after several minutes, you were breathing normally again. Dr. Shullah continued and advised you to stop taking any and all medication you were currently taking until she could assess if they were pregnancy safe.

The remainder of the conversation went by in a blur. After scheduling a follow up for the required exams to play catch up you ended the call and just sat there in complete shock. Long minutes passed and still you remained seated at the kitchen island staring at the marble floor thinking about everything and nothing all at once.

“Pregnant?”

You played those weeks over in your head trying to figure out which sexcapade did it. Was it the Australian outback, on the plane going to Italy, the yacht, the vineyard, the tucked away corner of The Colosseum, The secluded late late night gondola ride, against the massive tree by the ancient ruins or one of the countless nights in between. There was no way to say for sure, but your gut said it was the Australian outback. there was something about that night that felt so real, so different.

“Jeeez. What do I do? Oh god Lewis.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes as you began to panic again. Of course, you’d talked about kids, of course you’d both spoken about your ideals and expectations there. Nowhere in any of the conversations did either of you say you wanted them soon. The last conversation was about a year ago when you both practically agreed that kids weren’t an option until both of you were more settled. Lewis wanted to be on his way out of racing not recommitting to the sport. He wanted to be able to be there wholeheartedly and feared he wasn’t in the mind frame to be a father especially with how tunnel visioned he could get. You’d agreed wanting to solidify your company and have at least two more locations and more merchandise.

Right now, was not the time. For the first time your panic immediately ceased as something else gripped you. Fear. It was so overwhelming that you felt as if you were choking on it. Your hand drifted to your stomach as a bout of nausea hit you. You were terrified. What if he was pissed? What if he felt trapped? What if he asked you to get rid of it? So many what if questions zipped through your mind. So many scenarios played at hyper speed and with each what if and each scenario your fear rose to astronomical levels.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang but you couldn’t move. Your feet were planted where they were as if roots had sprouted from underneath the marble and had wrapped around your ankles. The bell rang a second time but no matter how you tried to move you couldn’t. When the third ring came you managed a step. Urging yourself forward, you took another step, then another and another until you were at your front door. After one more calming breath, you opened the door and nearly passed out.

“Surprise!”

Lewis stood on the other side holding a large bouquet of flowers and the most beautiful smile. Your heart went into overdrive as it always did when you saw him while your belly did somersaults, another reaction to him.

“Baby?”

“I’m home.”

He stepped closer to you, dipped down then lifted you into his arms locking his hands just under your ass. “I’m home, rosebud,” he finished into the crook of your neck.

His scent engulfed you making it impossible to think of anything else.

“Baby!”

You held him tight as he slowly spun you both in a circle. You pulled back then captured his cheeks between your hands. “What are you doing here? It’s not tomorrow.”

“I wanted to surprise you and I couldn’t wait another day. I missed you so much.”

Lewis kicked the door closed then pressed you against the nearest wall. A moan escaped you just as his lips claimed yours. He kissed you like a starving man who needed the sustenance that only your lips could provide. Within seconds, you both had gotten carried away. His hands were cupping your ass as his manhood pressed urgently against your core.

“Mmm!”

“Fuck I missed you sweetheart. I forgot what it felt like to have you in my arms.”

You opened your mouth to respond but Lewis kissed you again stopping any speech. You both moaned, then you felt his hand cup your breast.

“Christ, you feel better than I remember.”

His eyes dipped lower to take in the half-dampened charmeuse and lace robe you wore that haphazardly hung off one of your shoulders giving him a titillating peek of the curve and swell of your breast.

“Fuck, you knew I was coming. You’re ready for me.”

Your belly flipped again but just when you were going to think it was more than the effect of him, Lewis dipped his head lower and captured your nipple through your robe. Hissing, you jerked quickly getting overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive peak.

“Fool, you forget we in the car and you got luggage?”

Your attention snapped to Miles who’d just walked inside the foyer with two hands filled with luggage.

“Oh my god Miles.”

Lewis didn’t bother stopping instead his hands squeezed your backside tighter making you buck your hips rubbing your bareness against Lewis. His groan was deep and dark.

“Lewis.”

Daniel and Andrew filed in and that was when you really became self-conscious. You unwrapped your legs from around his waist and tried to him from your body. When you finally did, you had a large wet spot over your robe which showcased your hardened nipple for all to see.

“We’ll get outta here, just wanted to get him home to you,” Andrew said.

“Thanks fellas,” Lewis said as they did their routine goodbye routine. Your belly flipped again, and you knew for certain it wasn’t Lewis—well not entirely him, it was the tiny version of him inside of you.

You covered your mouth, trying to keep the vomit in while playing it off, but you couldn’t. You quickly ran from the room and upstairs to your bathroom. Locking the door, you hurtled to the toilet and released the contents of your stomach. As you puked your tears chose that moment to run down your cheeks. This was when it all sank in, this made it real.

The knock at the door startled you sending you into a panic.

“Baby? Are you all right? Why’s the door locked?”

“I—I’m fine,” you lied.

“Then open the door.”

“Gimme a minute. I’m being all girly and bawling my eyes out that you’re home. I don’t want you to see it.”

Lewis snorted. “Girl, don’t play with me. You know I don’t care about that. Open the door, I want to hold you and kiss you, smell your neck.”

You pushed yourself off the floor and went to the sink to clean yourself up. Staring at yourself you took a few calming breaths. You looked a mess now.

“Two minutes, then I’m yours.”

“Promise?”

“Forever.”

You washed your face then brushed your teeth and after a little while of psyching yourself up you walked back into your shared bedroom. Lewis was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirt off and obediently waiting for you. As soon as he saw you his smile widened as did his arms. You swallowed the nerves you were still battling then crossed to him. Lewis wrapped you in his arms resting his head right atop your belly. A new wave of fear gripped you.

“I missed you so much it’s crazy. It’s been so long that you even feel different in my arms.”

Your body stiffened at those words. Could he tell the changes your body had gone through that you now knew was because of the pregnancy. With his head resting against your stomach, you allowed yourself to think of this event as something real. You were carrying a baby—his baby. Again, tears pricked your eyes. Tipping your head back, you tried to roll them back to keep them in.

“You’re so quiet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re disappointed I’m home.”

Lewis began to move to look up at you, but you held his head against you. “What? No, of course not. I’m—I’m happy you’re here. I missed you.”

“Plan on showing me?”

You snorted. “Of course you’re horny.”

“Can you blame me if I was? It’s been four months and you’re standing here looking gorgeous and all seductive in that robe that hides nothing with all these curves.”

His hands roamed from your hips down your thighs to cup your backside.

“Damn baby. You feel so good.”

He ushered you to sit on his lap where you felt just how horny he truly was. Your belly flipped.

“Feel that? Seconds, that’s all it took.”

His lips kissed yours then trailed back along your jaw to your earlobe then down your neck where he licked, kissed and sucked your flesh. A soft moan slipped from you, the evidence your body would always be at his command no matter if your mind was miles away. As he continued to tease your neck, he got harder and harder until you were sure he’d poke a hole through the pants he wore.

“Fuck.”

Lewis stood with you in his arms, turned you to the bed and laid you down. He then stood before you, taking in the view.

“Fuck you’re beautiful. Stay right there, give me 12 minutes for a shower and I’ll come back to finish this.”

“12 minutes? So oddly specific.”

“Don’t move.”

With that he rushed off to the bathroom leaving the door open. You laid there for a few moments loving that the bedroom was filling with his scent again. Nothing compared to the real him there to permeate it. Your hand found its way to your belly and a thought hit you.

“Will he be able to see it?”

You sprang up and hurried to your walk-in closet to stand in front of the ceiling to floor mirror. Lifting your shirt you turned in every angle to inspect your midsection. There was no evidence yesterday of anything being off, and tonight was the same. Your stomach showed no sign of pregnancy, but for some reason every alarm in you was saying he’d be able to tell if he got you naked. You made it back to the room then snuggled underneath the blankets. It had been such a long day and right now was when exhaustion reared its head.

As you went over your worries and fears, weighed your options all wrapped in Lewis’ scent wafting from the bathroom, your eyelids got heavier and heavier. With the sound of rushing water from the bathroom you drifted off.

~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

You woke to a strange feeling. You weren’t laying on a soft pillow but hard muscle. As your eyes fluttered open, you felt Lewis’ arms wrapped tightly around you making you sigh. You laid back onto his chest and relished the feeling of having him home and this close to you again. With your recent separation due to both of your careers, you often found it hard to still feel connected to him and no amount of wearing his clothes around the house helped. It was a good thing he came home when he did because you were dangerously close to feeling neglected.

You tucked your nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled. God, he smelled incredible. You wanted to dip under the blankets and suck him dry then ride him into tomorrow’s sunrise. The images that flashed through your mind were so sinful and tempting that you actually made the move to. However, once you moved a strong eave of nausea hit you and you knew if you didn’t get to the bathroom then you’d vomit all over him.

Scurrying to the toilet, you released it all hoping you didn’t wake Lewis. You didn’t know how to tell him this news, you weren’t brave enough to. Hell, you didn’t even know how to handle this. As you released the contents of your stomach, which was interestingly little to nothing, you convinced yourself that he’d be angry with this change in your relationship. One of the many things you knew about Lewis was he planned everything down to a tee. He liked making plans and following them. He didn’t like things veering astray and he didn’t like mistakes. This pregnancy veered way astray, and it was definitely a mistake.

By the time you finished, you had to get out of there. Having him so close right now was making this even more terrifying. After cleaning yourself up, you peeped through the door and found Lewis still asleep. You grabbed the clothes he’d worn yesterday and hurried out the door. Once you’d gotten down to the foyer, you put on his clothes, grabbed your bag and keys then bolted out the door.

Five minutes later, you were zooming down the freeway with no destination in mind. It didn’t matter where you went, you just needed some space and quiet to think. Two hours later, your feet were dangling over cliffs three towns over just staring at the ocean as its tide crashed against the sharp rocks down below. As the waves collided with the rocks, the salty ocean spray floated in the air becoming one with the breeze then coated your skin. The scent somehow soothed the rolling nausea that still hadn’t left you. You’d sat there for hours and still hadn’t gotten the courage to do what needed to be done. Three hours from then, you still hadn’t moved though your ass was practically numb and your belly grumbling, begging for food.

By the time you finally got up the sun was beginning to set over the horizon and tucking itself behind the ocean. The orange, purple and red hue of the sky took your breath away and made you think of sharing the moment with Lewis. He loved sunsets and sunrises. With the view before you, you came to terms with just what you were afraid of. Rejection—his rejection. What if he didn’t want this? You were afraid he’d be angry and want you to terminate. You were afraid this would end your relationship because you didn’t know what you’d do if he really asked you to. You didn’t want him to blame you for it because you already felt guilty as shit. It seemed easier to just ignore things.

Your hand found its way to your belly again for the umpteenth time since you’d sat there. It hit you then. You wanted this baby; you wanted him to want this baby. You wanted him and everything. You wanted your cake and to eat it too. Perhaps you wanted too much. You released a sorrowful sigh into the air.

“You can’t stay here forever,” you whispered to yourself.

Slowly you made your way along the path you’d walked early this morning back to your car still lost in thought. You had to find a way to tell him because he had the right to know. This wasn’t something you could keep from him.

“Tomorrow,” you said to yourself as you climbed over the chain fencing that separated nature from the concrete of the parking area.

Suddenly the harsh glare of headlights blinded you. You stopped in your tracks, shielding your face from them. Tires screeched on the asphalt, but the lights remained.

“Y/N?!”

Your spine went rigid. It was Lewis’ voice. He was here. Peeking through your fingers you saw a figure approaching you and all the fear you’d felt from the night before returned.

“Oh my god!”

You caught a glimpse of Lewis’ face for a moment before he pulled you in crushing you to his body and holding you tightly. He held you as if he were scared you’d disappear.

“Oh my-- I—thank God.”

He pulled you back peered into your eyes then checked your face and body.

“Are you hurt?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“What—what’re you doing here Lewis?”

“Me? What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!”

He was shouting now and for the first time since he’d arrived you saw the terror in his eyes and the sheer worry over his features.

“Uh--.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there. You were nowhere. No note, nothing. I called and called and no answer. Seven hours Y/N! Seven fucking hours! Do you know how worried I was, how fucking scared I was that something had happened to you? I called everyone; I went everywhere. I even went to the emergency rooms looking for you. What the fuck!”

You jumped slinking back a few steps from him. His features softened as he stepped to you.

“Shit, I’m—I’m sorry I just—I’m sorry.”

He held your arms again then bent forward seemingly trying to catch his breath. After a few deep breathes, he straightened. “I was worried. Then I got to thinking that you’d left me, like for real.”

“What? Why?”

“After how weird you were being last night, I don’t know my head went into overdrive.”

He released you then paced in front of you. “What are you doing here? Why’d you leave? What’s going on? Did you not want me to come back? Is it me? Do you not want to be together anymore?”

“Lewis, no. Stop. Of course not. I love you. I always want to be with you. I would have never agreed to move in together if I wasn’t sure I was all in.”

“All in? This! This doesn’t look all in to me Y/N!”

You nodded understanding his growing frustration.

“I—I—I’m sorry. I just had to get out. I needed to go, I needed space and to think,” you rambled.

“Space? From me? What’d I do?”

He looked so hurt. You stepped to him and grabbed his hand and laced your fingers with his. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why? What did you need to think about?”

“Everything.”

He looked at the end of his rope. Pulling his hand away he laced them on top of his head.

“Everything? What are you talking about? I don’t understand. Talk to me. Whatever is going on we can work through it together. Whatever it is I’m here.”

You searched his face and saw no duplicity. He’d always been honest with you. You didn’t know why you expected that to change now. Still, you hesitated. The fear was still too strong. When you didn’t speak you saw his disappointment and it broke your heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t just leave me without saying a word or answering your phone. You can’t do shit like that. You have anxiety, I get anxious too. I don’t know where you are or hear from you, I get anxious. That wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, Y/N.”

“I know and I’m sorry, really, I am. I didn’t mean to be gone this long. I just needed some air to think.”

“Think about what? How can I help you if I don’t know what it is I did or what’s wrong between us?”

“For fuck’s sake Lewis you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect. You are incredible. You are amazing. I’ve never had anyone love me the way you love me, and I’ve never had anyone put me first in everything and I know that’s hard for you because of how you are I get it and it means the world to me. You have no idea how much I love you, no idea how much I need you.”

“Then why leave?”

“Because I’m pregnant!”

You hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop me and the moment you said them you clamped your hands over your mouth. Lewis’ brows burrowed as he took you in.

“Wh—wh—what?”

He looked downright terrified now. Your eyes welled with tears and before you could stop them, they were pouring down your cheeks.

“I’m pregnant,” you whined as you stomped your feet like a child. “And I know it’s not something we planned or something you want and it’s my fault. My anxiety and depression meds messed with my birth control and that one percent chance they talk about happened to me and now I’m pregnant and it wasn’t part of the plan and I know it comes at the worst time and I swear I didn’t plan this. I didn’t try to trap you. I was scared to tell you because I know you don’t want this and I’m afraid you’re going to tell me to get rid of it or break up with me because you think I tried to trap you,” you rambled half crying and half panicking.

Lewis swiftly stepped forward and pressed his hand to your mouth stopping any further sound.

“Shh-shh-shh.”

The words stopped but the sniffling and whimpering didn’t. Your tears continued to roll as he kept his eyes on yours.

“What did you say?”

You said it again, but it came out mumbled due to his hand over your mouth.

“What?”

You looked at his hand and gave him an exasperated look. Slowly, he took his hand back and stood very still.

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyes scanned yours searching for something you weren’t clear of.

“I’m so--,” you began but again he pressed his hand to your mouth.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. It felt like forever the two of you stood there in the headlights of Lewis’ car staring at each other with the silence stretching around you. As the seconds and minutes ticked by, your nerves increased until you’d begun shaking. In the blink of an eye, Lewis’ lips crashed to yours delving his tongue into your mouth and taking control of a soul searing kiss. You almost got lost in it, in him but pulled back in confusion.

“What’re you doing?”

His smile was wide and that silenced you. Lewis cupped your cheeks and laughed.

“Is this real? You’re for real? You’re really pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Lewis pulled you in for a hug then lifted you in the air spinning you both around.

“Oh my god. What’re—you’re happy?”

When he placed you back on the ground his smile was wider. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be happy? We’re going to have a baby. You and me,” he said placing his hand on your stomach. You were stunned.

“Wait, you’re not mad?”

“No.”

“You want this? You want the baby?”

“Of course, I want the baby. It’s ours.”

“Even though it was an accident? Even though the timing sucks and we didn’t really talk about having kids in real time?”

“Yes. I mean yeah, the timing is not the best and I’m worried about that—a lot, and we may not have talked about having kids in real time, but you know I want kids.”

“Yeah, but with me?”

Lewis cupped your cheeks again. “Of course. God, Y/N how do you not know how much I love you, how much I am completely obsessed with you? How don’t you fathom just how much you own me?”

Your heart melted and fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

“You want this?”

Lewis nodded. “Yes. I want this.”

“You want this with me?”

“With only you, rosebud.”

For the first time since hearing the news, you smiled. It was a smile that Lewis brightly returned.

“We’re having a baby,” he said again like the more times he said it the realer it became.

You nodded. “We’re having a baby.”

Again, he pressed his lips to yours passionately kissing you before he kissed around your face making you giggle.

“I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so fucking happy!”

For emphasis he lifted you into his arms again and spun around making you squeal.

“Thank you,” he said against your ear as he held you in the air flush against him setting everything in your world back on its axis.

By the time you got back home it was well past dark and everyone was annoyed with you for disappearing. After calling a tow back to your house you set out for the drive back. In his car, because he couldn’t stand to have you out of his sight now, he kept to the speed limit which was a feat for a man used to going upwards of two-hundred miles an hour. With his fingers intertwined with yours, his only explanation was “precious cargo to protect.” It was cute and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat from his words. It had—several beats.

Lewis stripped you then carried you into the bathroom where he took care washing your body and hair. Every chance he got he rested his hands on your stomach staring at it in marvel and every time he did you fell even deeper in love with him. Once you both were clean, he wrapped you in a towel then carried you to your bedroom where he laid you on the bed. He then lotioned your body with your favorite mango and date body butter then tucked you into bed before he slipped out of the room.

When he came back, he had so much food, many of them your favorites. For the next hour, you feasted while talking about what both of you were up do during your time apart and the unlimited possibilities with the baby, he’d now dubbed lil’ love. After eating, you cuddled in bed completely wrapped up in each other. When his lips began decorating your body with kisses, he followed each one with why he loved you, how grateful he was for you and how beautiful and sexy he found you.

Lewis’ lips pressed against your belly, and he hovered placing smaller kisses around the area. Watching him melted you. He could ask for anything right now and you’d give it to him—anything at all. When his eyes lifted and met yours you audibly sighed.

“Thank you, rosebud.”

“For what?”

“For making us a family. For making me a papa.”

“Papa? Why not daddy?”

A devilish smile stretched across his face. “I’m already a daddy.”

Just like that the mood in the room shifted from sweet and innocent to hot and sinful. The switch made your heart instantly race.

“Right?”

Lewis slid lower, then pried your thighs apart leaving ample space for him between. His face looked so right framed by your thighs. Nodding, you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and watched as he slowly peeled off the boyshorts he’d just helped you into only a short time ago.

“God, it’s been so long.”

“Too long,” you added.

Lewis smiled as he wrapped his hands around your thighs then yanked you lower.

“Then let me worship you, mother of my children.”

He placed a kiss at your pubis.

“My queen.”

Another kiss landed just above your clit.

“My entire world.”

It was the last thing he said before he did just that—worshiped you.

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

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#lil love one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x black reader #black fanfiction #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton smut #pregnancy fic #angst fanfic

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year

Note

“You look like hell." "I feel like it." meathshieldshotgun mayhaps 👀

spideytorch-but-not-this-spideytorch au again

Spider-Man's apartment is a piece of shit. It's a single main room, barely larger than the hospital room Ava finally got to call her own the year she turned thirteen, when Jillian's staff had moved Diego to the newly-emptied room next to Michael's. No, she can't get caught up on that now, on them, on the lab, on the burst of blue light that had– Spider-Man's apartment is a piece of shit, a sheet tacked up to separate what Ava assumes is a bed from the rest of the area, where a battered couch and coffee table and cloth-shrouded easel vie for space in the scant few feet between front door and fire escape.

Spider-Man watches her with a knowing glint in her eye. "It's not much," she agrees to Ava's unstated opinion, "but it's home. You have one of those to go back to, kid?"

Ava shrugs, tugging her knees up to her chest as she settles against the scratched-up couch arm. She wraps her arms about her legs, hugs them close, and it feels almost alien, the press of legs against arms and arms against legs and the pressure of the rough couch cover against her flesh. It makes her skin crawl, but she tamps herself down against the shudder that tries to break free, finds herself unable to speak.

"If you don't wanna tell me, that's fair enough. You have a name, at least?"

"Ava," she replies softly, rubbing her thumb against the weathered span of denim stretched across her knee. "I'm Ava."

"Nice to meet you, Ava. I'm–" Spider-Man pauses, eyes darting to the side, then shrugs. "In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. My name's Shannon, and I'll be your waitress tonight." She produces a sheaf of glossy pamphlets from behind her back like a magic trick and leans down to fan them out across the coffee table, heedless of the open textbooks she disturbs with the motion. "Anything you want, just give me a head's up so I can call in the order."

"Anything I–" Ava sways forward, gaze caught by the bright shine of the pamphlets. She reaches out her hand, uses her palm to drag one of them halfway off the edge of the coffee table so she can pinch it between thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, Ollie's is great, they always give me an extra serving of rice. Do you like Sichuan?"

"I don't know," she says quietly, stroking the smooth page with her thumb, awed by how easily her skin slides across the sheet.

"You don't know as in you have no preference, or you don't know as in–"

"As in I haven't eaten solid food in a decade," she admits, and her voice is almost steady.

Shannon's grin is easy, as so much about her seems to be. "Let's remedy that, then," she says, and Ava could kiss her for not pushing the topic. "Anything there that looks interesting? Or I could get a selection of things, maybe help you figure out what you like?"

Ava looks from the takeout menu in her hand down toward the mess on the coffee table and back again, the options almost overwhelming in their vastness. "Whatever you want to do," she manages, tossing the pamphlet in the direction of the table and pulling her arm back around her knee.

The pamphlet skids across the table, off the far edge, plunges over towards the floor. A thwip, and it's in Shannon's hand, translucent strands connecting it to her wrist.

She stares. She hadn't been able to make out the mechanism by which Shannon had pulled them from building to building in those long, floating arcs, but she's listened to enough of Diego's excited recountings of news stories to know the consensus was that the webbing came from a gauntlet, perhaps, or a canister. Ava suspects there must be an aspect of costume design built specifically to fuel those rumours, because a puncture in Shannon's skin itself extrudes the strands of web.

She doesn't mean to, but her eyes stay glued to Shannon's forearm long enough that she's caught in the act. Shannon watches Ava watching her and heat floods into Ava's cheeks. She knows better, should know better, can remember how every too long stare had made her feel small, inconsequential, other. "I'm sorry," she starts, but the cloud has already shifted from Shannon's eyes, leaving them bright and clear again.

"It's alright, it's just been a while since anyone new has seen that. I'd forgotten how it must look from the outside."

"No," Ava repeats, because it's important, because she's waved off lingering eyes in just the same way for so long, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't stare."

"It's okay," and there's a hint of a laugh to it now. She gestures towards the second door, the one Ava figures hides a bathroom, with the takeout menu. "I'm gonna go call in the order and then we can talk about it, if you want?"

"Okay. Thank you."

She watches Shannon until the door shuts behind her, then turns her attention back to the apartment. She knows she shouldn't pry, especially not here, not now, not with the kindness and grace Shannon has already shown her in rescuing her from– Don't, she chastises herself. Don't think about Jillian thrusting her arm into the device, don't think about the electric blue energy emanating throughout the room, don't–

A sweet, smoky scent drifts up into her nostrils and she snaps her gaze down to her hand, flat on the couch arm. What had been her hand. A mass of roiling flame attached to her arm, eating at the cuff of her sleeve, crisping the fabric of the couch. "What the fuck," she mutters reflexively, her stomach sinking. She pulls her hand back, waves it through the air, but the fire clings to her skin– Is her skin? "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop."

She focuses on her breathing as she had in that warehouse beneath Shannon's careful gaze, drags the sleeve up her arm with her other hand to protect what remains of it. The flames wax and wane as she glares at them, and she sets her mind towards her hand, towards what she thinks it's meant to feel like.

"As if I know what it's meant to feel like," she says, hysterical. But she tries gamely to picture cool flesh, like all those hands on her forehead for years and years, caretakers too rushed to take a moment to scrub their palms together to imbue them with some fleeting kind of warmth. Cool skin, and whole, and definitely not on fire.

The flames retreat back beneath her skin in the blink of an eye and she presses the back of her hand to her forehead, just to check. Cool against the fever flush of her face. Great. Outstanding. And all it took was torching half of Shannon's apartment.

The fabric covering the arm of the couch has turned black-beaded and stiff, and the sweater sleeve now ends halfway up her forearm, and there's nothing she'd like more right now than to vanish before Shannon slips back into the room with her easy smile and easy gait and easy wave of a hand in response to apologies.

She's not given a chance to make an escape, though, because Shannon's emerging back into the room, shoving her phone into the side pocket of her tights and grinning at Ava before she can even begin to form an explanation. "I'm moving out at the end of the month anyway," she says with a laugh, "feel free to burn the rest of it so I don't have to figure out when our bulk item collection day is scheduled."

"I didn't mean–" Ava starts, stops. There's something painful in her chest, constricting her ribs, and she scrubs a shaking hand over her eyes, draws it away wet. "I don't know–"

"It's okay." Shannon drags the coffee table back from the couch, as far as she can in the cramped space, and takes a seat on it in front of Ava. There's a bare inch of space between her knees and Ava's booted feet, toes sticking over the edge of the couch cushion. The navy fabric plastered tight to Shannon's thighs is decorated with that same reflective web pattern as the boots, picked out in infinitesimally small stitches, and Ava's fingertips itch to brush across it, to feel every twist and turn and bump of the embroidery. "It's okay," Shannon repeats, and there's a barefaced truth in her voice that makes Ava lift her head to meet her gaze.

"I don't know what happened, I don't know what I'm supposed to do–"

Shannon smiles softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "That's alright, Ava. It will come in time."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Well, one of us has to be," she says, flat as anything.

Ava's throat tightens around a sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just–"

Shannon cuts her off with a grimace, a touch to her foot. "I didn't mean it like that. No wonder everyone tells me I've an abhorrent sense of humour. Powers are a burden, especially newfound ones, but not one I'm going to make you bear alone. I'm calm about this because when I was in your shoes" – her eyes flick down to Ava's feet in her own costume boots and there's a quick twist to her mouth like she's biting back another joke – "when I was in your shoes I felt alone, was alone. But I managed to survive that, and I have complete faith that you will too."

"You don't even know me."

"I know you didn't blow me off when I tried to help you calm down. I know you internalised those instructions and used them to get your powers under control just now. I know you went an hour without setting anything on fire, and then only small patches." Her gaze finds the takeout menus wedged beneath her hip before working back up to Ava's face. "And I think it's fair to assume you've survived much more difficult trials than this."

Ava looks at her hand, splayed across light-washed denim, presses her fingertips into the fabric just to see the way it makes the tendons across the back of her hand press up hard against pale skin. A joy, to move them, to be moved by them. "That's… that's accurate," she allows, digging her thumbnail into the fold of the seam.

Shannon reaches towards her, hand stalling between them, and then she's gone, a blur, sliding smoothly to the front door and opening it, bracing her hands over her head against the frame. Ava hadn't even heard the knock, if there'd been one, and she rocks to the side to try and get a glimpse past Shannon's outstretched shield of a body.

"I didn't think you were coming over today," Shannon says, half on the edge of hearing. "Are you okay? You look like hell."

"I feel like it," a woman mutters. She's standing in Shannon's shadow, the light in the hallway buzzing and blinking and too near dead to properly illuminate her, but then she rocks onto her toes to dart a kiss to Shannon's cheek and there's something familiar in the movement, the careful trajectory of her mouth, the spark in her eyes. "Remind me to get you to vet my next employer," she continues, slipping around Shannon with ease, "so I can have a heads-up on the fledgling supervillain thing. 'Cause you'll never believe the bullshit Salv–"

She spots Ava at the same time as Ava clocks the all-too-familiar shade of scrub pants and stitches together a last few fragmentary memories of those last moments. Eyes widening, breath catching in two chests in unison before the release, the movement, Mary's hand reaching behind her back, a charged thrill shooting up Ava's fingers.

"Mary, this is Ava," Shannon says, sliding between them, a hand pressed to Mary's chest. Her voice is light, in sharp contrast to the tension in her shoulders. "She's not having a great day either."

That's all it takes to defuse Mary, pressing forward into Shannon's palm as though there's nothing else in the universe tethering to this room. "I'll say," she manages to choke out around a hitch in her throat, "seeing how she should be dead. The rest of them are," she continues, shifting to lock eyes with Ava over Shannon's shoulder, "and I saw the hole that you–"

"Jillian Salvius did this?" Shannon interrupts.

"She fucking did something, Shan. With Ava over there, with another kid, with her own son. They didn't tell us shit beyond that, other than 'here's another mess to sweep up, careful, it might be radioactive this time'." Mary pauses, reaches a hand up to touch Shannon's cheek. "How'd you stumble over her? On the way back from the library?" It's clumsy, even to the yawning sound of Ava's ears, you should be dead the rest of them are, like an actor stumbling over their lines.

"She knows," Shannon says dryly.

"Why do I even bother," Mary sighs, "when you just keep dragging in strays and telling them everything and expecting me to help you rehome them. I only have the one couch, and it's already been spoken for."

"They're… They're dead?" Ava interjects, hard, soft, reaching. Diego's grin peeking around the doorframe, Michael's careful strength, Jillian– She doesn't want to think about Jillian.

"They are," Mary says, something raw and aching in her expression, "I'm sorry."

"Okay," she says, "okay." The flame filters into her lungs her heart, ripples hot beneath her skin. She tugs the hoodie over her head in a rush, gasping for air, half-blind with panic.

"Ava–" Shannon starts, shifting towards her, but Mary takes her by the shoulder, holds her back.

"Let her make her choice, Shan." The words are barely audible over the inferno in Ava's chest.

She rises from the couch, keeps rising, midair before them as her fingers turn to flame, her wrist, her forearm. The hospital gown clings tight even as the jeans scorch, burn, flake away in ashen clumps. "I'm sorry," she says, breath scalding in her mouth, and flings herself towards the window, through the rails of the fire escape, spins upwards into the night sky. "I'm so sorry."

#ask #smokestarrules #myfic #mywn #fic: suits #ava silva #shannon masters #shotgun mary #tfw the only thing working for the fic is the prequel stuff that's not actually making the cut for the fic #mary x shannon #i should probably just slap these two together and punt them onto ao3 like here's a prequel for an avatrice fic #that I'm never gonna write bc my brain hates me xoxo

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